Quittin' Time | Mandalorian Social

[Genesis Rostu]

Q U I T T I N '​

T I M E​

DURANGO: Americus Settlement
Haseria, Local Time: 2015

Spoiler: Large Image

The Night was Young.

Personally, Jo Americus had thought it far too soon to quit working. He and his kin had been blessed - they were lucky to be free, alive, and even had a place to call home again. So in the gray Mandalorian's mind, it would be doing their fortune a grave disservice if they sat idly. And, if it were up to him, he'd be out in the field until his body just couldn't take anymore. [member="Betty Americus"] wasn't having it, however. He had come home one too many times with hands a'blistering and she was right tired of bandaging him up.

She called him stubborn, like she always did, but sent him on his way with a kiss on the cheek.

So, with his primary desire no longer being an option, the seasoned warrior trudged along. His boots kicked up small clouds in his wake, forming rough footsteps upon the loose dirt. These parts of Haseria weren't as fertile as Concord Dawn, but with a little elbow grease and good thinking, they could turn this cut of land around. Durango - the title that they had affixed to their claim - grew into more than just a family settlement over the months. Though primarily composed of local wood and primative resources, the homestead of Clan Americus had blossomed into a budding town of sorts.

A dirt "boulevard" cut through the heart of the settlement, with tall structures lining either side. Jo looked on at each one, fondly recalling the offworld arrival of those who had erected these shops alongside him. A Barber. A Gunsmith. A Banker. Even helpers from Monastery came out of nowhere to make a clinic for Betty to practice in. Suffice it to say, Durango was shaping up to be something mighty special - and the old Americus was happy to be apart of it.

Jo turned at the end of the boulevard and ascended the few steps that awaited him. At this hour, there were no stores open - and all the normal families had begun to settle in for the evening. But, for those who didn't choose to settle into sleet at this time of night, there was always the Sierra Blanca. This was a saloon just like the ones that dotted the Outer Rim proper. It was the sole source of jovial noise tonight, for the sound of a rambunctious piano reached his ears when he reached the top.

And as his hands pushed the swinging doors open, he was greeted with a myriad of laughing voices, the clink of beer-filled mugs colliding in toasts, and the voice of one of the "entertainers" being sang to the music. Jo used the term lightly, as their entertainment value was really advertisting. The young ladies who worked the Saloon were adept at making a man burn through his wages - and if he fell a credit short they were just as adept at throwing his sorry hide out into the street. Clothed or buck nekked.

Jo, fortunately, wasn't much of a skirt chaser these days, but rather settled into his usual seat for a beverage. A table in the midst of the "action" was his destination, a shot of Corellian whiskey was his prize. Before long, the Mandalorian settled his hat upon the table, leaned back in his chair, and enjoyed a fresh sip of the swill.

And whether or not he ended up with company suited him just fine - so long as he was nursing a beverage, the Alor was content old man.

Spoiler: Tag

[member="Daisy Americus"], [member="Rulk Rogan"], [member="Jimmy Americus"], [member="Kaptan Americus"], [member="Roy Americus"], [member="Betty Americus"], [member="Andi Americus"], [member="Dhakarta"], [member="Daniel Americus"], [member="Kandi Americus"], [member="Jasper Americus"], [member="Braan Kell"]

 

[ToKola Bakari]

THEME​

For Dusty, the evenings after a long drive were all the same, dreadfully so. If he was feeling up to it he would stop by his Ma and Pa's to check up on them before the latter made his way to the saloon for the evening. However, for those long days where he wasn't feeling up to checking in on his betters, he would make his way straight to the Sierra Blanca. In the long season where a hot sun lashed out on you day in and out, a cold one was just the antidote for the working man. But that wasn't what brought the man into the saloon in the early crest of dusk. On certain days there would be a bit of a crowd gathered up on the side of the saloon, maybe about twenty to thirty people crowded around a little corral that should have been used for some form of livestock.

This crowd wasn't the most loved and certainly not the most missed when it parted. They were the men who had just a bit too much energy after a long day and needed an entertaining way to expend it. So they'd brawl. Bare-knuckle matches with nothing but a thin bandage separating a hard fist from a chiseled jaw. They were an incorrigible lot to say the least. Dusty, one of the younger children of Jo and [member="Betty Americus"] threw his lot in with this crowd.

