Dinged Up But Not Down

[Burkhart Kelborn]

Location: Nar Shadda, Mandalorian Space
Time: Mid-day
Participants: @Rimrald , @Darasuum, @Zay (open to more)
Theme: Fresh Blood ♣ Eels

"Ya mind takin a look at this fer me?" He asked the armorer who was looking at his bulwark shield gauntlet. The thing had shorted out the last time he had used it as he had narrowly avoided getting shot by a sith's humbler assualt tank. Thankfully he had his basilisk war droid between him and the enemy.

"Yeah...giveit here." The marauder said to his Alor. "Thanks. An there's also mah jetpack too." He set the device on the workbench next to the other set of armor. This earned an annoyed look from the man in front of him. "What the hell did ya do to it?" He asked in an accusing tone.

"Went oop against that Sith bitch Darth Victress or whatever on Corellia. She crushed the left thruster with her space magic." ♣ He said her name like she was some over advertised individual who's propaganda did not live up to the hype. From what he had seen that was exactly what she was. "Yeah. I'll get it fixed up. Might be a bit though. Ya got the rest of us fellas workin on all sorts of repairs." He sounded almost bothered by it. "Don't worry. I'll compinsate ya fer your time, mate." He gave the fellow mandalorian a light clap on the shoulder with his own crimson painted cybernetic arm before heading out of the room.

After leaving he walked out past an open repair yard. It was mandalorian owned but was open to the public and paying customers. His newly acquired ship that he had taken off the hands of some unlucky individual sat with panels removed. A repair crew was resealing the hole he had blasted with his violator to get access. ♣ The SSR was in place on the ship for the time being on the redubbed Rascal which was also getting a new paint job so that nobody would be able to find their old ship. The Taim and Bakk turrets on it were being removed and would be transfered to his own ship, the Effervescent soon as well which was sitting nearby, all locked down with its FIRE system in place. Further down the line his basilisk war droid was almost done with its repairs as well. The military grade power core was getting removed for a later event. The Humbler Tank that had shot at him had done some damage but nothing that could not be repaired now. "jeeze, when I take damage I take a lot oov it don't I?" He looked at his Personal Entertainment Attendant as he headed towards the nearest bar in this part of city moon.

 

[Luno]

Luno had recently been tasked with managing the arms storage and sales compound under the Paroaria Mafia here on Nar Shaddaa and it was taking up a good portion of his time. More of it than he enjoyed as his own ambitions tended to come second to the management, but it still gave him access to the outer-rim and a relatively safe place to sleep.

Finishing up with payment to a smuggler and overseeing the storage of a shipment of repeaters marked the end of Luno’s work day. Retrieving his poncho and repeater he would finish outfitting himself and head for the main causeway, checking his datapad for any missed communications as he walked to his SS-44 Bident. Aiming to get to the closest spot for a drink and something to eat, he smiled as a new bar lit up on his datapads screen; finally a change of pace. Navigating the airways for a few blocks he would arrive at the location and park his Bident, step out and light a tabak stick while leaning on the passenger side door having view of the entrance.

 

[Denise Macko]

Denise was already in the bar, when she saw a work colleague, and a Echani male enter. She was actually on the stage, playing her sliver coated flute. As it was buskers ball night, and she enjoyed playing it, to a small crowd. She was also quite good, and made a bit of extra cash doing it. She carried on playing, though her next song was an Echani melody, as she wants to catch his eye.

@Darasuum @Rimrald

 

[Donny]

"...the size of a Zarlaacs b..." the latter part of his sentance was cut off by racaous laughter from the motely collection of Beskad bearing Mandalorians that sat around his table, as Donny accompanied his phrases with suitably grotesque hand gestures. "So how'd you end up here?" the figure, larger by a head at least that those who sat with him, that Donny had identified as the leader of the group, boomed back.

