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Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos
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K I N G
MOS EISLEY, TATOOINE
The Mandalorian was surprised that heads still turned.
Though the Southern Systems were quite civilized, there were cesspools within every region. And in the case of this particular neck of the woods, Tatooine didn't get much filthier. While the slavers had been driven out years ago, that didn't stop all manner of scum from wandering in through the back door. For the most part, this wasn't the Mandalorian's problem - until someone paid him to give a rats. This afternoon marked one such occasion that Aether the Iron had been given a reason to care. Only a few days prior, he had been minding his business at the bar when an opportunity was laid at his feet.
Ironically enough, he was now dragging in the fruits of his labors by the feet.
As the beskar-clad warrior strode forward, his bounty was unceremoniously dragged behind him. Bound by a plethora of cords, the Rodian squirmed fruitlessly against his binds. The issue at hand? Debt collection. But the squirelly bugger didn't want to sit still, and Aether didn't have a Jedi's patience. If he wasn't going to walk in the door, he'd drag him in. The Mandalorian simply nodded to the patrons who turned their heads at the spectacle. This was Mos Eisley wasn't it? We're they used to such sights by now? Ah well. He wasn't paid to care about their impressions.
Aether ceased his advance at the bar, where a woman had begun to sip her beverage. "Pardon the intrusion." he said, before tapping the counter. "I've got your runner, Antilles. Usual payment please." he said to the barkeep.
The usual payment was credits. Cold. Hard. Easily swapped at any international banking institution. Outside of shining metals, credits were a man's best friend nowadays.
He then motioned towards the woman beside him. "And take her tab out of it. I'm feeling nice."
The Mandalorian was surprised that heads still turned.
Though the Southern Systems were quite civilized, there were cesspools within every region. And in the case of this particular neck of the woods, Tatooine didn't get much filthier. While the slavers had been driven out years ago, that didn't stop all manner of scum from wandering in through the back door. For the most part, this wasn't the Mandalorian's problem - until someone paid him to give a rats. This afternoon marked one such occasion that Aether the Iron had been given a reason to care. Only a few days prior, he had been minding his business at the bar when an opportunity was laid at his feet.
Ironically enough, he was now dragging in the fruits of his labors by the feet.
As the beskar-clad warrior strode forward, his bounty was unceremoniously dragged behind him. Bound by a plethora of cords, the Rodian squirmed fruitlessly against his binds. The issue at hand? Debt collection. But the squirelly bugger didn't want to sit still, and Aether didn't have a Jedi's patience. If he wasn't going to walk in the door, he'd drag him in. The Mandalorian simply nodded to the patrons who turned their heads at the spectacle. This was Mos Eisley wasn't it? We're they used to such sights by now? Ah well. He wasn't paid to care about their impressions.
Aether ceased his advance at the bar, where a woman had begun to sip her beverage. "Pardon the intrusion." he said, before tapping the counter. "I've got your runner, Antilles. Usual payment please." he said to the barkeep.
The usual payment was credits. Cold. Hard. Easily swapped at any international banking institution. Outside of shining metals, credits were a man's best friend nowadays.
He then motioned towards the woman beside him. "And take her tab out of it. I'm feeling nice."
Jack-Of-All-Trades
// Location: Mos Eisley Cantina
// Tag: Katarine Ryiah |
Aether the Iron
+ [OPEN]
Aether the Iron
+ [OPEN] // Weapon: Hand Canon + Mouth
// Occupation/Cover: Bartender
This place was an absolute dive.
The spacious cantina stank of spilled intoxicants and sweaty body armor. A variety of people from all walks of life littered the sand-washed tables and well-worn booths. From dancers to bounty hunters, to humans, and jawa, some of them simply lay where they’d fallen from imbibing a little too much sauce. There were a few Weequays that had knocked themselves out over a misplaced credit in a game of sabacc. No one minded them. Just step over the bodies in the archway—It was all fine, all good here.
It was just about the first twilight when Mr. Antilles picked up her shift. It wasn’t her normal job, nor, was it her real job. But no one outside her circle really needed to know that. She was waiting for a particular mark that had somehow eluded her thus far and her snitches told her that the source of her current aggravation frequented this particular joint. Whether or not it was true? That had yet to be seen. Dressed in a skin-tight corset with a rock-a-billy ponytail and dark purple lipstick—She fit right in. Ripped stockings, high heeled boots and all.
For a Mos Eisley Cantina?
The tips were actually pretty good. Sometimes, she even sang when the bands tended to fizzle out or get too crashed to continue. She had a voice that was a little husky, likely, from too many cigarettes but had always remained smooth as butter. It worked for the sultry lounge songs that made the rowdy crowd lose their credits like a sieve. She was a little surprised to see a pretty young thing wander in. She was a little too clean, a little too well dressed, and full-on looked like she belonged anywhere else but here.
Mr. Antilles brought over the neon-green drink. Did the kid even know it could drop her on her backside if she drank it too fast? Habitually, she wiped down the countertop before she leaned forward on her elbow to get a better look at her doe-eyed customer. The auburn-haired woman reached up with her other hand to stash a lock of auburn hair behind her ear, careful, not to smudge the white foundation that hid her complexion entirely. Grey eyes, lined with kohl, flashed with long, long eyelashes that dusted over rose-tinted cheeks. “Sugar…I don’t normally get into other people’s business…”
“But…Are you all right? Whatever’s gone wrong…It can’t be that bad, can it?”
Mr. Antilles took pity on the young. Not that she was OLD mind you—But still. The galaxy wasn’t always kind. Sometimes, she was one of the things in it. Unkind, and hazardous.
