Open Nar Shaddaa Lowest of the Low

[Juniper]

OOC: Just trying to get back into the feel of things, jump in!​

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The cantina buzzed with life. The kind of life you got in Nar Shaddaa at two thirty in the morning, but a kind of life nonetheless. Quiet discussions over robbery targets. A high-stakes game of pazaak in one of the booths. A couple of scoundrels, celebrating smuggling some shit or the other, waiting for the their next work. Juniper smacked the glass down on the counter, wiping her lips. Shuddering as she felt the strong stuff run through her. She couldn't quite remember how many she'd had, but this was way past her first of the night. It wasn't about taste now, it was about whatever would help her reach a better state of oblivion quickly. She looked up towards the bartender, nodding.

"'Nother."

The bartender frowned, looking her over. You don't get to stay in the cantina business on the smuggler's moon without developing some sense of judgement. "Do you not think you've had enough?"

Juniper glared up at him, through bleary, red-rimmed eyes. "I fixed your damn droid, didn't I? Pour me another," she demanded, only slightly slurring her words. Two seconds passed, the both of them staring each other out. Until the bartender blinked first and sighed, turning to grab a bottle of the good stuff. Juniper smirked.

Still got it. Charmer.

The slosh of the liquor as it poured into her glass was like a beautiful choir. Her fingers wrapped tighter around it, as if it was going to be wrenched away at any second. The tingle in her nostrils of delicious, strong alcohol was almost too much to resist. She raised the glass higher, higher... right towards her waiting mouth, right towards that unquenchable thirst...

*BLAM*

The blaster fire rang across the cantina. Juniper jumped at the sound. The glass slipped from her fingers, spilled all over her and smashed on the floor. For an instant, Juniper couldn't believe what'd happened. She stood up, fighting the lead in her arms as she reached for her blaster. "You little rat bast-" she began, before she saw that the three thugs stood with military-grade blaster rifles. Well... crap.

 

[Sol Kenuk]

His eyes shimmer, silver flecked, a gleaming show of polished gems behind the dark shades of the Kel Dor's protective goggles. The Cathar before him was dressed in leathers, twin blasters fitted to his hips, and a shroud that fell across the bottom half of his striped maw. For all the ferocious appearances in the room, both men seemed at ease. Fangs gleamed within the Cathar's smile, and the Kel Dor Sith displayed a crinkle to his cheeks. These were two people that were well acquainted, despite their very different walks of life.

"You are certain it was a holocron?" Soft, but snake-like. There was something dark and cunning within Sol's vocals as the Cathar let out a rumbling growl of promise.

"The Ruddy Fangs will have it, if they haven't sold it yet. Like I said, I watched them purchase it from an auction." The feline speaks low in reply, because on Nar Shaddaa, there were ears and eyes everywhere, and most of them were far from friendly. Sol knew that the underhanded auction his smuggler ally had witnessed was just the type of place where an old Sith artifact might be sold to the highest bidder. It was a dangerous business, one that often attracted more trouble than it was worth. Sol would have to remind them of such stakes. As for The Ruddy Fangs, they were an upstart gang on the planet, hardly a threat to the larger Syndicates, but dangerous nonetheless, and well hidden. Sol knew well enough that past attempts to locate their base of operations had been a failure. Perhaps, then, the answer would be one of The Ruddy Fangs themselves.

"Good hunting, Iroh." Sol would offer the smuggler with a dip of his head, and then he was gone, his dark robes billowing behind him as he made his way back toward the taxi-pad with a scowl adorning stoic features. The ride was short. Nar Shaddaa had no good places, but it had many worse places. The street he chose to get off at was one such location. There were rats in these gutters, the Kel Dor thinks bitterly as he gazed down the walkway to take in the vibrant glow of elaborate holo work.

The Sith is silent as he walks on, his weapon nestled safe and hidden at his hip, the shimmering light of various street-side establishments igniting his rough, alien features. The taste of alcohol rests upon stale air. It seemed that for the locals, it was never too early for a beverage. At the very least, Sol didn't have to fight a crowd at such a dead hour of the night. He was no drinker, though. Nor was he interested in rest. The Kel Dor walked on, but the quiet hum of Nar Shaddaa's mechanical ambience was suddenly shattered like frail glass. A blaster shot rings out in his ear, and his head snaps toward the cantina with a glare. How bold. But he supposed it was to be expected in such a place. Crime was a part of the world's nightlife, after all.

