Common Ground

[Asteria Sigini]

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Location: Ord Cantrell, Resort World​

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Lost. Siggy was completely and utterly lost! Having spent the better part of the afternoon frequenting social establishments, she had completely lost track of time. True, the alcohol didn't help either, blurring her sense of time and its rapid passage. Having grown bored of her surroundings, and resolving to change that, Siggy was started to find it was already growing late. And with that hour, came darkness. On her homeworld of Hapes, daylight was nearly constant. Generations of evolution had its pros and cons; on one hand, a vast of Hapans inherited near perfect physical beauty. The disadvantage however? They were nearly blind in low light. Siggy's eyes just couldn't adjust to the lack of perception around her. True, some sections of walk ways and streets were dimly lit, but the coming and goings of transports added to the further confusion.

The city was merely a canvas of blackness, with stray orbs and light acting as vague reference points. In her wandering, the heiress hadn't even noticed she had ventured into less than questionable surroundings. Whilst exclusive, even Ord Cantrell wasn't except from seedy activity. The Hapan's stumbling procession was duly noted by three lumbering thugs. To them, it was an easy score, shaking down a socialite for what credits they possessed.

A blue Nautolan tried his luck first, hoping to ply the money off Siggy without must fuss. "Sweet thang, you lost?"

Siggy came to an unsteady halt, not too sure as to the source of the sudden voice. Only when the aquatic male's hand came to rest on her shoulder did Siggy whirl round in his direction. She wished she hadn't. The sensation dizzied her. But the alien's touch was cold, almost slimy. How strange.
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Two accompanying Devaronians moved to flanked her.

Much like her mother, however, Siggy had a nasty streak when drunk. She slapped at the tentacle headed man and shooed him off, unwilling to allowing his guiding touch. Never show weakness, that's what her mother always taught her. Even when wounded, a nexu still knew when it bare its fangs and fight. These ruffians wouldn't make a mark out of her.
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@Phoenix

 

[Narir Solus]

Narir wasn't afraid of the waning hours. He'd come all the way out this way looking for a man on the run from the "law" and had seen his work through to completion. The man was dead, his crimes paid for, and Narir had been paid accordingly. It was only because he'd realized he left his datapad behind in this seedy part of town that he returned before he left the planet.

Without plans to hunt today, his usually rifle had been left behind, but armor and other weapons were beskar'gam after all... second skin. He was far more comfortable in it than out, and while it got him a few nasty looks, no one seemed to bother him much in this part of town. They didn't like the authorities, and he wasn't bothering anyone.

His pace was brisk until he heard a commotion around the corner up ahead. The distinct sound of skin slapping skin indicated a strong slap in the face that would no doubt leave a mark later on. It was enough to make the Mandalorian approach the corner with caution rather than carry on his hurried step. He wasn't really going anywhere, after all.

The woman - whoever she was - was strikingly beautiful, and he could see why she'd quickly attracted the attention of these... scumbags. There was really no other word for them, and while Narir was usually one to mind his own business... okay, fine, he really wasn't one to mind his own business, and that was about to come through right now.

His hand was already resting on his blaster pistol when he came around the corner. He should give them the chance to back off, he should give them the chance to back off, he should... bam. Fine, so that was a rather aggressive way to handle it, but he'd seen the flash of a knife and if he'd waited any longer, who knew what would have happened. The first shot wasn't perfect, but it struck the knife-wielder in the gut and sent him stumbling down.

By now Narir's second pistol was out and firing, though his shot went wide as he slid into cover. He was more interested in letting the woman get clear than actually killing all these thugs, but he also wanted to stay alive himself. Oh the trouble he got himself into....

 

[Asteria Sigini]

She'd struck with a little force than first intended, yet in her intoxicated state, Siggy barely felt the sting. The male deserved what he got. How dare he be so familiar with her, actually laying a hand onto her shoulder. On Hapes, he would have been beaten for such an offense. But then Siggy vaguely remembered, she wasn't on Hapes, not anymore. She had fled in fact, and was no meant to keep a low profile. That opportunity rendered itself moot, especially as she had angered her less than desirable company.

"Kriff, woman!" The alien snarled, brushing at the surface of his stricken cheek, "You'll pay for that!"

