Public Heart Of Beskar

[Bright4]

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FRIENDS IN LOW PLACES​

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Location: Nar Shaddaa, Nerf Herders Cantina


Nar Shaddaa was a world where anyone and everything was welcome to come and disappear into the mess of metal and garbage that the world had to offer. The recent actions by the SJC had seen the Hutts restrict much of their more 'lucrative' business methods, but rumor had it if you knew the right people, you could get whatever you were looking for. Of course, that was only a rumor, and not the sort that Kadan was looking for. No, something else had caused him to come here, something a little more personal; information. The jedi archives were just not good enough for him, and he had tired of the lectures and droning that came along with the jedi masters who cautioned him against trying to expand his knowledge. So why come to Nar Shaddaa? There were always information brokers willing to disclose what they might know of lost temples, hideouts of force users, or even places he could search for the secrets that the council wanted to hide from everyone involved.

Walking into the bar however, it became rather clear that he didn't know what he was doing, as the grey clad padawan stood awkwardly at the entrance, before slowly walking towards the bar, and taking a seat. Motioning for the bartender, Kadan took the first thing that the man pointed to and tried to think of how to go about this whole ordeal. There was a rather upbeat song blaring over the sound system, and his hands were shaking as he held his drink, thoughts of disappointment brewing at the back of his mind. Perhaps he didn't think this out as well as he believed.

 

[Veino Garn]

Sensations trickled at the edge of Veino’s mind as he slid the pile of credits into the center of the table. It was something that could only be the arrival of a Force sensitive. One hand slid the data disk into a pouch inside his shirt against his armored clothing beneath the spacer’s garb he had donned.

He gave a nod and stepped away from the table, his pale gaze sweeping the crowds of the cantina. It wasn’t hard to notice the newcomer. A youth radiating both nervousness and Force sensitivity. Not the darkness of a Sith or even that of someone more neutral. Veino’s own Force presence was dampened and dispersed to be undetectable. He didn’t initially do anything but then let out a breath and made his way to the bar and leaned against it.

He nodded to the bartender who handed him a double Mustafar twist in exchange for another handful of credits. Veino rested one side against the bar and scoped his eyes across the cantina again. There wasn’t much of a threat that he could detect, but it was never good to let awareness slip.

“You’re looking more than a bit out of place, kid,” Veino said after a moment. “Those Jedi robes you wearing too?”

Bright4

 

[Jonathon Patches]

"You don't belong here," said Patches matter of factly to the young bothan trying to enlist his services. The Bothan was trying to get some intel on shipment of spice that was two weeks overdue at Thyferra. His relation to the shipment - be it owner, distributor or just an inquisitive worrier - Patches may not have been sure of, but what he was sure of, is that ship and it's cargo were long gone. Someone else, with far more clout, credits and authority had already purchased the transponder code signal to that ship, and Patches was quite certain the ship, it's cargo and it's crew was now under new ownership... if the crew was alive at all.

Best not to get into the finer details, he mused to himself. Bad for business.

The bothan objected and plead it's case one more time - or I suppose if we are counting, that was the seventh - to no avail, as Patches wouldn't have any of it. He wasn't in the habit of selling a job twice or to multiple parties. He kept his clients well informed and happy. Keeping that client list small not only allowed him to better manage it, but also ensured repeat business... he didn't need his client base at one and others throats.

"Look," said Patches, leaning in closely across the table so his voice didn't carry, "you seem like a nice... kid?" he asked, not very good at dating the age of Bothan's just by their looks.

"But do you see that Trandoshan over there in the corner by the bar?" he said, nodding in it's direction.

"He has been waiting to talk to me for nearly an hour now, and the Trandosh are not exactly known for the patience," he said, pausing to survey the bar, and then returning his attention to the Bothan, before whispering even quieter, "I heard the last guy that made him wait... well... they never found the other arm," he said giving a small shrug and an uneasy look.

"Now if you'll excuse me I would rather that not become either of our fates," he said, sitting back up before flagging the Trandoshan down.

The Bothan gave a huff of frustration before getting up and clearly not wanting to wait around and see how things played out as he hurried to the nearest exit. Just then the Trandoshan approached with a menacing look upon his face - though to be fair, that's how they all look - and asked Patches what he will have.