He is curious enough to step toward the door, to peek inside with predatory sight. Several patrons stood with their hands upon their weapons, many in booths, one pinned at the bar. Three of the individuals stood together, with rather expensive looking blasters clasped within still hands. It was rather foolish to raid any establishment on Nar Shaddaa without expecting a lethal defense, but it seemed even the local scoundrels were put off by the military-grade equipment that these particular rats were carrying.

Wretches. Sol thinks sourly. Worms with big weapons.

He's quiet as he slips into the building, stepping between tables, the weight of his lightsaber still firm upon his hip. Sol didn't think he would need it. He was no Jedi, no hero in shining armor. He cared little for the lives of the patrons. The three villains, however, they were most curious. As wretched as they might be, crawling through the gutters of the criminal underworld, there was always the possibility that they were a part of The Ruddy Fangs. After all, since when do the larger crime syndicates burglarize cantinas? No, this was basic work, for basic criminals. A worm with a large gun was still a worm to be crushed beneath his boot. All the better if they should have information about the gang Sol was hunting.

"Having fun tonight, are we?" The Sith inquires aloud, gazing darkly upon the three thugs. "Might I join the festivities?"

 

[Juniper]

The thugs might've said something. They might've made demands. Juniper didn't hear them, half-sloshed and definitely on the wrong side of a bottle. There was something painfully clarifying about the sound of blaster fire and the presence of real weapons, though. Reality poured like a cold trickle down her back, bringing back some old thoughts. Feelings. Instincts.

The eyes were on her, thanks to her big mouth, until the stranger slipped in. None of the thugs seemed to notice him, but she did. The Kel Dor, goggles gleaming, stepping in just behind the three of them. His calm words cut through the atmosphere like a vibroblade, drawing the sneering attention of the group. It was clear that none of them thought much of the stranger that'd just arrived. But in that distraction, Juniper spotted opportunity.

Her fingers curled around the handle of her blaster as she felt the old, cold fury rise up through her. So sweet. So perfect. Thugs coming and threatening her? Marching into a cantina and shooting up the place? Daring to threaten people in her place on her world? Righteousness helped to cut through the boozy haze as she raised the blaster.

The must impudent thug, a cocky-looking Mirialan, glared at the Kel Dor. "Look at this one, guys, thinks he's funny," he scoffed. Looking like he was about to raise his blaster rifle towards the new arrival.

Juniper fired. The blast hit perfectly, right on the back of the Mirialan's head. He stumbled forwards, lifeless, as the rifle fell to the floor. The two remaining thugs span back around to see, leaving their backs to the Kel Dor. Juniper was already rolling over the bar by that point, taking cover and smashing half the glasses left on there. Crouching behind the countertop, Juniper breathed deep. Taking in some of that fetid air, her heart beating fast. Feeling alive.

That felt too good, she thought, drinking in the adrenaline. For the first time in years, it felt like something was with her again.

@Nevermourn

 

[Sol Kenuk]

The three turn, eyes blazing, vision settled upon him. He doesn't look like much, tall, muscular, but draped in robes that disguised his form. Kel Dor were imposing to some, but these criminals saw a man without a blaster, and probably assumed that Sol was worth little regard. The Mirialan in the group makes a bold comment, and the Sith's face crinkles with silent amusement. The thug doesn't even have time to raise his rifle before a shot from the bar rings out, a flash of light igniting the room, and then, a yelp from the two survivors, a surge of surprise rushing through the force, ending in fear.

A quick death for the unworthy. The fool hadn't even had the time to feel his demise. Perhaps Sol would be so lucky, when his time drew near. Ah, but that was grim thinking for another time.

The woman who had fired the shot takes cover behind the bar, and the two remaining criminals turn their back to the Sith. A mistake. Then again, choosing hostilities at all had been a mistake. Sol might have let the three of them live, had they just simply acted civil. Too much to expect from rats, though. A clawed right hand rises quietly, the force swirling around lethal talons as Sol calls dark power to his fingertips. It lasts only a few moments, as one of the thugs finds their feet lifted from the floor, finds their throat constricted as claws coil into a fist. They choke, gasp, as the last criminal turns with shock to see his floating ally.

"I thought I was funny." The Kel Dor comments dryly, and a snap of his wrist translate to a snap of the neck, the sound of it ringing through the room.

