Public In A Bar, In A Galaxy Far, Far Away

[Gir Quee]

"Your dad was never good at this part either."

Gir's head swiveled around to face Dav, who seemed surprising composed, as he crawled underneath the table to join the admiral. Gir briefly looked the man over out of military habit. He blinked in surprise.

"There's not a scratch on you..."

"And here you're a mess," smiled the old rogue, "the trick to a bar fight is not to get into a bar fight. No-one really comes out of it as a winner...unless you're betting on the fighters."

"You looking for a wager?"

"I got 10 credits on the ithorian who chucked a bottle at your head."

Gir grunted, "I'll give you 10 credits if someone takes him down there. Fair?"

"No, it's not...those credits are already good as mine..."

***​

Sariya found herself fly through the air once again. This can't be coincidence. How is he doing this? Jedi maybe? He doesn't seem to really fit the type though...While this was her second time fighting a Force user, it was far from the first time she had been flung through the air. Throws and tosses had been part of her fighting lifestyle whether as a young echani martial artist or as a Hutt gladiator. Regardless of how you went up, what mattered most was the landing...or lack there of. She tucked herself into a ball as she flew before she felt the hard, wooden surface of a table connect with her forearm and knocing a few errant glasses and dinner plates off the surface in the process. Fenni uncurled from her position and gripped the table's edges with both hands - she slipped a little - whoever had last been on the table had apparently not been the cleanest eater. She felt a shock reverberate through her legs as she regained her upright stance, followed by a surprising question from A AvRe .

Miss, would like some help with that?

She eyed him up and down briefly. Well, he looks far better than I would have thought. Maybe the admiral's on to something after all...She kinked her neck to the side as she eyed Jerec Asyr warily.

"Normally, I like to take guys like this on my own," said the woman, "but this one is different somehow. Maybe a force user or some sort...I think I got him pretty good with the one hit I got in...I think. But clearly it's not enough. Tell you what, what don't you give him a shot, and I'll back you up..."

With that, the echani woman grabbed one of the spilled glasses on the table, and hurled it at the ithorian, hopefully creating an opportunity to attack, or at least a distraction in order to prevent both of them from being immediately attacked in turn.

 

[AvRe]

Jedi and sith. He'd seen his fair share of them, both fighting beside them and against them. Sith were typically abrasive and brutal, offensive types of people who relished in conflict. Jedi were typically reserved types, goody-two-shoes as many called them. Still, Avery was well aware that not all force users were tied down to those religious zealots.

Avery looked Sariya in the eye, staring deep, he then gave a slight nod. It was a signal to be ready.

Pacing slowly, Avery walked closer to the Ithorian man, eyeing like he was an animal. He did that a lot, not because he was some ass-hat but because he lacked common social standards. he readied his left hand, subtly pulling it back into a palm strike position. Here was his game plan, he would rush the Ithorian and deliver a blow to his lower abdomen, giving the Echani girl a window to strike. In Avery's mind, this would lead to a series of trading blows where it would alternate between him and Sariya.

In the best-case scenario, they manage to knock the Ithorian unconscious. Worst case, he manages to pull off some wild feat of the force and knocks them to their collective asses. Still, Avery had no intention of losing this fight, despite him being in no shape to do it. This was the first time he'd realized it, but he was seriously damaged. Several of the mechanical processes were completely dead, including his eye-scanners and the augmented strength gauge.

He was a little impressed, he'd managed to take down two full-grown men with his own physical prowess, for that he deserved a pat on the back. But it's worth mentioning that he too was going off 'raging drunk' fumes.

Gir Quee | Jerec Asyr

 

[Jerec Asyr]

"Normally, I like to take guys like this on my own," said the woman, "but this one is different somehow. Maybe a force user or some sort...I think I got him pretty good with the one hit I got in...I think. But clearly it's not enough. Tell you what, what don't you give him a shot, and I'll back you up..."

With that, the echani woman grabbed one of the spilled glasses on the table, and hurled it at the ithorian, hopefully creating an opportunity to attack, or at least a distraction in order to prevent both of them from being immediately attacked in turn.