"Whiskey, Corellian," said Patches with a smirk, as the server went back to the bar to place his order.

Never said what he was waiting about, mused Patches as his drink soon arrived, allowing him to sit back in his corner booth and truly survey the scene.

Bright4 Veino Garn

 

[Iella Sunscream]

Appearance

Equipment:
M-18 Pit Viper Holding Armor Piercing Ballistic Capped High Explosive 10x40mm chambered Verpine shatter darts
Spare Power-Cell Gas-Cannister Cylinder
Six-hundred and fifty credits
Over shoulder satchel bag


The Cantina doors would swing yet again, a short woman stepping in and taking a single once-over of the area. Her eyes flickered with intense speed at every face in the Cantina, slowing on a few, and needling over to the corner seat. Always the corner seat... There she saw someone who fit the bill. A man she had never seen before, then again she had only been to this place twice before. And she was a different woman back then. More human, to say the least; not brimming with poison and purpose as she was now. She turned on heels, stepping down onto the bar floor from the brief set of steps, her posture perfect, and yet for how she had presented herself, she seemed out of place; the walk of some regal queen that was portrayed on a woman that looked like she was out to score Deathsticks or something.

Her bag swayed at her side, having no need to observe anyone else in the establishment. It had taken a few months to get used too, but her cybernetic augments had truly transformed how she looked at the world. They did not, however, remove the burning desire to get revenge she had. While she was Force-Sensitive, she always pushed those emotions, and feeling aside, indeed turning to Deathsticks, and alcohol in the past to further remove herself from what she found to be overly unnatural feelings.

Coming from her, that was a mouthful. Could she call herself natural anymore?

Taking the shortest route to the corner booth, she would slow to a stop, not intending to be here long there was no reason to beat around the bush...

"May I join you?" she asked, eyes scanning over Jonathon Patches with purpose. Committing his reaction, and facial expression to memory. Before he answered, she slid into the empty chair across from him, the serpentine grace she displayed earlier not failing as she sat and canted her neck a little, shoulders back, displaying a flawless posture. She didn't immediately speak however, and would wait to hear what he said. If he was the type of man she thought he was, he would probably do the talking for her.

In any case, she would be disappointed if he wasn't; maybe even people like him didn't know, but it was something of an unspoken rule about the corner booth in places like this. You only sat there if you were tough enough to keep it, or you were the type of person to be sitting in it. That was just how it went.

Jonathon Patches Veino Garn Bright4

 

[Bright4]

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GLASS HALF FULL​

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His shoulders sagged as the weight of his doubts crept over top him. He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts he didn't even feel the man beside him approach, a faintest bit startled as he heard a voice next to him speak. Seeing he was talking to a normal looking fellow, Kadan forced himself to smile, nodding polite before looking to his robes. Yea, he probably wasn't doing himself any favors walking around like this. Someone would probably think he was here to write them a parking ticket or what not. Kadan loosed a sigh, taking a handful of hair and letting it run through his fingers. "Sorta. Truthfully, they're based on Ossus lorekeeper robes, but-er, yea."

Taking the drink that was slid his way, Kadan glanced to the side at the disgruntled Bothan that went on his way, briefly looking to that was left in the booth, before looking to the man chatting with him. "Truthfully, I'm just looking for answers." Kadan started, taking a sip from the glass and scowling. Bitter. Really bitter. He threw a disgruntled look to the bartender, before shaking his head and setting the glass back down. "Though the questions that they are for well....not really sure if anyone has any answers." He caught a hint of a woman entering through the front, her stance indicating she was on a mission; which meant there was bound to be drama following. His eyes left her, looking once more to the man across from him. Kadan's force presence began to withdraw, perhaps having noticed that his emotions were making him stand out far more than he would have liked; though even inspite of his attempts, a trained observer would still feel the padawan's presence.
​

Jonathon Patches Veino Garn Iella Sunscream

 

[Jonathon Patches]

Iella Sunscream Bright4 Veino Garn


Here comes trouble, mused Patches as someone with purpose, someone with an axe to grind was clearly on a mission. Wouldn't want to be her target, he chuckled to himself, taking a small sip of his Corellian whisky as it left a warm, peppery trail down his throat.

