First Reply Pure Pazaak

[Thalira Kiing]

Tucked into the flickering neon alleys of Nar Shaddaa's Lower Promenade, The Duskray Cantina was a dim-lit dive bar wedged between a spice den and a droid chop shop. It wasn't the kind of place that advertises—it was the kind of place you just find. Music hummed low from ancient speakers, more static than melody, and the stale air smelled of engine oil, spice, and cheap Corellian liquor. This truly was a hive of scum and villainy.

The interior was a bit too cramped for true comfort, but it was cozy enough, with its half-working wall lights casting a dull red glow. The bar was curved durasteel with scorch marks along the edge, tended by an old beat-up and rusted protocol droid with a bit too much attitude. A flickering holosign over the bar read: "No blasters. No refunds. No cheating."

In the far corner, a small circular table glowed faintly blue—an old Pazaak table still in working order. It was one of the last functioning game tables on the block, and locals knew it as the go-to spot for off-the-books games, rigged or otherwise. The usual crowd was actually somewhat thin tonight—just a few shady patrons nursing their drinks, a Rodian asleep in the booth, and a Twi'lek dancer bored out of her mind.

A pair of thugs watch the table from afar, clearly betting on someone to make a move. The tension was low, but the eyes always watching reminded everyone—this is Nar Shaddaa. Nothing stayed quiet for too long.

--

The door to The Duskray Cantina hissed open, belching out a wave of dry, recycled air thick with spice smoke and synth-booze. A few heads turned at the sound—then just as quickly turned back, disinterested.

Thalira Kiing stepped inside without hesitation, her boots clicking softly against the duracrete floor. Her hair flew gently behind her, the long organized mess it always was. She padded her sides down, wordlessly announcing to everyone around that she knew just where her credits were. She even adjusted her black cropped leather jacket as she noticed a patchy-looking man in the back of the cantina who looked at her a second too long for her taste.

The red glow of half-dead lights bathed her path to the bar. She gave the droid bartender a passing glance, ignoring its preprogrammed greeting in favor of scanning the cantina's back corner.

There it was.
The table.
The old Pazaak deck still glowed a soft cerulean, untouched by the grime coating the rest of the room. Empty—for now.

Thalira exhaled slowly, a quiet little breath of relief wrapped in tension. She slid into the seat, leaned back, placed a credit chip on the table, and looked aruond the room, not making eye contact with anyone specific, but prepared to meet anyone else's gaze.

Then, with two fingers, she tapped the side of the table. The sound echoed just slightly.
"Looking for a game," she said aloud, her voice steady and smooth, low enough to sound casual—but loud enough to be heard.

She didn't care who showed up. Someone would.
They always did when there were credits on the line.
She just hoped this one would actually be a good match.

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Smuggler Outfit
Weapons: Blasters

The tapping of fingers on synthwood echoed once. Twice.

Then a third tap answered it.

From the haze of the bar's doorway, a shadow emerged — tall, confident, and dressed for trouble. The half-dead lights caught on a pair of amber eyes just beneath the shadow of a pulled-back hood. Valery — though no one here would know her by that name — stepped inside The Duskray Cantina without hesitation, her smuggler's gear hugging every inch like it belonged. Like she belonged.

Brown leather, worn but well-kept. The white shirt beneath pulled tight under her vest, laced down the front in a way that was both functional and distracting. A blaster rode her hip, clean and quick-drawn, but her fingers weren't near it. Not yet. She didn't say a word as she crossed the room. The thugs at the back clocked her with narrowed eyes, but no one moved. No one dared.

She reached the glowing pazaak table and came to a stop across from the seated woman. She tilted her head slightly, letting a faint, dangerous smirk curve her lips, "I'm game," she drawled, her voice low and smooth, laced with just enough spice to sell the part.

Then she dropped a credit chit of her own on the table with a clean clink and slid into the seat opposite, crossing one leg over the other with practiced ease.

"The name's Lyn."

