Ask SPICEBREW CONFESSIONS

[Krinn Nelthar]

IN A SPACE-PORT ABOVE AGAMAR...

He's out of fuel before he can reach Dantooine, even after making an attempt to cut through neutral space. It doesn't matter much, though. Krinn is no fool, he had accounted for this. Dark eyes glint in the light of the space port that hovers beyond Agamar's atmosphere, where the world below was cold and barren, there was at least a dash of color to be found in the station. For the most part, it was meant simply as a place for travelers to refuel and rest between systems, but the Nautolan is aware that there are shady dealings here. So far into the Outer Rim, it was to be expected. At least he gets clearance to land.

The station is brightly lit, and while it is inhabited, the crowds are thin. Most of the people waiting around within were of the rougher looking sort. Bounty hunters, pirates, perhaps less than reputable traveling merchants. He did see a single family as he moved through the lobby, probably a wealthy group that owned their own vessel. Then there are those that live at the station, doubling as Employees. They were easy enough to pick out as mechanics and janitors, among other welcome roles.

Krinn keeps his dark hood down as he moves between the people within the port. He wasn't interested in attracting unwanted attention while his Interceptor sat vulnerable at it's dock. Furthermore, the station was neutral, and he had no desire in causing hostilities with the occupants.

Following neon holo-signs eventually leads him to a small cantina. It's dimly lit in comparison to the rest of the port, and there are very few patrons lurking within it's shadows. Perhaps the cause was the late hour? Regardless, there is a Besalisk at the bar counter, polishing glasses with clawed hands. Krinn approaches quietly, taking a seat upon one of the cushioned stools, and silently hoping the bartender spoke basic. This was rather far out from larger civilization, after all. Krinn peers curiously at the man as he approaches, and to his satisfaction, the Besalisk inquires about his order in the basic language he knew.

"Spicebrew." The Nautolan finally answers after peering up at the vibrant lit holo of the cantina menu. It was a strong beverage, but the Sith was willing to accept the burn of it, if only for the distraction it might provide. The bartender leaves him to head toward the racks, and for a time, Krinn is enveloped within lonesome shadows.

@DonBongo

 

[Maru C'renic Tel Illo]

The Order had arranged transport home but Maru didnt have the stomach to return to the Temple just yet. There would have to be investigations questions debriefs over what had happened and while there was no running from those obligations he could at least take just a little time to prepare himself. The station was on the way home, he had been there a few times to refuel and on longer trips and he knew that somewhere on there like in many places was a quiet place to drink and reflect.

He followed the authorities instructions on where to fly and land and after a few long moments he decided to leave his saber on the ship. He had no intention of fighting and sometimes a weapon carried that energy and what he needed now was peace. Like so many others he followed the signs leading to that quiet bar. He paused, closing his eyes giving them a few moments to adjust to the darker room before heading to the bar noticing someone was already drinking and he didnt need the force to sense they were not in the best of moods. Still company was pleasant and he sat one barstool away rather than sitting right next to the stranger.

He waited patiently while the bartender fixed the drink for the first customer before coming over to the Jedi, not that he looked like one at the moment, the dirtied armor and robes he had worn in the recent battle were packed away on the ship wearing more simple clothing for this outing. He pulled out his credits, setting them down on the counter “Can I open a tab?” he asked softly a small polite smile as he looked between the drink list and then the bottles behind the shelf. “I would like a shot of that” he said pointing to a bottle he recognized, a strong pure alcohol with no real flavor but plenty of kick. “Mixed with whatever juice you might got” he explained. He had eaten up his supply of sweets on the flight home and if he was going to indulge in a little drinking he would sate that sweet tooth of his too. He watched his credits be taken and then he settled in quietly. “Misery loves company does she not?” he spoke finally a small smile as he turned his head a bit to the stranger at the bar with him.

