Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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What was lost, can be found. (Arrbi Betna)

Arla stood with her face towards the horizon, the winds swept across the open desert removing any sign that anyone or thing had come this way. If someone wished they could be lost to the eye forever on the sands of Tatooine Arla was beginning to feel that way. To be lost among the sands of time to be forgotten by no one except the man who let her stay in a closet. But even then how long would he miss her, if at all. He would surely sell the armor and make a joke of just how he got it.

Was it her mother's did it belong to her? Was she dead? The same nagging questions entered her mind again and again, and no amount of of wringing her hands, and holding her head would bring her the answers. Arla was forgotten.

C6PO had tried his best to give her something of her heritage. He explained multiple times the ways of the Mandalorian, but what was it to her if she had no one to share it. She couldn't very well keep sharing it with the droid.

Arla kneeled down to look over the edge of the canyon walls. The shape of the canyon had changed very little, a few rock slides altered the paths but the canyon remained. She rubbed her face hard with her right hand trying to wipe away the thoughts, it was almost time for work. Time to climb behind the cantina bar smile, pretend to listen and serve the patrons, scum, criminals, and whatever else managed to slither in the door.

The tattoo of the mythosaur on her shoulder seemed to keep most away, but there were a few that pushed her comfort zone. They made her laugh with their promises, and hints of what they could do for her. Pfft, they did not offer her the one thing she really wanted, information.

It would take time on the swoop to get back. She hated to leave this was the one place she could really think.

THE WANDERING JAWA
Arla was behind the bar, the night had begun and so had the fights. Four so far no deaths, no disintegrations, just blood and broken bones. A good night. She smiled the rodian was making his play again. Reelo reached for her hand to emphasize his seriousness, Arla stared at his hand her gaze slowly moving up to his face.

"You have to the count of two to remove your hand or I'll climb across this bar and make it so that are no little Reelo's ever in the galaxy" Her brown eyes connected with his large red orbs, her face had lost all emotion. Arla was ready her body tense as spring to jump the bar, those around them waited to see what happen. Who would break first.


@[member="Arrbi Betna"]
 
@[member="Arla Balor"]

Deep in some dark and shady bar on Tantooine, Rygel Larraq and a protocol droid sat at a table and argued with a dirty, smelly, filthy abomination known as a Jawa. “For the last time. It's competitive wages. Mandal Hypernautics covers the cost of transport to Sundari, the price of your citizenship license, and provides each member of your clan with salary for the next five years. I'll even have a freighter transport that...” said the human in a red and black leather uniform before pausing and looking at the protocol droid. The droid, calm and emotionless, filled in the blank for the human. “I believe he called it a sand crawler.”

“Right. Sandcrawler. We'll pay to transport the Sandcrawler to Mandalore with your clan.” The human finished as he leaned back in his chair, obviously frustrated by what he had assumed would be a quick an easy business deal.
 
The door to the bar suddenly opened and closed, allowing Arrbi time to enter and make his way to the bar. He stumped his way over and took a seat at a bar stool, shaking the sand off as he came. He'd recently taken a contract to remove a group of marauding Tusken Raiders in the area. A few clips of ammunition and a few hours of his time and he was half finished. About a dozen gaffi sticks were lashed to his speeder bike outside. He knew no one would touch them. Even on Tatooine, no one smart wanted to mess with a Mandalorian or the property of one. People knew Mandalorians didn't stop at getting even and often gave him and his stuff a wide berth.

Betna took his helmet off and scratched at his cheek. He'd need to shave soon from the rasping coming from his jawline as he itched. He waved a hand at the barkeeper to catch her attention and held up his index and middle fingers where she could see.

"Two shots of tihaar, if you've got it," he said, his face deadpan and his voice monotone. "Failing that, whatever you've got for whiskey on this planet."

@[member="Arla Balor"]
 
Arla pulled her hand free from the rodian, "Consider yourself lucky and warned, don't touch me again" She growled her displeasure at him hearing the newcomer yelling for tihaar she grabbed two shot glasses, and then the bottle as she moved down to stand in front of him.

She started pouring it out, "We got it, we always have it this is Tatooine haven't you noticed the home of the most wretched villany and scum of the galaxy" Then she began to focus on the armor, trying to hide her interest she casually asked, "Have you come from Mandalore?"

She had not found anyone yet that had, they had all come from somewhere else. And not all of them were friendly, Vod or not these could be troublesome times and she assumed they'd protect what they knew rather than some whelp with no clan affiliation, well not one she could point at.

@[member="Arrbi Betna"] | @[member="Captain Larraq"]
 
"I did," he stated as he laid the credits for the drinks down on the table. The credits he'd get from the Tusken bounties would allow him a few drinks. More would go to his ship and ammo. The rest would go to his clan back home. It was how they did things. Provide for the clan was part of their customs.

