The local watering hole where locals and visitors set down have a pint or ten, and eat well. This is a Valkiir establishment so food is plentiful and cheep. The drink flows like water. And there aren't any rules except have fun, and pay for what you break.

T'risa sat in a secluded alcove, smiling to herself as she watched the bar patrons. Comingled sentients at peace. It felt good to destress after the events of the recent past and, at least in this place, it was somewhere she was unlikely to be recognised. That, or at least the Valkiir running the place was discrete. She idly wondered how many of the patrons would be called up to serve in the war...not that this place didn't have it's own troubles...which was one of the reasons why she was here. She wondered if her job title should be CASAR troubleshooter, instead of Colonial Marshal.

She ordered a replacement glass of wine, before looking at the menu. She smiled as she saw a delicacy she'd enjoyed when she'd spent six months recovering for her wounds at M'Kira's home. Deciding that she'd like to taste it again, she ordered a helping of the stew as a reminder of those times.

She looked at her personal assistant wondering how long it might be until the others arrived, knowing that some friends would need to be left behind to oversee the refit of their dreadnought and the building of the shipyards she'd commissioned, yet feeling a little lost without the presence of those she'd grown to love.

Sighing heavily, T'risa sipped once more at the glass, waiting for news from home and beyond.

Kendrick stepped quietly into the establishment, he stood there, a caucasian male, wearing his usual attire of black slacks and dress shirt with a dark grey jacket.  Standing about 5'11 with grey hair and glasses you could tell by the way he carried himself that he was a professional.

He walked over the the bar casually, his blue eyes darting about the establishment gauging everyone there.  Not recognizing anyone he proceeded with ordering a glass of bourbon and even going as far as to have the bartender leave the bottle.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:56, Wed 09 Sept 2015.

Lynn sat at a table alone, several empty darkened cups in front of her. Her overalls were stained and various tools and parts poked out of various pockets and straps. She looked down at the cup in font of her and sighed.

"You've got yourself in it this time, girl."

She swirled the drink a bit with a finger.

"You were told that motuth of yours was going to get you in trouble, and now you're stuck with no work, no ship, and you're going to get fat drinking this much chocolate milk."

She suddenly smiled, and giggled to herself.

"But he did look like a pufferfish."

Elsbeth pushed open the doors to the Hammer and Sword and stood in the doorway for a moment, scanning the patrons.  She was a tall and quite thin Tae woman with her pale skin silhouetted against the back-lighting of the door.  The effect made the darker, colored tattooes on her forearms and neck shimmer slightly in the back-light glow.  Letting her eyes acclimate to the contrasting dark of the bar, the lanky Marine spotted her commanding officer, the Colonial Marshal, in a rather secluded spot towards the back of the main room.

The dark-haired CMC Marine pushed into the bar proper, letting the door swing shut behind her.  When she moved, Elsbeth wasn't ungainly, but there was something unsettlingly predatory about her gait.  It wasn't unnatural per se, but was perhaps not common in a biped.  She pirouetted, dodging one or two of the waitstaff along the way, before coming to a stop standing 'at ease' in front of T'risa's table.  "Ma'am." she addressed the Marshal formally and yet informally, her tone containing just a touch of casualness and familiarity that came from what could only be from a few years and more than a few misadventures of shared history.

Strapped to her hip was a wide leather belt with two weapons: a long, thin blade (at least presumably from sheathe) that had a handle and pommel of distinct Valkiir design was strapped to her left side, positioned to be cross-drawn quickly and easily; and a plasma pistol with custom grips and extensive optic sat holstered on her right thigh.  Like her greeting, the young woman's stance was both ready and casual; while her hands seemed to be lightly clasped behind her 'at ease', her line suggested a coiled spring ready for action should it be immediately required.  She didn't expect trouble, really.  But if any time spent with the Valkiir on vacation at various points had taught her:  Trouble™ seemed to come to them.

And that went doubly so, when it came to the Marshal.  Elsbeth knew that the beautiful, blue-skinned battle witch had a knack for sniffing out such dangerous situations - a trait which made her (and thus those around her) a ready target, sometimes.  But, she knew that the Marshal had always cared about her people unfailingly; so, the lanky Praetorian never doubted the Marshal in word or deed.  Elsbeth, who had been charged with helping to bodyguard T'risa, had learned to always remain alert and to be ready to back any move the Marshal deigned to make.