They were allowed to fight so long as things stayed sporty and the saloon keeper was paid his dues. Which was plenty easy with all the money tossed around during the pre-match bets. Hosting a cigarra in the corner of his lips, Dusty watched as the circle grew and grew with eager faces and large fistfuls of credits. Glancing down to the ground he spit his cigarra into the dirt before chuckling softly. They always took too much damn time with the politics of it all, why couldn't they just get up and fight like a normal man? He had been leaning on the wood to the Coral for a while when one of the men called out over the huddle of voices.

"Alright! Alright! Ya'll wanna see some knuckle don't ya?!" Church, a grizzled, skinny man who spent most of his days chasing young skirts and far less chasing a good fight. He was too old to step in the ring these days, so he had named himself the "organizer" of their little club.

The men surrounding church howled back at him in response, while Dusty eyed the man with an almost boring expression. Church's eyes had been scanning the crowd at the time and caught sight of the young Americus' gaze.

"Well, well!" He called out, hopping into the coral with a rather uncoordinated leap. "Lil Jo Americus. Last time you stepped in my ring, you took yourself a whippin'. Don't tell me you come back for more, boy?" Church teased Dusty and perhaps he meant it all in good flavor, however he had made one fatal mistake when he spoke to the man.

"Don't be callin' me lil Jo, Church." His tone was low and meant to be threatening, however in the end Church simply gave off a drunken chuckle before slapping Dusty on the shoulder. "Hell, you Jo's boy , ain't ya?" He asked in good spirits, before holding a hand out to the man. "You knucklin' up?" Digging into his pockets, Dusty produced a few credit chits, slapping them into Church's hand. "You know I am."

With a smile, Church took the credits, pocketing his usual one and leaving the rest for the pot. "Alright, Dusty. You're the Rancor in the pen. Hop in." With a smirk, Dusty pulled his hat from his head, tossing it on the dirt beside him before climbing over the fencing and into the coral. Rancor in the pen, it was a simple term meaning he was first up to fight.

[member="Jo Americus"]

 

[Cale Gunderson]

Cale hadn't even heard of Haseria until he got the job to deliver an rather copious amount of alcohol to a local vendor. It paid well enough, and it was a welcome opportunity to indulge his ever growing addiction. The delivery guy got a discount, one he planned to use. If he'd understood correctly, the little settlement was home to some of the Confederacy's Mandalorians, some clan called 'Americus'. He'd never heard of them, but that was because he'd never heard of any Mandalorians that hadn't tried to kill him at some point or another in his life. They weren't the Mandalorian Empire, they weren't Sith, so he didn't mind delivering goods.

Plus, it was a nice change of pace from all that 'rebelling'. The Jedi didn't have a use for him, and didn't trust him as far as they could throw him, and there were only so many times one could smuggle arms into the hands of rebels consecutively before he garnered a reputation. One that would make his life more difficult, one that would lead to his history being relevant public knowledge again, which meant those he meant to aid just as well might have shot him than hire him.

So he opted to let things cool off before he made himself more of a target.

Sitting alone at the bar, Cale downed his second glass of Correlian Whiskey, looking on at the brawl with a hint of interest. Once upon a time he'd have seen it as a chance for fun, he'd sparred with most everyone he could back in the Temple. But things had changed since then, and given the attitude the people here gave off, he didn't imagine they'd be lining up to fight a cripple.

"Another." Credits were tossed to the bartender, and his glass was filled with a simple nod from the man dispensing the drinks. Maybe it was the chaos of the brawls, maybe it was manners, but no one had bothered to inquire why a red cloth was covering the right side of his torso, which meant for once he didn't have to acknowledge his shame and just drink irresponsibly. What a helluva place..

 

[Andi Americus]

Going home was never a dull experience.

Much as she'd prefer to tell you that the hootin' and hollerin' of the folks around Americus Settlement was like nails across a chalk board to her delicate ears, there was a jovial pleasure to seeing her family again after a long stint in the central regions of the galaxy. Though, in light of that, there was a truth in saying she typically enjoyed the company of her closest family over the great deal of others that sat extended; her personal favorite being her sister Daisy.

The saloon hadn't changed, the structure the same as she'd seen it time and time before, but this wasn't like visiting it as she had when she was a younger Mando girl. Naivety to the wind, her figure adorned in fabrics and jewelry most of the area couldn't shake a shiny credit at (despite their locale familiarity), the porcelain skinned brunette strode into the saloon carrying herself like she was a top of the line range speeder. She didn't feel out of place, comfortable in the skin her parents, Jo and Betty, had blessed her with and she made a slow line for the old Americus nursing Corellian whiskey.

