"Buy you drinks."  Shui thoughtfully considers this idea.  Purchasing someone else drinks.  Will it be worth the story?  It isn't as if she's made of credits...

"Deal."  The older woman waits while the hatch cycles; the moment it opens, there's a positive traffic jam of people swarming forth, all apparently in a search for cantinas.  She huffs a laugh; space travel and meeting up with a Star Destroyer will do that.

...not necessarily the cantina part, just the 'get off the ship'.

Deciding to wait for both their pilot and the crowd to thin, she leans against the bulkhead; the ache behind her eyes has grown a touch worse, but there's nothing she can do about that.  Well, there are things, but she's not in the mood for peace, serenity, and empty killing.

"Yo, Captain.  Are you coming, or what?"

It's not like it will be difficult to catch up to someone in the group before they vanish into the cantinas of the spaceport.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:38, Thu 15 July 2010.

Rhijans and Mark study the data terminal, noting the locations of several likely establishments, eventually selecting one that looks like it might suit their needs.

Neary, meanwhile tries a simpler approach, shouting at the nearest people.  A woman accompanied by a decrepit looking R2 droid, retrofitted with the head of an R4, turns to look at her, "Feeling thirsty, eh?  No worries.  If you duck into that alley between those two buildings, there's a bar there."  She waves a hand in the direction of the buildings in question, about three hundred metres away, and adds, "It's not the nicest place around, but at least none of you should have trouble getting served there."


The group starts moving towards the buildings, leaving R2-O0 aboard the locked ship.

Closer up, the buildings turn out to be a starship component vendor and a freight warehouse.  The alley is dimly lit, as they usually are, and the strains of lively music drift out of it as the Rebel enter it.

The bar is impossible to miss - brightly animated holograms dance, eat and drink above the door, and the music is definitely coming from that particular door.

Inside, it's actually fairly clean, and better lit than the alley.  It is also populated with members of at least twenty different species, and very crowded.  A glass, fortunately made of tough plastic, bounces off the wall only a metre from Shard's head.

It looks like they have walked into the middle a full-fledged brawl.  The bartender, a rhodian, screams, "No blasters!" in heavily-accented Basic, and then ducks out of sight as an enraged wookiee hurls a human over the counter.

Upon entering the cantina, Shiss made a growling/hissing nose deep in his throat, sounding like a combination threat and warning. His eyes opened even wider, which seemed impossible, but actually gave him a better judge of the heat signatures in the room.

Instantly, he started picking targets and assessing the rest of his own group. He surmised that Mogg and himself could probably wade into the mess and turn it into something a bit more positive, though that Wookie might be a pain. That, however, was the most obvious initial assessment. There were other factors to take in, such as the talents of the rest of his team, their gear, and the current duration of this particular brawl. A prolonged fight might mean more exhausted targets, equalling easy pickings. Right now, he was more focused on keeping the 'softer' targets in his team safe.

He flexed his fingers, but neither drew his blaster, as per the bartender's request, nor his axe. He took up a position near the front of his group, where the long reach of his arms could hopefully give him the initiative in case the brawl headed their way.

"We should find another cantina," Shiss growled.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:14, Thu 15 July 2010.

"You're kidding right? Feels like home already. Just don't step on anyone and bump into them and we'll be fine."

Neary slaps the back of Shisskurr and wriggled her way past, heading towards a part of the bar free of thrown humans and upset Wookies. Keeping an eye out for trouble is of course a good idea at all times but this place seems to be just what they need.

"Yo, barkeep! I hope you got some strong Accarrgm^* behind there!"

She calls out even before she reaches the bar, giving the Rhodian time to crawl to safety and reappear where she needs him to be.



^{* A really strong alcoholic Wookie beverage.}

Rhijans shrugged.  It was hardly the worst place he'd been in...

He glanced around the establishment.  It appeared most of the clientele was spacers...but there had to be a few others in here.  If there were other hunters, he might be able to ask them about the blockade on Ker Aldas, as a professional courtesy.