However, he noticed something curious. It could have been her strides - which did not match her attire - or perhaps it was she did not appear threatened in a place such as this - which was cause for curiousity in its own right - or more than likely, it was that she appeared heading directly in Patches direction.

Turn left... he mused to himself as she made it half way through the bar... or right... right's always a good choice too, he continued that thought, but did not have time for much else before she asked - well, told informed more accurately - if she "may" join him. The words were a question, her inflection or actions though were not. As she took her seat opposite of him, her posture was not one of confrontation, not one of desperation... nor was it of a display of anything that Patches was used to... it was... proper and without care... all things that raised the hair on the back of Patches neck.

"Join... join would imply you were invited, or that there is some form of partnership to be had, yet you..." he paused, gesturing to her current seat "took it without waiting for an answer... that's not really joining one, now is it?" he asked, taking a sip of his whiskey, before adding "... at best, you are table adjacent" he said with a wry grin.

"May though... 'may I join you.'.. may implies some form of formal education... others would ask "can" to which most people CAN take a seat but they never ask the question properly... others wouldn't bother to ask or say anything at all... yet you choose to use proper grammar and etiquette in your words, yet not in your actions..." he said, as if pondering and trying to figure her out aloud... which to be fair , he was.

"So it's not a question of may you or will you... here you are... the question we both should be asking, is what has brought you here, to my formerly rather lonely booth?" he asked, leaning back in his chair in not so proper posture... the kind of posture that would certainly lead to back problems later in life.

 

[Iella Sunscream]

Appearance

Equipment:
M-18 Pit Viper Holding Armor Piercing Ballistic Capped High Explosive 10x40mm chambered Verpine shatter darts
Spare Power-Cell Gas-Cannister Cylinder
Six-hundred and fifty credits
Over shoulder satchel bag


She watched him coolly, smiling at his perception of her actions. Yet, not giving him anything else. Just a plastered smile that was more because she enjoyed men that spoke like he did, and not so much because she was happy. The real Iella couldn't help but be drawn in my intelligence, and character; after all, it was what she had come from.

When patches finished speaking, she had a full intent to engage him on a personal level, talk him up and maybe learn more about him... Then again, that was how she ended up sitting where she was now, hunting down the pricks that had double-crossed her. In that regard, she hadn't even been able to taste on of them bite. Of course once she saw one of her targets, it would symbolize a snake sinking its fangs in something. That was how much she wanted blood. It had clouded her judgment for months..

And with the processors running in her brain, she was acutely aware she was .9 seconds overdue for a proper response.... ..46....

"I'm looking for an old friend of mine... Ryker Doon... Human Male, mid-thirties... Olive Complexion.... Black Hair, Brown eyes... He frequents this place, though he hasn't come in the last few days. He usually sits at the third adjacent booth, with three other gentleman"

She interlaced her fingers then, the face skin, and appearance she was displaying holding strong. She didn't need anyone knowing her real face, or identity for this, especially considering she fully intended to shed blood tonight....

Hell, she intended to torture someone tonight.

"I have information on them too, if it would help... But ah..." she rocked on her form just lightly, exhaling, and trying not to get mad. The last thing she needed was to start drooling in front of this stranger. "Well... My friend Ryker took me on a field trip a while back, and forgot me out in the middle of nowhere... He didn't forget my ship, or my credits... Or my weapons... Or my damn food and water. Just me... Out on some back-water planet in the middle of Force knows where" she gestured vaguely to her left, then clasped her hands back together.

She shuddered then, pursing her lips, eyes snapping to the right and onto a napkin, which she immediately stuck into her mouth, pooling up the spit forming there. She turned away from him, that aura that she once possessed no doubt shattered; or at least she seemed to display such, clearly embarrassed about something....

Spitting the napkin into a small can beside the booth, the grabbed another, and wiped at her lips, folding the napkin over and wiping again.

"Excuse me... " she said, canting her head and trying to regain her composure. "I've got credits for any information where I can find that slime-bag... We got unfinished business... Between me and you of course..."



