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Scum of the Galaxy

Vilmish Hulnak

[SIZE=11pt]Anzat was, inherently, a hostile place. The inhabitants were more than willing to kill those who went on their world for “soup” as they called it, but this also left the world’s trade stations above fairly “lawless”, it was a perfect stopping point for a man like Vilmish. Each on bustling with space traffic as all sort of folk were ferried in and out.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]And with brimming crowds were these stations filled, all moving along to one destination or the next. Fights broke out, no one cared. Anzat was lawless, hit and get hit was what ran this place. The Anzati got their trade and money, so what did it matter either way? Establishments littered the station, and within one, the “Blazing Sun” Cantina, sat a man only famous for how scummy he was.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Vilmish Hulnak[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]He’d made half a scene alright, in a drunken spur he’d blown a good chunk of the credits he had on booze. Like any self respecting underworld man should! But, there he sat drawing far too much attention with his own leaning tower of empty glasses with another already in hand. Even drunk he consider how he could weasel out of this one.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Of course, for those whom entered it was next to impossible not to notice the Devaronian in his drunken state.[/SIZE]

First time ever doing something like this here, apologies if it's lacking. Preferably one person.

Having encountered the people of Anzat in the past, Tugoro had a slight idea of what he was getting himself in to. His old apprentice had fought a dark cult of the brain-suckers on the planet of Sanctuary, which wasn't too far away out in Wild Space. He hadn't studied any star maps of the nearby sectors, but now it made sense as to why they had chosen the refugee planet as their target.

Landed in one of the station's docking bays, Tugoro's freighter was locked down and secured for the most part. He could only hope that nothing shady happened while he was out wandering the concourse. These ports were the only safe places for tourists apparently, but the man knew better than to explore a foreign world while completely defenseless. Holstered on his hip was a singular blaster, the only thing that seemed to stand out on his person. The utility belt around his waist was slightly concealed by the jacket he wore, so at least Tugoro wasn't totally flaunting his weapon to those that cared to look.

While he hadn't abandoned all of his Jedi principles, Tugoro was on a mission of self interest. The old starfighter back on Sanctuary was now up and running after many efforts to acquire spare parts, but now his new freighter seemed to be having a problem. After trying to access the flight recorder of the old ship, he had noticed it was damaged, and so set out in hopes of obtaining more parts in order to repair it.

Anzat was surrounded by Sith, Jedi, Republic and Mandalorian space on all sides, so staying local was in the best of Tugoro's interests, as not to attract any unwanted attention. It was all he could do to keep his force sensitivity somewhat suppressed, lessening the chance of him being attacked by the locals themselves. Stopping among the crowds before moving out their way, the Jedi decided to enter the Blazing Sun cantina, noticing a stack of cups almost as tall as the Devronian next to them.

"Down on your luck, friend?" Tugoro asked, now standing by the bar counter near [member="Vilmish Hulnak"]. He didn't seemed to be too focused on the Devronian, eyes directed towards the menu that listed the different beverages that were available. None of them seemed appealing.

Vilmish Hulnak

”Egh? I’ll have your money next week.”

Even in his slurred and drunk state Vilmish kept hard to the simple idea of being scum. Though to be frank he thought the Jedi was a debt collector or bounty hunter off for his head. And no one has taken old Vilmish yet!

Another long swig of his drink followed, some of his craft never did quite leave him and wordlessly he shifted the Blaster hidden away in his figure. Just in case those prior suspicions were correct.
Casting a sideways glance away from the menu, Tugoro reexamined [member="Vilmish Hulnak"] after hearing the Devaronian's response to his question. The man supposed it was to be expected, considering how intoxicated his conversational partner likely was. This gave Tugoro an idea, one that might help him get off this planet, and maybe help the Devaronian as well. Or it could go horribly wrong.

"Next week won't cut it, that shipment was worth a lot," the Jedi began, taking a wild guess at the type of jobs Vilmish might be involved in. He wasn't about to go into too many details, hoping not to get called out on his bluff.

Just as Tugoro finished speaking, he felt the shift in Vilmish's mental state. The mercenary was more aware of what he was doing than he let on. The Jedi would have to diffuse the situation before it escalated. "The crew'll be here soon. If you can get a few items for me, we'll call it square. Might even earn some creds for yourself, too." Another bluff, there was no crew at all. There were credits, that much was certain. He didn't hold any ill will towards the Devaronian, and still wasn't quite sure whether this was a good idea or not.

Vilmish Hulnak

“Credits? Speakin’ my language here, I can get ya’ goods around.”

Such a strange man, just strange. And drunk, which didn’t go hand in hand fab all. It became evident that he was totally and utterly ignoring him about getting the money later. Of course, he was lucky he had changed the topic before he started shooting, and missed. A lot. Too much collateral there.

“If ya’ pay for my drinks I’ll do it for cheap.”

Like any good piece or scum, booze was what truly guzzled away cash. Nothing that seemed far too off for him, anyone in their right mind would spend all those credits on cheap booze. Right? Right?...
"Alright," muttered Tugoro, now glancing towards the tower of drinks that [member="Vilmish Hulnak"] had managed to stack up. Having a Devaronian by his side in a place like this was surely to be useful, no matter how drunk they appeared to be. Reaching into one of his jacket pockets, the man withdrew a single shiny credit chip, placing it on the counter and sliding it towards the bartender, making sure he noticed it.

"His drinks are on me," Tugoro confirmed, as he began to step closer towards the large Devaronian. Not too close however, as to not have Vilmish recognize him, or rather not recognize him after all. It was a foolish game Tugoro played, but all he really needed was some information. As long as Vilmish knew his way around the trade station, then they'd both be fine.