Donny shrugged, taking a drink of his pint - the latest he had consumed, each with the promise that he would 'get the next round in' - before going to respond. One of the wonderful things about promising to get the next round, is that it tends, at least in the present company, to inspire others to also get the next round, meaning that, with careful wordplay, one can always promise to get the next round, yet never end up doing so.

Modern science is still baffled by this. Some historians assume it was the solution to this conundrum that Pythagoras had really been working on.

"I slept in a crate, in the docking bay of some chunky ship," he put his glass down, and fetched the stim from behind his right ear "...belonging to some dog-like sentient," another dog-like sentient around the table growled at him "...not you, different sort of dog-like y'know? Less spotty more, not spotty?" the table grumbled as if they understood.

"Brb." he mumbled, standing from the table, satchel in place as he walked over to the bar. "Barm...." he paused, it was hard to tell your M from your W when the subject of ones discussion was wearing armour "...thing. Three packets of Fantoonian Gargle Beans." he requested, before turning his attention to the stage at the center of the room.

 

[Burkhart Kelborn]

_________________

Swaggering in, past a rahter stern looking individual (@Luno ), with his well earned confidence he passed a few onlookers. His helmet was carried on his side. While it lacked a T visor, the Jaig Eyes were unmistakable. Passing several tables he looked towards the stage and noticed the entertainment. The woman was rather attractive which he provided a content smile(@Denise Macko ). All things considered this was a decent day.

Saddling up to the bar, nearly bumping into some mildly enebriated human (@Donny ), he threw out his pointer and middle finger to motion for his usual. This was not his first time here and certainly not as a customer. The bartenders knew of him as a provider of otherwise illicit spirits or at least the legal ones at a far cheaper rate than the normal market price. Even Mandalorians had sanctions, tithes and taxes on things as well as other powers that added to the cost. He simple circumvented that.

Without having to wait a tumbler holding nothing but a few fingers of Concord Whisky was served to him. The measurement of fingers of course relating to the Morling's own large sized digits and not the more feeble human appendage ratio. He gave a wink to the bartender, despite him being male, he took the cup and slapped a few credits on the counter.

There was a surprising amount of people in the bar for this time of day. Then again he was always taken aback by the amount of hustle and bustle an ecumenopolis got. Nar Shaddaa was a moon, not a planet after all and it had a day that lasted over eighty hours.

 

[Luno]

Finishing his tabak stick a few moments after an interesting creature passed him by, a doglike humanoid of which he had no experience with, it peaked his interest as he tossed the butt and made his way inside a few minutes after the moorling. Curiosity was eating at him after seeing the jaig eyes affixed to his helmet and the helmet not being of the T-visored variety, although not actively in the good graces of the mandalorians on Shogun it wasn't hard to remember that mark of distinction.


Upon entering the bar and hearing some live music Luno looked about to see who was playing, with surprise it was none other than (@Denise Macko). With a simple wave he would turn his attention to the bar, making his way towards it eyeing the moorling from behind in comparison to the humanoid next to him (@Burkhart Kelborn/@Donny) showing quite a difference in size and giving some context to why he might have jaig eyes present on his helmet. Luno had only brought his blaster pistol in, holstered in his waistband and under his t-shirt, his ensemble was black from the shoes to the shirt and the synthweave covering his neck and jaw.

He would step up to the bar at an opening next to the moorling, tattoos showing on his left arm as he held up his pointer finger, signaling the bartender "Pint of something dark, a mandalorian stout if you've got it?" Luno said keeping his attention on the bartender who nodded and turned to pour something from the tap and returned delivering the drink on the counter. To which Luno placed down a few credits and took the first sip through the heady froth.

 

[Denise Macko]

Denise just finished playing, picked up the cash she made, and then two of her crew members went up and started playing Demin Eye Joel, it quite a catchy song, though a little repetitive it had a good beat to it and she was not going to be getting them out. Though Billy and Teddus were quite good at this, and no doubt would make enough to get drunk tonight. She heads to the bar and then made a growling noise towards a Wookiee, he growled back and then she laughed growled back. The conversation was, did you like my set, which Wookiee called Tarruan replied No you sucked, She then said after laughing Go and have a shave. They were friends, and they and it was no more than banter, between them.