Pacing slowly, Avery walked closer to the Ithorian man, eyeing like he was an animal. He did that a lot, not because he was some ass-hat but because he lacked common social standards. he readied his left hand, subtly pulling it back into a palm strike position. Here was his game plan, he would rush the Ithorian and deliver a blow to his lower abdomen, giving the Echani girl a window to strike. In Avery's mind, this would lead to a series of trading blows where it would alternate between him and Sariya.

As the Echani and the cyborg chatted and paced, Jerec cracked out his neck, a bit of a process if you're an Ithorian. He spent their generous gift of time running through the detox thing again, this time with feeling. He felt his presence of mind dialing back down to one-can levels, which was just about perfect.

The Force normally erased the whole 'slow Ithorian reaction time' thing, but his Force-related attention was on the detox, so the glass shattered off his hard neckdome. That gave the cyborg an opening: when Avery closed the gap, Jerec took the hit again. Jerec's half-numb right arm couldn't do a dang thing to stop that left palm strike to the belly.

At which point Jerec had no choice but to vomit his bellyful of lum and appetizers in a wide-angle high-pressure spray out both sides of his neck.

Glass shattered, tables flipped, strong men fell clawing at their sensory organs, and the floor became a slippery deathtrap for a couple metres in all directions. Four throats. Quite powerful.

 

[Gir Quee]

Sariya quickly fell in A AvRe 's wake, hoping that speed and her small stature would allow her to quickly enter striking range. In this, she felt herself lucky - Jerec Asyr appeared to be self-absorbed for the moment. Maybe even high, judging by his lack of a dodge to her thrown glass? When the cyborg delivered the first blow, she found herself pleasantly surprised. She started to dart in to make her own strike, what would have been a short snap kick to his shin, but then the ithorian did the thing.

She wasn't even sure what it was. Foul liquid spewed everywhere and the audible booms from it would be something she'd never forget. One of the blasts knocked her back halfway through the kick, while the newly introduced liquid completed her downfall - she slipped and fell onto a gross pool of newly vomited lum. Her attack utterly failed, her foot still centimeters away from the alien. She cursed in a mixture of nonsensical huttese and echani, before sliding forward on the newly slick bar floor to try and kick at the alien's shins.

 

[AvRe]

It covered him, it was all over him. Avery began to wipe the viewports on his mask, shaking the foul Ithorian bile from his hands. Well, at least I'm giving an apt demonstration to my new employer, he thought.

Why didn't he see this coming? He should have, it should have been as clear as day.

Really, Avery~ a palm strike to the gut? I've you lost your touch?

Shut it, he muttered to himself. "Well, so much for elegance." He shrugged.

With that statement, Avery prepared to lift the Ithorian after Sariya next incoming attack. If he was successful, he had all the intentions of throwing himself and Jerec Asyr out of a nearby window. This had gone on long enough and he was running out of angry juice. He gritted his teeth, made his hands rigid, and prepared himself for whatever came next.

(OOC: Jerec, if Avery is successful, you can narrate what happens next.)

Gir Quee

 

[Jerec Asyr]

Between the mass differential and the monolithic KDY-grade bulk of the average Ithorian from the knees down, Sariya's kick accomplished feth all. Jerec was too pukey to laugh at her, or else he'd have said something really smart and kind of mean.

Instead, right around the time he stopped projectile vomiting across a three-hundred-degree arc, that big bastard of a cyborg heaved them both out the nearest window.

Jerec's flailing four-throated scream eliminated the last of the obstructive vomit. A heartbeat later, both he and Avery crashed down on the roofs of two parked speeders. Thin alusteel dented — cratered — under Jerec's weight. He attempted to get up and decided it would be better to attempt to stay flat on his back, embedded in the roof of that speeder. Always healthy to have realistic expectations of yourself.

"You jackboot, agh, schuttas done beating on the, guh..."

He didn't finish the question. Again, realistic expectations.

A AvRe Gir Quee

 

[Gir Quee]

"So...does this mean I won?" asked Gir.

Dav looked at him incredulously, "What? I don't know. What the feth was all of that?"

"Never seen anything like it either, huh?"

"Ah, no. Let's call it a tie. But I'll say this, you sure picked a mean one to bring in," said the old smuggler, "definitely worth the trip here if he's reliable."