@Nevermourn

 

[Krinn Nelthar]

He can sense the presence of another slip through the dim lighting of the doorway and into the quiet bar. Krinn doesn't bother to look up at them, to raise his head from where it rested with brooding composure. Not until the other man takes a seat upon one of the other stools nearby. Dark eyes flicker briefly toward the other guest, a man in tattered robes who looked haggard, at best. The Nautolan doesn't sense hostility, though, so he allows his gaze to drift away, back toward the towering bartender that lightly sets his chosen drink upon the counter, before moving away to attend to the second patron.

Clawed fingers wrap around the glass of the brew before he brings it to his lips, and he nearly recoils with the bitter taste that washes over his tongue. Krinn manages to swallow it, though. It's not the worst he's ever had. He can hear the other man ordering a drink of his own nearby, not a beverage that the Sith enjoyed, but to each their own. Of course, he should have expected that his solemn peace would be shattered by an attempt at conversation. Everyone wanted to talk. Krinn doesn't respond at first, because he's tired, unwell, hurt, and entirely uninterested in idle chatter. He takes another drink of his sharp tasting beverage, intent on drowning the depression that had hooked so cruelly into his mind. At this point, he'd might as well consider himself an alcoholic.

"Misery should learn to keep to herself." Krinn finally responds, his dry vocals dragging through the warm air with a drawl. "I could do without more misery for a lifetime, or two." He admits, a bitterness coating his response as he takes another large gulp of his Spicebrew. Why couldn't the galaxy just be... peaceful? Why did there have to be such turmoil? Perhaps one could accuse him of being blind, but really, Krinn was more akin to being in denial. To witness what he had at Kashyyyk, to be a part of it. And he hardly had any real excuse, because he had joined the Sith out greed. Selfishness. Misery was to be expected.

@DonBongo

 

[Maru C'renic Tel Illo]

He felt a little bad if the man was looking for solitude but Maru was never good at keeping his mouth quiet as he listened to his reply and his drink was placed in front of him. "Well I think I can drink to that" he said with a soft sigh and then raised his glass and took a few long gulps. After all the booze was muddled with the drink making it easier to down. When the glass came down the drink was almost finished. "Has anyone offered you the line time heals all wounds line?" he asked a bit dryly. That would be the mostly advice the Jedi was going to receive when he got home. That this was a moment of strife and difficulty but it in time would pass.

He raised his glass again drinking the rest and settling it back down and gestured the bartender over "Another for me, and a shot for him" he said flicking a thumb towards Krinn. "I figure if I am going to disrupt your solace I should at least buy you a drink as apology" he mumbled as he fished out a piece of ice from his first drink and tossed it into his mouth chewing softly. Even if he was a bother the interaction was nice, the flight from Kashyyk had been one of silent reflection and that simply wasn't how Maru coped. He waited while his next drink was made and took the glass to sip this time. Getting drunk wasn't really the plan, after all it had been years since he as a Padawan had been taken drinking. It was an important task to know ones limit and of course to see how well one reacted, but aside from that one night so long ago he hadnt really gone out drinking again.

@Nevermourn

 

[Krinn Nelthar]

A huff is blown past olive hued lips in response to the other man. It's a noise of discontent, bitter, sarcastic humor, perhaps. Time did not heal all wounds, this he knew well. He doubted there were some that he'd ever fully recover from. Physical scars were easier, they offered memories of survival. The emotional wounds, however, were more akin to stains upon his mind and spirit. Dark ones. He used to tell himself that it would get better. That he would get stronger, more powerful, that the corruption of the shadow would swallow his mind, and thus, his regrets. Now, Krinn isn't so sure what he believes anymore. Perhaps he was simply meant to suffer.

"Time doesn't heal wounds. It festers within them like a sickness." A biting response, one that twists his face into a brooding scowl.

The Nautolan finishes his drink a moment afterward, uncaring for the way the alcohol burns at his throat. At least he seemed to have a fellow sufferer at his side, buying him another drink, no less. Well, Krinn wouldn't refuse.