Jonathon Patches Veino Garn Bright4

 

[Jonathon Patches]

Iella Sunscream Bright4 Veino Garn

It's clear there was no love lost between the woman table adjacent to Patches and this Ryker character of which she spoke of in a not so fond or friendly tone. Patches had to take a moment to make certain Ryker Doon was not one of his many aliases he had gone by... though he didn't make a habit of leaving temporary business associates behind, he wasn't exactly a stranger to it... if the circumstances called for it. That said, he was quite certain he never left any of them without food or water... or their ship for that matter. A ship was far easier to trace than an individual and not always easy to unload. They left a trail that Patches was not fond of leaving.

He suppressed a sigh of relief when he realized that Ryker Doon was not one of his many aliases, he had not crossed this woman and he was in the clear. He never really thought it was him for even a moment... but this would not have been the first woman with a vendetta against Patches whom thought he owed them something... so it was best to be safe.

If the hair on the back of Patches neck were not already raised and at full attention, they certainly were after the array of emotions, moods, and dare Patches say personalities that cycled before him. This was a rage that Patches not want to toy with. A hunger for revenge that he had seen before - not directed at him - that he would keep his distance from. There would be blood, and it may not all be Mr. Doons he mused to himself. The drool was new though... he had not seen that one before. Though the proper folding and manners of the second napkin added another layer to the puzzle that presented itself before Patches.

"You should choose your friends more carefully," he said taking a sip of his whiskey before setting it down on the table and turning it a few degrees counter clockwise, his eyes returning to the woman seated table adjacent.

"This here is a big planet... and an even bigger galaxy... what makes you so certain I would even know where to start looking?" he asked, his eyes wandering from the woman for a moment, surveying the other patrons in the bar to see if anyone had turned their attention to them.

"You just described one-third of the human Male population of Nar Shaddaa... maybe one-eighth of the patrons that frequent this establishment... should we just start knocking door to door or...." he paused, leaning in a bit closer so his voice not carry, "do you have a bit more to go off of?"

 

[Iella Sunscream]

She moved past the briefly embarrassing moment, wondering if it was anything she should've been embarrassed about anymore. It was something she had suffered with since High-School, hyper-salivation. A blessing at the very least it only happened when her temper was close to being, or well past lost. She calmed herself, and sighed aloud as he spoke his peace. Offering him a brief, and sudden up-nod as he mentioned she had a poor choice of friends. First of all, she was just a kid when it happened an-.. She bit her tongue then, remembering that she didn't look like someone that had just turned eighteen, and instead looked somewhere in her thirties at least. In a way, she had to think like the very people she was after...

Such a broad description wouldn't get her anywhere, unless she could recall something specific... And it hit her.

"All four have a matching tattoo... 'Renegade Angels' on their wrists, left forearm. Like I said, they claimed to have come here a lot... I get it if you don't know..."

she had to admit, as reckless as she was she was a little high on life herself when she was around that gang. Extinguishing all the information she had on them, which in retrospect was a karking little, she leaned back slightly, looking into the bag on her shoulder. Therein, that hand cannon that she was hoping to have ran into them with, and a cascaded stack of credits. She reached in, and scooped the latter; all of it. She briefly looked out at the bar, and gingerly pressed the stack on the table, sliding it over to him.

"That enough for a heads up if you see anyone like that? Again, my lips are sealed on it, and they wont have a thing to say about it after we chat..."

She offered, the ominous phrasing she used speaking for itself.

"If you got a communicator, I can send you my contact information now.."

Iella finished, noting neither had said their name, and somehow quite comfortable with that... The anonymity in it brought a certain sense of professional peace. She had heard somewhere no one could call you a liar, when you honestly didn't know.

Jonathon Patches

 

[Jonathon Patches]

Iella Sunscream Bright4 Veino Garn

The tattoos were something... but it's not unheard of for a group or gang of individuals to share a tattoo... and Patches was not in the habit of looking at a bunch of strangers wrists and forearms. Required one to get more intimate and up close than Patches usually preferred.

"A name, probably a fake or alias by the way, a description lacking any notable features or characteristics save for a gang tattoo on their wrists and forearms..." he paused for a moment, taking a sip of his Corellian whiskey before adding with a note of sarcasm, "never hear of gangs getting matching tattoos around these parts," he said with a thin grin.