As she got to the bar she saw @Luno, she was still bit weird out by what happened in the warehouse. That @Silas Edgelrd came in with a coffin and had a pea. She was still unsure why, he did not shoot him, though she happy the guy was not dead, still he was a weird individual, though this was not the place to talk about it. She then saw the Mando at the bar, being served, and he paid less than her, which was unfair, why did he get away without paying full whack. Then she remembered yup this is a mando moon, and they do what the feth they like.

She took some credits and leaned in at the bar. She wanted to be served, though she would be after the other two, she asked for half of larger please, she did not like drinking pints. As the bar sometimes get overcrowded, and she has lost a drink on more than one occasion. She gave him credits, and then looked around, she leaning against the bar with @Donny a drunk next to her, and @Burkhart Kelborn on the other side of him. Then her partner in crime was next to him.

@Rimrald @Darasuum @Nor'baal

 

[Silas Edgelrd]

Outside, the deep and hissing voice signature to Edgelrd could be heard if someone listened carefully enough, "Suh dude."

And it echoed.

Suh dude...
Suh dude...
Suh dude...

Then nothing more but the scratching of wood against cement that crept further into the distance.

/exit

 

[Burkhart Kelborn]

_________________

Why did the canine Mandalorian have the sudden urge to watch seven second long videos. Part of him wanted to just go to a quiet place, smoke a few cigaras and watch some questionable videos that lasted for short periods of time and displayed elaborate but utterly ridiculous skits. No doubt he would eventually end up in front of a holo projector displaying such things later on this evening.

Making sure to remove his helmet he set the buy'ce on the counter, facing him. Taking a generous drink from his beverage he stayed at the bar. He was content standing alone, people watching. Turning around he faced the door and watched people come and go. One elbow on either side of him rested on the bar counter. The Field Marshal caught a few stares towards him but he was used to it by now.

 

[Luno]

Drinks after long days at work kept most people going in life, the satisfaction they'd trudged through another fruitless day of honest work. But that wasn't what it did for Luno these opportunities were ones to people watch and collect information from time to time, turning from the bar counter and almost bumping into the large moorling to his left as he did; misguaging how much room the man took up.

Taking another sip of his stout Luno locked eyes on a zeltron in white pants and black heels with a backless black top that hung low in the front, showing off a partially tattooed back. Her hair was braided and wrapped around the back of her head pinned up to give full exposure of her back, with an audible comment Luno didn't look at Burkhart but was addressing him "Ever chat up one of those nympho pink chicks?" He said before taking a long swig of his beer downing a quarter of it and peering back behind the moorling at the tossed patron asking for Gargle Beans. With interest at what in the galaxy they might be he kept an eye on the Zeltron thinking about how to make a move and an ear for the barkeeps response out of curiosity.

@Darasuum @Nor'baal @Sabrina​

 

[Denise Macko]

Then all of a sudden she had chills go down her spine, and they were multiplying. Then all of a sudden, as quick as they cam they went away. Then she overheard @Luno ask about a zeltron, she was a little jealous, not that she fancied him. It was more, he did not want her, he was just after some else just because of their species. She always wondered if that why no one ever chattered her up, she was not a slut, who pranced and danced with hardly anything on. Yeah okay, she was jealous, as no one was paying attention. She looked around the room, her two crewmates were making good tips, whilst playing the guitars. The Wookiee was merely listening to them, and she was on her lonesome. She looked around, hmmm well pizza for one again she thought to her self. She leaned back against the bar and took a sip of her half, she wonders what it takes to get someone attention without stripping off, and dancing on a table.