"Friend Balkiir" the nearly two-metre tall Tae woman reported dutifully, "is parking the vehicle out back.  We came as soon as we received your call."  She moved to reset her long, dark ponytail, which was slightly loose, indicating that she and Balkiir were probably already in the car when T'risa's summons came; though their location at the time might have been a bit out of the way - which would have explained the slight lag in response time.  Given that both Elsbeth and Balkiir had extensive Marine training, they both seemed to take their work and play seriously; and the young Praetorian's demeanor showed it.  Even - or perhaps especially - when she was deferring to the diminutive O'meadan marshal.

Balkiir Strolled in, the door barely large enough to allow his bulk in without twisting or turning. The Colonial Marine Tee-shirt , The logo of a cartoon bull-dog with a cigar clamped in it's mouth, and an old style wide brim hat blazoned on the back. The standard issue fatigue pants were worn, and fit the man with a comfortable well worn look that made the outfit seem like it belonged on the man.

The man wore a massive revolver, and wide bladed combat blade the length of his forearm on the other hip. The two weapons were identical to the ones worn by the only three other Valkiir males in the room. The Valkiir women n the room either simply shot him a nod and a glance, other women seemed interested and shifted making themselves more noticeable until a friend nudged them and motioned to Elspeth and shook their heads in a warning gesture.


"Beer, keep it coming, and don't forget the food!" he shouted, over the din. His voice barely rising to carry over the hubbub of the tavern." and somebody wake up that juke box. "

"Elspeth,"His tone posture, and demeanor that of a man who was comfortable in his surroundings and not at all concerned with who was watching or listening. he walked over put a hand on Elspeths shoulder and then smiled as he slid in beside her. with a nod to T'risa he smiled and referred to her by the rank she had been given after the dust up that made their name."Major, how was the meeting with the contractors."

T'risa smile broke into one of genuine amusement and happiness "Hmm. You know...I'm sure I mentioned the word discreet in my message somewhere." Her words were filled with warmth. "but that....is besides the point. It is good to see you both, and may I say while I missed you both, your time away in rest and relaxation seems to have done you both good."

She looked over to the bartender giving him a nod to indicate that whatever the two ordered should be on her bill. "Well, things are in a sorry state in this neighbourhood and once more, we've arrived here with little information to go on. I would say this is a normal state of affairs, but on this occasion not everyone on the planet is out to kill us, so...all in all rather positive I think."

T'risa rose from the table to give each of her friends a warm hug. "CASAR hasn't officially given us any word yet, but reading between the lines...they must be concerned." she didn't say it because she didn't need to, it must be bad if they were brought into the area. "Any news? I only arrived around six hours ago and haven't had the time to catch up on everything happening locally."

Continues sitting at the bar with his drink in hand, he looks about the pub watching the patrons as they come and go.  He takes a particular interest in the Valkiir Marines seated not that far away.  A smile crosses his lips as he thinks about his own time in the service of the Marines.  Seems like too many years since he had the privilege of wearing the uniform.

He raises the bourbon to lips taking another drink.  He was surprised that this place had his favorite drink, not so surprised at the price for the bottle, but things like that didn't concern him.

Listening quietly from his seat he catches the groups talk about CASAR not giving them any word yet.  He thinks about the name for a bit trying to remember anything that might shed some light on what they are talking about.

He takes yet another drink before leaning back in his chair closing his eyes and focusing more closely on their conversation.

"I was being discrete." Balkiir chuckled, grinning in a relaxd, unworried way.." Ya might notice ain't no way I'm strolling in here without getting noticed....That crew over there is eyeing me up like hungry wolves......If I walked in here all "secret squirrel" they'd know I was up to something....so order some drinks, some food, kick back, and chat with a couple of pretty ladies..."


Reckon it's the raids in the area...or the Q'sa getting antsy across the border...either way they may want some folks with a bit of experience handling them on this side of the frontier.Balkiir sat forward a bit as he talked, looking a bit more serious. Six raids in the last two months, four kerfuffles..just some Onai scouts sniffing for an easy mark...., two knockdown drag-outs between system patrols and raider ships...