"Good to see you're still you, Paw," the woman breathed quietly to him, leaning close to her old man as she did so. She gingerly laid a hand on his shoulder, gave him a light kiss on his cheek and returned to her upright posture before any other others in the building had the chance to ogle her for too long. She didn't mind the attention, but she knew how the old man felt about her habits. Turning to face where she knew she'd find the barkeep. "You get them to order in that drink I like? You know how upset I was the last time I came and you didn't."

She pouted visibly, though she figured her Paw wouldn't look up until someone else saw it, then slowly slid herself into the seat next to him. The barkeep knew what she liked, if she couldn't get the drink she wanted, so she was content to settle for the local specials. She had a feeling the rest of her siblings would show up sooner or later, and she'd be karked if she was wrong about them appearing before she grew bored and felt the urge to wander off again.

Home was home, no matter what.

[member="Jo Americus"]

 

[Don Cagliostro]

Dynamo... Roy really ought to just ditch the name. It wasn't worth keeping around, it just being one of the few things that connected him to his old life, that nickname and his scars. But when people here started calling him that too, he knew it was gonna stick. The Mandalorian cyborg sat at one of the corner booths by himself. If it was up to him the young man would honestly be chasing skirt. A young, fit bachelor like him shouldn't have much of a problem. Especially if he had he credits. However, his way of being more machine then man made it hard for people to just not view him as a droid.

However, he felt like he'd picked the right place to be with all the top notch Americus beauty that some of the girls around here had. Not only that but a guy like him was more then willing to live by the ideas of Truth, Justice, and the Americus Way. So Roy was glad to be here, he felt belonged, like he had a family again. Not by blood, but by name.

Sitting alone he probably couldn't help but look a little suspicious. Having that unending gaze of his with his 5 eyes. It just wasn't natural, certainly not with down to earth folks like these. Nonetheless he enjoyed seeing how people spent their evenings out in a simple place like this. Plus he had a drink he needed to finish. How did he do it? With a straw, better know as a sissy sipper around here, but it was what was easiest for him. Maybe tonight he'll find some company, or company will find him.

[member="Andi Americus"] | [member="Cale Gunderson"] | [member="Daniel Americus"] | [member="Jo Americus"]

 

[Aay'han Ruyot]

Aay'han always seemed to end up in the backwaters... in this case back desert. He never remembered how he got from one place to another. Whether he had paid his way, or pirated a ship. He knew he never seemed to have a ship. He had a friend, a large man donning the armor of an ancient Mandalorian Crusader. He didn't really exist though, Aay'han knew that. He popped up in his mind a month or so ago. Aay'han hated the sand, and hated the sun, yet here he was, in the midst of both. The night air didn't seem to cool to him.
He walked aimlessly through a small but busy town. His black armor caught the attention of everyone he passed. His mind wandered too much for him to think about it. He found himself before a bar. Always where he ended up. He had a few credits, may as well buy a drink. Or two. Maybe three. He stumbled in, ignoring that everyone in the joint turned to look at him. He sat down at the counter and slammed down some credits. The credits were swept away and a glass filled their place. Deciding he was not a threat, most of the room's inhabitants returned to their previous activities. Aay'han removed his helmet, a young but scarred face, eyes that have seen too much blood. He finished off his pint glass in one chug. The bartender refilled it. This was the only past time Aay'han seemed to know.

[member="Roy Americus"] | [member="Andi Americus"] | [member="Cale Gunderson"] | [member="Daniel Americus"] | [member="Jo Americus"]

 

[Shia Kryze]

This was, perhaps, the back end of beyond.

If there was a bright center to the galaxy, this was... well, no, that might be going a bit far.

But Shia had heard that one of the clans had settled here, and that they had a good life of the party. Which alone was enough to get her out of Empire space and well away from anything like duty.

Still, she knew that a bald rattataki in ancient, battered suit of armour in the colours of a clan that wasnt from anywhere around this part of the rim would look slightly out of place. But the locals were mostly said to be hospitable.

She glided more than swaggered into the bar, feeling as oddly out of place as she looked - well, they had warned her this would be... different. Of course, she hadn't actually listened to her sister or her aunt. She took in the room with a cool glance, then shrugged inwardly and walked over to the bar, the women, the men - some things translated pretty well across light years and most species.