@Rimrald @Darasuum @Nor'baal

 

[Aeron Mathis]

The bar was filled with lively characters tonight. The little dive bar was one of the few surviving structures following the assault the planet’s holonet hub a few months back and as such had become a thriving gathering place for those still in this sector of the city planet.

Aeron worked at the bar part-time as a bar back and dishwasher. It filled the gaps when he was in between on mercenary work and helped him understand the intricate social standards considered normal by sentients. Thanks to this job he’d figure out how to talk to people and that was worth more than any amount of money mercenary work could earn him. Of course his protocol droid Emone would surely disagree.

He moved through the bar with practiced ease, carefully picking his way through the packed crowed, pilfering empty pint glasses as he went. With hands full, he made his way to the back and started washing. Life as a bar back wasn’t glamorous, but it was good honest work and it was something he’d chosen. Speaking of choice, he’d picked up smoking recently and was craving a cigara bad. Once his glasses were washed and set to dry he poked his head behind the bar and let the bartender know he was going to step out back for a quick breath.

Aeron removed his white apron and stepped through the back door of the bar and into the ally behind. He pulled a pack of smokes from his back pocket and lit one up. He took a long drag and ran a hand through his hair. So far it looked like this was going to be a pretty boring night...

@Darasuum @Cassanova

 

[Burkhart Kelborn]

_________________

Burkhart just blinked as he stared in front of him. This guy that had suddenly decided to start speaking had a weird way of opening up conversations. "How da ya know they're nymphos?" He asked wondering if he would regret humoring the stranger.

Turning his head he felt eyes on him. Looking over towards the entertainment he saw her looking at him. Actually she was not, he realized she was looking towards the cybernetic man beside him. She probably had overheard what he said. He quickly drained his glass to get a head start on the buzz he was aiming for. Burkhart's large and rather active body burned through calories and alcohol alike.

The bar was not the type to allow smoking inside. Perhaps one of its few draw backs. Getting up he looked over at the woman in her red dress and then back over at the stranger. "Why don't ya give it a shot lad." Without waiting for him to answer he headed outside.

Fishing a thick cigara out from his bantha leather jacket he clipped the end of it some snipers and then proceeded to light it up. Taking a few lighting puffs the dark tabac filled his mouth and settled the raised hairs he did not realize he had. Both of his pointed ears twitched for a moment and Burkhart looked down towards the only other figure present outside at the moment. Another man was smoking. He gave him a slight nod and spoke with the cigara held between his canine teeth "Evenin'."

@Sabrina @Rimrald @Zay

 

[M. Arcas]

"D'ja wan' another drink, then?" - the fair-haired individual mumbled to himself, his face visibly contorted, and his upper lip thinned to a line. It seemed as though he was mocking someone, but who could tell? By the looks of him, he might well be some whacked out crazy. Whoever he was was, and whatever he was doing, one thing was certain: he didn't look happy. The man, relatively tall for a human, trudged onward with a bloodied lip, bruised knuckles and a slight limp. He'd been in a fight particularly recently, and it showed. Noting the the bar before him, Morgan breathed a sigh and finished his previous train of thought: "Smarmy bastards." - he growled, trying to put it out of his mind.

Still, it seemed the sight of an alcohol-dealing establishment had had an effect. Before long, the strain on his face was gone. He needed something to rinse the taste iron from his mouth, and the liquor was so close he could smell it... But, it was not meant to be.

Nal Hutta's moon was always filled with noise, and never the good kind, but this was different. Series of clops got progressively faster and louder. These were soles hitting concrete, and their owner was running his way and doing so fast. Before Arcas could move out of the way, he felt a hand fall around his shoulders. It seemed friendly at first, but there was an unnecessary amount of force behind the move. This wouldn't be good. A glance at this mystery hugger confirmed it. Morgan had never learned his name, but he knew him. This man, a Zabrak, was muscle for a crew he ran with, having first arrived in Nar Shaddaa. So if he was here, then that meant...