Instinctively, Siggy recognised the glint of a blade. It was an all too familiar occurrence on Hapes; rivals and enemies often attempted to inflict physical injury. The face was an all too favoured area. Hapans admired and respected beauty, prizing it above all else. If that was marred in any way, a lady would lose her status. Siggy had been trained for such things, though not whilst under the influence of alcohol. None too gracefully, she recoiled back, ensuring she was out of striking range. Yet in doing so, Siggy had lost her footing, promptly falling onto her backside.

A blaster shot rang out.

Then a heavy weight collapsed itself onto her feet.

It was cold, and familiarly slimy- ew! The alien had fallen on her! Was he dead? Siggy didn't care to ask. Scuttering back to tried to regain her balance. She didn't know who had fired, or why, but she turned to run from the scene. Yet a meaty arm circled itself around her neck, trapping her. There was an rancid odour, one which nearly summoned forth bile. One of the horn heads had taken hold of Siggy, whilst the other drew his own blaster, firing off a couple of shots in retaliation.

"Mando scum!" He had seen the armour; he knew that accursed kind. He also knew he and his brother were out of their depths, taking on a Mando. "Lets just take the female and go-"

Processing her family's ancestral dagger from its seamless fixture, Siggy thrusted the blade backwards into the alien's eye. In situations like this, she had been taught to go for vulnerable areas, in particular, the most exposed and visible.

The dusty skinned male shrieked and hollered, recoiling back as he staggered away, clutching at her burst eye socket. "The skug stabbed me! She stabbed me! "

Again, Siggy lost her footing, though still, she brandished her bloodied blade, even if her grasp on it was shaky. Still, a dagger was no good now, not when the armed Devaronian pointed his blaster at her in retaliation.

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[Narir Solus]

Another shot slapped against the speeder he had taken cover behind, and Narir did not envy whoever owned it. Though, stealing a second glance revealed that it had certainly seen better days even before the gunshots.

The Mandalorian glanced into one of the mirrors, now only barely hanging on to the rest of the vehicle, as he looked for an angle on his targets. He spun out of cover low, firing around the bottom of the chassis and his shot grazed along an ankle, causing one of the men to stumble over from his second injury. It was unlikely he would be doing much now. He heard the howling pain of an injury and didn't yet realize the woman had managed to stab one of these thugs in the eye. What a stroke of luck that she seemed to know how to fend for herself!

Quickly standing, the image of the thug holding a blaster to her caused Narir to react. He should have fired with more accuracy, but he was just reacting now, sending a dual-blaster worth of fire at the man with the gun. Of the five shots he fired, four missed and the fifth was barely a graze, but it seemed enough to make the criminal reconsider his position, stumbling back and forcing him into cover as he yelped.

What struck Narir was how much blood there was, and more than that, he couldn't tell where it had come from. He knew he'd hit some of them, but it shouldn't have been this much of a mess. Her stab had added to it, and it seemed the thugs were beginning to think their plan wasn't a good one. They scrambled back, half dragging the doubly wounded man as they tried to make their escape. Gunshots continued to fill the air, but Narir knew they needed to get out of here.

Come here! he shouted to the woman, hoping she would comply while he continued to return fire. A prolonged shoot out wasn't in their best interest when they were outnumbered... even if their enemy was wounded.

 

[Asteria Sigini]

Just when Siggy thought things couldn't get any worse, another attacker made a move at her! She was ready to lash out with her dagger yet again, but the combination of shouting and blasters had disorientated her. Blindly she glanced about her, trying to discern one shape from another. A feat which was ultimately uselessly. Yet something within her guided her steps, at least towards Narir's direction. It was a subtle calling, one she trusted significantly as it came from inside her own consciousness. It must be her 'magic', the thing which she promised never to use.

Clutching at the male for further guidance, Siggy stumbled and trotted into cover. The blaster fire soon grew distant. After a moment, it stopped altogether, signifying the thugs' enforced retreat.

Now that she had a moment to breathe, the heiress shakily exhaled. She was trembling with adrenaline. Very quickly now it seemed her situation was dawning on her. Out here on Ord Cantrell, away from her family, Siggy had little protection. Indeed, she had some basic training with a blade, but in terms of security, she was vulnerable. It was a harrowing realisation. Maybe that's what caused a surge of vomit. That, and the numerous volumes of alcohol to had consumed prior. With unladylike grace, Siggy hurled the contents of her stomach. The only consolation was that the taste was as sickly sweet as the first time round.