"I kinda thought seeing as you were Valkiir you might fit in ok. It's those of us who're in species minorities that tend to be more noticeable, but you do have a point." T'risa gestured to the pair to sit down beside her. "Raids are to be expected with the build of forces elsewhere and the subsequent withdrawal of local forces to bolster it. Honestly...I'm just surprised that they see this as a place to send me. I feel Fleet Admiral J'nai's hand behind this.... and given she must have the most powerful latent precog ability I've ever seen, I wonder what might be going on this region."

There was a sudden crash across the bar, as a sleeping drunk fell out of his chair and kicked his table over, with the accompanying sound of crashing bottles and bouncing tumblers. Cain shook his head in a vain attempt to clear it, and realising what had just happened rose swiftly to his knees and held up his hands, in a manner which hopefully pacified the Valkiir behind the counter. Cain let out a long breath and then got to his feet, before righting the table and chair and picking up his surprisingly unbroken glass and ashtray, and sitting back down.

Reaching into his inside chest pocket he brought out an antique silver case, yawned, then from it drew what might be regarded as a herbal cigarette, which he lit. The smoke helped to clear his senses, barely, but it was better than nothing. Where was he again? Oh, this dive. He took a few minutes to smoke and look around. It was the usual bunch of no-hopers, mercenaries and scumbags, not the sort of people who were needing an experienced pilot, but...

Wait.

"I know that guy..."

There was a huge Valkiir across the way, a Marine Cain recognised from a mission against Onai raiders a few years back. Perhaps his crew needed a pilot...

Cain got up from his seat and staggered across the bar, empty tumbler in hand, flexing his stiff neck and shoulders as he went, to stand before the three strangers sat in a booth (OOC: T'risa, Elsbeth, Balkiir). He looked at the last of these, what passed for a smile of greeting on his face.

"Hey, dude...buy a man a drink?"
This message was last edited by the player at 13:47, Wed 09 Sept 2015.

"This is a nice sector, nothing too serious usually happens..but its got my skin crawling too..that witch of yers might be on to something." Balkiir replied then looked up in surprise, thoughtful for a moment hen grinned ear to ear. Well Hels Bells...thought you would have flown intoa rock by now." He stood up shook the mans hand slapped his shouder, and half shoved him into the bench next to T'risa.

"Marshal this here is an old friend...one of the best pilots I know...well short of Aziza and M'kira...." Balkiir grinned and motioned for more drinks." Don't let the bloodshot eyes...and....whew..you still smoke those things...hes solid, and I know he can fly."

T'risa greeted the man with a dubious smile, her nose twitching at the fumes from the cigarette. "A pleasure to meet you, Balkiir's old friend...I have a suspicion that we might need a pilot in the near future.... and a ship for that matter. I am T'risa K'mahda. Are you currently gainfully employed? CASAR is always on the lookout for talented individuals." T'risa nodded to the bartender to bring whatever the pilot wanted to him.

It was as much a defensive maneuver as it was taking a seat, given the power in Balkiir's shove, but Cain just about pulled it off. The inside of his head ached a bit at that but he shrugged it aside, and instead pulled off his best smile.

"Not for the want of trying, man! Guess those rocks were just movin' too fast for me!"

Cain took a deep puff on his cig and looked across the table at the Tau opposite.

"And you, T'risa. Name's Betler, Cain Betler. If you need a pilot I'm your guy - started on Navy fighters, and have flown pretty much everything under a hundred tons since then. Can make them twist, turn and dive like I'm singing to them! A ship, though...I don't have one of those. But if you get us a ship and CASAR stump up the credits, I'll take you wherever you want to go...and bring you back, too. The big guy knows it."

He took another deep puff and expended his cig, then stubbed it out on the table.

"Beer would be nice."

Opens his eyes remembering suddenly that the CASAR provide military and Law enforcement support to smaller colonies as a private sector arm of the Colonial authority.  He knew he had recognized the name somewhere in his travels.

He contemplates his next move carefully, his last job was over and he had considered taking a short break however this may just be the opportunity he was looking for.  A decent private sector gig that would likely appreciate his skill and experience seemed right up his alley.

Looking into his glass he turns his head to look at the group of Valkiir and their newest drunken companion.