And if there weren't, maybe he'd recognize some other disreputable type that would know the answer...and could be encouraged to share it, one way or another.

"Wonderful."  Shard finds a spot on the wall near the door and presses her back to it.  One of their people has chosen to dive right in, so she can't just leave.  On the other hand, she's not as limber as she used to be, her hand to hand skills have atrophied, and her bones are a little more brittle.

Hopping into a brawl is no longer her idea of fun, if it ever was.

"I think we're stuck, Shisskurr," she shouts over the cries, the crashes, the cacaphony.  "Figure I'll just hunker down here and wait for the storm to pass."  But her eyes remain on the people, the room; they hunt, they seek, on the lookout for aggression turned toward Narf, for Imperials, for blasters or blades being drawn.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:51, Sat 17 July 2010.

Shiss spit-hiss-snarled something in Shard's general direction. It felt like he was swearing. Nevertheless, he moved with her. His eyes and head were subtly adjusting to the room, keeping a gauge on the conflict at-hand.

To him it was frustrating, but not overwhelming. It was one thing to wade into a crowd on his own. Quite another when surrounded by individuals he was tasked with keeping an eye on. He reminded himself that this was not a typical guard mission and that the rest of his team could take care of themselves.

He backed Shard up anyway. She smelled uncomfortable. Then again, Shard always seemed to smell uncomfortable.

He rolled his eyes as Neary made her way deeper into the cantina. Mark Jacobs followed. "Give me a Yelsain Ale."

Once he got his drink, he turned his back to the bar with drink in hand. He gave a nod to Shisskurr and Shard. They had taken a place near the entrance.

"Let me know if you need a hand with anything." Mark said in a low voice to Neary.

Mark glanced around to check for other exits.

Reldan moves closer to Shard and Shiss as he enters the bar, grinning.  "This place isn't as bad as some." he says, raising his voice above the ambient noise, "There was this one place I was in on Vonin a year or two back.  If you got in there two minutes after it opened in the morning, then you'd have missed a half-dozen fights."

"I'm going to grab me a drink.  Can I fetch you two anything while I'm about it?"

Fortunately the brawl ends quickly, with minimal injuries (at least on the part of the wookiee, who seems to have obtained a little more elbow room in which to enjoy his drink).  Several other patrons are a little less fortunate, and it should, perhaps, be noted that the human who was thrown over the bar counter doesn't get up as quickly as most of the others.

The bartender raises his head, and starts serving again, as conversations resume around the crowded room...

"Stupid Impies, always messing things up."
"I was supposed to deliver a cargo to Ker Aldas this morning."
"And then Jan punched that weequay, right in the... " (laughter)
"How many stormtroopers does it take to change a power cell?"
"The Hutt isn't going to be happy with me."
"Huuuurrrr wroarhah rhurr!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:45, Mon 19 July 2010.

Neary smiles at Marc and leans in to whisper.

"Thanks, didn't know you care. Right now all I need is this drink, but if you want to watch my back I'd appreciate it."

Then she makes her way towards the patron who mentioned Imperials and lifts her glass in greeting.

"Imperials, messing up is all they can do. And even that they do badly, ha! Say, is this seat taken?"

An alluring smile and then a sip from the drink while she waits.

Jacobs moves off to watch over the exuberant Narf; Shard offers him a wry nod in return for his own.  She settles herself more fully against the wall when the violence grinds to a halt, letting her senses expand so she can better hear who is saying what.  When their pilot joins them, she shoots him a twisted grin.  "I've passed out in worse places," the aging rebel admits.  "But I'm getting too fragile for fights.  Sounds like you've gotten around, Jalt."

Lifting her head, she sniffs the air.  "Something strong, if you're buying.  Doesn't have to be expensive." Closing her eyes for a moment, she breathes out slowly, relaxing her tension.  Keep it calmer, Shard.  You'll muck everything up if you don't calm down.