Fortunate for Ms. Doe-Eyes? She was on her best behavior.
She looked up when someone new came in, announced by the grinding, yawning inner portcullis that was used to keep the worst of the riff-raff out. Ah. One of her many contacts. This one was more handsome than most, less crazy than others, but still just as full of himself as any of the gun-toting outlaws that passed through. "Aether...You always know just what a lady wants to hear.", Mr. Antilles returned with a less than subtle, saucy wink, that typically meant a ten-minute trip to the refresher with a pseudo-locked door.
He was a good employee, after all.
"Looks like your night just got a little better, sugar. I've got no problem letting you spend his money."
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T A T O O I N E
Ah, Mos Eisley.
Aria was sure this place should have been flipped upside after it basically got deleted from the planet, at least a few times. Still, the fact that the cantina was here was a testament to the old construction. The Artorian ran a hand through her frizzy hair, she adjusted the Artorian flight pants with a long-sleeve gray tunic and a loose olive drab jacket. Combat boots that had seen its share of either blood or questionable fluids, but then on Mos Eisley the latter was most likely.
She surveyed the cantina and tried to think of her options, sit at a table all by her lonesome or saddle up to the bar. Aria chose to saddle up to the bar, aside, the bartender looked good and a good-looking bartender might just take her mind off things. There was a heavy hitter, a buckethead, a Mandalorian which left Aria to wonder if he was one of those broody silent types, or the hot-stud and overexcitable type. The night would soon tell just as Aria took a seat somewhere beside the buckethead and some distance away from someone doing their best impression of a scruffy nerf-herder which was always a classic, and might Aria add, cute look.
Well-Known Member
C A N T I N A
Visanj entered the cantina. Tattooine, she thought, how many times have I come here on business? How long has it been? She recalled the Hutt-skin leather upholstery of her ship’s lounge and smiled. Oh yeah, since then. As she peered around the room, the multitudes of ne’er-do-wells, petty criminals, and drifters reminded her of the Den on Dagata. The sounds of drunken arguments, hollow boasts, and celebrations without purpose, clinking glasses, filled her ears. Find a dive bar, a real hive of scum and villainy, and you hear the song of your people.
Visanj looked around. Sadly, the bar was boring. Nothing looked fun and no one looked bette- wait just a fethin’ minute! The retro look was in, and skintight flight pants over there promised something new and special to behold. Cute, like a porg’s eyes when they begged kind of cute. Drinking all alone among these reprobates there was only three possible reasons for such miracles to occur on the world of sand, crime, and lost souls. The first was heartbreak. Did her lover leave her at this place, penniless and abandoned? Maybe a cheating husband? Whatever it was, no one drinks like that without something inside of them they want to kill. Not that Vis wasn’t fluent in that language. Sadly, Vis can’t get drunk like normal people: She requires a 55-gallon ‘shot’ to get the slightest vibe anymore. Pity. Freakin’ cybers. Second, nerves. Waiting for a contact whose face she’d never seen? Maybe an important job interview? She’s too old to be meeting her admissions rep for Jedi school. Why the hell anyone would want to embrace Skywalker’s lies and follies evaded her. Not that the Sith were any better. Sexy and ‘evil’ was the galactic equivalent of a teenaged girl’s tantrums. Third, she was looking for something new. I am new. This has potential.
She swaggered into the bar further. Just in time to see
Aether the Iron
buy her a drink. He’s cute. Debonair and charming, handsome if you’re into those chromosomes. Poor boy. Whatever, she thought, sometimes a girl just needs a Baroness. Vis shuj’d the sleeves of her jacket and straightened herself. She sauntered – and in every sense of the word, she did – as she slid onto the bar opposite of Aether, nodding to him in acknowledgment to the man.
Aether the Iron
buy her a drink. He’s cute. Debonair and charming, handsome if you’re into those chromosomes. Poor boy. Whatever, she thought, sometimes a girl just needs a Baroness. Vis shuj’d the sleeves of her jacket and straightened herself. She sauntered – and in every sense of the word, she did – as she slid onto the bar opposite of Aether, nodding to him in acknowledgment to the man.
“Hiya gorgeous!” She smiled at Aether. “I see you’re having fun. I guess if you’re buyin’, put twenty shots of Whyren’s on Aether. In the meantime,” Vis peeled a few thousand off and tossed it on the bar, “Buy the house.”
"So you, lonely girl. What’s you’re story? My Confederate friends are a scosh bit dramatic, but they’re not bad beings. Name’s Vis. Just a girl living the nightmare. How’s you?”
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Meili Feng
Character
Location: Tatooine | Mos Eisley | Canteen
Tagging: Katarine Ryiah |
Visanj T'shkali
|
Aether the Iron
|
Mr. Antilles
| Ariajai Chalaz
The Confederacy expanded over countless systems, made the lives of innumerable people better and happier, from the elite of Naboo to the moisture farmers who scratched out an existence on the sandy plains of Tatooine. The cloak of the Confederacy extended over all of them like a calming protection, an umbrella to protect them against the dark and the evils that populated the galaxy. There was always a new quest, a new missions to take you all over, from one end of the galaxy to the other.
Join the knights, see the world...get sand in places you didn't even know you had.
Meiling hated sand, it was coarse and it got everywhere.
Why oh why did someone think it was a good idea to send her to Tatooine of all places, she didn't know who's bright idea this was but when she got back to Naboo someone was going to answer for this. For now though, a camp had been cleared, information sent back home and now the woman just waited till her ship arrived to take her home. Away from the sand and the suns, to somewhere that was a little less abrasive and coarse.