 

[Rulk Rogan]

Rulk would make his way up the steps of the bar, his massive slabs of muscle causing it to shake and creak underneath him. The large Americus mando wore his typical red do rag, and had even brushed his magnificent handlebar moustache for the occasion. On his lower body, Rulk wore a pair of bright red parachute pants, tucked into a pair of black boots, perfectly accentuating his barrel figure and rippling biceps.​

​

Moving through the bar with pure unbridled power, the large and godly man would eventually make himself known to the tender, saying in his deep booming voice, "Hey brrroothher. Can ya get the hulkster a shot of whiskey?" As he smiled widely and made a rather opening welcome gesture. What could Rulk say? He was a people person.​

​

Looking around the cage fighter would take in the entire bar scene which had been laid out in front of him. So many of the Americus line gathered in one place, it nearly brought a tear to the man's eye. It would have if he wasn't so manly.​

​

The Rulkster would smile and nod appreciatively once his drink arrived, downing it with a loud, "Oh yea brother, that hits the spot." Then go to find a seat in the thick of the conversation amongst a couple of rugged outlaw looking fellas. Soon they were all roaring with laughter and slamming the table with mirth. Rulkimania was running rampant.​

​

[member="Roy Americus"] [member="Andi Americus"] [member="Cale Gunderson"] [member="Daniel Americus"] [member="Jo Americus"]​

 

[Maggie-Rae Americus]

A bottle’o Homemade tihaar in hand, Maggie-Rae sauntered up to the familiar Americus homestead. Durango wasn’t in the kind of lush green valley she was used to on her Daddy’s farm, but she didn’t mind the dust and dirt. The scarlet-haired warrior grew up climbing torrent wisp trees and wrasslin’ wild boars in the forest underbrush of Concordia. Haseria was nothing to write home about but after leaving Ting she had no other choice. Can't go back to Papa. It'll give him too much satisfaction to see how I had a rough go of things, she mused.

The settlement was shaping up, though Maggie-Rae had no useful skills beyond fightin’, drinkin’ and making a public nuisance of herself. Before heading into the rickety saloon she poured a little out for her dead Mama - not too much though. Alcohol weren’t for wastin’. After watching the tihaar trickle downhill, pooling in a ditch for a lone bordok to lap up, she pushed open the doors with more strength then she’d meant, and they slammed against the inside walls with a loud BANG!

And what she saw inside the dimly-lit tavern made her smile - her new family all gathered ‘round, tipping back glasses and solo cups. Running her hand through her thick candy-apple red hair, she tossed the bottle back taking a long pull of it.

“Any of ya'll up for crokin?” Maggie-Rae asked loudly. Jo had told her if she wanted to fit in she couldn’t be so “spirited” but like the hue of her long locks, the Mandalorian was a firecracker. She wasn’t one for udesiir. Mags normally set of metaphorical explosions wherever she went and left others to pick out the shrapnel.

[member="Roy Americus"] [member="Andi Americus"] [member="Cale Gunderson"] [member="Daniel Americus"] [member="Jo Americus"] [member="Rulk Rogan"]​

 

[Genesis Rostu]

Once the Mandalorian had settled into his seat, he began to hear above the noise. The music was as lively as ever - but it was a song and dance he had heard before. There wasn't anything to shutting out the symphony of sweet voices to listen around the room. Jo picked up stray pieces of conversation here and there - chatter about a shipment of Corellian Whiskey from a new guy ([member="Cale Gunderson"]) here, news about the Galactic Alliance there. Pretty standard talk for a night at Sierra. What wasn't tame, however, was the cacophany of mixed voices that bled through the walls.

Just outside, the rowdiest of the rowdy were beginning to square up. It was about that time, as it were, for young men to throw hands. They did it for fun, for credits, and for earning the sweet kisses of one of the ladies if they won. Jo was no stranger to the victory circle and chuckled at the thought. Many a night, his mean hook had scored him a bottle of spirits on the house, a fistful of credits, and a tussle under some sheets. And today, he had a feeling that one of his own were out there, riding the bull.

Whether it was a paternal hunch or something more, the Americus couldn't discern. Jo didn't put much thought into his Sensitivity after all, but simply acknowledged what he felt with another sip of his drink. And, though [member="Betty Americus"] would surely disapprove, the Father had nothing but pride when it came to his son. [member="Daniel Americus"] would feel as though his old man was patting him on the back. But the sensation would only last a moment or two.