"Who's asking?" he asked bluntly. The woman was nice enough looking, but that didn't mean much to him. He didn't like unknowns in any situation. Information was ammunition and a lack of ammunition would get you killed in the galaxy.

@[member="Arla Balor"]
 
At least he had credits, she would need her toes and two or three others to get to the number that came in thinking drinks were free. She took the credits and tossed them into the register, then she turned back to him.

How much to trust a stranger? Her life, she knew that. Stupid question. She studied him. "I'm looking to go there, do a little.........." she paused, "ancestral research if possible" Ok, she got that part out. How would he take that, would he believe it. It was then she felt the eyes of Merrick on her, the one that had been keeping her all these years. Was he watchful because he could loose his free labor, or because he cared. She did not know, and she never asked.

@[member="Arrbi Betna"]
 
"Ancestral research?" he echoed thoughtfully. Taking one of the glasses, he tossed the drink back. He grunted appreciatively at the taste and set the empty glass down on the table, bottom up. Her answer got his interest, which was hard to do, if he was honest.

He gave the woman a look over. Short, but curvy. Long red hair and, from what he could tell, early to mid twenties in age. He kept his face impassive as he thought. He'd been told he had a great poker face and showed skill at some variants, but never found time to play unfortunately.

"What clan?" he asked as he tossed back the other shot. He set the second glass on top of the first so that it sat upright on the other's bottom. He then tossed a few more credits onto the table and gestured for two more shots of the liquor.
 
Arla wasn't surprised by how quick he had knocked back the shots, nope what had her attention is he listened and asked questions. Was karma finally on her side, someone who could give her the one thing she could not find on this dust bowl, information.

She pulled the bottle, she looked at him she wished she could read him better, as she poured each shot. "Good question, I got dumped here when I was kid, the owner took some pity on me in exchange for labor" Little above a slave but she wouldn't say that outloud for anyone to hear. "One thing got left with me, and hell if I know what it means, if it means anything"

She looked around the room watching to see who was listening and who wasn't. The wrong listener would be breaking down the door to the closet she slept in and grabbing the armor then heading to the nearest pawn shop to sell it.

She leaned forward her voice low, raspy, "How do I know what clan?" Her brown eyes stared into his waiting for an answer. She didn't know if there was a trick to it, or a sign, or anything to knowing what clan.
 
Betna scratched his cheek in thought. Most knew their clan by their surname, but he guessed she was either given hers or picked her own.

"What's your name?" he asked. Maybe her last name would ring some bells for him. He didn't know all of the clans, but he knew the main ones. Ordo, Skirita, and the rest. Even if he didn't, he might know someone who did. It was just a question of... well, asking questions.
 
Her name, she pulled the set of dog tags from her pocket, setting them on the bar. "According to this my name is Arla Balor." Someone was yelling from the other end for a drink, Arla nodded, "be right back" She walked to the end of the bar, "WHAT, can't you see I'm talking there!" She pointed back, and then poured the drink the man was yelling for. He grumbled at her as she walked away but she didn't care. She was finally getting somewhere.

Finally she stood back in front of him. She hadn't mentioned the armor yet, and did not know if she should. Afterall she still didn't know him, he could well, turn out to be one of the bad guys.

"it mean anything?" to him, or to the galaxy at large.
 
Betna grunted as he picked up another shot glass. It was his verbal equivalent of a shrug when asked a question.

"Well, it means that you're of clan Balor," he said as he set the glass bottom up next to the other stack. "Though if they made a mistake on the spelling, I don't know. I know of a clan Bralore, but I don't know a clan Balor. That said, there are thousands of clans. Maybe millions."

The Mandalorian scratched at his cheek and thought a moment. He wasn't used to outsiders asking him questions at all, much less about Mandalore. Granted, she had good reason to, but she could easily look up the data, couldn't she? He doubted there was a comprehensive list of all the Mandalorian clans anywhere, but she could get a better lead there, couldn't she?

"Why the interest?" he asked as he picked up the second glass. He'd probably have another pair and no more. He'd spent a good chunk of his booze money tonight. The rest would have to last the next few days. Besides, he needed to get out to canyons a few miles east by morning and had to drive with a clear head. The Tusken raiding party had beat feet in that direction and so that was where he needed to be to finish the job and get his pay.
 
"No parents. Living on Tattooine. " She looked at clearly he could really care less. It was a mistake telling him as much as she did. Just another dead end, great.

She looked to the owner. What did it matter she wasn't going to get all emotional about it. She was strong enough to wait to cry. Who needed family and belonging. She had lived this long as a slave what was a while longer.

She picked up the tag. "For someone who knows who they are it isn't a big deal. For someone else lookinh could be everything." She took a breath, "thanks"

She turned to put the bottle away. Mistake. She knew it. Dammit.
 