The thug's body is released, the force washing away like a receding wave. He's left dropping into a crumpled heap on the cantina floor, lifeless. Before the final thug could fully process the brutality of his comrade's death, Sol had already lashed out with the force once again, but he doesn't choke the survivor. No, he intends to rip the rifle from his hands and send it clattering to the ground, as the Sith begins to move closer. It's a methodical movement, slow and intentional. The Kel Dor's guard was still up, even as he approached with an air of authority.

"I had only intended to ask some questions. We can be civil, can't we? You do know how to do that, I presume? You should hope so." Venomous words directed at the thug, flowing from a fanged maw like that of a snake's. And as for the lady taking cover behind the bar, well, he'd have to keep an eye on her too. With how uncanny that shot had been, Sol had a feeling that she presented more of a danger than this unfortunate criminal.

@Charndley

 

[Juniper]

A mess of questions ran through her head as she took a couple of short breaths, preparing for the attack that was certain to come. Waiting for the blaster fire that was sure to pepper the bar above her, sloshing glass and plasteel and all kinds of rotgut booze down on her. But it never came. What came instead was something far, far worse.

She didn't see it, but she felt it. Felt it in the way that only someone like her could, felt it deep inside her stomach. The tugging, the sucking in the echo around the air, the coolness that whipped through her sensation. She hadn't felt it for years. Not since Batuu. Not since the pandemic. Not since... Ajan Kloss. The memory of it all ran through her in an instant. Chopped images from a life that seemed not be her own. Lightsabers, raging Wookies, hordes of creatures. Temples, vast ruins, floating rocks. A whisper in the edge of her consciousness, from an old man she'd long thought was dead.

Trust only in the Force.

Whilst Juniper had her few seconds of realisation, the remaining thug gasped as his fancy, new rifle was wrenched from his grip. Without his friends, without his weapon, he's nothing. A scared human wretch, no more than mid-20s, raising his hands up to his chest in submission. Fear filled his eyes, failing to blink away the building tears. He nodded at the Kel Dor's questioning, blinking with each word.

"Yes... yes sir.. I didn't mean to... I was just... we were only..." he began to bawl, like a child. Truly unfortunate.

She could just let him do what he wanted. She had no part in this anymore. The brat sure deserved some harsh treatment for trying to shoot up one of her favourite cantinas and if the Kel Dor had just brought out a blaster and starting shooting him up... she might've just left it there. But she would always remember the cool, cloying, clinging touch of the Dark and that changed things.

Flicking her blaster to stun, she aimed over the counter and fired it straight at the thug, intending to knock him out good and proper. No real reason other than to spare the questioning and to annoy. To mess up. To spite. What she'd always been good at, of course. She shot an icy glare towards the Kel Dor, his breathing mask and his ridiculous goggles.

"I know what you are. You're not wanted here, Sith. Leave," she shouted, voice rougher than she intended, through the fear and bravado and booze.

@Nevermourn

 

[Sol Kenuk]

Sol gazed coldly upon the final criminal. Bad place, bad time, the Kel Dor thinks with a note of mild amusement. If he hadn't happened to be on the planet this day, perhaps these fools would have gotten whatever they had wanted, achieved their bland goals of greed and lust. Sol cared little for such things, but he cared even less for the bawling rat that now cowered in front of him. The worst of it all was the fact that he wouldn't even be able to question the pitiful fool, not before a stun bolt hit him in the back. There was a tinge of annoyance that struck at the Sith, like a thorn pricking into his foot, and his gaze snapped harshly to the woman over the counter, spitting her brazen words into alcohol scented air. Wretch.

"Tsk. Not all dark siders are Sith, girl." Sol would respond simply. He would not confirm or deny anything in that regard, but the words he spoke were true enough. There were even fallen force users in the Syndicates, and independents that sought enlightenment by their own hand. It didn't matter, in the end. Sol cared for none of them, none of them but himself.

"But worry not the details, my dear. I hadn't intended to linger upon Nar Shaddaa for longer than necessary." This world would look better engulfed in flame, but the Kel Dor supposed it had it's uses, and he wouldn't set fire to an entire planet without provocation, regardless. Sol was a bitter and frigid thing, like the cutting edge of a jagged glacier, but he would not needlessly slaughter an entire world. The enemies gained from doing so would topple even the greatest Sith. Even now, war shatters the galaxy, frays the edges of Imperial space. It was Andruil's fault. But who was he to judge? A fellow Sith that was just as inclined to commit atrocities when it suited him.

