Open Nar Shaddaa Jedi in the wind

[Algus Doll]

Nar Shaddaa was loud.

Making his way through crowds of people, their bodies pressed against his own like sandwiches, Nar Shaddaa was a bastion for the the less than upstanding citizens of the galaxy. Usually, he wouldn't be found here, but the long trek from Ajan Kloss had left him with a bit of an itch for some real-world socialization. He'd pushed through bodies until breaking way to exactly what he was looking for. "A cantina, finally." He muttered to himself.

Dressed in a simple black windbreaker and tight threaded dark blue pants, he looked quite ordinary, especially considering the area he found himself in. Not much of a drinker, he'd choose a lone bar-stool and seat himself, propping his elbows up on the table. "One water please." It was a simple order and one that brought the bartender, an aging Duros a slight chuckle.

"Water? Are you sure you don't want something a bit stronger?" His voice was ragged, sounding almost as if he'd been smoking hookah his entire life. "Usually people don't order water here. Here you go, fresh from the sink." Sliding a glass of less than clear liquid to him, the Duros shrugged and moved on to tend to other patrons. The glass was half empty and appeared to have mostly dish-soap inside. Atleast he hoped it was dish-soap, he wasn't sure what else would make the water look so turbid...

"Yeah I can tell.." Peering down at the glass of cloudy water with a look of apprehensiveness, Algus shrugged as well, brought the glass to his lips and took a swig. "Tastes about as good as someone would expect Nar Shaddaa's water to taste." Sighing, he brushed the glass aside. Maybe later he'd get a real drink; he had to watch how many credits he spent though.

This would be the last trip he had before departing in search of Sith artifacts, or atleast that was the plan. Maybe he'd instead wander a bit, seeing if there was any remote civilizations that needed a Jedi. He had no idea what for, but as long as he was off Ajan Kloss, he was happy. The temple there was beginning to rub him the wrong way. He had little room for self righteousness; and jungles. He hated jungles. His conditioning on Vandor had made him despise heat more than anything. So when he had time, he had taken a Sojourn off the plant-ridden moon and booked it to Nar Shaddaa on public transit.

"Well, where the wind takes me I guess.. Hey bartender! I'll take whatever you recommend. Something that won't kill me though, I still got places to be. I think." Maybe if he was lucky, he'd run into some interesting conversation. You never knew what you'd run into at Nar Shaddaa.

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

Nar Shaddaa was loud.

Just the way he liked it! At the opposite side of the cantina, Hannibal was busying himself with a combination of drinking, hookah smoking, and half-serious conversation with a Barabel of indeterminate gender and a Twi'lek dancer on her off hours. Between the jokes, gentle mockery, and not-so-subtle flirtation directed at both of them were attempts at gathering information about local news and information. New shops, gang wars, Arcanist sightings, and other such topics.

Hannibal was dressed in a bit of stylishly rogue attire, his hands covered by short leather gloves. Strapped to his right thigh was his well polished DE-10 blaster pistol, his lightsaber hidden on an interior coat mag holster on the left side. His sleeves were rolled up, leaving his many colorful tattoos fully visible, and from each ear dangled a bright green earring shaped like an extended teardrop. His own drink was a violently green and black beverage that made the tall glass it was in look like it contained a small galaxy of stars, his second while he'd been here, half empty by this point. Several minutes of buzzed conversation he gotten him an idea of where to look next in his more focused and serious investigations regarding the intrepid masked bomber and the personal comm number of the Barabel, with an agreement to meet later at some point.

He was distracted from his conversation by the sudden appearance of a tired-looking stranger, his sharp senses picking up the distinctive feel of the Light Side coming off of him. It seemed his intuition had brought him to another potentially fated meeting after all! He had begun to worry, since he'd semi-randomly wandered into this particular cantina nearly an hour ago. Hopping up in his seat with and flashing his most charming smile at the two individuals, a wink aimed at the Barabel, he grabbed his drink from the table and bypassed the awkwardness of shimmying out of the booth by walking noisily directly over the table itself. He dropped to the floor smoothly, striding away towards the bar as if what he'd done was entirely normal, and marched himself over to the man currently trying to replace the water he'd just gotten. Who drinks water on Nar Shaddaa?