Turning back to the bartender he motions for him to approach..."I'd like to buy a round of drinks for that table of marines over there" as he points to the group.

He waits as the bartender collects another round of whatever they are drinking and takes it them.  He fills his own glass once more, and turns in his seat to see their reaction to his small gift

He gives them a nod and a salute with his glass before taking a drink and turning back to his bottle.  Depending on their level of paranoia this could be pointless or even turn ugly.  Best case scenario they invite him over and he learns more about CASAR, worst case they jump his sorry ass and dump his corpse out back.

Ultimately he figures somewhere in between will do to get his foot in the door... here's hoping that three terms in the marines and three more as a detective gives him a tiny advantage.

Very tiny considering what he's dealing with...

T'risa grinned at the new arrival "You know something Cain? You don't male things challenging enough. I prefer having to mandatory conscript people into CASAR. To have someone volunteer to be our pilot is almost.... worrying. I'll let Balkiir fill you in on the details later, for the time being let us enjoy this time....and new friends."

T'risa's forehead crinkled in thought. She wondered if Cain would make a good addition despite his taste for herbal intoxicants. She briefly looked into the future, not too far, that was far too tiring, but enough that she felt good about Cain joining the team.

"I can all but guarantee we'll be given a ship in under 12 hours. That's about all I can guarantee. I suspect the reps from the K'mahda household on planet will want me off it as soon as possible." and then the glass of wine arrived along with drinks for the others. T'risa frowned. That was something she'd not been expecting. Her eyes picked out the person who bought it for them. She bit the corner of her lip wondering if he was intent on buying favours, but his actions spoke of respect and perhaps a tinge of curiosity. T'risa whispered to the bartender "Please invite him to our table....actually, do you have a private room? We're expecting more to arrive."

Lynn pulled out her battered screen and tapped it. Then tapped it again. Then, with a frown, headbutted it. It popped on as her eyes uncrossed and she grinned.

"Now, let's get to work."

She scrolled through a few things and immediately closed an offer from an old acquaintance. "Yeah...not that desperate yet."

She tapped a message and scanned it quickly with a grin. "Taranda's on site? Maybe I should hook back up with her. Although...yeah, maybe not. The Screaming Eagle might be her pride and joy, but if the wings fall off again I'll likely not be able to fix it this time."

She slapped the side of the device as it flickered. "Come on...someone has to have a use for a starship mechanic somewhere..."

Into the bar strolls a short reptilian alien, a Quetzl.  The creature's skin is the emerald green of contentment.  He stands only 1.5 metres tall, not including the impressive feathered head-dress.  Wearing the undress uniform of a colonel of the Quetzl Ilhuicac-Yaotlahueliloque (Star Marines) with a gauss pistol holstered on his left hip and a Machotle, the traditional bladed weapon of his race, hanging at his right.  As he moves to the bar for a drink, his long forked tongue flickers out, tasting the air.  He must have caught a scent he knows, for he changes direction, heading for the section where Kendrick has placed himself.

"Pipiltin, Cuappetlatl-Ocelopetlatl, Ilhuicac-Yaotlahueliloque, Itzcuauhtli Mixtzin gives you greetings, old friend." he says, with the sibilance common to his kind, and flickers of the bright blue of amusement crossing his face.  "Perhaps you do not recognise my name?  It is much changed since last our paths crossed.  Maybe "Bruce" rings a bell?"  The tongue again flicks out, tasting, testing the reaction.  "I see you have a drink already, so if you'll grant me your company, I'll join you."  Fitting deed to words, he orders a beaker of M'poc which he swirls around to help its aroma rise from the liquid.  Again the tongue tastes the air.  "D'you know Kendrick, I can taste another old friend in the room, and she appears to be looking directly at you.  Shall I make the introductions?"

Smiles turning to face his old friend before speaking aloud..."Bruce, it has been a long time...by all means please join me for a drink"  He pours himself another glass of bourbon and before he can open his mouth the bartender approaches and motions us towards the table full of marines.

"I think introductions would be appropriate, lead the way" taking a sip from his glass he slides out of his seat following behind Mixtzin.  Visibly he looks more at ease about the introduction now that his old friend was here.  What a surprise running into him here.