Taking a moment to compose herself, Siggy breathed, waiting for the remnants of nausea to finally subside. Only then was she embarrassed to find Narir was still somewhere nearby, there to witness her moment of weakness. "You...didn't see that."

Sheathing her still bloody dagger, Siggy tripped backwards till she found the sturdy support of a nearby wall. Again, she tried to distinguish her saviour's visage, but he was nothing but a blur in the night. She didn't even know what species he belonged to; he voice being only able to confirm his gender. From her touch earlier, Siggy only felt hard padding. Armour perhaps? It hurt her brain, too much to process and think. Drank too much.

 

[Narir Solus]

Gunfire continued and he suddenly saw her empty the contents of her stomach onto the sidewalk. There was no more returning fire, so the Mandalorian slapped new power packs in his guns and slipped one of his pistols away. Shift it! he all but shouted at her, almost ignoring that she had mentioned he hadn't seen that. His first priority was getting the two of them out of here and out of the line of fire.

Only now did he glance down to see the bloody knife in her hand. It suddenly put his alarms on high and he hoped not to be stabbed. Even so, it didn't stop him from basically pushing her down the street and around the corner, trying to keep one eye on the knife-wielding woman and the other on the potential hostiles. There was no sign of the thugs, so he continued around the corner.

We need to get out of here, he said, not taking the time for introductions yet until they were nearly a quarter of a mile down the street. Are you okay? he asked, turning back to her and suppressing the military urge to bodily check her for injury. Something told him if he did he would get stabbed. But there was also the fact that she was covered in blood - probably not her own - but he couldn't be sure.

That's a lot of blood, he pointed out, hoping she would get the hint that it might be her own even if it weren't easy to tell. Adrenaline could cover up a lot of the pain of an injury, but it could cause her to bleed to death all the same.

 

[Asteria Sigini]

Siggy didn't feel like running; she was hardly in a fit state to do so, yet the man was insistent (something she'd chastise him for later). The day had started off so well; who would have thought by night time she'd be running through back alleys and streets, accosted by ruffians no less. Maybe mother was right, maybe the galaxy was an ugly place, fill with all kinds of unsavoury sorts.

When they finally, and thankfully, stopped running, Siggy's breath was ragged and rushed. She obviously wasn't used to this sort of physical exertion; she couldn't remember the last time she actually ran somewhere. Why would she, considering she had her own personal transport? So winded of breath, she could only nod at her companion's statement. Indeed, the sooner they reached civilised society, the better. Siggy would love nothing more than the comfort of her suite. Getting there however would be the main problem.

She waved off his apparent concerns with, "I am adequate, yes."

Despite her intoxicated state, Siggy still retained a degree of physical awareness. It was a learnt response, given the nature of Hapan culture; the slightest scar, the smallest blemish, that was it took to ruin one's social standing on Hapes. Avoiding injury was paramount to survival, in more ways than one.

But Siggy did not escape completely unscathed. Rather awkwardly, she perceived the sticky substance clinging her clothes. If not her breathless state, she might have screamed; not at the grotesque presence of blood, but at the fact it now stained her rather expensive clothes. She'd only bought them recently; now, they were painted rather crudely in orangey fluids. Yet another reason why Siggy didn't seem overly empathetic the damage she had inflicted. Dare she say it, her mother would have been proud of vicious strike.

Trying to smooth down the mess that was her curls, Siggy sniffed rather dismissively, "Good thing the blood belongs to the alien and not me." She then wrinkled her nose, noting the fluid now partially caked her hands as well, "Maybe next time, he'll think twice."

Noting the directionality of Narir's voice, Siggy squinted her eyes in his general direction; the light was somewhat better there so she could decipher more of his appearance. She was right in her earlier assumption, he was wearing a type of armour. Was he military? A security detail perhaps? The thought was a comforting one, so much so that Siggy sheathed her ancestral dagger once more.

"What...who-" she amended, "are you?"

 

[Narir Solus]

Narir's posture relaxed slightly as he saw her put away the knife, glad he wasn't going to be stabbed right now for no reason. He'd heard of more ridiculous stories than that. Sometimes you just couldn't make up what happened in real life.

