Omnia Mea Mecum Porto

[Aadya Drast]

____________

Aadya remembered little of the past several days. Was it only days? There was a chance that she'd left days in the dust and would be better served describing it as weeks. It really was too hard to be sure. Regardless, in all that time, she hadn't left her ship. She'd barely left her private quarters at all.

You'd think with all of the power and mystical wonder that the force could grant a person, it would provide easily the ability to remove memories you didn't want anymore. If there was a way, Aadya hadn't been lucky enough to figure it out. It seemed that some things still had to be solved the old fashioned way, but no matter how hard she tried her despair seemed unable to die. Like some kind of incessantly annoying fish it refused to drown in the sea of liquor the former Empress tried to dump on top of it.

Eventually Aadya's reserves of alcohol dried up so she needed to make a stop. Her pilot had also informed her that the ship's fuel reserves were beginning to decline, but the more important thing for Aadya was the liquor. She'd had them land at some remote fueling depot outside the main ecumenopolis, keen to keep her presence here to the knowledge of absolutely no one. There were few places left in the galaxy she could freely roam, especially now.

With the aid of dathomiri magic and the pendant that young from her neck, Aadya was able to change her relative appearance to that of some unassuming offworlder. She wasn't a big fan of wearing a helmet the entire time she was here, and hiding your face like that could already draw attention if you weren't clearly a merc or a Mandalorian.

The first destination that drew Aadya's attention was a quaint looking saloon type cantina, one of those that had a bar and food on the main level and a few rooms for rent upstairs. Those kinds of places usually had the best local comfort food and the alcohol was generally cheap and abundant.

With a small, nervous sigh Aadya decided to put her disguise to the test. She ventured inside and would look for the nearest open seat at the bar, her stomach grumbling loudly and her mouth feeling unusually dry.

@Malon

 

[Jory Daveth]

As it happened (or as the Force willed it), Jory Daveth was in the cantina that Aadya had chosen for her refuge. With the Sith Empire receding in light of its recent losses to the Mandalorians, the Outer Rim planets they abandoned had fallen into disarray—a perfect opportunity for the Jedi Knights to return to their original mandate as keepers of the peace. For Jory, this meant breaking up a bar fight between two Dowutins who were both twice his size—each of their fists were easily as large as his head—and very, very drunk.

"I don't care who he is!" shouted the Dowutin to Jory's right. One of her chin horns had been chipped off, probably in a fight. "Nobody cheats me outta my death sticks! Those things ain't cheap, ya know? And where do you get tha nerve to stick up fer him anyways?! Ain't you Jedi supposed to be anti-drugs or somethin'?"

Jory resisted the urge to smirk. The Jedi had been gone for five centuries, and, apparently that meant they were remembered as drug cops on worlds like Dowut and Taris. "We certainly don't encourage them," said Jory calmly. "Just as we don't encourage disrupting the peace. If you two insist on settling this, I urge you to take it outside. Destruction of property will almost certainly get you arrested on Taris and, trust me friend, you don't want to be locked up in a jail cell in the Undercity."

"Maybez wez do!" slurred the other male Dowuit.

Jory sighed and summoned the Force to him. With a wave of his hand, he said, "No, you really don't." As if in a daze, both Dowutins repeated his words in unison. Then, he added, "You want to go home and rethink your lives."

They repeated this too. Then the two great behemoths got up and stomped out without a moment of protest. The bartender, a big-headed, blue-skinned Duros, waited until they were gone to lean over the bar and whisper to Jory. "Couldn't you have done that earlier? Would've spared you a hell'uv'an argument."

Jory took a seat next to the woman who had just walked in, a smirk tugging the corner of his mouth upward. "Patience, old friend. We Jedi are taught to use mind tricks only as a last resort. We are to respect the free will of all sentient beings."

The Duros bartender snorted and began to scrub the inside of a dirty glass with a washcloth. "No wonder the Sith steamrolled your lot back in the day. Those two horn-chinned nut-faces would've mouthed off to a Sith? Sith would've fried their asses right then and there." He sat the glass down on the bar surface. "But I guess I owe ya for makin' things a big quieter around here. What'll it be for ya today?"

"Just a bit of Tarisian ale for me," Jory replied. It was around then that he took note of the young woman sitting next to him, looking as though she would rather be anywhere else. Despite her best efforts to conceal it, he could sense anxiety wafting off of her like a bad odor through the Force. "And get something for this young lady, as well. Whatever she wants — on me." @Logan