The dim lights of a cantina had seemed like a good place to get out of the sun, to spend some time forgetting her woes. Only...this wasn't exactly the bar she'd thought it was, a hive more than a place to relax...although...the possibility of a fight never seemed to far away...that might be fun.
The commotion at the bar caught her attention as the woman pushed herself away from the booth she'd been occupying, letting her cloak fall back from her head as she noticed the infamous Minister of Science entering the room, peeling off a wad of credits.
"Wait, if someone's buying shots I'm in."
Tagging: Katarine Ryiah |
Visanj T'shkali
|
Aether the Iron
|
Mr. Antilles
| Ariajai Chalaz The Confederacy expanded over countless systems, made the lives of innumerable people better and happier, from the elite of Naboo to the moisture farmers who scratched out an existence on the sandy plains of Tatooine. The cloak of the Confederacy extended over all of them like a calming protection, an umbrella to protect them against the dark and the evils that populated the galaxy. There was always a new quest, a new missions to take you all over, from one end of the galaxy to the other.
Join the knights, see the world...get sand in places you didn't even know you had.
Meiling hated sand, it was coarse and it got everywhere.
Why oh why did someone think it was a good idea to send her to Tatooine of all places, she didn't know who's bright idea this was but when she got back to Naboo someone was going to answer for this. For now though, a camp had been cleared, information sent back home and now the woman just waited till her ship arrived to take her home. Away from the sand and the suns, to somewhere that was a little less abrasive and coarse.
The dim lights of a cantina had seemed like a good place to get out of the sun, to spend some time forgetting her woes. Only...this wasn't exactly the bar she'd thought it was, a hive more than a place to relax...although...the possibility of a fight never seemed to far away...that might be fun.
The commotion at the bar caught her attention as the woman pushed herself away from the booth she'd been occupying, letting her cloak fall back from her head as she noticed the infamous Minister of Science entering the room, peeling off a wad of credits.
"Wait, if someone's buying shots I'm in."
Well-Known Member
O B J E C T I V E
Vis threw a half million credits on the bar, "Pour 'til it's gone. Whole house. I will take a Whyren's, neat."
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Well-Known Member
O B J E C T I V E
“I think you’ve won the hearts of the patrons. I think she’s in need of a drink too bartender.”
“Oh, darlin….these are my people"Vis swiveled on her chair and raised a glass, “To Shalya! Her children! May they make their mark among the stars!”
A dozen of the bar’s patrons leapt to their feet. “To Shalya!” they echoed, raising their glasses defiantly. One Klatoonian wiped his eye.
Vis smiled, “See?”
She swiveled back in her chair and tapped the bar for another drink. “So what brings you to this little corner of nowhere…um, what is your name?”
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K I N G
MOS EISLEY - TATOOINE
Aether...You always know just what a lady wants to hear.
A metallic chuckle sounded from behind the man's visor. The barkeep was sugar personified when she wanted to be. Spice when sugar didn't suit her. In reply, he simply rapped his knuckles upon the countertop. "I aim to please." he began, before motioning towards his mark. "Usual hole? Or is there a transport waiting?"
And that's when the cantina went from zero to fifty in point-two seconds. In saunted in a face that the Mandalorian immediately recognized. How could he not? There wasn't a sheb worth their salt on the Viceroyal circles that didn't know if the Miss T'shkali. Thus, she earned a polite nod. In Aether's mind, that was his queue to get a quick shot in and to exeunt - lest he say something stupid in front of the big wigs.
Hiya gorgeous! called the blonde, before adding twenty shots of Whyren's to his tab. Before he could so much as protest. "I...Wait..." he stammered, before the Minister proceeded to shower the bar with credits. Ah well, twenty something shots wouldn't wreck his haul from the bounty. And it looked like everyone else's drinks were covered - given the cheers and all.
To the one who he had been nice to, he earned a reply that made the man smirk. Thank you, though it will take more than one drink before I let you tie me up like that.
"Good rope costs extra." came his bemused reply.
Never a dull moment on Tatooine.
Aether...You always know just what a lady wants to hear.
A metallic chuckle sounded from behind the man's visor. The barkeep was sugar personified when she wanted to be. Spice when sugar didn't suit her. In reply, he simply rapped his knuckles upon the countertop. "I aim to please." he began, before motioning towards his mark. "Usual hole? Or is there a transport waiting?"
And that's when the cantina went from zero to fifty in point-two seconds. In saunted in a face that the Mandalorian immediately recognized. How could he not? There wasn't a sheb worth their salt on the Viceroyal circles that didn't know if the Miss T'shkali. Thus, she earned a polite nod. In Aether's mind, that was his queue to get a quick shot in and to exeunt - lest he say something stupid in front of the big wigs.
Hiya gorgeous! called the blonde, before adding twenty shots of Whyren's to his tab. Before he could so much as protest. "I...Wait..." he stammered, before the Minister proceeded to shower the bar with credits. Ah well, twenty something shots wouldn't wreck his haul from the bounty. And it looked like everyone else's drinks were covered - given the cheers and all.
To the one who he had been nice to, he earned a reply that made the man smirk. Thank you, though it will take more than one drink before I let you tie me up like that.
"Good rope costs extra." came his bemused reply.
Never a dull moment on Tatooine.
Jack-Of-All-Trades
// Location: Mos Eisley Cantina
// Tag: Katarine Ryiah |
Aether the Iron
+ |
Meili Feng
|
Visanj T'shkali
| Ariajai Chalaz | [OPEN]
Aether the Iron
+ |
Meili Feng
|
Visanj T'shkali
| Ariajai Chalaz | [OPEN] // Weapon: Hand Canon + Mouth
// Occupation/Cover: Bartender
Mo’ customers—Mo’ money.