Even so, he didn't put away his second pistol yet, not because of her, but in case something happened with the criminals. A quarter of a mile wasn't that far away yet, and if they had friends in the area... no, that wasn't something he wanted to risk. Narir Solus, he said. Mandalorians were not a well-liked group inside Sith-space right now, but out here in the Outer Rim, it was questionable if anyone had even heard of or cared about a Mandalorian walking around.

Do you have transport around here? We need to put some distance between ourselves and those guys, he said as his head swiveled around. He had walked the 3 klicks from his ship, which meant if she didn't have a transport, they'd be hoofing it back to a semi-safe area of town.

I need a drink, he muttered to himself under his breath. Maybe that was where they should go next. Oh wait, she was covered in blood... she probably wouldn't be very excited about that. Well, maybe he could get a drink.

 

[Asteria Sigini]

Siggy just blinked at him for a moment, now knowing his identity but not exactly his affiliation. What was with that strange armour? Was he even human? At this point in time, she didn't particularly care. She just wanted to away from all the darkness. The sooner they got back into the city, the better.

"Just...call me Siggy." Mother said not to give her real name to anyone, no matter what. Keep interactions short and informal.

Glance about, it seemed they had thankfully wandered in a more built up area, hopefully one with a communication terminal. From there, the heiress could contact for aa complementary hotel speeder. She still had her card key; scanning it was all that was needed in order to gain its privileges. "Get me to a holo-com and I'll buy the first round."

She didn't feel much like drinking anymore, but she certainly wanted a change of clothes. The longer the blood stained her clothes, the more it began to smell. It was an odd odour, similar to that of rancid fruit. Still, Siggy wished it were washed away as soon as possible. Finding a local terminal, Siggy managed to summon a droid operated transport for the pair. Perhaps it was for the best. A sentient driver would have questioned the strange pair, where as the robot just did as commanded, piloting the craft back towards to inner city.

Finally, there was a sigh of relief visibility slowly returning. With that, Siggy could finally see her unlikely saviour. "I...owe you a debt, I suppose."

It was certainly awkward. On Hapes it was a male's duty to intervene on a woman's behalf; daughters were more prized than sons, it was simply the way of her people. But the rest of the galaxy didn't share such views. So again, it begged the question, why did this stranger get involved? He didn't know her, certainly didn't know about her secret identity; what motivated him? Siggy couldn't be sure. No one did anything out of the goodness of their heart, or so her mother had led her to believe. Could it be there were such people, out there in the galaxy?

The interactive newsfeed stole her attention. It rattled the day's interstellar snippets. Nothing of great interest really. However, as soon as Imperial sponsor propaganda was mention, Siggy irritably ordered for the entertainment view switched off. It had been early a decade since that fateful day, the day in which her family was torn apart.

It was an otherwise silent journey back to the hotel; it was quite an exclusive one at that, the sorts which celebrities and socialites frequented on vacation. The staff knew how to be discreet. They didn't question Siggy's rather messy attire, nor did they blink when she rattled off orders and commands. This was her domain, the place where she felt most comfortable; here she could find her feet...after sobering up.

Her suit was as luxurious as one could expect, sporting only the finest. Only when they were alone did Siggy turn once more to Narir. "Help yourself to the bar, if you like." Indeed, it was a rather plentiful bar, filled for an assortment of taste.

If the Mando opted for that drink, Siggy would take the chance to change and refresh herself. No sooner had she strolled out -prim and proper once more- did she reach for her data-credit pad. "How much?" She queried, "How much do I owe? It isn't proper to owe favours. Think of this as...a reward, if you must."

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[Narir Solus]

I suppose, he agreed absentmindedly as she said she owed him a debt. He certainly wasn't going to turn that down. And he wasn't going to turn down the drinks either. Yes, that sounded nice right now.

Narir caught her snap as she saw the Imperial information come on the screen and his eyes squinted slightly behind his helmet. Not a fan of the Imperials, then? That was interesting, but then, not all that shocking. There were plenty of people - Nirar among them - but she seemed savvy enough that she wouldn't have any trouble moving through the politics of the Empire. He filed it away in his mind for later.

They arrived at the hotel shortly thereafter and he looked up, forcing his jaw not to drop behind his helmet. This place was far more expensive than anywhere he had ever been before and he wondered what kind of a woman he had run across here who stayed here... and bossed people around as if she had the money to back it up.