Big grin on his face and a mischievous twinkle in his eye he planted himself at the bar next to Algus, ensuring he would absolutely be noticed if his antics on the way over hadn't already. "Never drink the water." he stated helpfully, right hand snaking out and replacing the water glass with a credit chit using a bit of upfront sleight of hand. "Beer or liquor, ale's a trap for snobby folks passing through." he added, a snap of his gloved fingers and an indication of his head drawing the bartender's attention to the credits. Not too long after a glass of some generic, but passable beer from a tap would find its way in front of Algus.

"No way you're from around here. What brings you to the smuggler's moon, stranger?" He was, of course, making absolutely zero attempt to hide his Jedi-esque presence in the Force. If the other individual was a Jedi he'd probably notice if he was paying even the slightest attention.

@Graffius

 

[Algus Doll]

"I know who you are... Or atleast what you are." Speaking to the stranger, he took another sip of water without making eye contact. Reaching up, he'd brush his palm over his dark locks of achromatic hair, swiveling on the bar stool to greet his visitor. Although clouded by the bustling rhythm of Nar Shaddaa's life force, he could feel the man's presence. It was a series of spiders crawling up his back, yet had no bite; it was the light side of the Force. "And here I thought I wouldn't see another one of you for miles once I got off that wretched moon." He met the new arrival with a slight toothy smile and with a nod, he took the beer in his grasp.

"I'm from Vandor actually. You ever heard of it?" He stole a sip from his glass. "It's alot more peaceful, in it's own way than Nar Shaddaa... It does attract the same type of crowd though for the most part, atleast where I'm from." With another drink, he brushed the beer aside and gestured for his guest to take a seat. Meeting someone from the Jedi order wasn't exactly what he'd expected on Nar Shaddaa, but the comforting sensation of the Force made him feel at ease; he was under the impression that the Jedi on Ajan Kloss had grown lazy, but maybe out here, on this grime-ball of a planet, it wasn't the same. "Sit?" He gestured to him with his palm to an empty stool next to him.

"You know, the galaxy is so big, I'd almost forgot anything lay beyond Vandor until I reached a certain moon." More of the golden alcohol was whisked down his gullet. The beer was luckily more refreshing than the water he'd been served. "Then I went to that moon and do you know what I saw?" Gripping the fabric of his windbreaker hood between his thumb and index finger, he pulled it down, revealing his features. He was young, in his mid twenties with a dark set of heavy eyes that appeared to be made of molasses. A certain stoicism dominated his fascia, stolid yet with a simmering fire underneath his pale skin.

"I saw a group who did nothing except sit, hiding and who lacked purpose. Actually, the first time I was there, they were herding around arguing over the arrest of a certain individual." His arms extended to each side of his body in flagrant disgust. "And more than half of them didn't even want to do anything about it! Just let him rot in a cage." Shaking his head, his gaze drifted back down towards his beer, absentmindedly watched as carbonation formed across the goldenrod surface of the liquid. "It was pathetic really."

"Anyways, my name's Algus. I'm a wanderer who actually is going to try and make a dent in this galaxy; but don't let our title fool you, I have little to do with the rest of our family... A wolf doesn't lay with sheep." Spilling his thoughts wasn't generally like the quiet individual, yet he harbored what was slowly becoming a deep frustration with the Jedi. They were supposed to be his comrades, his brothers in arms against injustice in the galaxy, but they were different. Or perhaps he was different. Ever since he began training twenty years ago, all he ever wanted to do was crusade the universe, re-writing wrongs and as an adult now, he really wasn't any different.

"Now that I've told you my life story, who do I owe the pleasure?"

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

Hannibal was getting a lot more of an initial introduction than he was expecting from the stranger, though he had at least vaguely confirmed he was part of the Jedi Order. At the other man's offer to sit he instead simply leaned against the bar, personally finding the stools to be uncomfortable.

He got a bit of a brief of the other Jedi's life story leading up to how he'd made his way to Nar Shaddaa, starting with where he was originally. "I've heard of it in passing." he offered in passing before Algus resumed speaking, getting to the bit about Ajan Kloss and lowing his hood, which Hannibal privately thought seemed a little like the set up for some kind of dramatic reveal of some kind. How very Jedi of him.

As he continued to speak, offering up his personal opinion of the Jedi in the temple, Hannibal's expression froze in place. It remained the cocksure smirk as before, but somehow had become a little less animate than before. "They do like their debate!" he responded, laughing briefly in what might come off as general agreement. But then Algus kept talking, introducing himself, his mission and...