Mr. Antilles sat up when stragglers started coming toward the bar and her buxom assets took on a particularly pleasing wiggle when she shifted her weight and let one hand rest on her hip that cocked sassily to the side. Well, well, well. She didn’t recognize the curly-haired patron (Ariajai Chalaz) but to be truthful there were many customers she only ever saw once; then never again. It was the fate of spending too much time on a gritty, craven, cesspool. Some made it out.
Some got swallowed up in sand storms and died of dehydration.
Some got shived and local jawa looted their corpse for loose change.
Grey eyes lingered on Ms. Doe-Eyes (Katarine Ryiah) when she rather morosely responded. If ever she had seen someone drowning their problems In ill-advised, bottom basement, bathtub gin? This was it. “You might not say that in the morning, darlin’…”
Words of wisdom. This girl would have a L-E-G-E-N-D-A-R-Y hangover the size of the gorram Star Destroyer if she kept sucking down the neon-green goose. Part of her wanted to get the girl a tall glass of water to go with her next one, but that was pretty expensive in these parts. It would be a huge loss if it got wasted, plus, the owner of the establishment would frown on her for encouraging anything but the more expensive swill. Mr. Antilles didn’t much care about getting fired but it was a sweet cover when she needed to hide in plain sight.
A very loud, highly attractive woman approached and Mr. Antilles raised a brow but didn’t say anything yet. Mostly, out of sheer curiosity. Where had that body come from? Out of the blue? On Tatooine? Certainly, it was the best money could buy. The bartender could agree with that full-stop when the boisterous blonde dropped down an unsightly amount of money and demanded shots and drinks for the house.
Yoink!
Mr. Antilles picked up the stack of credits and counted off a generous percentage. “I’ll just take my tips now before you lot get too drunk and forget about little ole me.”, she quipped, casting a cheshire smile, before she picked up a tray and began to prep the shots of Whyren’s that had been requested. From there she began to make a few other popular drinks and started to move down the bar line, ensuring, that she gave
Visanj T'shkali
first pick. She was paying the bill, afterall.
Visanj T'shkali
first pick. She was paying the bill, afterall.
And for the lawyer-bot to divorce her next ex-husband.
Aether the Iron
would receive a very festive drink with some sort of coconut, rum, and an umbrella in it before he even asked for it. Whether it would drink it or not—Antilles shot him a sassy smirk. She doubted he would take off his helmet long enough to try it but it amused her nonetheless. “The same hole will do. I’ll have your fee wired to you before second sundown, sug.”, she responded, and the sputtering response he gave caused her to laugh airily.
“Oh, Aether. Why do you lead the poor girl on? Who needs rope when I'm sure we got handcuffs in the larder somewhere.”
Her coquettish reply was left to settle before she turned to Ariajai Chalaz and
Meili Feng
who had been waiting pretty patiently for their orders to be taken. Most residents of this dust bowl would have thrown at least a few obscenities at her by now. Or a glass. Or something else equally painful, that, given the chance, she would happily throwback.
Meili Feng
who had been waiting pretty patiently for their orders to be taken. Most residents of this dust bowl would have thrown at least a few obscenities at her by now. Or a glass. Or something else equally painful, that, given the chance, she would happily throwback.
“What can I interest you pair in? It seems Ms. T’shkali is rollin’ out the red carpet so might I advise ordering anything not made in a pig pit lest you want to risk rot gut bad enough to kill ya. The higher the price, the less chances you have of catching the plague.”
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TAG: Katarine Ryiah |
Mr. Antilles
|
Visanj T'shkali
|
Meili Feng
| Ariajai Chalaz |
Aether the Iron
Tatooine.
One thing Gail could say about the speck of dust in space - it had sufficient waterholes.
Getting sent out here in the boonies to keep an eye on some undesirables didn't have to be dry and boring, now did it? And where better to keep an eye on the lowlives than in a cantina?
So Gail made himself at home in Mos Eisly's watering hole.
Feet propped up on the table in a corner of the shady cantina, he was on his third Bantha Blaster for the hour when things started to get interesting. Some folk he had seen around Naboo once or twice, including the Minister of Science,
Visanj T'shkali
, had shown up in dribs and drabs. It was not that uncommon to see other Confederates in a hole like this, but when the Minister hollered out a "To Shalya", the Knight could not not return the cheers. "To Shalya!" he cried, rising with the other patrons and holding his drink up.
Sipping on the Blaster, he then sauntered over to his fellow Confederates, who all seemed huddled around some girl. He was just in time to hear the last bit of conversation she gave.
"Some of us just drink or keep the peace on obscure places like this. I prefer to do both. More fun." he grinned before taking another sip of the Tatooine specialty.
He then flopped his butt down in a chair beside the Minister, still looking over at the new girl. He then looked over at the barkeep,
Mr. Antilles
."I uh....think she needs a glass of water, lass, if you please." he laughed before sliding over some creds for the expensive liquid. He then looked back at Katarine Ryiah. "So, now that you saw us, are we really that big and scary? Granted, Miss Feng over there can be quite scary with a lightsaber when she fights some baddies." he said, nodding over at his fellow Knight,
Meili Feng
. "But other than that, we're all teddy bears and marshmallows." he said with another grin while trying to cover his own saber with his jacket. 
K I N G
MOS EISLEY - TATOOINE
The same hole will do. I'll have your fee wired to you before second sundown, sug.