"And more Spicebrew." The Sith calls toward the Besalisk that tends to the few remaining within the shadowy bar. Hell, maybe he'd spend his entire wallet in here, get blackout drunk and wake up an amnesiac. But no, that was just as much a curse as a blessing. Although... alcohol poisoning was probably more likely to cause a rather uncomfortable death. He should want to avoid that, but Krinn isn't sure if he cares. "What brings you out so far?" The Nautolan dares to inquire, because normally, he isn't much of a conversationalist, but he did appreciate a distraction when it was offered, and this was one of those times.

In any case, Agamar wasn't exactly a tourist destination, by any means. Tucked so far into the outer rim, he can't help but wonder about the lives of others aboard the quiet station.

@DonBongo

 

[Maru C'renic Tel Illo]

Maru's small smile never waivered when his drinking companion expressed just how they felt about that old bit of wisdom and he raised his glass again to sip quietly letting just the noises of the bartenders work fill the silence between them until a question was offered and he ran his finger along the rim of his glass thinking on his answer. "I'm heading home" he says softly and while he kept the sadness from his voice there was no mistaking that plain and simple exhaustion.

"I'm heading back to....deliver bad news" he said softly looking at the colorful liquid in his glass focusing on it rather then the memories that were so fresh and painful in his mind. He had been there on the surface he had seen first hand the result of the Imperial bombardment, the scorching heat of the firestorm. Fear, panic, desperation all those emotions he had felt first hand by every civilian he had worked to save. The memories threatened to send a tremor through his body but he took a slow breath, held it then breathed out and when he raised his glass his hand was still.

He didn't want to say he was Jedi, no the galaxy's feelings on them was changing and in question and all he wanted in this moment was the peace and quiet that he knew he wouldn't be finding back home for a time. There was going to be questions, reviews accusations.....none of it he could run from forever. "Just a shot this time" he said softly as he set the drink down. The alchocol was seeping into his system now a slight buzzing in his mind that dulled the sharper edges of his thoughts.

@Nevermourn

 

[Krinn Nelthar]

Heading home. Krinn wondered how nice that was, to have a home. He could argue that his was anywhere within Imperial Space. Perhaps the dark temple on Korriban, or the grand estates of Dromund Kaas. But no, the Nautolan could hardly consider either home, so much as the occasional place to stop and rest between work.

"Bad news." Krinn echoes with a contemplative huff. "Better than no news." He thinks aloud, because he had been all but radio silent in the weeks since Kashyyyk. He had the excuse of 'imperial business on trying to retake Dantooine', considering the planet's recent loss at the hands of the Jedi, but he had no real intentions of mounting another assault on that planet, at least not anytime soon. And that was... what was that? Selfishness? He was putting his depression, his guilt, before the needs of his Empire.

He was a Sith, and yet here he was, wallowing in self pity over a tragedy orchestrated by his own empress. It had been a victory for the Empire. He should be celebrating.

Weak. He's weak. And he knows it. Selfish, greedy, and all too pathetic. Really, how had he even made it this far? Training as an Acolyte had been more about survival than anything else, and Krinn had shoved his fair share of fellow initiates into the dirt to insure that he made it out alive. This was different, though. Glassing Kashyyyk hadn't been about the Empire's survival. It had been meant to send a message. And it was... entirely senseless. So many were dead.

And he's weak. Too weak to swallow it down and accept it. Too weak to take back Dantooine. Too weak to get the sight of that burning world out of his dreams at night. The nautolan sits rigid, and his eyes glow with distant light. Claws tighten into the glass of his drink, knuckles pale, teeth gritting.

The glass shatters.

He's only aware of it because it gives way within his right hand, suddenly the solid object he had been holding had been crushed to long shards, and the Spicebrew that had only just been refilled is spilling across olive skin to splatter the floor, oozing across the lacerations that had so suddenly ripped through his skin. It was a sickly mixture of blood and beverage, one that made his arm shake as the pain finally began to set in. The claws of his other hand coil roughly into the polished counter he leaned up against as a breathless gasp escapes the Sith's maw.