The man furtively looked from the underneath the table to survey his surroundings. Dirty and broken glasses, bottles, and plates littered the floor. A few bodies lay here and there among them - all seemingly breathing to at least some degree. It was less certainly less noisy. Things seemed to be getting more calmer - he wasn't entirely sure if that was because the onlookers were stunned by Jerec Asyr 's impressive if disgusting display, the sheer madness of A AvRe taking them through a window, or if everyone was getting too tired or beat up. But either way, he judged it safe enough to move.

"Come on," said the officer.

He rushed over to Sariya, helped up her, and managed to partake in the experience of getting partially digested lum on his torn coat in the process. The echani woman groaned as she attempted to wipe off some of the filth in the process, to little avail. Their clothes were soaked in it.

"I'll buy you new ones," said the admiral.

"You both need new ones," remarked Dav with a grin.

He's not wrong. Gir ruefully shook his head, "We better make sure that Regailis is still among the living. Let's go."

The trio rushed through the bar - with most patrons giving them wide berth due to the disgusting nature of their clothes - with surprisingly little resistance. Dav had to gently nudge one near incoherent patient out of the doorway, and they found themselves out in the pouring rain and headed towards the two combatants. At least the rain will do a little bit of washing, right?

 

[AvRe]

Splish!

The light, rhythmic tapping hit Avery on the forehead over and over again. Soon, he realized that the tapping was felt all over his body. After that, he realized that rain was bucketing down onto him, the bile covering him and his clothing quickly dissipated. Slowly, he turned his head to look at the Ithorian lying next to him. The metal roof of the speeder almost seemed comfy.

look at you Avery, sad, cold, wet, and now your arm's broken.

My arm isn't broken, he thought.

Think again.

Looking over at the Ithorian again, he saw how his arm was laying under it. He pulled his arm from under Jerec Asyr , with as much care as he could manage. Sadly, that was none at all.

It was mangled, and he couldn't move any part of it. He cursed himself. Grabbing the hand of the mangled arm, he made his grip was tight, then he pulled it off. Sparks zapped out here and there, where there was now a jagged stub. Rummaging around the broken arm a bit, he detached the Vibro-blade, which was actually in pretty good condition. Sitting up, he noticed the men approaching, Gir Quee and his smuggler friend. The Echani woman was there too.

"Ah, Admiral Quee." He waved with the stub.

he looked at the Ithorian one more time, patting him on the chest. "That was a good bit fun, wasn't it?" he tried sounding as friendly as he could, but the metallic cadence to his voice only made it sound sarcastic.

 

[Jerec Asyr]

A AvRe

Still flat on his back and coughing seismically, Jerec grabbed the busted mechanical arm. A little salvage might salvage this day. He glared in general.

"Tell that to...guh...Skagit's balls. Funny, I thought Gir Quee was a man." He waved the arm aggressively. "Lucerne just lost a customer, karkwit!"

He devolved into further coughing.

 

[Gir Quee]

"Ah, Admiral Quee. That was a good bit fun, wasn't it?"

Gir shook his head at A AvRe , "I think we have very different ideas of what fun is. But I will say I am impressed..."

"Tell that to...guh...Skagit's balls. Funny, I thought Gir Quee was a man. Lucerne just lost a customer, karkwit!"

Gir looked at Jerec Asyr quizically. Who the feth is Skagit? Probably someone that Sariya took out there instead of me? He'd had a few jives and insults thrown his way since he had hired the echani, mostly dealing with needing a woman to protect him. Insults weren't new, and he knew that he'd always draw them - anyone with any modicum of fame would always have unknown detractors. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of small vinchaine spray cans. He tossed one over to cyborg, and another down to the ithorian.

"That might help take some of the pain away...but all's fair in love and war," said Gir, "and you certainly can win fights by playing fair, but it's easier if you don't - the Sith never have, at least in my experience. But no hard feelings - you have some unusual skill - it's a wonder to me why you're hanging out here unless it's your idea of fun."

He turned his attention back to Avery and gestured at the stump on the cyborg's arm, "We can get that fixed on my ship, or I could probably even commission a new one if you want...do you have anything we need to collect before we go?"