The reason? His "movie star" had come home. [member="Andi Americus"] was a sight for sore eyes - a contradiction to the dust and grit that characterized Durango. Where her father was all dirt and sweat, she was prime and jeweled. She wanted a different life than what the Americus Way offered - and frankly Jo was fine with that. She would always be his little girl after all, no matter how deep into the Core she traveled. When she drew near, the old Mandalorian chuckled and set his drink upon the table. "Too old to change up on you now girlie." he said with a chuckle, before pointing his thumb at the barkeep. "And yes, we got in your movie star drink. Paw always comes through."

Anything to keep her home a little while longer this time.

As Andi settled into the seat beside her father, the old Mandalorian took a gander about the room. [member="Roy Americus"] sat not too far away, working on a beverage in the best way he knew how. Most would call the plastic tube in his mouth a sissy sipper, but no one in their right mind would say that out loud to him. The man was more machine than, well, man - but he was also an Americus. Such was the beauty of the Mandalorian lifestyle. Blood was irrelevant, but family is what mattered. And, for Jo, that meant wetting his lips ever so slightly and letting out a shrill whistle to get the man's attention. He then craned his neck, indicating that he should come over and join them at the table.

It had been a minute since they enjoyed one another's company as is - and Andi was home. What better way to spend an evening than with family?

The Saloon doors just kept swinging open after that. First, a man wearing midnight armor strode through the door. He didn't stop to acknowledge anyone, nor did he say a word upon arrival. That was enough to make the Mandalorian stiffen as he did not recognize the man from beskar'gam alone. Jo was suddenly very aware of the blaster which hung from his hip - as were most others in Sierra. But, the stranger didn't prove to be a threat. He simply made a b-line for the counter and paid his dues. There wasn't anything wrong with a man needing a drink, so the old Mandalorian relaxed. Slightly.

Next, Rulkimania came roaring into the Saloon. The chiseled cage fighter was always a welcome sight, and Jo couldn't help but chuckle as his overwhelming charisma swept through Sierra. His was a well known face around these parts - so much so that glasses were raised as he came by. Admittedly, Jo was surprised that the fighter wasn't participating in the brawlhalla going on just outside - but it might have been that a professional would have made things unfair? Whichever the case, the Mandalorian raised his shot in acknowledgment.

After this was...a total stranger. Jo didn't recognize the foreign woman's face or armor, but she didn't raise any fuss. She earned a slight nod from the Mandalorian as she passed.

The last entry he knew was his niece. The fiery-haired woman was always a storm of energy and spirit. She was just as infectious as Rulk, but also had a good look about her. That, in a saloon full of thirsty men, usually resulted in someone getting handsy or dumb. Which resulted in their hand being broken or getting kicked in their dummy. Jo had told Maggie some time ago that, maybe, she ought to consider toning it down - y'know to keep the peace and all. But that was like asking a storm not to thunder. Maggie was going to be herself; and Jo came to realize that maybe it wasn't her personality that was the issue.

An old dog might not learn new tricks, but maybe they can grow up a little.

"Mags, you're just going to walk in and not say hello to your Uncle? What's gotten into you girlie?" said the aging Mandalorian. His voice was alive with humor - it was clear that he was poking fun, but a hug never hurt nobody.

He then sat up in his seat slightly, eyeing Andi.

"Heard the Core's on fire, that affecting you at all?" is what he said. What he meant was is that why you came home?

[member="Daniel Americus"] | [member="Cale Gunderson"] | [member="Andi Americus"] | [member="Roy Americus"] | [member="Aay'han Ruyot"] | [member="Shia Kryze"] | [member="Rulk Rogan"] | [member="Maggie-Rae Americus"]​

 

[Olin Pinestep]

Theme​

​

Across the makeshift 'ring' from [member="Daniel Americus"], his opponent set his coin into the palm of Church, handing his hat and jacket to a nearby bystander. "Take these, would you?" He spoke with an almost disarming geniality, as though by simply being in his presence, you'd become a friend. It was the power of charisma and a quick smile, and he pulled his shirt off and cast it aside as he squared up across the way from Dusty. Pants weren't likely to get too dinged up in a brawl, and a bloody shirt was more hassle than it was worth in bar cred.

Reaching up to scratch at the side of his nose, Sam rolled his shoulders and flashed that easy smile. "Good to see ya again, Da." He says, even as someone in the back shouted 'get 'em, Uncle Sam!' They sounded drunk, so it mostly just came out sounding like half a burp and his name. Sam was the only one who shortened Dusty's name like that.