She leaned forward slightly, eyes locked on Thalira's.

Thalira Kiing ​

 

[Thalira Kiing]

The familiar faint clink of the credit chit landing on the table was like sweet music to Thalira's ears. She looked at the woman across from her, studying her with quiet intensity—making a point to let her gaze linger a moment longer than politeness required.

"Lyn," she echoed, letting the name settle between them. "You can call me Tali." Her voice dropped lower, pitched just enough for Lyn to hear—quiet enough that the rest of the cantina's noise swallowed her words whole.

Thalira reached for the deck and began to shuffle with practiced ease. The motion was smooth, effortless—the kind that only came from repetition, from habit, from a lot of late nights and lost credits.

"I assume you actually know how to play," she said, the cool confidence of her voice just shy of a challenge. "Last person I played hit again on an eighteen." She gave a small shake of her head, more disappointed than angry. "I was at seventeen."

She didn't need to say how that game ended.

But something in the way this woman presented herself—calm, steady, assured—hinted at hope. This one felt different.

Valery Noble

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Smuggler Outfit
Weapons: Blasters

Valery met the stare without flinching.

Her smirk didn't falter as Thalira looked her over — if anything, it deepened, just a shade. She was used to eyes lingering longer than necessary. But Tali didn't leer like some of the bar's other lowlifes. No, hers was a calculated stare. Reading. Measuring. Beautiful, too, Valery noted with a flicker of appreciation behind her amber gaze. Sharp features, sharper eyes. The kind of woman who could play you just as easily as she played the cards.

Good.

"I know how to play," Valery replied, voice smooth, the faint rasp of it dragging slightly against the cantina's drone. "I know exactly when to hit."

Her eyes flicked down to the deck Thalira shuffled with such practiced ease, then rose again to meet her stare — just as steady, just as deliberate. Valery didn't blink. The tension wasn't hostile, but it had weight. The kind that suggested they were both here for something more than a few hands of pazaak.

She leaned back slightly in her seat, fingers brushing the edge of the table. "You play here often?" she asked, casting a glance around the cantina. "Place has a feel to it. Not exactly polished, but... alive. Locals keep to themselves, sure, but they're watching and listening."

Her eyes flicked back to Thalira. "I'm guessing you know this place better than most. What should a girl like me expect, sitting down at this table?" A pause. Then a grin. "Besides a dent in my credits."

Thalira Kiing ​

 

[Thalira Kiing]

Thalira watched Valery with quiet focus, even as her hands moved fluidly, shuffling the pazaak deck with practiced flair. The cards danced between her fingers, the motion elegant and effortless, done entirely by feel. She didn't answer right away. Let the silence stretch—not long enough to be rude, just long enough to test the woman's patience.

"I like this place because no one bothers pretending," she said at last, placing the deck on the table with a gentle tap. "Play a hand here, and people show who they are. Whether they mean to or not."

Her eyes lifted again, sharp and deliberate as they flicked over Valery—reading, not judging. A quiet assessment.

"Side deck?" she asked, voice light, almost offhand. "Or are we playing it straight tonight?"

She nudged the deck toward the center of the table, then leaned forward, elbows resting casually on the edge as if it were just about comfort. But the way her gaze stayed locked on Valery made the move feel calculated. Close the distance. Watch the details.

"Personally," she continued, "I like to know when someone's got tricks up their sleeve. Makes the board more honest, in a way."

A slow blink. Then she eased back into her chair, letting her legs stretch out beneath the table, her posture relaxed—but not unwatched.

"Call it professional curiosity."

Her fingers came to rest lightly on her thighs, but her eyes never strayed. Still studying. Still measuring. The credits were nice, sure. But Thalira had the sense this game was opening a door—to something far more interesting.

Valery Noble

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Smuggler Outfit
Weapons: Blasters

Valery's fingers toyed lazily with the edge of her own credit chit, her smirk curling into something just a little more dangerous — not quite a grin, but close. The cantina noise blurred around her, fading to background static as she leaned in ever so slightly, mirroring Thalira's movement across the table.