Sol kicks at one of the rifles that now rested upon the floor, discarded and forgotten. No doubt the locals would enjoy scavenging such weapons. The Kel Dor might even have snagged them for himself, had he had a place to put them. A pity. As for the girl, though his eyes picked at the bodies of the three thugs upon the floor, his focus still rested firmly upon her. How does someone so blatantly drunk shoot with such accuracy? A compelling mystery, indeed.

"You see, I'm looking for a meddlesome gang. Upstarts that think they're dangerous. Heard of The Ruddy Fangs?" Because if he couldn't ask his unconscious man-child, perhaps the woman would be willing to offer some information. She clearly had a dislike for Sith, and for him, but could he appeal to a common goal? She was a victim of a crime, and he was hunting criminals. "It would certainly hurry me on my way off this world of yours." Sol adds with a cunning drawl. He supposed that, ultimately, if his own hunt was unsuccessful, he could always attempt business with the syndicates. Having friends in high places in that regard would be sure to serve him well.

@Charndley

 

[Brienna Lanaamer]

Part of Jedi Knight, Brienna Lanaamer's duties in the Order involved the research and cataloguing of both recent and more long term Jedi and Force related artefacts. For the vast majority of instances, this meant travelling around the Galaxy, usually to libraries or museums, and determining if any part of the collections were at all related to Jedi history, and were therefore of use. On very rare occasions, this searching resulted in the finding of a Jedi Holocron. Bri had only every seen holocrons come in two different varieties, the more polyhedron shaped Jedi versions, and the pyramid-triangle, Sith Holocrons. The objects themselves were usually palm sized, and crystalline in both structure and material. They held lessons or valuable information, usually in holographic form (hence the name), and crucially, could only be opened via a manifestation of the Force.

After the fall of the Jedi, during the time of the Galactic Empire, the Jedi Holocrons had been scattered around the Galaxy. As the Jedi had slowly begun to make their return as a wider presence, more reports had been found about the polyhedron storage units being found. On the vast majority of instances, both Holocron or otherwise, Bri had been able to locate the item in question. However, there was a darker side to the problem. With the growing presence of the Sith in the Galaxy, finding the Holocrons had taken a somewhat higher priority on the Jedi's general to-do list. Not classifying herself as completely technically savvy, Bri had enlisted the help of her astromech droid, NL-142, to monitor and search the more darker corners of the holonet for any clues. Finding the Jedi Holocrons? Absolutely. Keeping Sith Holocrons out of the hands of those that would use them for nefarious purposes? Also.....absolutely.

//

"Are you sure about this? It's legitimate?"

NL offered a series of beeps and sounds that amounted to its own best guesses as to how legitimate anything could be on the darkweb. The droid projected a jumbled message that included a few words that had been highlighted. Artifact. Fangs. Holocron. Nar Shadaa. Bri looked down at her droid with an unmoving, unimpressed gaze. "Seriously..... We have to go there.....?" NL was a droid incapable of laughter, but Bri could tell it was chuckling as it rolled away. A few short days later, the plot had developed further, with NL setting pinpointing a location on the ecumenopolis to start their search, and the two were on their way.

//

Bri stood in the storage area of her ship, which usually turned into her closet on more longer term voyages. "And you haven't gotten any more information besides the original post? No follow ups? No other clues?"

NL shook its head, equating a 'no.'

Bri replied with a frown. The Jedi wasn't thrilled with the plan they had come up with. Normally a fan of immense meticulous detail and preparation, the rather vague and anonymous nature of the original posting had left Bri feeling somewhat, vastly, unprepared for their trip to Nar Shadaa. I hate that feeling. "I'm gonna need your help on this. Are you good to wait nearby our rendezvous point?" NL responded with a series of noises to express that its Jedi partner sometimes worried too much. "Noted," came a somewhat dry response and glance.

"Alright, how do I look?" Bri turned and faced her droid. Going anywhere on Nar Shadaa dressed in her standard Jedi robes and attire was obviously out, so Bri had picked the best outfit she thought could blend in. Black boots matched with tight black pants were paired with a simple grey v-neck shirt. A loose fitting dark jacket completed the look. Her saber was hidden in an interior pocket of the jacket.