Betna scratched his cheek and thought a moment. From the way the guy in the corner was watching, either he was a creep or the owner. Either way, he didn't look happy. The Mandalorian thought about things for a moment. The woman had a point. For someone who had nothing and knew nothing, knowledge was everything.

"How's your eyesight?" he asked blandly after a moment or two of thought.
 
She turned back to look at him, more than confused. "My eye sight is 20 / 20, why?" What a question. Though if she thought about it it wasn't the strangest she had gotten.

But why wa he still asking. Geez.
 
"I need a spotter," he responded. He didn't know why he was offering a job to the woman. For all he knew, she didn't know her ass from her elbow, but she seemed to really want to know about her past and about herself. It wasn't really his place to teach her, but he could help her get started at least.

"And a guide. Someone who knows this area and has a good pair of eyes on them. You handy with a weapon and do you have something to keep yourself alive if things get hairy?"
 
Spotter, someone to see things. She glanced to the corner when the stranger asked if she was handy with a weapon, and better yet did she have one. She made a face at Betna really it said, you think I'm going to be allowed a weapon.

"The Owner prefers to protect his staff rather than have them protect themselves" How that could be interpreted, the Owner doesn't want any of the staff to kill him. The staff, two droids, and Arla. She was here because she had to be, but she couldn't say that either. She tried to smile but the thoughts of what her circumstances really were in this place, slowly reminded her of all the things she wasn't. She wasn't a slave thank the goddess, but she was treated like one.

"I know my way around" She told him, it was perhaps the only thing she could tell him in here. If she wasn't in here, would she tell him? Part of her wanted him to see the armor but she would have to trust him to do that. And now with the interest of this mandalorian in her, she began to fear what would happen if she didn't walk out the front door.

@[member="Arrbi Betna"]
 
No weapons, that would be an issue. He'd have to loan her the old sub gun he kept strapped to the speeder. It was in working condition and well cared for, but he didn't have a huge amount of ammunition for it. Only a few score rounds. She'd have to use it and watch her ammo if things went badly, but it would have to work.

"We'll work around the lack of weapon, then," he said bluntly and tossed back the second glass. He stacked it atop the other leaving two sets of glasses, one stacked on the other's bottom, on the bar top. "I'm using the 'fresher and then checking over my bike. You want the job, meet me out front in fifteen minutes with your gear, if you have any. If you're late, I'll leave you."

With that he stood and stretched, his back popping as he did so. He then stumped his way off to the restroom, matching action to words.
 
Arla watched him go, then she looked over to the Owner. She knew the droids could more than handle the work, but the droids didn't look like her and like it or not some of them came in the Jawa because they liked her.

Slowly she moved over to talk to the Owner, "Jacen, he's offered me job of a guide. Whatever he pays me I'll give you, can I go with him?" Jacen had seen the look in her eyes when she saw mandalorian armor she was hell bent on getting of Tattoine.

"I'll hold the armor until you return, if you don't return. I'll press charges against you and you'll be wanted, understand" His dark eyes pierced her soul, yes she understood quite well. But this was a chance, an opportunity to learn something and maybe, just maybe get off this dust bowl. She nodded, "I understand" She slipped passed him and headed outside, so which bike was his had he come out when she was trying to leave?

She looked around..

@[member="Arrbi Betna"]
 
Betna finished up his business in the 'freshers and headed on out to his speeder bike. He passed Arla on the way and stepped to the bike a little ways from the door. Strapped to the side was a canvas wrapped bundle holding the gaffi sticks he needed to turn in for the bounty. Saddlebags held his rations and equipment inside. He checked the bike over carefully to make sure nothing was amiss. He did this for two reasons. First, he did it to make sure there hadn't been any wear and tear or damage to the vehicle when he last used it. Second, he liked to make sure no one had sabotaged the bike or booby trapped it in any way. Once done, he fiddled with a saddlebag for a moment and pulled out a few components.

He snapped them together, one by one, and quickly assembled the slug thrower submachine gun. He attached the sling to the weapon and slid a magazine into the weapon before tossing it to Arla.

"You'll be using that for this job," he said as he closed up the saddlebag. "There's not much ammo for it so use it sparingly. Every shot counts. That said, I don't expect trouble. Ready to go?"

As he asked, he sat down on the speeder bike. There was room for two, but Arla would have to hold on. He started up the engine and waited.
 
Arla caught the weapon and then slung it across her back, "I'm ready, where do you want to go?" She walked over and slid in behind him. She slid her arms around his waist, well around the middle of his armor.

"Watch out, there's always someone looking for tender foots in these parts" She put her face behind him, to block the sand. She could do this, she told herself over and over. She could do this, how hard was it to do anything that she put her mind to. This was one more thing, one more milestone to cross of a list. She exhaled.

@[member="Arrbi Betna"]
 

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