He followed her up to her room, glancing at the bar that she offered, and he didn't turn her down. He peeled his helmet off, pushing his now-messy hair out of his face as he fixed himself a drink. You want anything? he shouted to the other room.

Within moments he had fixed himself a drink that was about as close as he could get to tihaar off world. He took a large gulp, feeling the burn on the way down and letting out a satisfied sigh. He turned, drink in hand, surprised to see that she was already ready. Quite quick on the change, it seemed.

You certainly don't seem short on money, he commented, glancing around the suite they stood in. So what were you doing out in such a nasty area of town? he asked. He didn't outright address the issue of payment yet. While he couldn't deny that the idea of earning a few extra credits was nice, he honestly lived on very little and was fine with that. He was more curious about the situation as a whole.

 

[Asteria Sigini]

Siggy didn't feel like drinking, not at that moment in time. She had done enough of that in the early hours of the day; now, it was catching up to her. Moderation certainly wasn't in the heiress' dictionary, not when she had only just learnt to indulge. Unfortunately, she seemed fated to learn lessons the hard way. Already, the symptoms of a hangover were starting to creep up on her. Distant aches were slowly sinking into the recesses of her mind. For now, she tried to ignore them, simply hoping they would pass, in time.

When Narir mentioned money, Siggy didn't move to deny it. She saw no reason to. Surely it would be more suspicious, feigning poverty whilst basking in luxury's lap. Still, vagueness was a virtue. "Family money," she shrugged, and was simply willing to leave it at that.

Ord Cantrell was a hub for the rich and wealthy, with the hotel itself being nothing short of a pleasure palace. The planet was a paradise, a resort for all sorts; from socialites to business men, it even entertained the likes of politicians and bankers. Perhaps most appealingly of all, the Imperial Republica had little to no influence. It was a star system too far, a collective honey pot for some of the galaxy's most influential. If the Empire ever made a grab for the planet, it's clientele would vanish over night. Everyone needed a little get away, a shaded oasis hidden from view. Take that away, there'd be little charm left. Still it wasn't perfect. With money came corruption and crime; whilst cities themselves were pearls, the outer districts left little to be desired. Siggy still wasn't quite sure how she ended out so far.

She tried to hide her embarrassment at first, playing it off with a subtle play on words. ​

"I suppose you could say my sense of direction has...much to be desired." Suddenly feeling deflated from a headache, she was ready to admit, "I got lost..."

Like a sailor on shore leave, Siggy blazed through a series of bars. No one told her where to go or what not to drink. Emboldened by alcohol, she had even conversed with strangers! If only her family could see her now. How they would scold her!

Shaking her head of such notions, Siggy sought focus elsewhere.

"And you? What were you doing in such a ghastly place?" ​

Her lavender eyed gave riveted back onto Narir. In particular, on his armour. "What are you? A ranger?"

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[Narir Solus]

Narir actually chuckled when she said that she got lost. It happened, but you certainly didn't want to get lost in that area of town, as was just demonstrated. It was a place to find a profit if you knew what you were doing, but it was even more likely to end up getting you killed, whether you knew what you were doing or not. The thugs liked to pick on women, but if they'd been feeling particularly hyped up on spice, they might have been in a mood to tackle a fully armored Mandalorian. Thankfully, his helmet alone and the reputation built up as Jedi-killers meant that most thought twice before engaging with him.

A ranger? he said, quirking his eyebrow and shaking his head. Like a sector ranger? Uh... no, certainly not, he said. The helmet was usually enough to give him away, but there were still plenty of people who didn't know what a Mandalorian was. I'm a Mandalorian, he said, watching for any hint of realization or recognition that would indicate she knew what that meant.

I was bounty hunting, he said in response to what he was doing. Lots of what he did was underhanded and involved attacking or killing Imperials, but in this case, he was just working as the long arm of the law.

In our culture, black stands for justice, he said, tapping his chest plate that was painted black. He had always been interested in enforcing and carrying out justice, and he wore a suit of armor that appropriately signified that to others of his kind.

He moved over and took a seat unbidden on the couch as he sipped at his drink. Clearly, he had no qualms about making himself comfortable here, but that was just how he was. So you drink your way through a lot of cities? he asked with a tone that didn't make it clear if he was teasing or being serious. @Esther Nyx