She pulled her honey-brown hair into a tight ponytail which she thought made her look more serious, and applied more darker toned makeup. NL had no idea how to respond to the question and admitted as such. "I appreciate the confidence," the Jedi replied sarcastically.

Bri was never fond of visiting Nar Shadaa. Ever. The more times she frequented the ecumenopolis planet, the more confident she became that it lacked any redeeming qualities. It permeated an altogether unpleasant odor, had flashing neon lights that could give even the most stable person a headache, and was packed to the brim with criminal activity. However, not just judging the book by its cover, there was also a sadness to the planet. Those born on Nar Shadaa were often living in or near poverty, struggling to put food on the table and make ends meet.

The repetitive dinging from elsewhere in the ship indicated their arrival from hyperspace. The Knight took a seat in the cockpit and held control of the ship as it began its descent into the clouded atmosphere, properly adjusting the flaps and stabilizers.

"I know, I know..." the Jedi commented as she felt the droid's silent judgement of her rather bumpy planetside entry. Grey and green clouds blended together, and it became clear that Darkness had already fallen on the city. Bri had difficulty spotting the bright lights of the Space Port through the polluted air as they made their final approach.

The ship shuddered to the asphalt, the familiar *thump* indicating they had once again reached solid ground. The Jedi disengaged all flight systems, flipping and pressing the appropriate switches and buttons. "Ready?" she looked over at the droid.

//

"Can you hear me?" Bri spoke aloud, the communicator in her ear picking up the vibrations of her mouth and transmitting them back to NL. She heard the droid beep an affirmative response. As anticipated, the foul smell of pollution practically stung her eyes and nostrils, and made it somewhat challenging to keep concentration focused on the mission at hand. She wanted to make sure her Force footprint was as small as possible, lest someone pick up on her connection.

Further research on two a few of the words that - Fangs and Nar Shadaa - had resulted in the uncovering of a small criminal organization, the Ruddy Fangs. Bri and NL had decided to begin the search in a cantina that looked to be in their territory of operation. After a short walk from the Spaceport, Bri arrived at the Bar and stepped inside. Despite her already low expectations set by the city, Bri was equally unimpressed by the interior. While the polluted smell outside struggled to make its way in, the Bar more than made up for it with the stench of stale alcohol, spice and other unpleasant odors. Her eyes quickly adjusted, evaluating the half full interior. She approached the bar, and ordered a small glass of whiskey, paying for it upfront. As the bartender was preparing the drink, Bri noticed another woman sitting at the bar. Also with blonde hair and blue eyes. The Knight decided to leave her to her drink.

There was an open booth in the corner of the room, which Bri decided to occupy. Her attention was quickly diverted from the posters on the wall as the *BLAM* of a blaster bolt reverberated. Over the next few minutes, an interesting series of events unfolded, involving three thugs, broken bottles, and a Kel Dor who definitely looked like a bad guy. But then again, most people do on Nar Shadaa.

"I know what you are. You're not wanted here, Sith. Leave,"

Bri choked on the whiskey in her mouth. She tried to regain composure with a few coughs, and hoping that no one had noticed. The blonde woman had practically shouted it across the bar. Did she just say Sith? Blast. It seemed like a highly unlikely coincidence that had presented itself to the Jedi. There was no way to hear the Kel Dor and the woman's conversation from the booth, so Bri left and found a seat at the bar. She could make out a few snippets, but not entire sentences. Her ears piqued on a few specific points.

"Looking .... gang....... dangerous.... Fangs?"

How about that.

@Charndley @Nevermourn

 

[Juniper]

For all their denials, they sure spoke like a Sith. They smelt like a Sith. That made the newcomer, in no uncertain terms, a Sith. Added to the pile was a condescending attitude and a preference towards terrible nicknames. Cold, hard and beautiful disdain settled into Juniper's body, clarifying her mind. Helping her to focus. There was nothing like a good bit of spite to get you on track.

"Dear? You should have left it at girl." At least girl was somewhat flattering, especially now she'd reached her thirties. The Kel Dor asked about the Ruddy Fangs, which piqued her interest. She did know of them. Messy bunch of thugs, but who wasn't on Nar Shaddaa? She'd known one of them, once, when they were both younger and she was less... disappointed. She held no great love for them, no particular care or connection... save for the old adage: honour among thieves.

