Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Last Round

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PScEjzeRytU

Nar Shaddaa - Headache Bar

Faint smoke filled the stale air of Derriphan's favorite bar. Not that it meant much, it was literally the first bar he ever went to as an customer and he never bothered to find another one. The frail twilight framed the glowing green eyes peaking out between the slits of his ski mask, as they quietly scanned the room. As a regular he had certain advantages tailored for him, which meant that no one, including the staff made an effort to talk to him. They simply walked by, brought him his standard drink, and collected the credits.

Maybe that was another reason why he never looked for another place to spend his time. He enjoyed the anonymity it offered, hiding him amidst the scum and filth that shared drinks here as well. As always his table was set in the outer corner of the room, and his trusty shotgun rested on it in such a way that he had to do little more then pull the trigger should anybody try anything.

Once he was satisfied with reading the room for any potential intruders, he reached into his bag and pulled out the scrap of paper he had been following all these months. After staring at it for a few minutes, an almost silent sigh emerged from his mouth as he placed it back where it came from. He hadn't made any progress in forever, and his resources were fading away. Jobs had been few and far between, as even in the brutal world of crime many considered his methods to loud and intrusive to serve any purpose besides direct war, which the families of the smuggler moon meant to avoid most of the time.

Taking another sip of his drink, a liquid that in theory should be clear but was served in the Headache as a murky sludge that taste liked it looked, he raised his head again and continued to watch out for newcomers.

[member="Darth Duellant"]
 
Level 20 of Nar Shaddaa, Headache Bar.

His current destination. He was certain he would find someone to do this job with him. Nar Shaddaa was a home of many bars that housed criminals and scum alike. He never had to rely on many criminals to do his job, he did it himself. But he needed help now.

Rakghouls - that were his enemies. And there was a sith facility underground in Endor. He had the coordinates, all he needed was the proper man to handle the job, rakghoul extermination.

As he entered Headache Bar, he pushed the door with both his hands, as he entered the poorly lit estabilishment. He didn't mind the smoke or anything of the sort.

He saw that many of the seats were taken, and there was a table in the corner of the bar, in which [member="Derriphan"] was sat.

He made his way to the lonely individual, and as he did notice the shotgun, but didn't care; he sat down on the same table.

"Are you for hire?"
-He said, putting his hands on the table.
 
"That depends on who is asking..."

As the uninvited strange descended on the free at his table, Derriphan's hand instinctively reached for the grip of his weapon, his finger already placed on the trigger. For a moment he had considered to just pull it. Here in the dirt of the lower levels of the city of lowlifes another corpse would catch no attention, and even the other patrons would only start to care if they got blood on their boots. In the end he decided not to. After all the man might had to offer exactly what he needed right now, and hearing him out didn't meant that he couldn't try to shoot him afterwards.

"...and what you pay."

His right hand remained on the weapon, but his left first pulled up the lower end of his mask to set his mouth free, then reached for the drink on the table. After downing the remains his hand returned, once more obscuring all but his eyes from the sight of the newcomer. Said eyes looked the old man up and down, taking in his strange attire that stood out even between the gangsters around them. They all wore muddy, filthy colors, but the man's appearance had a darkness to it he couldn't really place, one that somehow seemed to go beyond the scope of his clothes alone.'

[member="Darth Duellant"]
 
After noticing the hostility indirectly demonstrated by the man, with his right hand on his shotgun, Zeref simply wasn't surprised. He came to a strange bar, in a free table without even asking, but whatever was the cost of it, he didn't know. And besides, he was certain he wasn't going to shoot anymore, seeing as the man was asking for the payment.

"I hope you can do work without asking a lot of questions. We have some rakghouls to take care of. That's all i'm asking - firepower."

He said, and took 500 credits out of his bag, setting it on the table.

"So, can we negotiate?"

[member="Derriphan"]
 
"I only have one question."

His finger slowly moved away from the trigger, but his hand remained locked on his shotgun. The money on the table slightly calmed his paranoia, but he had spend enough to as a merc to know that a deal could still easily go wrong from here. It was easy to guess that the work the stranger offered was dangerous, or else he wouldn't hire some scum from the bottom of a bar for it. That was nothing new to Derriphan, working as an enforce for whoever paid enough had taught him that everyone was expandable.

"Can you pay more than that?"

He wasn't an expert when it came to rakghouls, in fact he had only heard about them once or twice and mostly that they were rather hard to kill. 500 credits was a weak offer for a potential suicide mission, and even though he needed his money he wasn't willing to trade his life for it.

[member="Darth Duellant"]
 
He glanced at the mercenary for a while, and a smirk had formed in his hooded face.

"I can."

Zeref then took another 300 credits from his bag and set it on the table.

"How does 800 creds' sound? We go in, kill the things and get out. Simple."

He knew it wasn't going to be that simple. He would maybe find another person there; maybe a sith, who knows. Rakghouls were genetically engineered monstruosities made by the sith that were doctors and scientists. This was going to be gruesome.

[member="Derriphan"]
 
"Simple."

Derriphan repeated the word, the sarcasm in his voice impossible to miss.

"We got a deal."

His right rose from the weapon, and the clone offered his hand towards the stranger to seal their agreement. It wasn't a fortune, but it was enough to continue his search without the fear of starvation breathing down his neck at any time.

[member="Darth Duellant"]
 
"I am happy to hear that."

Zeref said, and gripped the man's hand as he arised from his seat at the table.

"We shall meet in Endor."
He took a holomap with some coordinates that he was storing and placed it on the table.

"This is the place. We shall meet tomorrow"

And he took his bag and all his informations, and made his way out of the bar.

As he opened the door, he looked over his shoulder, wondering if the boy would be capable of handling the job he had proposed. Doesn't matter - he had no choice now.
 

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