Public People watching, bar room brawls, and other things to do on Coruscant...

[Rezaq Karr]

So this was Coruscant? Rezaq had seen overly urbanized planets before, and a part of him itched to investigate the lower levels to see what had been forgotten to time's touch in the eons since anyone went down below where sapients still decided to live....but he knew better. Even places like this had their predators, and only a foolish hunter went poking around blind without learning first what might eat him. Besides, he had more important things to look into...

For starters, food. He was hungry, and fresh food had run out on the Favor three days ago. Thankfully, he had some credits left, and a contact to meet for a delivery of both the crate in his cargo hold and the datasticks he'd made copies of. He didn't quite understand the fixation on three thousand year old robes worn by some lost cult of sun worshippers on the ass end of an outer rim dustball, but who was he to argue with the strange avian that had enlisted his services? Besides, he'd scored a treasure trove of documents from the culture as an added bonus...if he could find a way to translate them.

One claw touched the little earpiece stuck close to his ear, growling low in to his comm. "This place reeks, Bold. Let me know when Krii'sstheee contacts the ship about where we're taking her delivery," he chuffed. "I'm going to go get something hot and bloody, and something to wash it down that I'm hoping doesnt pickle my liver."

[Try not to die, Furball. Training a new Meat-Sack is too much trouble,] the astromech beeped back. [Organics get screechy when I have to electrocute my Meat-Sack back to functionality.]

"...That only happened once."

[That you were present for.]

"One of these days, you'll have to tell me the stories locked away in that processor of yours."

With that, he pushed his way into a somewhat seedy looking bar not too far from where his ship was docked, hoping that that really was meat he smelled over the pervasive stench of exhaust, pollution, and far too many bodies crammed into a tight spot. The wolf found a seat in the corner, putting his back to a wall, and flagged down one of the servers to order. The drink came fast, and he sipped it absently, watching the people coming and going with a fascination that still burned bright even after so many decades.

 

[Vulpesen]

Ozone. The metallic scent filled the air as Vulpesen stumbled haggardly into the bar. Parts of his cloak were still smoking and the surly look on his face was enough to clear a path of even the larger patrons to the bar. He was hungry, tired, singed, and most of all, he was done. Done with slavers, done with grenades, and done with his mission. His men had gone off somewhere in search of cheaper drinks. But for the ex-Valde, a place with warm food and hard drink would be worth the extra credits. "Bantha steak and a Corellian whiskey," he growled as he placed himself on a stool at the bar. While the droid bustled off, he stretched out his aching muscles, his tail fluffing for a moment as he tried to work out the soreness of his labors.

As he stretched, his hips would be seen for a moment, laden with a brace of daggers, what appeared to be a somewhat straight profiled blaster, and the unmistakable length of a saberstaff. It all told a pretty clearstory. Vulpesen, normally a friendly and jovial man had decided that tonight he would do some very unfriendly things. Those unfriendly things were done and now it was time to get acquainted with a bottle of whatever this smoke filled place called 'their best.'

Rezaq Karr

 

[Rezaq Karr]

....spacer...spacer...hmm...that Muun was probably a smuggler...the Rodian female that had made three trips to the head in fifteen minutes was a pickpocket, making money off those too drunk to notice the creds being lifted from their persons...bruiser...thug...thug...gambler with more winnings than sense trying to coax that group in the corner to another round of sabacc...

Hmmm...that was not what he expected to see. Rezaq let his eyes drift, reading the figure that had entered armed to the teeth more than the average mercenary or street tough. No...mundane that was not. The knives he could overlook--lots of beings carried knives, even more than one. But that staff...that weapon was strange and unusual, and that meant a story and an identity.