 

[AvRe]

Avery caught the spray can with his undamaged arm. He examined it thoroughly. After a lengthy look at the thing, he placed it on Jerec Asyr chest.

"Keep the arm and the spray. I certainly don't need either, I can't feel a thing." he chuckled in his usually metallic twang, ever-present. After saying that last part, it sounded a lot sadder than intended. Am I washed up?

Yes, Avery, obviously.

Climbing from the scrap heap of a speeder, Avery waltzed his way towards Gir Quee . Looking at the Echani, Avery pointing at her. "You. I like you, you're fun." it was a statement, whoever challenged it would surely regret it.

Looking back towards the Admiral, Avery straightened himself. Despite his current predicament and damage, he was ready to throw himself back into the fray. "Forgive me, Admiral Quee. Sometimes we have to do things others consider unnecessary," he looked at his jagged stub, "and thank you for offering repairs."

"I regret to inform you that I'll need more than just a new arm. Many of my systems are down due to neglect. You may take it out of my first paycheck if need be."

He took one last look at the city around him. "I think... I'm ready. There's nothing I need. Allow me to say my goodbyes to Vik, I owe her that much."

 

[Jerec Asyr]

The spray can rolled away as Jerec slid off the speeder roof. He leveled A AvRe ' dismembered droid arm at Gir Quee . One of the fingers pointed helpfully.

"Quee, I just watched you stomp on a guy's crotch — after he was down — for telling you to mind your business, so you can kark entirely off."

He had considerably more invective in mind but another coughing fit stole his thunder. He limped away, growling under his breath. The dark side had a few choice words for him today and this seemed like a bad time to keep listening. His choices came down to 'shut up and leave' or 'do something everyone involved would regret.'

 

[Gir Quee]

Gir looked down at Jerec Asyr with a mixture of curiosity and incredulity. Honor in a bar fight? The concept seemed utterly foreign to him these days. Perhaps when he was younger, he might have empathized with the ithorian more. But time and trial had worn down any facade of any sort of honor system with an opponent. Too many times he had seen sudden ruthlessness rise up from his foes when even a hint of mercy was offered, whether that opponent was Sith, Bryn'adul, or something or someone else. Has war changed me so much? When did that happen? He ruefully shook his head at the alien.

"I don't like to take chances," admitted the man, "not when things are already risky and dangerous to me or my friends. That's not likely to change. But if you think I'm some sort of heartless sadist, I would have already stomped on your crotch, rather than offering you pain relief. Let's go."

Sariya turned to A AvRe , "I think we'll have to get a few bouts in....I'm sure we'll have some time on the ship."

"Once we fix up him," cut in Gir, glancing at the other man, "we'll figure something out with your injuries and need for new parts. I've got a couple of people on hand who'll be able to do more than just fix you up - might be able to even give you a few more enhancements...."

 

[AvRe]

Avery watched as the Ithorian walked away, a forlorn feeling rising in the cyborg's eyes. Something hit him in the that moment, something almost poetic. Jerec wasn't just a drunk, he was a symbol of Corellia herself. In many ways, Avery related to that kind of person, he'd been that kind of person.

After the exchange with the Admiral and the Ithorian, Avery was given a moment to consider Gir's words.

not when things are already risky and dangerous to me or my friends. That's not likely to change.

With one good hand on his hip, Avery looked at the dirty metal ground. This is a different leader, not harsh like myself. Why, why in a million cycles of the moons would I be given a chance like this?

Because you are a man of broken standards and you are an instrument to the force in your own right, a slave in your own right.

"Enhancements?" Avery jumped at the statement. "That wouldn't be too bad, a new strength gauge, maybe some new sensors-" he nodded along as he listed things.

When he was done prattling on, he went back into to the bar to say his goodbyes to Vik, luckily he wouldn't have to pay for repairs, the flabby man who started the fight, however, wasn't so lucky. Afterwards, he and the group would enter the ship and make their way off world. There was a certain sadness to it, like rebirth.

Before finally boarding the ship, Avery would take the mask off and give it a hard look. It would say to him,

You can never escape me.

No, he couldn't.

(OOC: I think that about wraps things up, I hope everyone who participated in this RP had a fun time.)

Gir Quee | Jerec Asyr