"I don't know anything about Ruddy Fangs," she lied, "and I doubt they'll be spilling much either." Ruddy Fangs weren't exactly the creme of the crop when it came to Nar Shaddaa criminality, but she assumed that they wouldn't be stupid enough to send people to shoot up cantinas. "And it's not a world, it's a moon, moron." Very petulant but she'd never been one for respecting enemies.

Juniper was vaguely aware of movement, at the periphery of her vision. Someone coming closer. She noticed a flash on blonde hair and breathed out, just in case. Blaster still aimed at the Kel Dor, but ready if this new person decided to try anything spicy. "Whoever's moving, you're better off staying back. And you, you're better off leaving. Now." Deep breathes. Eyes narrowed. A wonderful, refreshing clarity that pierced through the drunken haze of the last few years.

@Nevermourn @ModernMarvel

 

[Sol Kenuk]

Sol doesn't take note of the other woman who appears to choke at the nearby booth. No, his focus is on the woman he was addressing, the drunken marksman. She was being most uncooperative, it would seem. He thinks he can sense a lie upon her tongue, but the Kel Dor has little interest in sticking around to interrogate the woman. The bar was... hot. And not in the sense of temperature, either.

People around the block would have heard the blaster fire, and Nar Shaddaa was not without it's own security forces. He won't stick around, and he sees no gain in killing anyone else, even the girl who spat at him about how Nar Shaddaa was to be referred to as a moon, and not a world, as if that wasn't common knowledge around the galaxy. It was an amusing amount of pettiness, but not one he cared to entertain.

There were no Ruddy Fangs here, and thus, he would take his hunt elsewhere on the planet. There were a few little holes that locals criminals preferred to nest in like the rats that they were. He peers back down at the bodies of the criminals that now cluttered the floor, two dead, and one blissfully unconscious. If he were fond of needless killing, he might have finished off the third then and there, out of spitefulness alone. Sol won't, though. There was no gain to be found in doing so.

Instead, he lets his silvery gaze dart back toward the woman who seemed so intent in keeping that blaster leveled at him. He wonders if she thought she was special. If... the every day person thought that they were special, that they meant something, in some way, to the galaxy. To point a blaster at what you know is a Sith, was it brave or simply stupid? So many people thought that they were untouchable, that they were important, in some way. They were wrong, every single one of them.

A fool then, Sol thinks. If she cared about her life, she would not be so quick to throw it away. The Kel Dor at least cared little for mindless slaughter. There was no point in pulling out his lightsaber in the middle of some back alley bar on Nar Shaddaa, of all places. There was no point in making an example out of something that was, ultimately, so very unimportant. He tilts his head, thoughtful, and then responds with a cold drawl.

"I have no quarrel with locals." Sol admits with a slight shrug. He had not come here to slaughter civilians. The Kel Dor turns toward the door, and begins to make his way out.

@Charndley @ModernMarvel

 

[Brienna Lanaamer]

"I don't know anything about Ruddy Fangs, and I doubt they'll be spilling much either."

Bri caught the woman's retort. She couldn't tell if it was a lie or not, but what real incentive was there to tell the truth to the Kel Dor? Other than the potential threat of violence. Which was not for lacking on Nar Shadaa, and had just been proven. Bri extended her mental analysis. It seemed extremely unlikely that any of the three thugs that were on the floor were members of the Ruddy Fangs. Any group that claimed to have information about an object as sensitive as a holocron would likely not send some idiots to shoot up a Cantina. Or maybe they might. Who knows how criminals actually think. Apparently I don't.

The information on the Ruddy Fangs was followed by ... an insult? It was true that Nar Shadaa was a moon (of Nal Hutta, an even worse place to visit), but it took courage to offer such a biting comment to someone who was obviously a ne'er-do-well. Either the woman was exceedingly confident, or foolish. Or just really drunk. Unfortunately, the command that followed somehow managed to sweep up the Jedi.

"Whoever's moving, you're better off staying back. And you, you're better off leaving. Now."

Bri thought she had maintained a comfortable distance away from the two, but was evidently proven wrong. She did her best not to choke on her whiskey again, and looked over, offering her best innocent facial expression. Bri held her two hands up in a defenseless fashion, miming don't mind me. Being caught allowed the Jedi a better look at the blonde woman. There was something......something familiar about her. Dyed blonde hair. Tired blue eyes. An impression that this woman had seen more in the Galaxy than most. The Jedi was distracted enough to nearly miss the Kel Dor exiting the Cantina.