Brushing some hair back from his eyes, he tilted his head, the smile faltering into something less ostentatious and more genuine. "I see you've filled in a bit." That was putting it mildly. He'd not seen Dusty in a few years, and his teenage lankiness had filled into a suitably athletic build for a man of his size - their size, actually. They were almost even in height. But where Danial was lithe and dangerous like a knife, Sam was built like a heavyweight prize fighter. His tanned, scarred skin was packed with muscle, though not to the alarming extent of [member="Rulk Rogan"].

"First blood? Second?" He asks, a bushy brow lofting over a tired eye. His face said 'nineteen' but his eyes, eyes which had seen as much war as any Mandalorian should, said 'thirty six.' He was closer to the latter than the former, but the Force had a way of preserving youth.

 

[Jimmy Americus]

Jimmy found himself yet again wandering into his uncle's bar in Durango. For him it had been a long day of work on the farm, followed by continuing to work on his pet project. A retro styled landspeeder. It had been a longtime that he had been working on this current build, mostly just as a means to preoccupy his mind after the move from Concord Dawn, what seemed like an eternity ago now. He sidled up to the bar and took a seat, ordering a Manhattan to drink. Once the drink was brought to him, he brought it gently to his lips and took a swig, swiveling his seat and resting his elbows against the bar his eyes scanned the crowd gathered tonight. Seemed mostly to be the regulars and some band who was traveling through the area.

There were a couple of anomalies that he did notice however. First was the man who came in wearing beskar that was immediately recognizable to him as belonging to a clan member, yet there was no fuss over his entrance so Jimmy nodded towards the man, tipping his glass in an informal hello. Soon after followed an even stranger sight to the young Americus, though not entirely unfamiliar. He had seen her kind before but didn't recall the name of the species. Again, the pallid, bald female did not raise a stir when she entered and as such Jimmy had no issue with her either. While the band continued playing he continued looking over the crowd. Many of his kin had gathered for a drink or simply to catch up. He himself had only come to unwind and listen as the others rambled and joked as he wasn't usually the one to start a conversation. Granted the trait hadn't made him many friends but with the sheer amount of family members and clansmen that claimed Americus as their last name, there was never a lull in something entertaining going down.

It seemed that even his twin sister [member="Andi Americus"] decided to make an appearance. In a way it surprised him as she was far more disposed towards city life rather than the simpler life of a farmer, yet how could one blame the young woman? There was no reason to hold ill will towards someone whose path was different from your own. Besides, she was his twin, and that meant that if he could help her get ahead in the life she had chosen for herself he would do all he could to help.

When [member="Cale Gunderson"] brought a shipment of alcohol Jimmy's eyes widened and a large smile was followed by a hearty laugh. The sheer volume of booze that was delivered was immense, and yet he didn't doubt that it wouldn't last all that long in the Sierra Blanca. Fine Corellian whiskey was the delivery and with how many drinks were served here, the amount dropped off might last them a couple weeks at most. He didn't mind none though, he'd be more than happy to drink his fair share of it if not a bit more. Leaning back against the bar he just went back to watching and listening to the goings on around him content with where he was and the company he found himself in.

[member="Jo Americus"] [member="Kaptan Americus"] [member="Maggie-Rae Americus"] [member="Rulk Rogan"] [member="Shia Kryze"] [member="Aay'han Ruyot"] [member="Daniel Americus"] [member="Roy Americus"]

 

[Shia Kryze]

Corellian whiskey?

Okay, it was official. These Mando'ade were weird. That Kryze regularly drank an off-shoot of rum from somewhere out in the spinwards outer rim was, to Shia, neither here nor there. Tihaar or nothing, in her opinion. She'd become a city girl.

But... well the stuff did have a pleasant smoky taste, and somehow it strangely fit. She wondered idly if these people came from Corellia originally, actually, that would explain a lot.

She caught the eye of the Patriarch [member="Jo Americus"] - there's always a Patriarch or Matriarch in any Mandalorian family, even if they're not the official leader and gave him a polite 'no trouble, just a stranger passing through' nod and did not for one second eye up [member="Andi Americus"], people had been spaced on Kryze ships for less... well, okay, maybe just beaten a little. Fortunately, the immense red form of... no, her brain couldn't quite process the sight of the all time greatness that was [member="Rulk Rogan"] - or perhaps she just didn't see red very well.