"I'm looking to get an intact flight recorder, one compatible with Corellian ships. Hoping you got a lead on one." He spoke, letting his arms rest by his side, waiting for the mercenary to get up.

Vilmish Hulnak

Vilmish let out the hardy laugh of a drunk, he was expecting slaves or spice. Something far more illegal than just a little Black Box. This should be easily.

“Tried looking through the ruins of Corellia?”

Obviously, such mass destruction held no sway in his mind with his cold joke. He was quick to laugh at it too before getting “serious” enough to address it.

“I can get ya’ one, sure. Probably have an old one in my ship. Or can go shopping round’ the station if ya’ feelin’ bold.”

Vilmish did have “spare” one, though, by spare. It meant his old and fried one that died to his shoddy work and how abusive he can be to his poor poor freighter.
Tugoro couldn't help but chuckle to himself, as [member="Vilmish Hulnak"] bellowed loudly, drawing the eyes of various patrons who sat and stood around alike. Either the Devaronian was catching on, or was just amused by how trivial his request sounded.

He went silent as the red skinned man mentioned Coreilla, remembering when he had first heard about the catastrophe many years ago in his youth. "Nothing to find there," he said, shrugging his shoulders before leaning against the counter.

"No offense, can't just trust anything owned in your name," a sly jab and clever ploy, one intended to get the drunk to reveal his identity. "We'll hit the market 'round the station. Lead the way." Tugoro wondered if the Devaronian could even walk, as he had hardly moved in the slightest.

Vilmish Hulnak

“Not trustworthy!? You can trust old Vilmish!”

Though it seemed he took only humor from that, and no offense. The man knew quite well just how scummy he was, he didn’t try to deny that. Only go and embrace it.

Heaving himself up he wobbled for a few moments. Getting his footing the skilled drunk began to make his way out of the establishment without much of a word. Good for them, Vilmish’s big mouth had gotten the man in trouble more than enough times.
A first name would have to do. Luckily for Tugoro, [member="Vilmish Hulnak"] had a sense of humor, and he could walk straight to boot. Perhaps he was being too careful with the Devaronian, though the Jedi realized that the red man had a lot more experience in this lifestyle than he himself. There was no telling what would happen next on their little trip around the station.

Stepping out of the cantina, the two were greeted by the thin crowds that wandered the circular concourse. There was much that could be done in the port, but many often decided to stick to their docking bays, as to not get wrapped up in any of the potential danger the planet offered.

"I'm only cleared for a couple of hours in the bay," Tugoro admitted, having been strong armed by the port officials, likely in favor of those on a higher priority list. "So let's get that black box quickly. Who's your link?"

Vilmish Hulnak

“HA! You think I have a link? I take care of my tech, my friend. Market district isn’t far, have anything you want on Anzat. Just watch the dark spots.”

He never really specified just why to watch, but anyone’s guess was probably correct. He stumbled his way around, he had shopped at Anzat before. Considered what shops he actually remembered in his drunken state. Had a vague idea where he was heading, a particularly wide grin across his face. This was pretty fun.
Indeed, Tugoro was watching the dark spots. They hadn't wandered into dangerous territory yet, but there were always a few shady characters out and about. Hopefully none of them were hungry Anzati on the prowl. As they began to near the market district, the Jedi wondered if there would be thieves or pickpockets about as well.

He had been somewhat used to places like these years ago, but today was different. To top it off, he had only became a spacer recently, going his own way while maintaining loose ties to some of his old allies. That meant he'd have to be careful with his credits, for once in his life. At least [member="Vilmish Hulnak"] seemed trustworthy enough.

"They better not rip me off. I got credits, but they're limited." Tugoro spoke, keeping up with the Devaronian's pace as they continued along the spaceport concourse. He wasn't too concerned about the credits, but he also had to keep up an appearance as well.

Vilmish Hulnak

“Then you throw it at their head and take your money back.”

Aggressive man, probably the booze. But Vilmish could be sporadic in how he acted at the best of times. Such was obvious to those few who knew his history, or whatever gun could possibly be after the absolute nutjob. A few hunters had come for him in his time, but Vilmish was real scum. Real scum can slither out of anything.

“See that junk over there?-“

Pointing a hand, he gestured to some sort of vendor. Scrap placed around their booth, Seemed he wasn’t all too impaired. Or was just particularly good at guessing.

“-Should have your fancy box.”
Tugoro was taken aback by [member="Vilmish Hulnak"]'s response, if not slightly amused as well. Perhaps the Devaronian could get away with such behavior, but Tugoro had decided it would be best not to draw attention to himself while in neutral territory.

Stopping next to the horned man, the Jedi followed the direction of his gesture, spotting the small junker shop that was tucked into the wall of the trade station. There was even a windowed kiosk by the entrance, likely to exchange items without risking the involvement of thieves. "Thanks for the help, Vilmish," Tugoro said, remembering the deal that he had made with the Devaronian.

From the same jacket pocket, he pulled out two slim, shining silver credit sticks that were valued at two hundred credits each. Extending an arm, he offered them to Vilmish. "That should cut it, yeah? I'll be in docking bay fifteen after this, fixing that recorder. Don't waste it." With that, Tugoro walked off, chatting through the window intercom with the junk shop owner on the other side.

Vilmish Hulnak

“Been a pleasure doing business with ya’”

The drunken alien grinned widely, taking his most favorite thing in the whole Galaxy: Credits. Into his hand, he checked them a few times to make sure he wasn’t being scammed out of his time. That was his job, no one one upped old Vilmish!

“This’a do just fine.”

With that, he not so gracefully swung on his heels and made his departure back to his own frieghter. Enough Anzat for today.