"I have no quarrel with locals."

Bri was tempted to follow the Kel Dor out of the Cantina - her own potentially reckless move - but was equally as curious about the blonde woman.

She took another sip of the whiskey in her left hand. Bri made eye contact with the other woman and raised her eyebrows,

"Well that was interesting."

@Charndley @Nevermourn

 

[Juniper]

For a few tense seconds, Juniper felt like it might happen. She waited for that familiar, cold tug inside whenever someone drew heavily on the Dark Side. She waited for the snap-hiss of a lightsaber. She waited for the Kel Dor to lunge, or dive, or reach for a weapon. For an instant, the air hung with sickly possibility.

"I have no quarrel with locals."

The Kel Dor turned for the door. Juniper had the briefest instinct to shoot him in the back and have done with it... but she held off at the last second. Reluctantly, she allowed her finger to slip away from the trigger as she lowered the blaster. Just breathe. Now Juniper was left with the unfortunate circumstances: a couple of bodies, a stunned thug and an inevitable hangover. She'd definitely have to change which cantina she hung out in.

The woman that she'd thought was moving closer mentioned something as Juniper put her blaster back on her belt. She turned to face her and shrugged. The first thing she noticed was the whiskey, sloshing in the glass as she sipped it. Looked good. Very good. Maybe just another drink, to calm her down? No harm in it at all, right?

"Sure was," she replied with a crooked smile, looking at the woman again. Exceedingly pretty, with hair that Juniper would've killed for and deep, blue eyes. She couldn't quite place the other woman's age, but something about her tugged at her memory. Maybe she'd seen her on Nar Shaddaa somewhere, or she'd been in her shop once. Her eyes narrowed a little as she turned to look at her, a little confused.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" she asked, her brain still buzzing with the fight-y instinct to properly think. She stared a little more, as somewhere in the deepest recesses of her mind, an alarm sounded. The realization hit her like a corvette, right between her eyes.

Bri...enna?

Her eyes widened as she realised, turning away. She couldn't be here, not like that. It was some kind of sick dream that her brain was putting her through. Sith and then Jedi? No. She couldn't... she had to go.

"Sorry.." she muttered, trying and failing to sound as casual as she could as she grabbed her things and moved to leave the cantina herself.

@Nevermourn @ModernMarvel

 

[Brienna Lanaamer]

"Sure was,"

A sideways smile met Bri's gaze. As she spoke, the woman's attention drifted from the amber whiskey in the glass to a not so hidden evaluation of the Jedi's features. Uh oh, did she just see through my disguise? Bri caught the slightest hint of confusion as the other woman's eyelids narrowed ever so slightly.

"Do I know you from somewhere?"

So she recognizes me too! Bri hadn't verbalized her own hesitation about the woman's identity, but here she was doing the same thing. The Jedi had travelled around the Galaxy with the Order for almost two decades, and during that time she had encountered a truly diverse and numerous set of individuals. Some were more memorable than others. Bri prided herself on being good with faces, but this one was coming up still reading unknown.

Bri's concentration was interrupted by the quick change of expression on the other woman's face. Eyes widened, not necessarily in shock, but almost in realization. The Jedi leaned back slightly, furrowing her eyebrows in slight confusion. Immediately, the woman, rather sloppily, started gathering her things from the bar, and began to leave. The Jedi caught a mumbled, "Sorry.."

No, no, no, this isn't right. It's too much of a coincidence. I can't just let her leave.

Not one for waste, Bri gripped the glass and quickly shot the rest of the whiskey. Not the most seasoned drinker, it burned going down, and elicited a few coughs. Bri's face scrunched in reaction, as she reached into her front pocket and fished out a credit chip, setting on the bar. The bartender said nothing, but looked on with a thoroughly disappointed face at the performance he had just witnessed. "Thanks," Bri managed to say, her throat still tingling.

"Wait!" she called out, hopping off the barstool, and walking after the other woman. "I think I know you from somewhere too!" The rather energetic and enthusiastic tone of Bri's voice didn't quite match the appearance of someone who was spending time in a Cantina on Nar Shadaa in the early hours of the morning.

@Charndley