Turning behind him, the individual was met with a pitiably familiar sight. Three short, furry creatures, just over half his height were in the process of scurrying over, their diminutive legs unable to carry them as quickly as the Zabrak's had. "'Allo, boys." - Morgan said, before silently cursing himself, feeling his bad habits emerging. When he next spoke, it was a full second later, and his accent sounded considerably more polished. "What can I do for you?"

The trio were Menahuun. Ugly, twinkly-eyed fuckers, that drew unnatural amounts of pleasure from the misfortunes of others. "Morgan Arcas." - one of them said. Morgan could swear that he was a little out of breath - "We had a few dealings with a friend of yours. Eddi?" Dealings, was it? Eddi was a tomboyish young woman that had left Corellia alongside him, back in the day. She was one of the more resilient people he knew, and had a nasty temper. He'd heard that a few years back she'd gutted one of these adorable little critters when after it got a little handsy. They swore some undying vengeance or other. It was a whole thing. But, she'd died on a job before the cowards could do anything to her. So, ever since then, they'd been looking to mete out retribution in other ways... "Considering her current condition, we were hoping you'd settle her debt? Why don't you come with us and we can talk things through" - another spoke, the Zabrak's lips turned to a grin, and out came the knives. In perfect unison, no less! It's like these little mongrels had practiced this.

The bar was just a few steps away. That said, this was Hutt space and there was the whole no honour among thieves thing. Even if he could somehow make it in, there'd be no guarantee that it'd do him any good. Were it any other day, Morgan would've taken these stains on with a smile. It'd have been a nice little stress reliever. But, injured as he was, this'd be turning into a dogfight real soon, and he wasn't liking his chances then. Especially if the Zabrak could hold his own.

These guys were Nar Shaddaa's kiddy pool. They existed only because they were too cowardly to step on anyone who had half a chance. He guessed they’d heard of his current predicament and that this meet was not coincidental. The very thought that this might be what did him in made the taste of blood in his mouth all the more foul. His body was in bad shape, and his pride had just taken a massive hit.

This. Was not. His day.
@Zay

 

[Ekbar Kelborn]

There was always something alluring about bars now adays..the crowd, people to rip off or goad into fights.

The recklessness and danger coming off any drunken hooligan that impulsively fought off an army of other attendees. The drinks, oh the drinks..

There was so much commotion going on in the bar that it was practically deafening, it sucks that he would have to go through such a crowd that he couldnt screw with at great degree since his comrades were as bar happy as they were trigger happy. Kind of like Ekbar, it felt like poetry.

That was why he joined their clan, not to learn as always but to find more means of entertainment.

Ekbar was sitting in the back of all this drinking his whiskey. Not a care in the world, he waited in between drinks to be sober. But that seemed like a trial.

 

[Aeron Mathis]

Aeron watched the thin tendril of smoke wafting from his cigara float toward the flickering light of the overhead lamp. Insects clung to the pale walls cast in iridescent light that lit up the back stoop. He stepped to the edge of the light and took a deep breath. He held the smoke in and slowly let it out. He felt lost. Aeron knew he wasn't a barback. He was a warrior. He wasn't a gun for hire... He leaned back against the wall and glowered up into the shadows. While he brooded the door opened beside him and a Moreling stepped out joining him.

Automatically, Aeron stood up a little straighter. He returned the beings greeting with a simple salutation of his own. He was terrible at small talk. Silence fell between them and Aeron decided to just keep smoking. No reason to make things awkward with pointless chit chat. A scurry of movement caught his attention and Aeron watched as a well-muscled Zabrak roughly grabbed a random spacer.

This isn't your problem, don't get involved, urged his logical side, but he was already clenching his fist. The Zabrak wasn't alone and a trio of aliens he didn't recognize spread out before him. The little gremlins seemed to be the masterminds behind this little escapade, and Aeron found himself leaning off the wall. His broody expression hardened. The Mercenary wasn't fond of gangs. The weak clung to one another and in his time as a gladiator, he had plenty of practice dealing with weaklings empowered by numbers.