Mindless placidity was offensive, but patience and relaxation went a long way toward controlling oneself.

"You can learn a lot by listening," she mutters.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:26, Wed 21 July 2010.

Rhijans homed in on the voice that mentioned making a delivery to Ker Aldas, walking up to the table and putting on his most charming manner (which made him something vaguely resembling personable).  "Funny, I was supposed to pick something up in Ker Aldas today...any word on what happened?"  As one of the harried looking wait-staff walked past, he grabbed an arm.

"Can I get a Corellian Ale?" he asked, and then turned his attention back to the table.

"I'd hate to find out this was a wasted trip...could definitely have put the fuel to better use, if it was."  While he'd never been a free-trader, he'd overheard enough ship captain's talking to have some idea of what their priorities would be.

Painfully aware of how thin his credits are these days, Jihon Mogg eases up to the bar, pushing in between others to make room for himself, and orders a cheap drink, beginning to nurse it slowly. He keeps to himself for a few minutes, then turns to the alien on his left. "What's this I hear about Ker Aldas? I had a friend there a while back."

Mark Jacobs didn't change his position. He stood at the bar and kept a watchful eye around him. He glanced at the Wookiee and the other alien as he sipped his drink.

Neary makes her way over to one of the tables, drink in hand, and finds a seat, joining a couple of rough-looking humans.  One of them promptly shifts position, so that he can get a little closer to her, and sits there leering.  The other starts talking quietly, and Neary can barely hear him above the noise in the cantina.

Rhijans, meanwhile, finds his own conversation to butt into.  The participants, a squat human woman, who looks like she could pick up any Hutt that gave her trouble, and a tall, slender alien, study him briefly, before the woman replies, loudly, "They say that they need the port for their own ships.  They don't care if they damage business, laser-brained shower of nerf-herders!"  The alien speaks then, much more softly...

Mark stays at the bar, watching the room for signs of further trouble. 

The creature at Jihon's left doesn't seem to hear him, at first, but eventually turns a bleary-eyed gaze in his direction.  It makes an expression which is, presumably, a smile and jabbers something in its own tongue. 

Reldan gets drink orders, and starts to make his way across the crowded room, leaving Shisskurr and Shard propping up the wall behind him.

It takes a bit of work to filter out what she hears, not helped in the least by Shard's throbbing head.  The multitude of conflicting stories doesn't make things easier.  Most of the rumormongering seems to back up what Narf gets from the salaciously-grinning man's tablemate.  But others consider the possibility of the Empire going hardcore on smuggling, or shutting down the port on a permanent basis.

She disregards the theory of a wild Rancor in the city - they don't hide very well, and it's not something requiring a Star Destroyer in any case.

"Sounds like we might be dealing with an important visitor," she mutters to Shisskur.  "Someone big enough for the Empire to send one big cursed escort and close the port to better keep track of everything - namely, themselves."

Great.  We're in, but we can't get back out until the high muckity-muck vacates.  And maybe not for a while afterward, depending on what he's here for.  Her eyes snap to Reldan, gauging his progress - suddenly Shard needs that drink.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:43, Thu 22 July 2010.

Neary gives the leering guy just enough of a smile as to not put him of but hopefully not cause any further advances. She listens to the other and nods while sipping her drink again.

She leans in to be able to whisper back.

A small sigh and another sip.

Jihon nods and grunts his thanks to the alien. He spends a few more minutes sipping lightly at his drink and appearing to keep to his own thoughts. The alien's story confirmed trouble at Ker Aldas, but the reason didn't really hold up to reason. He couldn't see them calling in star destroyers for a few weapon smugglers. Finally, he leans back over to the alien and speaks, using whatever he can of the alien's own words as quiet as he can over the ruckus.

Inwardly, Rhijans quirked one eyebrow in the air...closing down the entire starport for a major city required a LOT of ships...Or just one or two really important ones, he observed to himself.  He leaned in closer, and while his face was pointed at the drunk woman, his eyes flitted often to the alien.  Given her unsubtle outburst, the bounty hunter was certain that she'd react poorly to being cut out of the conversation...but he felt pretty certain that the alien would be more likely to have some clear answers.