If the Mandalorian had a hat to tip, he would have done so. However, he found himself the proud recipient of a very festive looking drink with an...umbrella. It wasn't exactly his sort of style, but Aether wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He paused, looking down at the bound Rodian - who seemed to have given up on his struggling. "Now you sit tight buddy, you're almost home free." he said, chuckling to himself. His palms then rested on either side of his buy'ce and lifted, revealing his sable features and dreadlocks. The helm was settled upon the counter, affording him the opportunity to dig into the drink.
"Much obliged, boss." he said, raising the glass towards the barkeep. Upon taking a sip, he found that it was particularly sweet - not bad. Oh Aether, why do you lead the poor girl on? came the barkeep's reply to his rope quip. He almost snorted. The glass was safely settled upon the counter whilst he licked his lips.
"I like a little art in the bedroom."
The girl named Kat earned herself a slight wink. It was becoming increasingly clear that she was sipping above her weight class, given how much she was hiccuping while speaking. At least she hadn't started slurring her words. As far as why she was 'round these parts? Taking a gander at the South to see if it was as fethed as...wait. Death Star? Wasn't that like a thousand years back. Girl was either touched in the head or some kind of time traveler. Aether couldn't judge, what with his mother being all over the damn continuum. Imagine being grounded in three different realities all at once. Yike.
"You can call me Aether. Day job's bounty hunting. If you want to know more, it'll cost you dinner. On me."
Sometimes the bastard couldn't help himself.
The same hole will do. I'll have your fee wired to you before second sundown, sug.
If the Mandalorian had a hat to tip, he would have done so. However, he found himself the proud recipient of a very festive looking drink with an...umbrella. It wasn't exactly his sort of style, but Aether wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He paused, looking down at the bound Rodian - who seemed to have given up on his struggling. "Now you sit tight buddy, you're almost home free." he said, chuckling to himself. His palms then rested on either side of his buy'ce and lifted, revealing his sable features and dreadlocks. The helm was settled upon the counter, affording him the opportunity to dig into the drink.
"Much obliged, boss." he said, raising the glass towards the barkeep. Upon taking a sip, he found that it was particularly sweet - not bad. Oh Aether, why do you lead the poor girl on? came the barkeep's reply to his rope quip. He almost snorted. The glass was safely settled upon the counter whilst he licked his lips.
"I like a little art in the bedroom."
The girl named Kat earned herself a slight wink. It was becoming increasingly clear that she was sipping above her weight class, given how much she was hiccuping while speaking. At least she hadn't started slurring her words. As far as why she was 'round these parts? Taking a gander at the South to see if it was as fethed as...wait. Death Star? Wasn't that like a thousand years back. Girl was either touched in the head or some kind of time traveler. Aether couldn't judge, what with his mother being all over the damn continuum. Imagine being grounded in three different realities all at once. Yike.
"You can call me Aether. Day job's bounty hunting. If you want to know more, it'll cost you dinner. On me."
Sometimes the bastard couldn't help himself.
Slowly the events that unfolded around Aria began to catch up with the starlagged scoundrel. Traveling across the galaxy had its toll on the body, and as Aria's brain began to reconcile it all together. She looked over to the overly maked-up woman of a bartender and grinned softly, and seen as how her bar tab would be paid. The Artorian sat up straight and with a drawl indicative of the Northern parts of the Outer Rim, "whiskey, make it a double on the rocks, the uh - Druckenwell special there." She gestured toward what passed for a drink menu behind the bartender.
Aether the Iron
's words about art in the bedroom made her chuckle, "the only art I need is the woman in my arms." Aria turned just enough to see Aether and the other woman she gave the woman, Katarine Ryiah a wink. "But I'm just one little gal tryin' to get by in this great big galaxy." Her words played out soft and slow, tired as she was there was a light rasp to the sound of her voice. Gailen Ashdown made mention of
Meili Feng
and all the little scoundrel could think of to say was, "there's several masterpieces to speak of around these parts."
Either that or she was that tired that any woman was lookin' right good about now.
"Names Ariajai Chalaz, freighter captain," she introduced herself to Kat and the rest of the bar as it so happened. Then a nod toward
Visanj T'shkali
as she took her drink and raised it up. "Thanks for the drinks, by the way,"
Visanj T'shkali
as she took her drink and raised it up. "Thanks for the drinks, by the way,"
"Just finished a haul in from the Northern end of the galaxy."
She took that whiskey faster and harder than most women cared to think about takin' anything. Aria gave a wide grin toward
Mr. Antilles
and requested, "bartender, another- oh and uh, you said something about handcuffs right?" A cheeky smile marked Aria's face as she waited for the next shot of whiskey.
Mr. Antilles
and requested, "bartender, another- oh and uh, you said something about handcuffs right?" A cheeky smile marked Aria's face as she waited for the next shot of whiskey. Meili Feng
Character
The petite woman couldn’t help the smile that touched her lips at the bartender’s very…forthright wording, at her description of the bar’s fare. This wasn’t the glittering first level of Naboo, or the quaint pubs of Naboo, this was a hive, a cantina in one of the worst holes in the galaxy. Meilei hadn’t expected the smoothest whiskey and finest wine…but it sounded like that was actually what was available, if you were willing to pay enough. Luckily Minister T’shkali was more than willing to shell out the cash, and Mrs Feng hadn’t raised a fool.
“Well, if you put it like that, I’ll have whatever she’s having.”
The dark-haired woman jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the blonde before leaning against the bar, waiting for the shot to be poured as she let her gaze slide along the crowd to rest on her fellow knight, a small smile curling up the corner of her lips.
“Don’t listen to him,” she cut in, “If there’s anyone you need to steer clear of while he’s wielding a lightsaber it’s Gailen here, though I’m not going to comment on if it’s because he’s deadly, or a menace to himself and his allies.”