The man being accosted was clearly injured. The three gremlins fanned out covering the human's escape route. The Zabrak stayed at his flank a wicked snarl on his face. Aeron couldn't stop himself his took one last drag on his cigara, blew it out and stamped the stick out under his heel.

God dammit, Mathis... he chastised himself as he removed his apron and stepped out of the light and into the murky alley. The gangs focus remained on the blonde man giving Aeron the opportunity to come up behind the Zabrak.

"Four on one hardly seems fair, mind if I even things up a bit?"

@Darasuum @Pontus

 

[M. Arcas]

The moment the Deucalian opened his mouth, every ounce of tension that had built up to this moment popped. Just like that. And with it, every head turned to inspect the newcomer... Every head but one. Too busy scouring his brain for the key to living through the situation before him, Morgan simply hadn't been paying attention to anyone but those currently trying to kill him. So, when the Zabrak's head turned, the merc's body simply assumed a threat and reacted accordingly. His torso twisted and his left elbow smashed into the Zabrak's nose. Injured as he was, the golden-haired mercenary was sadly unable to feel or hear the satisfying crunch that accompanies a broken cartilage, but blood did splatter onto the ground, and the Zabrak did step back, clutching his face.

While the Zabrak grunted, the Menahuun froze in place, attempting to discern the newcomer's intent. An instant of surprise had turned into enough time for the mercenary to draw the vibroknife from his belt, process the new arrival and pluck Aeron's words from his subconscious mind's grasp.

"Be my guest." - Morgan replied with a strained smile, inwardly praying to everything that was holy that this stranger truly intended on helping him. This was Nar Shaddaa, after all. Home to every fiend you could think of. Anything was possible, in this slice of paradise. So, while he would certainly appreciate an assist, this wasn't necessarily it. The dark haired man was a variable, and needed to be kept in sight.

Alas, time very much remained a resource the mercenary was in short supply of. By the time all this had happened and Morgan sought to adjust his footing to deal with an increasingly volatile situation, the Zabrak had shaken the blow and, with a beastly growl, thrown himself at Morgan. He was out for blood, it looked like. This wouldn't be good.

The cowardly trio on the other hand, did not move. "Who are you?" - one of them inquired, not wanting to look weak, but a little weary of a total stranger meddling in a situation he did not understand. It was a sign of either stupidity or strength. And their business model and survival relied on being able to tell the difference between the two. So, while Morgan and the Zabrak fiercely attempted to stab one another, the gremlins waited for Aeron's response with bated breath.
@Zay @Darasuum

 

[Aeron Mathis]

Aeron sidestepped the Zabrak as the roughed up blonde sent him stumbling. Maybe I stepped in too soon? he thought as he closed in on the other three. Their beady little eyes were glued to him like prey watching a predator. As he neared one attempted a show of strength, but his inquiry sounded more petulant than anything else.

Aeron chuckled and said, "I'm just the barback."

A feral smile split his lips as he loomed over them his shadow casting an ominous aura over the cowards before him. Threat permeated from his being as he revealed himself sending the three quivering Menahuuns into fight or flight mode.

When a mouse is backed into a corner, even if it knows it cannot win, it fights. The trio of cornered rats sprung all at once, high pitch wails of terror ripped forth from their desperate maws. Aeron spun to the left and unleashed a devastating head kick to the gremlin on his flank. It's head slammed against the floor with a sicking crack and Aeron knew he wouldn't need to worry about that one anymore. The other two froze. Their fighting spirit was extinguished under The Gladiator's foot.

Aeron flicked his gaze up to them and gestured with his chin for them to go. Tears welled up in the smaller one's eyes at it looked mournfully upon it's kin.