Just for a long moment, Shia felt an extremely strong tug of homesickness - and not for Mandalore - damn Ra and his call to war. Her frown was like thunder for a long moment, then it passed with a slug of the whiskey.

Not bad at all.

The noise of the fight attracted her attention and she walked over to one of the windows looking out, tall enough she didn't have to elbow any of the onlookers who wanted to stay inside out of the way. The sight brought a grin. It wasn't exactly a family arena, but it did 'prove' (at least to her) that some things were culturally universal. Like a good, solid fistfight.

[member="Jimmy Americus"] [member="Kaptan Americus"] [member="Jo Americus"] [member="Maggie-Rae Americus"] [member="Rulk Rogan"]

 

[Don Cagliostro]

As he drank his beverage, the alcohol burned his throat some. Causing him to let out a cough. Although it sounded more like a burst of static then a cough. Like white noise from having a bad single with the holonet. Then with one of his lenses he saw that [member="Jo Americus"] looked over at him, then let out a whistle. Seeing that the well aged Mandalorian wanted his company.

He figured it wouldn't hurt to spend some time with the man himself. Grabbing his beverage, with the straw still in it. He walked over to the table. His steps where very heavy. The floor creaking with each one as it strained against his mechanical body. Looking down at [member="Andi Americus"] he simply tipped his straw hat to her. One could say he was a man of few words. Even though his vocabulary suited him quite well there was just something about it that set him off.

Taking a seat at the table he spoke. "Good evening you two. I glad this former city slicker can get some company tonight." Roy said to the two of them. He sort of considered himself the unofficial lawman of the Durango given his history in law enforcement. After that his "mouth" opened back up for him to suck on the straw some more so he could continue his beverage. He considered himself a bit of an oddity in the community. Giving that it was relatively primitive for someone of his nature. Meaning that if something was wrong with him, he needed to fix, and deal with it himself. Which he had gotten good at in recent memory.

[member="Jo Americus"]
[member="Andi Americus"]

 

[ToKola Bakari]

Dusty had been leaning against the back fence of the coral, his hat tipped onto the back of his head as he sized up the man who stepped into the ring. He couldn't help but crack a grin from the side of his lips. Whenever two Americus' stepped into the ring it meant the fight would be that much better and the bets would be twice as high. He worked a slob of spit into his mouth, firing off into the dirt behind him before pushing off of the fence and looking to his opponent.

Kap was one of Dusty's favorite cousins, mainly because it was hard to catch the man in a foul mood. A good decade older than Dusty, the two had been scrapping for as long as the man could remember. He was Dusty's height but came with a bit more build than the younger Americus. "What's up, Kap." Dusty turned away from the man, pulling his own hat from his head and tossing it back over the corral fencing. Watching it fall into the dirt, Dusty began to run his fingers over his palms, trying to get his knuckles nice and loosened up. He'd broken enough bones in his hands to know how wrong these things could go. Didn't mean it would slow him down any though.

There was a brief moment when Dusty paused, glancing back over to the wall of the saloon beside them. It was an eerie feeling, one that reminded him of his pa, Jo. The moment was brief, left as quick as it came, but one thing was certain as Dusty turned back to Kap, Jo was rooting for him

It had been a while since the two had seen each other and while Dusty would have liked to give his cousin a good firm hug, there was business to be handled first. Listening to his words, Dusty closed the gap between the two, a smile still on his face. "Yea...Been a few changes since the last time we knuckled up."

When Kap offered Dusty the first swing or to wait for the second, the man couldn't help but let out a good-hearted scoff. "Now Kap….Ain't that much changed." There was no warning as Dusty's palm left his hand, flying towards Kap's jaw in a speed-filled strike. Nothing to bust him up, just a good hit to start them off.

[member="Kaptan Americus"]

 

[Olin Pinestep]

Sam squared himself up, cracking his neck and flexing out his fingers before settling them into fists. This was always the fun - down in the corral, dirt under your boots and a crowd baying at your back. Sometimes he liked when they used practice weapons, and sometimes he liked to just use his fists. But he always, always liked the fighting. Win or lose, you got up, shared a round, and everyone was happy; well, everyone except those who'd lost some credits on a bad bet.

He'd learned years ago to tune out the noise around him. It faded to the background, like a rather ignorable case of tinnitus.