A smirk settled on her features as the woman nodded her head at Ariajai, turning slightly to face the rest of the bar as she raised a hand in greeting.
“I’m Meilei. I guess I’m from a little planet of too the west of the galaxy. I’d say it’s a little early in the evening to start breaking out the handcuffs.”
More than one could play that game! Dark eyes settled on Katarine as Meilei inclined her head to the side.
“Sounds like you’ve seen yourself some things. I wouldn’t put too much weight on the past stories, the Confederacy today is a completely different beast from the stories I’ve heard about in the past. Though, if you’ve got some stories to tell?”
“Well, if you put it like that, I’ll have whatever she’s having.”
The dark-haired woman jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the blonde before leaning against the bar, waiting for the shot to be poured as she let her gaze slide along the crowd to rest on her fellow knight, a small smile curling up the corner of her lips.
“Don’t listen to him,” she cut in, “If there’s anyone you need to steer clear of while he’s wielding a lightsaber it’s Gailen here, though I’m not going to comment on if it’s because he’s deadly, or a menace to himself and his allies.”
A smirk settled on her features as the woman nodded her head at Ariajai, turning slightly to face the rest of the bar as she raised a hand in greeting.
“I’m Meilei. I guess I’m from a little planet of too the west of the galaxy. I’d say it’s a little early in the evening to start breaking out the handcuffs.”
More than one could play that game! Dark eyes settled on Katarine as Meilei inclined her head to the side.
“Sounds like you’ve seen yourself some things. I wouldn’t put too much weight on the past stories, the Confederacy today is a completely different beast from the stories I’ve heard about in the past. Though, if you’ve got some stories to tell?”
N/A
Last edited by a moderator:
The Emerald Flame
Objective: Have fun.
Tag: [Open to all to engage] +
Mr. Antilles
Wearing:
It seemed this cantina was a solid place to be. That was, if you didn't mind the chance of a shank in the side or the occasional sickness spread through the drinks. She had been to places like this, but never got enough time in them to truly get used to them. Her body was bruised, battered, and surprisingly even more so then normal. The normally pristine right side of her body showing the result of a hastily functioning medical droid failing to do its job properly. Every step she took was deliberate and measured to ensure she would stay on the set of legs she had. Which was harder then it had any right to be.
Not long before she had gotten back from a mission, one she had most assuredly not thought would get out of hand. She now had fresh credits, and a bunch of pain she needed to sooth before she would return to her ship. Every step an alternating symphony of metal and heels, as her prosthetic leg had it's metal parts softly jingle with every step inside the boots. It didn't feel comfortable, but her outfit already properly served to combat that purpose. A long black coat offset her short black skirt, the thing sneaking up slightly with the steps and annoying her more then she could ever express in words. An black shirt with fitting belt were hastily put on, looking stylish with the belt, giving off a bit of a military but also casual spicy look. She had chosen this, as it was comfortable with the long sleeved gloves, to hide her prosthetics. The only clear loss of her body was the right eye, damaged and unable to see, it had a soft green glow as force sight was used to make her able to see.
There were a great many people there... and she knew NO ONE. That didn't happen often. Somehow it made her insecure. She shook the feeling out of her mind and instead took strides towards the bar. Asking the bar maid
Mr. Antilles
with a low, warm and motherly voice:
"Any drink you can suggest tonight? I could do with something refreshing and numbing to the pain... oh but I'd like to keep the... plague you said when I walked in? I'd like to avoid that."
She smiled kindly at the woman. Her looks were... eccentric... excessively so... But surely she would be nice. The other patrons seemed... quite unique all by themselves. It wasn't hard to imagine them each having an intriguing life story. She herself was what... past the 35 mark... and the crimson bundle of hair, decorated with silver ornaments and many braids, was starting to show some thin grey strands. Her hands rested on the bar and tapped patiently, tap, chunk, tap, chunk. The normal hand and metal hand alternated softly as she turned to the side. Looking at the other patrons there. A Mandalorian always stood out. They were a hardy bunch, and while not fun per-se, she deeply respected their resolve. A woman seemed a bit out of time, and it was just the two she found stand out the most. It didn't take her long to turn to the bar tender and add to it, with a slight urge in her voice:
"Please... make that a double... and leftovers are a tip."
She put down a small stack of credits. It was enough for a normal drink, nothing too fancy but probably just a bit more then she normally would pay. And a fair tip on top of it. Her hair softly whisked out of her face with a small jerk of her head.
Tag: [Open to all to engage] +
Mr. Antilles
Wearing:
It seemed this cantina was a solid place to be. That was, if you didn't mind the chance of a shank in the side or the occasional sickness spread through the drinks. She had been to places like this, but never got enough time in them to truly get used to them. Her body was bruised, battered, and surprisingly even more so then normal. The normally pristine right side of her body showing the result of a hastily functioning medical droid failing to do its job properly. Every step she took was deliberate and measured to ensure she would stay on the set of legs she had. Which was harder then it had any right to be.
Not long before she had gotten back from a mission, one she had most assuredly not thought would get out of hand. She now had fresh credits, and a bunch of pain she needed to sooth before she would return to her ship. Every step an alternating symphony of metal and heels, as her prosthetic leg had it's metal parts softly jingle with every step inside the boots. It didn't feel comfortable, but her outfit already properly served to combat that purpose. A long black coat offset her short black skirt, the thing sneaking up slightly with the steps and annoying her more then she could ever express in words. An black shirt with fitting belt were hastily put on, looking stylish with the belt, giving off a bit of a military but also casual spicy look. She had chosen this, as it was comfortable with the long sleeved gloves, to hide her prosthetics. The only clear loss of her body was the right eye, damaged and unable to see, it had a soft green glow as force sight was used to make her able to see.
