Ask Tatooine Orange Colored Sky

[Zhaan Duran]

Duran wasn't overly fond of the desert. But then, who really was beyond the natives? Not many actually wanted to live on Tatooine, they just did. No one but the Hutts, various gangs, and water mongers had anything resembling wealth in this sorta place. But that didn't mean there wasn't cred to be made even way out in the middle of nowhere.

He tipped his hat at the weathered pair of moisture farmers whose land he'd wandered onto to ask a few cred-greased questions. "Appreciate the help. Sir, ma'am." Duran turned and strode back toward the speeders where his partner for this job was waiting on him and leaned against his own vehicle. "Not too much to go on. Been a long time since the old Empire hunted Jedi out here." Adjusting his collar to let the dry air wick sweat away from his skin, he hopped back on his bike and swapped his hat for a helmet.

"Stories tell of a hermit out in the sea. No idea if it's recent or not, just passed about. Worth a shot."

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Crow rested against his speeder bike. Felt good to be back in the seat. He’d forgotten how much he’d enjoyed riding. He took his ratty pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and lit up. He wore a poncho and goggles, the goggles were pulled up on his forehead while he waited for Duran to make his return.

The Enforcer took a breath, wondering if this was just another wild goose chase. Didn’t matter; he still needed funds and this job paid. He just wished it didn’t feel like they were chasing ghosts.

Duran stepped out of the moisture farm.

More rumors, all the same. Wanderer in the desert. Classic trope. Problem with that was all of Tatooine was a fucking desert.

Then again…

Relics had a strange way of cropping up. Crow frowned then spit tabac from his lip. He glanced down and swore. His vice was broken.

This was gonna be a long job, he could feel it.

“Next settlement then,” he grunted, slinging a leg over his bike. Crow pulled up his personav, “Freetown looks closest, first drinks on me, then we work the crowd a bit. I need a break from the Dune Sea.”

The ride into town was a short one. The farm they’d passed through still clung to the town's orbit. Freetown wasn’t big. It looked like something ripped right out of a Tatooine Western. Crow swung into the a spot outside the local cantina.

“Divide and conquer or stick together?” he asked, sliding off the bike. He lifted his goggles leaving them on his forehead as he made his way into the bar.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Zhaan Duran]

At least 'the sea'- specifically the Dune Sea- narrowed things down. Not nearly so much as Duran would like, though, and wasn't planning to comb the desert with a rake to find shiny things bits. Didn't even own a rake. The Chiss mercenary nodded his helmet. "Drinks on you. Tired of these damn suns." After a fruitless attempt to brush sand dust off his shoulder, they were off to Freetown.

It was one of those smaller towns no one ever talked about, mostly just regular folk living their lives in the desert hellhole that was Tatooine. Duran hopped from his back and swapped helmet for hat, tilting it down to keep the sun from his eyes. "Split up. Quicker we ask questions, quicker we're outta here." The man strode through the double doors, leather boots creaking the wood floor beneath. There were a few cursory glances from the locals but they mostly paid the strangers no mind.

People came through often enough to not care unless they started trouble. "Drinks first." He nodded toward the dusty yet well-polished bar and walked on over, leaning against the worn surface. They had exactly three options for drinks: spotchka, whiskey, and water. Duran went for spotchka.

"Any tales of hermits out in the sand?" he asked the gruff-looking barman. "Y'ain't th'first t'ask that. Some gang thing we should know 'bout?" Duran glanced at Crow.

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Crow stepped through the double doors following his partner inside. The locals took notice immediately, but lost interest almost as quickly as it had come. Duran stepped up to the bar and ordered, “I’ll take house whiskey and a glass of water.”

The barkeep went to work while answering Duran’s question and the man’s answer cocked Crix’s eyebrow like the hammer of slugthrower. The guy passed them their drinks. Crix gave a nearly imperceptible shrug to Druan’s look.

“Depends, on how long ago they asked,” Crix replied. The barkeep frowned, more out of what Crix registered as confusion than irritation, “Last group t’ask came through town, bout a day ago.”

The Enforcer waited a beat then realized the guy wasn’t preparing to say more and sighed, “Tell you what,” he said sliding out a handful of credits, “Why don’t you tell us what, you told them, and if I like what I hear, I’ll be sure to leave a generous tip.”

The burly barkeeps eyes swept over the patron’s and he shook his head, “Cain’t.”
“What?”
“Said, I cain’t.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“What?”
“Now you’re being an asshole.”
“Cain’t be!” said the barkeep crossing his arms.
“Stop saying that,” he looked to Duran, “Do you know what he’s saying?”

Crix leveled the Chiss with a flat stare, then looked back at the Barkeep.

“They pay you off?”
“Ayep.”
The vein on Crix’s forehead was starting to throb.
“You’re not even trying to speak basic anymore,” he looked back at the Chiss,“Care to translate?”
Through gritted teeth Crix said, “How much?”
“Oh, about tree fiddy.”
“Get the hell out of here, really?”
“Ayep.”
“I’m not paying for the water then.”

The Bartender started to protest, but Crix waved him down, “Tree fiddy is more than fair and we both know it, now spill.”

The bartender nodded behind the pair of thugs. Crix turned and spotted a hooded figure in the back corner of the cantina sitting in a booth alone.

“Oh yeah, that’s not ominous,” he leveled his index finger in The Barkeep’s direction and said, “Does he speak basic better than you?”
“Nope.”
“Great.”

The Enforcer looked to Duran, “Your turn, I’m talked out,” he said slamming his shot and ordering another.


@Mr. Teatime