"You sure?" He asks, head cocking to the side as if inquisitive and, in doing so, took only a glancing blow to the jaw. Moving with the blow, he took a step back, shifting his front foot back and then snapping his own jab for the cheek of [member="Daniel Americus"] as he leaned into the blow. While one hand struck, the other rose, keeping his jaw and chin covered behind a forearm. This fight would likely be over quick - not because they outclassed each other, but because they'd just traded two punches in less than a heartbeat.

Frankly, that boded best for Church and his pot, which was likely already filling with yet more credits.

Sam's grin returned.

 

[Aay'han Ruyot]

The first bottle got finished 30 minutes after he sat down. The credits covered a bottle of whiskey as well. It lasted about 15 minutes, to the bartenders mild astonishment. Aay'han knew no one in this room, but he gathered most of them knew each other. It was in all probability a clan, Mandalorian. But they were a little more rugged and loose. Not that Aay'han himself was any standard he thought, staring remorsefully at the empty bottles before him. "You need to find something to hold too. Something to honor. Something to fight for." His Crusader shadow sat next to him. "No one needs me", he muttered. ​"A drunk, a force wielding reject, scum, I am an insult to my people." "Yet you persist in upholding Our ideals." "Go away", he snarled to an empty stool. He needed another drink. He couldn't pay for it. He needed a drink.

 

[Maggie-Rae Americus]

Since Maggie-Rae’s life was mostly spent on the backwater moon of Concorida, these Americus’s… well, they seemed real fancy to her. Especially [member="Andi Americus"]. She was sparkly, like a seafah jewel. But the redhead’s gaze was more admiring than aspirational. Mags knew that she’d never be all frou frou like that.

"Mags, you're just going to walk in and not say hello to your Uncle? What's gotten into you girlie?"

Clomping up to Jo in her thick, mud-caked boots, she lay a hand on his shoulder and said: “Gar taldin ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la."*

She’d hinted around at problems with her Daddy, Ori, but hadn’t gone into detail. Maggie shut one eye tightly better to straighten out her line of vision so there was only one chair across from [member="Jo Americus"]. She sat down on it, resisting the urge to kick her heels right up on the table - it was already too crowded with bottles, holsters and other Mando paraphernalia. In the background she could hear the smack of fists hitting faces as welcome to her ears as a drinking song.

And since Mags was such a Daddy’s girl she knew that as much as Mandalorian men adored family there was one thing they liked talkin’ more about then who’d birthed what babies when. And that was business. And fighting.

And in the Americus clan those were one and the same.

Giving [member="Andi Americus"] a two-fingered salute, she turned to Jo and asked, “So just who are our enemies round here?” She meant both in this particular saloon and all across the galaxy or however the patriarch wanted to interpret her question.

*Nobody cares who your father was, only the father you'll be.*

 

[ToKola Bakari]

Kap was and is one of the faster men in Daniel’s family. So when his fist whipped out, slamming into Daniel’s cheek there wasn't much surprise, just pain. Daniel had clenched his jaw and took the blow in earnest. He staggered back, his fingers wrapping around his jaw before he brought his fists back up. He could feel the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth and leaned to the side, spitting out a slob of the crimson liquid.

Daniel offered a red-kissed smile as he closed the distance between the two of them. His footwork was rapid and coordinated, keeping him at a good edge to react. He came for Kap, a left hook aimed for the man’s ribcage. If he took the blow and lowered his guard, Daniel’s right fist would fly for his own jaw.

Around them there were yells and howls in support of the men. It was a good vibe to be surrounded by, and a wonderful lot to throw hands with.

[member="Kaptan Americus"]

 

[Aay'han Ruyot]

A ruckus behind him distracted Aay'han. Two men were exchanging blows. It didn't hold his interest for long, it was a common theme in a place like this. What did suddenly hold his attention was a Trandoshan that suddenly sat next to him. The Trandoshan traded a couple credits for a drink. "You cost me Mando", the Trandoshan snarled after a long draft. "Can't say I am thrilled with that. You're gonna pay." Aay'han frowned. "Which one are you?" Trandoshan hesitated, a brief flash of confusion, it didn't last long. "The one who's ship you stole and in the process blew apart my hangar and half my operation", the Trandoshan was on the verge of screeching. "Oh." The Trandoshan finished it's drink. A powerful arm suddenly whipped around, grabbing Aay'han's throat. Aay'han got slammed to the ground, the Trandoshan on top of him. The Trandoshan froze. Aay'han's Westar-35 was planted firmly in his gut. "Not on my watch."