Some of the story was one the Shistavanen had learned to read; told in marks and wear of objects, written in scratches and grooves, in threadbare spots and exposed seams, in frayed wires or stains or discoloration, in the way some spots looked fresh from manufacturing, while others had been worn smooth by gripping hands or repeated touch. And so he read with his eyes, in his fascination forgetting that staring was socially rude and, depending on the being, grounds for deeply personal or aggressive offense, gaze burning paths into the stranger's clothing and tools.

 

[Vulpesen]

Vulpesen's ears flicked and his golden eyes darted to the fur covered creature that seemed to be eyeing him up and down. His left hand shifted up to cup his glass, freeing his right to drift to the a place nearer to the pistol on his hip. "Snap a picture. It'll last longer." As far as he was aware, all bounties on his head had long since become null and void, and the syndicates he preyed on rarely existed long enough after his work to scrape up the funds for a new one. Still, it was possible he was mistaken. Or perhaps this Shistavanen was a fool who saw a myriad of pretty baubles instead of a honed weapon in humanoid form.

Either way, Vulpesen had turned his head to hold the stranger's gaze. He'd had a long day that had already created something of a boom in the duties of local doctors, cheap as they might have been. What was one more poor fool? Or perhaps he was wrong. Days like this tended to pique his paranoia and some small part of him, in the back of his mind, reminded Vulpesen that not all inhabitants of the galaxy existed to be met on the field of battle.

 

[Rezaq Karr]

It took a good handful of heartbeats for it to seem to register with the wolfman that he was the one being addressed, and further, what was being said. Those eyes blink, ears splaying out in confusion at different angles as he parsed the words, before he sat up straighter. "Oh!" It took three tries to remember which language worked here, and he stumbled awkwardly over what...might have been an apology as he slipped in and out of Basic, through two or three other common trade languages and a few growls.

"I meant no offense truly," he finally managed, once he gathered his wits and remembered Basic properly. "I was reading your weapon's story, and it was...fascinating beyond compare, and seeing one that isn't rusted to a surface in an ancient ruin is..." He wrinkled his muzzle and scratched the back of his neck. "I've not had the opportunity before tonight."

Brilliant speech, moon-calf, he berated himself. In a place like this he probably thinks you're a thief. Right. Okay. Ways out. Window. Back door. Under the tables. You really can't afford getting arrested here and now, of all places...Maybe its not a lost cause yet?

 

[Vulpesen]

Vulpesen tilted his head, his eyes narrowing at the shistavanen as he stuttered and stammered his apology. After a few moments, his hand finally drifted back to the table where it raised to motion for a refill. Draining his glass, he set the container down with a clack to be refilled. If the wolf man was a thief, he was a pretty horrible one and Vulpesen could sense no deception from him. Nervousness perhaps, but he had just been called out in a place where beatings seemed to be a cred a dozen.

"I've seen more lightsabers on battlefields. Though, perhaps not the best place for you to look." Deeming the furred patron to not be a threat, the Zorren had relaxed considerably. "And I assure you, this particular blade has seen more battles that you've seen years. By a fair margin, I'd wager." It was the oddity of Zorren biology that lead to such a truth. Youthful in the face, Vulpesen could pass for his twenties to most humans despite nearing his first century of life.

Rezaq Karr

 

[Rezaq Karr]

That earns a nervous laugh. "Oh, I only search battlefields long after the fighting has stopped. Usually decades or centuries after." He studies the weapon a moment longer. "...and I wouldn't doubt it...I can see the age in its skin, and the story its trying to tell." His eyes blink up again at the stranger. "Though whether that was all in your hands or in the hands of other hunters, I could not tell you." Rezaq twitched one ear, his muzzle wrinkling again as he inhaled, smelling and tasting the air at the same time, allowing the information a chance to filter in to his brain. "I am not familiar with your species--you resemble a human, but your scent is not human. It is curious--not one I have ever encountered before."

Maybe this would turn out alright--it was a neat mystery, and Rezaq liked those.