Walking with the confidence of a marine he notices Lynn sitting off on her own talking to herself...seems a bit off that one but good starship mechanics are hard to come by and decides hold on to that little bit of information.  He was indeed looking to buy into a ship after all, and figured if he plays his cards right this might just be the investment he's been looking for with this group working for CASAR.
This message was lightly edited by the player at 11:15, Thu 10 Sept 2015.

The edges of Elsbeth's lips curved up slightly when Balkiir approached her, his arm embracing her shoulder.  She embraced T'risa in kind when the marshal stood and greeted them warmly.

The young Praetorian woman simply smiled when the question of discretion was addressed, adding her own take, "Friend Balkiir and I didn't bring any heavy weaponry.  We left it in secured in the car."  Her tone was quite cheerfully, if matter-of-fact, meaning that she was both serious, if a bit naive about the situation.  And potentially the meaning of 'discretion' in this case.  But she didn't seem that out of place with her demeanor or hardware, except that she didn't have naturally blue skin.  Her own skin was quite pale, though covered with many colorful tattooes that shown on her forearms and peeked out around her neckline.

Elsbeth sat when T'risa bade her and Balkiir to do so.  The thin marine looked slightly askance at Cain as the drunken pilot inserted himself into their conversation.  If she bristled at all it didn't really show.  Or Balkiir's arm casually wrapped around her shoulders made sure that she didn't move.  Her eyes darted once towards the her burly companion when he made it known that Betler was known to him.  Perhaps the standard CASAR initiation trials would have to wait; she remembered having to cross a couple of hundred miles through Q'sa infested lands before being allowed to join.

Given that the Marshal had effectively deputized the man on the spot, Elsbeth continued with the previous thread in the conversation, "Major, do you believe that the disappearance of the Universal Exploration detail is part of the developing situation?"  It did seem highly suspicious to her, but then what did she know?  She was more on the muscle side than the brains of this particular outfit.  And Cain might as well know what type of situation he was potentially volunteering himself for.

She grabbed a chicken wing and stripped it to the bone in one bite before moving onto another.  With her other hand, Elsbeth poured from the pitcher into the frosted tankards for herself as well as the other men at the table.  T'risa had been nursing her wine; so, the CMC Marine didn't bother to serve her a tankard - she would have served the Marshal, of course, if the Omeadan woman had indicated that she'd wanted some, but Elsbeth had actually never seen their commander partake of beer before.

When yet another round of drinks arrived, Elsbeth didn't think much of it until T'risa mentioned it.  She glanced over towards where the Marshal was looking.  Without missing a beat, the veteran Praetorian asked of the Major, "Ma'am, would you prefer that I or Friend Balkiir ask that individual the purpose of his gift first?"  The man looked to be able to handle himself, but in her experience, nothing generally came for free.

T'risa paused, wondering how to answer Elsbeth's question. "I don't believe in coincidences and there's been too much going on here. She is subtle when she needs to be. Had we not investigated reports of lack of communication from a colony, we'd not even know right know that She was intent on invasion and war. Having said that, she's subtle in a very particular pattern and to be honest, when you look deep into what's going on here....I think there's something to it. I just hope she's testing the local area instead of planning something big. There aren't enough assets in this area to stand a hope against the forces she can throw." T'risa smirked "Although we did defeat a dreadnought with a light freighter and some help."

T'risa shook her head negatively "No, it's fine. It's a gift. I sense no malicious intent, just a passive curiosity....and besides, I think he'll be joining the crew before long." her eyes watched as the Quetzl greeted the drinker a smirk appearing on the corner of hr lips "As he's talking to someone I invited to join our group." T'risa let out a squeal of delight as she shouted "Mixtli!" at the sight of the newcomer.

A tall fit man of indeterminate age steps quietly, humbly into the establishment. He nods to passers by and tilts his head to step in the door. His frame is fit and posture just a little stooped he looks around lazily after ordering a lemon aide and appetizer of fried calimari.

His eyes light up with recognition for Cain and nods to him with a shy wave.

He approaches Cain with a large smile and waits for a polite moment to engage.

His voice is strong and though quiet seems to resonate.
Good Greeting my friend, Mister Cain. I've considered you fondly. Can I share with you some squidchips?