Did he really just refer to himself as a wolf and the other Jedi as sheep? This guy who, from what Hannibal had interpreted, spent most of his life on some far-off world? Did he also in the same statement distance himself from the Order on the grounds he was somehow better than them? That caused a change of expression for sure, Hannibal's smirk slowly shifting into something impish, like a cat about the push a coffee mug off a table.

"Hannibal. Hans if that's too much for you." he introduced himself, briefly adopting a charming smile before switching back. "I think I may have had the wrong impression, I'm afraid. I thought you might have been a Jedi, but I appear to have been quite mistaken. My sincerest apologies. Might I ask what breed of dog you trace your lineage from?" His tone was sweet and charming, rather unlike the look on his face. He had a feeling this would be fun.

@Graffius

 

[Algus Doll]

“A dog? Maybe.” Swallowing another generous gulp of beer, he wiped his mouth with his forearm. “I don’t know why else I would be on Nar Shaddaa.” He peered forward as if lost in thought momentarily, the constant drone of the cantina lulling him into self-reflection for a but a moment. Were the tales he heard as a kid just nothing more than stories? Did they amount to nothing more than fairytales? Where were the Jedi heroics? “Look, all I’m saying is that there’s stuff to do, right?”

Admittedly, his stay on Ajan Kloss wasn’t particularly long, but it was enough for him to realize he didn’t want to be there. To him, a Jedi was merely a title shared by those who believed in a common philosophy; but philosophies weren’t static and were prone to different interpretations. Or maybe he wasn't a Jedi at all. Just because one carried a lightsaber didn't make them a Jedi. Maybe though, that was dangerous thinking; he was sure his master would be disappointed.

The air was a bit hostile for his liking and the initial comfort he felt, knowing that there was another Jedi in his midst gave way to a sour atmosphere. Maybe they were tighter knit than he initially thought. Or maybe this particularly Jedi believed a little too much in the order he represented. To him, being a Jedi was about being a force of good and the Force, was just a tool to act on your will. Any doctrine or esoteric beliefs held by the Jedi were meaningless to him. They always had been. He was taught by only one master after all.

“If I’ve offended your sensibilities, I apologize. I don’t know much about you, I just met you. But they aren’t my family.” He swirled his finger absentmindedly in his beer, watching as bubbles formed around his pinky. “Are they yours?” Standing, he stretched his limbs with a satisfied grunt. His gaunt fingers found the surface of his glass, still half full of beer. Picking it up, he poured the remainder on Hans’ front-side, pouring it slowly until each drop soaked into the fabric of his outfit.

“Whoops, sorry I’m clumsy. Fancy outfit you have there.” He pressed his lips together, arching his brow. “I mean hey though, atleast it’s a bar and nobody can tell you smell like cheap beer. We all do.” He shrugged. “Maybe you can go back to the temple and talk about it and how it made you feel to have someone pour beer all over you.”
@Mr. Teatime

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

Stuff to do? Of course there was stuff to do. The Jedi had been doing it while this guy had been off on some backwater doing who knows what. Hannibal wasn't getting the sense Algus had been around the Order itself long, even if he'd been trained as a Jedi by someone or other.

"In a sense, I suppose they are." he said smoothly, left foot sliding back along with the rest of him, causing the attempt at beer-spilling to simply splash on the already-filthy floor, drops marking Hannibal's boots. The man was failing Hannibal's little test a little faster than he'd expected, easily taunted by a few little words. The young Knight's sharp tongue was used frequently, but he'd yet to really draw much more than mild irritation out of even the grumpiest Jedi. This one didn't seem to have much self control, or else wasn't trying very hard.

Attempting to get under someone's skin was an excellent way to judge their character and personality, and Hannibal was well practiced at the art. What a waste of beer, though. In the background, the bartender edged away from the suddenly tense atmosphere.

"Don't worry about offending anyone, dear. Your teacher clearly wasn't much of a Jedi either, from the looks of things, so I'm sure you just don't know any better." He spoke with undisguised condescension, as if admonishing a small and ignorant child over something that should know better about. "Though surely they were at least competent enough to impart that one should clean up their own messes?" he asked, vaguely gesturing at the floor with the hand holding his own glass.

@Graffius