 

[Vulpesen]

Vulpesen's originally dour mood had been brightened a faair bit by the buzz that now played at his brain, giving him a slight swimming sensation. he was far from where he wanted to be, but it was a start. Another upending of his glass, though notably, a large portion of the contents remained as he set it down. Another raised finger, then a thumb jerking back at the Shistavanen who would find a glass set in front of himself where it was filled with an amber liquid.

"Archaeologist," Vulpesen surmised, giving his newfound companion an appraising look. "Can't say I'm that old. Not yet anyways. Though, I've plenty of friends that are." A lopsided smile touched his features for a moment. They were rare, but Vulpesen had known Zorrens who could retell ancient history like most humans spoke of highschool.

"I'm a Zorren." he finally said in answer to the wolf man's question. "Until our trials, we actually look indistinguishable from humans. After however..." He lifted his hand, displaying the sharpened claw nails next to his gleaming golden eyes. And of course, his black brush of a tail lifted up from behind to sway behind his head where two pointed ears flicked at the noises of the bar around them. "Well, it was a surprising change considering I wasn't told what I was until after said trials had begun." He punctuated his words with another long sip before adding, "Now you know what I am. And I still don't know who you are."

Rezaq Karr

 

[Tibera Jessen]

As the two conversed the bar commenced to fill with the most sophisticated sort of scum. Among these were a few militant looking sorts, wannabe tough guys in off the shelf armor most of them. Probably here to test how well firearms, drinking, and bad decision making go together.

There was one that stood out from the rent-a-thugs that walked into the bar. A sort of walking tank in a suit dull copper looking armor. They carried themself in a different way than the more brash and rowdy fighters around them. Rather than joking around and getting loud, they quietly walked to the bar counter.

Sounds of a metal clattering on faux wood caught the alien barkeep's attention. "One mug of whatever's cheapest. It's been a long week..." Came a raspy metallic voice from behind the metal mask. The barkeep was almost certain he was getting a drink order from a droid, until he noticed the very organic eyes behind the helmet's eye slit.

The barkeep served up the foamy mug to the spikey patron. Tibera was thoroughly unimpressed with the swill as waited for the fizz to die down. At least now they could relax, something they felt was long overdue. Work had been particularly nerve-wracking as of late.

 

[Rezaq Karr]

Rezaq flicked his ears back in apology. "...Rezaq," he offered, trying to remember to slow down and say his name in the smoother syllables that matched Basic, rather than the way it should be said properly. It still came out with a low rumble to the front of the word, as if it were coming from his chest instead of his throat. "And...yes, an...archaeologist...of a sort, but also a seeker of history, one who transcribes lost tales, and a keeper of the forgotten." He accepted the drink that had been placed in front of him, sipping slowly and praying to the Hunt that it wasn't going to kill him or melt his innards.

One ear twitched, and his senses gave him a nudge to not ignore the comings and goings of toughs and scoundrels that got close to him. In the end, he dedicated his one ear to listening, in case trouble found the bar or him.

 

[Vulpesen]

"Galaxy needs more historians," Vulpesen offered, a smile touching upon his lips. "I feel like its seen more wars in the last century than it has the last millennium." Vulpesen's own reaction to the entrance of a new gruff occupant of the bar was similar if not identical to Rezaq's. One of his ears flicked out to the bar, catching the metallic complaint. Guess its not so bad, he thought. He had only been suffering from one hell of a long night. Detecting no threats thus far, he returned his attention to Rezaq. "If happen to find any tales with my name, I hope they speak well of me, even if they might be a bit new for your study."


Rezaq Karr Tibera Jessen

 

[Rezaq Karr]

"Sometimes, the best source is a first hand account," the Shistavanen pointed out. "So if you're ever looking to make sure those stories get transcribed, have data pad, will travel." He curls his lips into a closed mouth smile. "Just because it happened a few years or a decade ago does not make it less history than a story from five millennia back."



((OOC: Apologies for the delay--our internet died because Comcast is incompetent.))