"We may not know your name HUMAN but we will avenge our falling!" Anguish laced its venom like tone, but Aeron didn't care. He wouldn't fear rats in the night. He bent down and picked up the unconscious Menahuun and tossed it to them.

"Save your threats and take your fallen. I've no need for either," he said as he glanced toward the other altercation. The three rodents scurried off into the shadows as Aeron gave his full attention to the other pair and slowly began his approach.

@Pontus @Darasuum

 

[Burkhart Kelborn]

_________________

The tabac was cheap, or rather his tastes had become spoiled. All the thick rolled cigaras that were as big around as his thumb he got from Alderaan were finer than a baby's hair. Burkhart took a deep drag on his cheaper cigara that he had settled for and let the smoke remain in his mouth before he let it curl past his sharp teeth.

He turned his head and watched a patron get surrounded by a few thugs. Welcome to Nar Shaddaa. Burkhart thought. Returning the cigara to his mouth he watched the exchange of words that was short lived and then caught sight of motion from the other direction. The employee of the bar took off his apron and approached the scuffle. He had some swagger and even had a mildly cool line though the blonde man seemed to be able to take care of himself.

Burkhart did not want to interrupt so instead just leaned against the grimmy wall and took another long drag on his cigara. Looking up and down the alley again he wondered if there was anyone else watching this. Not seeing a soul he opened the door again, used a claw to pull open a box that held a few bottles of beer and pulled one out. Bringing it back outside he cracked it open with a satisfying his as the pressure equalized.

Taking a long drink it was not cold. In fact it was only slightly cooler than the warm polluted air outside but it at least was alcohol and was not bad with the cheap cigara. In fact it made him feel like how he had when he first sought out his father over a decade ago. The Morling had been young and dumb back then. He was not sure he had changed much. But it was always entertaining to watch other people go through their own paths of self discovery, even if it was with two fists in front of them.

@Zay @Pontus

 

[M. Arcas]

It had been touch and go for a while there. Despite his size, physical altercations never had been his strong suit, and now that he was injured and his strength and explosiveness were by no means up to snuff, it showed. Thankfully however, it seemed the Zabrak wasn't much of a force to be reckoned with. Then again, what kind of self-respecting combatant would ever be a minion of those three musketeers?

The longer the fight dragged out, the lower Morgan's chances of avoiding a vibroblade to the gut. Thankfully, it seemed, the dark-haired stranger had afforded him a second moment of reprieve. The irate, poignant squeals of the Menahuun had cut through the Zabrak's blind rage.

'Do I go with my pride, or my paycheck?' - Morgan thought, mockingly narrating what he knew to be the horned man's inner monologue. It was pitiful, in a way, how so many sell-swords fell prey to this one particular stereotype. What was worse was, they never really learned. The further the Menahuun fled and the closer Aeron approached, the less attention the Zabrak had afforded Arcas.

And so, as if only to drive a point home, the instant Morgan found his foe distracted and in range, rather than his vibroknife, it was a clenched fist that drove this puppy home. Knuckles met nose, and an all-too-familiar crack rang out; the very one he'd been denied once before. There was no way that baby wasn't broken. And it feel good.

The Zabrak fell to the floor, hitting his horns on the pavement, and passed out. There might've been some chipping and, from what Morgan knew, there was symbolism to them. But then, the only three who might've cared had flown the coop and never looked back. So, kicking the knife in his unconscious friend's hand away, the Corellian turned to face his benefactor. "I was told, once, that a wise man knows when to say thank you." - Arcas stated, noticeably unused to having to speak these words to a stranger, and kind of glad to have gotten them out of the way.

His lip was busted, there were a few shallow cuts on his left arm, and his overcoat teetered on the edge of being beyond repair. But that didn't stop this blond man's lips from curling upwards in a roguish, prideful smirk, and as his eyes met the bar once again, he proclaimed with satisfaction in his voice. "And now."

"We drink."​

@Zay @Darasuum