There were a great many people there... and she knew NO ONE. That didn't happen often. Somehow it made her insecure. She shook the feeling out of her mind and instead took strides towards the bar. Asking the bar maid
Mr. Antilles
with a low, warm and motherly voice:"Any drink you can suggest tonight? I could do with something refreshing and numbing to the pain... oh but I'd like to keep the... plague you said when I walked in? I'd like to avoid that."
She smiled kindly at the woman. Her looks were... eccentric... excessively so... But surely she would be nice. The other patrons seemed... quite unique all by themselves. It wasn't hard to imagine them each having an intriguing life story. She herself was what... past the 35 mark... and the crimson bundle of hair, decorated with silver ornaments and many braids, was starting to show some thin grey strands. Her hands rested on the bar and tapped patiently, tap, chunk, tap, chunk. The normal hand and metal hand alternated softly as she turned to the side. Looking at the other patrons there. A Mandalorian always stood out. They were a hardy bunch, and while not fun per-se, she deeply respected their resolve. A woman seemed a bit out of time, and it was just the two she found stand out the most. It didn't take her long to turn to the bar tender and add to it, with a slight urge in her voice:
"Please... make that a double... and leftovers are a tip."
She put down a small stack of credits. It was enough for a normal drink, nothing too fancy but probably just a bit more then she normally would pay. And a fair tip on top of it. Her hair softly whisked out of her face with a small jerk of her head.
Jack-Of-All-Trades
// Location: Mos Eisley Cantina
// Tag: Katarine Ryiah |
Aether the Iron
+ |
Meili Feng
|
Visanj T'shkali
| Ariajai Chalaz |
Diana Sophistica
| Gailen Ashdown + [OPEN]
Aether the Iron
+ |
Meili Feng
|
Visanj T'shkali
| Ariajai Chalaz |
Diana Sophistica
| Gailen Ashdown + [OPEN] // Weapon: Hand Canon + Mouth
// Occupation/Cover: Bartender
Two drinks.
That was all it took. Two drinks, and Ms. Doe-Eyes was already giggling like a mid-year with a crush. Mr. Antilles watched with a certain sense of morbid fascination. It was true that these drinks were designed to toss the unwary on their collective arses, but dang, had it happened fast in this instance. The puffed-up blonde woman with all the dough asked for her name and the bartender filed it away for safekeeping. Kat, she said. Mr. Antilles held back a snort.
Kitten was more appropriate.
“…Right before the Senate destroyed the Republic?”
The slowly drawled question was met with the creasing of perfectly arched eyebrows while the kiss of deep-purple painted lips squinched in momentary confusion. What really sent alarm bells flying for the auburn-haired woman was the mention of a certain, unmentionable, piece of techno-crap. The Death Star. This little thing, a slip of a girl, barely cooking a hundred- and ten-pounds soaking wet was referencing THE Death Star?
Piercing grey eyes fell on the handsome newcomer. He had a mop of straw-brown hair (Gailen Ashdown) and an easy-going nature that reminded her of that hillbilly Americus Clan way down south in the Haserian System. They were a motley crew. Down to earth and capable of making one hell of a brew on minimal ingredients. He suggested that she get Kitten a glass of water and she sucked a breath in betwixt pearly white teeth. “Darlin…I hate to say it—But tall dark and Mr. No-Regrets come the morning might be right. If you’re talkin’ about the Death Star you should sip on something a little less harsh for a spell. That was a long…Long time ago.”
Mr. Antilles couldn’t help but let the implications settle in her mind before she cast a cheshire grin at Gailen Ashdown and bent down to fetch some of the purest water they had. It was clean, filtered, with no sand to speak of. Awfully, expensive.
“But it’s on your dime, handsome.”, she intoned, pointing a finger at him before setting the glass down in front of Katarine Ryiah. He went on, and on, talking about how the Confederacy wasn’t scary and the bartender could only shake her head. Sure, it wasn’t scary if you were part of it. To anyone else? Outsiders, from the Sovereign Worlds they protected? They were a bit of a mystery to the common traveler, save, for a few small rules to abide.
- Do not touch Eshan.
- Slavery is outlawed, no exceptions.
- Droid Army.
- The Vicelord had offspring all over the verse. Rumor had it that he was part Gizka.
- Party Rockers
- Don’t Poke the Bear: The nation slept. Until it didn’t—Like some fallen, ancient domain. Then all hell broke loose.
They didn’t seem to want outright war with any other faction, though, that didn’t mean they wouldn’t rise to the occasion. Often, they withheld firing unless fired upon. But if the other side wanted to fight? It would begin, then and there. Mr. Antilles had seen them focus on infrastructure and refugees in the past. She’d also seen them close their borders when their constituents were under duress from outside influences. She could only imagine what it looked like to enemies, other empires, when their doors closed and prototypes for WMD’s starting rolling out like hotcakes.
“…The Confederacy does like their droids…”
And the color purple. And hexagons. And parties, oh my.
Aether was more than capable of dealing with the thorne in her side for a little while longer. At some point she would interrogate the Rodian and get what she needed, but for now, she was amused with present company. Her eyes rolled in her head toward the Mandalorian in golden armor and her hand fell cockily to her hip. Art. That’s what he liked in the bedroom. Really. “Lucky you, I’m an artist.”