The stack of credits caught his eye for a moment, but he wasn't unfamiliar with such a price... he just wasn't used to receiving them in their natural form. Most of his clients preferred to wire the credits through multiple banks and systems... some even want an invoice, he mused to himself with a chuckle.

He set his drink down, let out a small sigh - not one of frustration, but more so of clarity - as he added, "Your ship... What was your ship called... her serial number, call sign, but more importantly, what was her transponder code?" he asked.

"Names can be changed, tattoos can be hidden or removed... hell in this day in age, entire appearances can be a lie..." he said, reaching into his pocket he pulled out a small two-way communicator, sliding it across the table, as he collected the stack of credits in the same motion, "but the signal... you can't stop the signal. Sure you can hide it, alter it... even try to get a new one... but you can't stop the signal."

He leaned back in his chair ever so slightly so that his chest no longer pressed against the table, as he said in a softer voice, "finding a person whom doesn't want to be found is extremely difficult... finding a ship? Not so much, if you know how to."

 

[Iella Sunscream]

After listening to the other speak, she couldn't help but sigh aloud. Eyes floating from him, to the credits she had slid over to him, then back to lock eyes with him again. "That ship, and its code is no doubt scrapped; they wouldn't have kept it... Thinking back the ship they were using back then was also a throwaway they intended to scrap... Listen.." she would lean forward slightly, interlacing her fingers, and speaking so as her lips were on one side of said hands, and not visible to the others in the establishment.

"I don't expect you to just know this stuff, I just want you to keep an eye out... If you can do that for more, I'll give you another stack, just like that one. It might not be tomorrow, or the day after, or next week... If you do remember, and you see them..."

She unclasped her hands, getting something to scribble with, and would leave instead a means to communicate her through holo-net/vid. With that she leaned back, eyes moving out to observe the people in the Cantina with interest...

"I'm going..." she would say, looking back to him and offering a brief smile before standing, and easing herself from behind the bench; unless he protested, she would indeed walk out with all the grace she had possessed walking in; minding her business, but keeping her pace until she was free of the confines of the establishment.

 

[Veino Garn]

Bright4

“Ossus lore keeper robes?” Veino repeated slowly as he processed that information. “That is strikingly specific and probably sounds even more valuable than Jedi robes here.”

He leaned back further against the bar and rubbed his chin, keeping an eye on the corner booth with the man and the woman. But credits were exchanged, topics discussed, and that seemed to be the end of it.

“Every question has an answer” he said at last. “Most have more than one. Many are even all true.” The man considered his drink as his eyes did another sweep across the room. “And some can be both factually false and the answer you’re looking for simultaneously. The challenge is always in how you view the question. If you think it has no answer, you will never find one.”

 

[Jonathon Patches]

Iella Sunscream Bright4 Veino Garn

Oh ye of little faith, thought Patches. Can always find the signal, he mused to himself, even a scrapped one... he could go on about ghost signatures and echo's, programs imbedded into subroutines, hidden signals, etc... however this was not the kind of person you objected to or even reasoned with. Besides, if what she said was true, and they had scrapped both her ship and happened to be keeping a spare one around as a throw away as well... well there wasn't many people in this Galaxy that could afford to be so reckless. Even a junker of a ship had value, and if they disposed of them like power packs for a blaster, then that meant they were well funded.

Patches hadn't heard of them, so that meant they probably weren't ring leaders, but more middle men or henchmen. That narrowed the list substantially to only a couple of hutt lords and crime syndicates whom were that well financed and would employ such upstanding citizens. More than enough to start his search... but Patches wasn't going to share that little tidbit.

He didn't want to promise anything if he couldn't deliver. She does not appear to take to kindly to empty promises, he mused to himself. He simply nodded as she rose from the table, and said "Safe travels," as he deftly and quickly grabbed her scribbled contact information, pocketing it for safe keeping.

He had lingered here long enough... two dealings with clients was more than enough for him today, no need for more. He would wait a few moments after she took her leave, not wanting to raise to much attention. Until that appropriate amount of time passed, he leaned back ever so slightly and took the final sip of his Corellian Whiskey.