"Straight tonight," she said, her voice low and warm, with just enough husk to suggest danger or charm — maybe both. "But I've been known to pull a trick or two when the game calls for it." She slid one hand toward the deck, but didn't touch it — just hovered over the cards like she was feeling for something invisible, some pulse in the air. Her eyes never left Thalira's. Not even for a beat.

"I'm a firm believer in honesty," Valery added with a tilt of her head. "Especially the kind that gets dealt under the table." Then a soft chuckle, barely louder than the clink of glass from the bar behind them. She leaned back again, her boot tapping lightly against Thalira's under the table — not accidental. Testing the waters.

"So, Tali," she said, tasting the name just a little before saying it. "You always play this sharp? Or is that just for me?" A flash of teeth now in that smirk — playful, but with an edge. And beneath it all, that calm hum of someone used to walking into rooms full of liars, killers, and worse... and knowing she still had the upper hand.

This wasn't just about pazaak.

And they both knew it.

Thalira Kiing ​

 

[Thalira Kiing]

Thalira's lips curved—just at the corner. A flicker of something between amusement and approval. She didn't flinch at the nudge of Valery's boot under the table; she merely shifted her posture, slow and easy, like someone settling in for a longer game than they'd expected.

"Straight it is," she murmured—soft, almost to herself.

She drew the deck back in and gave it one final shuffle. Slower this time. Intentional. The movements were smooth, fluid—practiced to the point of elegance—but edged with just enough deliberation to remind anyone watching: this wasn't casual.

Then she stopped. Placed the cards flat between them.

Her gaze never wavered.

"Cut?"

The word landed like an invitation dressed up as courtesy.

She slid the deck a few centimeters toward Valery—close enough to reach, far enough to make a choice. A simple gesture, but one that spoke volumes. You don't have to trust me. But you'll still have to play.

"Some players don't bother," she said lightly, like she was making conversation. "They don't know how the game works. Not like us."

A pause. Subtle. Calculated. She wasn't just watching—she was reading.

"And there's always something to learn in how someone makes the cut," she added, leaning back in her chair. Her arms folded across her chest in a way that looked casual, but the tension beneath it said otherwise.

This wasn't about chance. It never had been.

It was about instinct. Confidence. Control.

Her eyes narrowed just slightly—more focus than threat. Almost an invitation in itself.

"Show me how you play, Lyn."

Valery Noble

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Smuggler Outfit
Weapons: Blasters

Valery's fingers hovered over the deck, but she didn’t cut it right away. Instead, she watched Thalira — really watched her — the way her posture shifted, the way her words flowed like a game within the game. Controlled. Subtle. Every motion a move on the board.

"I think I will cut," she said at last, her voice low, smooth. Not a challenge, but not far from it either. She slid her fingers into the deck with the ease of someone used to touching danger, split the cards cleanly, and pushed them back with a light tap — not flashy, but deliberate.

Then she leaned back, her arms folding in a mirror of Thalira’s posture — though where Thalira had tension, Valery held calm. That kind of quiet that came with confidence earned in the field, not at the table. But she was still playing. And she was here for it.

"Let’s see what the cards think of us, Tali," she said with a faint smile, eyes never leaving hers.

She drew her first hand without fanfare. No flare, no trickery — just one card after another, set down with the kind of care that said she wasn’t here to bluff her way through. Not tonight.

"And since we’re being honest under the table," she added lightly, glancing up over her hand, "Tell me something."

A beat. She placed her next card.

"What's a sharp like you doing drifting this far from the established worlds? Someone like you doesn’t end up in a backwater cantina by accident."

Not a demand. Not even a test.

Just curiosity, wrapped in flirtation and edged with real interest. The kind that said this was more than pazaak — this was about learning how the other woman played off the table too.

Thalira Kiing ​