His words were low, but his expression showed a sincere degree of desperation--there was a timetable for this excursion, and if things wandered too far from it, the opportunity could be lost.  Might already be, in fact...

Shiss crossed his long arms before his chest, doing his best to look as intimidating as possible. Not a hard thing for one of his species. At Shard's comment, Shiss grunted.

"Rr. The Empire enjoys making a show of things, though I would not leave out the idea that all of this is merely a cover for something more sinister." He hissed inwardly. "I have seen similar actions on other worlds. It feels like a distraction, though I may simply be jumping to conclusions."

He caught the eye of a passing Twi'lek waitress, looking harried and haggard. He grabbed the first thing off of the tray she was carrying - an ale of Corellian designation - and handed it to Shard. He concentrated on not spilling it everywhere, damning his hands. "Hrn. For your nerves. Places like this can strain." Though he hesitated to make the woman worse off than she was, he felt it better to at least have her in a better frame of mind. She actually seemed worse after having entered the Cantina. He felt the alcohol was probably the lesser of two evils.

"I wouldn't say you're doing any jumping," Shard mutters a little distractedly, still focused on listening.  "Curse it, lost the thread." Frustrated, she gives up on the effort - Narf will get as much or more than she has so far, as will others.  Better to just keep an eye on the place, preferably near the entrance.  If real trouble comes, likely it will come from that direction.

"You mean I'm getting the shakes.  And you'd be right."  She eyes the offered drink with distaste.  Ale.  It sits like lead and weakens her body, rather than burning like molten metal and jumping straight to her head.  "I think I'll..."  The polite demur goes the way of the Old Republic, and Shard takes the tankard, raising it to her benefactor before taking a large gulp.

Well, it would be rude to refuse, wouldn't it, especially after all the work he put into being careful?
This message was last edited by the player at 12:15, Mon 26 July 2010.

In the furthest corner of the cantina, a drink gets spilled, and a punch thrown.  Most of the clientele don't even notice (except for the man laying on the floor with his nose extensively remodelled, obviously).  They just go on drinking and talking.  It looks as if it is one of those places.

The wookiee tilts back his head and bellows, and the group of humans and aliens around him cheer.  Then he proceeds to empty his large glass without drawing breath as his friends egg him on.

Neary's leering friend moves a little closer and offers to pour her a drink from the bottle he has in front of him. 

Meanwhile, Jihon seems to be deep in conversation with his alien companion at the bar. 

The large woman talking to Rhijans slams her fist down on the table, loud enough to draw more attention than the recent punching incident, "Too long!  That's how long." 

Shard and Shisskurr appear to be lost in their own conversation, over near the entrance.

The wookiee finishes his drink, and bangs the empty glass down hard enough to crack it, amid the cheers of his companions.  Then he starts to look around the bar, sniffing.  He rumbles something very quietly, and the group with him also start looking around.
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:06, Mon 26 July 2010.

Rhijans considered the alien's message to him as he did his best to help the creature calm the woman.  "Your friend in correct...there's certainly little of value to be gained by complaining about the Empire..."  His calming gesture was sincere enough...he didn't want any Imperial agents present in the bar paying any attention to him.

That thought sparked an ember of suspicion, and he glanced surreptitiously at other bar patrons, looking to see if any single individual seemed to be paying inordinate attention to them...or, more disturbingly, if several different people were watching his current table-partners.  He suspected, in a place like this, even the best of Imperial agents would be hard-pressed to keep their true identity a secret for very long.

Mark Jacobs made a mental note on the drunk wookiee. Any fight with a drunk wookiee would be poor odds at best. "I got a bad feeling about this." He muttered under his breath as he set down his drink at the bar.

He glanced at his other companions. Many of them were busy with other conversations.