It seemed that the time had come to introduce themselves and she hesitated. All these CIS bigwigs really, truly, didn’t need to know she existed. Especially not since she’d uploaded a (mostly harmless) virus to
John Locke
. Handsome though he was, not that bright. Her focus fell back toward a raven-haired woman that wore a shade of red lipstick that was exactly her color. Her voice was strangely pleasant, despite the twang. Liberated from the bits and pieces of the Outer Planets Alliance?
John Locke
. Handsome though he was, not that bright. Her focus fell back toward a raven-haired woman that wore a shade of red lipstick that was exactly her color. Her voice was strangely pleasant, despite the twang. Liberated from the bits and pieces of the Outer Planets Alliance?
“Can do, sugar. Can I interest either of you in something to eat? I do make the collards round here and unlike the booze…You’ll actually come back for that.”, Mr. Antilles intoned, smiling, while Ariajai Chalaz engaged with
Aether the Iron
. It always amused her when someone could give, tit-for-tat, with a King of Krant who liked to pose as some sort of vagabond spacer. Puh-lease. The pale woman beside her (
Meili Feng
) asked for the same thing and Antilles nodded. The bartender sat down both of the Druckenwell Specials…Only…
Aether the Iron
. It always amused her when someone could give, tit-for-tat, with a King of Krant who liked to pose as some sort of vagabond spacer. Puh-lease. The pale woman beside her (
Meili Feng
) asked for the same thing and Antilles nodded. The bartender sat down both of the Druckenwell Specials…Only…
It was crap. She winced, seeing it downed so fast.
Mr. Antilles let the others converse like a good bartender would. Typically, she interjected when there was something funny to say or someone needed something. The Good-Hair woman thanked
Visanj T'shkali
for the beverages and it turned out that she was a freighter captain. Speaking of, Ms. Chalaz asked her for another drink.
Visanj T'shkali
for the beverages and it turned out that she was a freighter captain. Speaking of, Ms. Chalaz asked her for another drink.
“Sure…Try this instead, though. It’s called the Rancor’s Toothpick. More spirit forward in flavor and doesn’t taste like the bottom of a bin. Cheers, darlin’.”
Her curvaceous form dipped down below the bar for a moment and when she popped back up, she had a pair of cuffs in hand. She swung them around her fingers before setting them down next to the empty whiskey glasses of Ariajai and Meili. “Compliments of the house, ladies.”
Meili Feng
warned Kitten (Gailen Ashdown) and Mr. Antilles raised a brow. Everyone in the room seemed to be taking the fact that their way too innocent drinking companion was talking about events that had taken place close to a millennia ago. Instead, it became a PR lesson?
These Confederates were damn wild.
Another woman (
Diana Sophistica
) approached the bar. A redhead with big, bright green eyes. One of them was different. Damaged. When the newcomer spoke, she was immediately suspicious of the warm, polite tone, that poured forth. No one that looked like they’d been through a meat grinder had the presence of mind to sound that…Nice. Her eye twitched. “Since we were talking about the Death Star…Let’s give that a go—Shall we?”
Diana Sophistica
) approached the bar. A redhead with big, bright green eyes. One of them was different. Damaged. When the newcomer spoke, she was immediately suspicious of the warm, polite tone, that poured forth. No one that looked like they’d been through a meat grinder had the presence of mind to sound that…Nice. Her eye twitched. “Since we were talking about the Death Star…Let’s give that a go—Shall we?”
It was a touch of Jägermeister with a splash of Gentleman’ Jack’s Whiskey. A little Vodka, some sour mix, and a bit of fizzy cola. It was sure to numb out just about any problem she was having. “No plague, just the eventual cellular death of your liver.”, indeed, Antilles made it a double. With such a generous tip in such a dive bar? She even added a straw. This was the most business this cantina had held from almost reputable clients in a dog's age. “Let me know if you need anything else…”
Still…Maybe, she ought to at least be a little polite.
“Antilles. Mr. Antilles.”, she said aloud to the assembled patrons but didn’t elaborate on. It was already a little too much while standing Infront of what appeared to be a gorram Minister of the bloody union. Kitten asked for their contact info and Antilles pulled a small chit out of her corset. “I’m a purveyor of…Everything. Bartender, extraordinaire. Great for parties you don’t want to remember.”
Or people you wanted to make disappear.
Well-Known Member
CANTINA
Tags: Katarine Ryiah
Aether the Iron
Mr. Antilles
Diana Sophistica
Meili Feng
Gailen Ashdown Ariajai Chalaz Visanj enjoyed seeing the cantina swell with life as round after round was poured. Upon hearing the explanation of the Confederacy offered to the inquisitive young woman seated beside her, she couldn’t help but to offer her own spin.
“The Confederacy is one of those things that was never supposed to be possible. A coalition of the willing, based upon democracy and shared ideals rather than forged by tyranny backed by military might or some vast bureaucratic apparatus seeking to impose its own washed-out standards on others. It’s not about the will of a single person or party, but on the power that derives from inclusion and equality. We have droid armies and vast fleets, a staggering and gleaming example of the galaxy’s finest and foremost technologies poised to secure our borders. We have courts and forums of discussion, where each system and world can offer its voice to be heard. We have all of that. But we have something more: We have ideals. Like the lady said, take a slave, we’ll take your head. Leave the peaceful alone. Live and let live. For those who want peace, we offer peace. For those who come seeking war, we respond with destruction the likes of which even Palpatine could never have imagined. Me, where do I fit in all of this? Just a Minister, a believer, and perhaps one day, a true Confederate. The Force willing, anyway.”
Vis went back to her drink. Force willing, one day. The thought echoed inside her mind and a bittersweetness took hold within her heart, one day.