To use the Force

[Naas]

It was a dark day. Well, it always was on Nar Shaddaa, especially if one was not part of the spectacle that was the Hutt Cartel. The neon lights in shapes of signs and billboards gave no comfort. Instead they served as a reminder of how deep in the mud you were for them to be the only light. Naas had just landed on the moon a few hours ago, chasing a bounty through space only to lose track of it. He had nowhere to go but back to the start. Back to the place were a bounty was more common than a Sith on Ord Mantell. The trick was to not get caught up with the hutts in the process. He needed bounties tied to no faction, or work given to him from some spacer with too much credits. So he went to places where they might be. The credits and the work. It usually stood between two places - cantinas or the space port. If he dared he would have snatched the work from right under the Cartel's nose, but he knew better. For this hunt, he choose the space port. At least for the time being. Space ports reminded him of his mother and how easily, he thought, she found work there. Although, their work was very different.

Naas wore his armour and put on his helmet, entering the space port. His own ship was docked elsewhere. For some reason, still unknown to him, it seemed impossible to dock at the largest port, the main space port. He figured it had something to do with him not working for someone or having anything to say other than: "Hi, I'm here looking to steal some bounties, or find bounties for us hunters outside of the Cartel." And since the Hutts ruled their own moon, what could he do?

The space port was bustling with people. Mostly common looking spacers since smugglers docked, like him, elsewhere. But from shady corners he saw creatures with too many dents in their armour to be considered good. He had seen thugs like them on Ord Mantell, but he reckoned these were of a different level. Naas moved on, looking from left to right. What he needed was a spacer, or perhaps a thug, unable to kill their rival themselves. If he approached someone looking stronger than him he might find his own name on a bounty.

Angry voices caught Naas's attention. Standing with their cargo loaded against the wall were two spacers. He moved closer. A fight could end in two ways. Either it turned out to be nothing, or it turned into something. He would gladly offer to beat the other up, or chase the problem they argued about. Once he had acquired a bounty from a fight between two smugglers, apparently a third had bailed on them and stolen their cargo in the process.

When Naas got close enough to hear what they said, he slowed down. If he jumped them too soon without knowing what it was all about, he could put himself in an unwanted situation.
"You can move your cargo elsewhere," one said.
"I was told to meet them here, you can either accept that or move yourself," the other spouted.
"I said, Move!"
A familiar urge rested in Naas belly. Or was it his heart? The feeling grew from his chest and spread throughout his whole body. With just a flick of his hand he probably could knock over a crate and make it look like the other spacer did it. Just a simple wave. If anyone saw him it would appear as if he was just waving to someone, or whisking away a bug. And if they got really mad at each other his entrance would be much easier. Naas raised his hand. His whole body shook. It had been a long time since he tried using the Force knowingly. He hated it. He was terrified to use it. But, he saw an opportunity. Naas took a deep breath, pressed his eyes together, and lowered his hand. I won't use it. I can't use it. I don't have it. No...

Naas glared at the spacers. Angry with himself. Angry that he even thought of the idea to use the Force. All he had to do was wait for the right moment. Intercept. And hope they wanted to hire him to take care of the other.

 

[Vexillar]

He loved this place.

He hated this place.

It was paradise within Hell. It was perfection marred by flaws. This was a place unbound by silly people pretending. No. Everyone knew how everyone here operated. That was what made this place so charming. The overwhelming pain and suffering of this moon made detecting people incredibly difficult. It was a Hunters worst nightmare. Did Raith have a tail? Who knew. He wouldn't doubt it. But he also wouldn't doubt that his hunter would be just as much a sensitive as he wouldn't be. He liked keeping possibilities open until they could be confirmed one way or another. Even so...the best laid plans and all that.

He was an Arcanist, not a god.

He took Eezeo with him as he got off the the ship, Vallo remained on the ship. He was obviously displeased with their current surrounding. Though he hated most things, Raith had come to find out in their time together.

The shouting of people caught his attention. Or at least initially it did. His attention was then grabbed and held by a person who was not too far away from the arguing people. A Force Sensitive...a weak one. A new weapon mayhaps? Raith stepped closer and observed the boy indirectly. Benefits of being a Miraluka. He could see behind walls and such. Meaning he didn't have to, and he didn't, walk in the line of sight of the other guy to keep visuals on him. He opted to walk around people, cargo, whatever, to get the jump on him.

Vi was a cautious individual. He always kept his Force Signature hidden. Removed from the world so as not to be sensed by people accidentally or otherwise. His mind was a fortress, keeping all thoughts, even stray ones, inside. He trusted so few people...and even the ones he did trust he didn't go too far with. So as he walked up behind the little spy who creeped on these other two arguing men he was confident that he hasn't been detected. He waited here and arched a brow curiously as the Sensitive raised a hand...and then lowered it.

"It's an addition. Ya?" He spoke up. With a grin he caused the box to fall over, though he hadn't moved a muscle. His late Master was very adamant on learning telekinesis sans the movement. The men's arguing intensified severely. "If you weren't going to do it, someone had to..." He shrugged casually. Raith's voice was...unusual to say the least. He spoke but there were two voices. Always.

His own, a gentle masculine voice light, charming, warm. Just under it, however, echoing his words was a female's voice. Her's was heavily accented pointing her origins to Dathomir. Her voice was very feminine, gentle and yet a clear ring of venom raced through her words as if a warning that she could be a threat. It was an interesting combination of voices, and one that made for an almost hypnotic sound. Vi himself was dressed very casually too. Not too bad to look at though his shirt did have a small tear in the cuff of his left sleeve. He wore a simple maroon long sleeved shirt, black jeans, and a pair of boots. His saber? Always on him. Of course. Each one was on either side of his hip. The Yorik Coral one on the left, and the curved black metallic one on the right.