For a moment, he isn't concerned. He doesn't care. But reality is a harsh reminder. He's not alone. There's someone sitting on the stools beside him. Someone that had no doubt seen what he had done, his breaking mind as bare as the shards of shattered glass that now littered the bar and floor, and glistened where they had punctured into his skin. The sudden shame that burns at his gut far outweighs the pain of the cuts.

"Sorry." Krinn manages to breathe out quietly. Sorry you had to see that. Because he isn't sorry that he's hurt himself, accidental as it might have been. He's sorry that someone else had to witness it. That someone else had to tolerate his weakness.

@DonBongo

 

[Maru C'renic Tel Illo]

Maru didnt need the force to feel the anger in his drinking partners body and then he heard the crinkling of glass as it strained but then the shatter and he may have played his hand a bit. His reaction time was fast his hand moving to cover the lid of his own cup to prevent any shards landing into his drink. Then came that sorry little apology and he looked at the shards of glass in his friends hand and then the mess and he reached taking the cloth from the bar.

"That's gonna need some proper first aid" he warned reaching first to pat Krinn's shoulder and he splashed his drink onto the cloth and then he put into the bleeding mans hand. "Gonna sting" he warned and then he stood up while the bartender, unsure what to do hurried to clean up the glass around, he might have picking up a bit more on Krinn's nature then Maru was. The Jedi left the bar but only for a moment returning shortly after raiding a nearby first aid kit offering bandages and disinfectant.

"That anger isn't good for you" he offered, keeping the advice generic rather then the proper code "Boils up like that, explodes out" he said taking his seat at the bar again. He of course didn't hold the mans weakness against him if not for the years of training he had gone through he probably would be just curled up sobbing on a ship.

 

[Krinn Nelthar]

He doesn't really react to the pat on the shoulder, really. He hadn't been expecting the gesture, so it leaves him in a rather confused stupor as he gazed at the bloody remnants of his hand, blinking roughly as the sting of the wounds blossoms uncomfortably within his alcohol buzzed thoughts. Really, he would have been less confused by a mocking string of insults about his weakness. He finds that he doesn't really mind the apparent friendliness, though. At the very least, it doesn't make him feel worse. The sting of the cloth against his bloodied lacerations prompts little more than a deflated grunt, as he flexes the fingers of the wounded hand to insure that everything was in working order. The wounds were fairly minor, though.

The other man seems to leave him, and the poor Barkeeper that quietly wiped down the mess on the counter. There almost seemed to be a solemn bit of acceptance to his efforts, as if he had become acquainted with this sort of accident before. Well... considering the mess that drunkards could get up to, Krinn doesn't find that all too surprising. With clumsy fingers, the nautolan plucks glass shards from his skin, all too grateful that his drunken state dulled the agony that he would no doubt feel in full force, come the morning. When the other man returns, it's with the remnants of a first aid kit that the Nautolan merely blinks at, and doesn't reach for. The words of the other patron are like echoes within his buzzing head. Exhaling a long sigh, Krinn hunches against the bar, quiet for several moments more.

"Mmm tired." When the Nautolan does manage to speak again, it's a slurred drawl tinged with the pain of his injuries. And he was tired. But it wasn't just a physical exhaustion that clung to his body and mind. He squints, thoughtful and quiet, reflective, perhaps. He does manage to remember Dantooine, and why he was where he was. Take back Dantooine, the disjointed thought rings in his head, a reminder that he probably shouldn't throw himself into a drunken stupor before continuing his journey to the recently liberated planet. His excuse for being on Agamar in the first place. But... it was too late for that, wasn't it? He wasn't flying anywhere in this state. No, he'd sleep for the night. And endure the hangover that would wrack his body in the morning.

@DonBongo