Despite its location in the Outer Ring of Krai Ven Station, the Star’s Rest is well-lit and well-maintained. Serving droids whirr between the tables and the bar, delivering drinks and food to its patrons. Though not crowded, the bar is still lively, with conversations in a dozen languages occurring throughout. Contri Moor, the cantina’s Sullustan proprietress, is well-known for both the quality of her drink and the quality of her conversation, and many spacers make a habit of stopping in, if only to hear the latest news and gossip to have come through the Star’s Rest. In one corner booth sits Fialla Starr, the youngest and newest member of the Merchant Council. She has recently acquired a new ship, and is interviewing candidates for its crew. Her protocol droid, an older 2PO unit, stands nearby to assist with translation as necessary, and Gord, her Houk bodyguard, stands ready to remove any threats as necessary.
The inside is an “L” shape, and behind a rope blocking off the short end of the “L” sits the gaming area. With 3 sabaac tables, 2 jubilee wheels, a pazaak table, as well as assorted slots, the Star’s Rest is nearly its own small casino, though Contri would never have her establishment called such. In the corner of the “L” is a stage, on which is currently a projector showing the shockball semi-finals on Commenor, courtesy of the Imperial HoloNet, with some beings sitting nearby, eyes glued to the holo, cheering for their respective teams – and occasionally eyeing each other with the dislike of rival sports fans. Clearly, the Star’s Rest is the place to come to drink, relax, and take your mind off of the galaxy for a little while.
You notice a table of 3 men between the stage and the gaming room. They seem to be completely ignoring everything going on around them, and discussing something quite urgently.
Looking over you credentials, Fialla says, "You've got a lot of good qualifications on paper, but why don't you tell me a bit about your experience and what makes you a good fit for my business?"
Perception
Galactic Lore
|
Vessani, Zabrak ex-scout for the now-defunct Grand Republic Army, sighed into his juma juice. He just knew that life would be hard when he tried to save his Jedi commander, and he had the cybernetic arm to prove it. Finishing off his glass and motioning the bartender for another one, he glanced around at the other patrons of the Star's Rest.
Not really noticing anything out of the ordinary, Vessani briefly thought about doing a little gambling with his remaining creds, but decided to save them, just in case. Taking a swig of his drink, his eyes landed on a human female with a Houk bodyguard talking to a human male with a droid. 'Might be hiring a new crew or something,' he thought to himself. 'If so, just might be my ticket off this station.' With that thought, he decided to give the woman a talk and see if she might require his services. 'Actually, she's not half bad on the eyes, maybe she might require more than just scouting services.'
"I will be traveling with you now. Conserve your lung's capacity of oxygen, there will be no objections." He continues, sternly. "Wrapped Hands has passed, and this is what he would have wanted. I know that because he told me." NT-2B reaches one of his hands and pulls out a small device, pressing a button on it to reveal a dying human smuggler who seemed to end at the bottom of his ribcage in a mess of blood and gore. While the quality is not great, and the image sometimes flickers, a few details can be easily picked out, such as the smuggler indeed having his hands wrapped. He also bore several old bruises on his face, telltale signs of a lifetime of boxing.
"Hey old buddy, the droid is yours now. Keep him safe, and listen to him, yeah? You'll live longer. I did."
NT-2B turns to the questioning Fialla, his voice trying to replicate embarrassment. "Wrapped Hands's death should not discredit my abilities. His body was in poor condition due to his continued boxing career despite his advancing age. He also made poor business decisions regarding the Hutts. I did what I could, but I am not a combat droid." As the video fades out, the last shot is that of NT-2B using one of his hands to hold that of Rhys's, while the other two worked to give the man an injection that would end his suffering.
"Your crew would be lucky to have someone as clever as the Warrior Poet. I have come from the other side of the Outer Rim to join him." His voice drops a minor third. "Do you know what it is like for a droid to hitchhike? Even being able to trade my talents for passage, it is very dangerous. I am unable to defend myself. I nearly lost an eye, and 3 times someone tried to abduct me - presumably for sale. Even those I helped behaved oddly. On one transfer someone insisted I take their filthy towel with me, I have no understanding of why..." He trails off. When he speaks again, his voice has resumed the normal pitch. "It is unsafe to travel, but this is the risk I took on the Warrior Poet. It was worth taking. I can show you the math if you would like."
"If it assists his application any, I will be accompanying him. I am a field-tested medical droid. I have traveled through and around approximately 39% of the Outer Rim in the past 2 years alone. I am versed in multiple scientific disciplines, I have performed surgery (successfully) on 14 subjects, and I am capable of speaking a variety of languages."
"Whatever your business, the galaxy is a dangerous place. Without a medical droid, there is an 88% chance that your crew will have ceased living within 10 weeks. There are a total of 0 medical droids in the known galaxy that are more sophisticated than I am. And there is only a 0.52% chance of a more sophisticated one existing outside of the known galaxy."
"Even more rare than I am is a human worth traveling several months in deplorable conditions for. There are fewer than 50 in the known galaxy. You have option to employ one."
Haha, no Contri, I don't want a Reactor Core, after that last one I'm surprised they even let me back on the station! Get me a Quanya and maybe some news about what's been going on around here. Oh, Teeka says thanks for that last tip. She got a nice prize trophy out of the whole thing, I just got another scar.
Daaneth winks at the Sullustan than slouches over the bar and closes his eyes, listening to the room. If he was lucky, and lets face it, he usually was, there would be at least one interesting person visiting the Star's Rest. The best jobs had always come from here.
Sitting by himself, Jeren takes a sip of coffee as he tries to bring to mind what he knows of Krai Ven Station. Still, it is not the only thing he is focused on as his gray eyes, partially hidden by the hood of his all-temperature cloak, move from one person to the next. Although he is hardly paranoid, he is certainly cautious, not all that surprising really given what he once was and what he currently is considered to be. And it is this caution that serves him well, as he notices a particular table between the stage and the gaming room.
'Those three over there,' he thinks to himself as he brings the cup to his lips briefly before putting it down again. 'They pay attention to nothing other than whatever it is they are talking about. And it seems rather important too. And urgent.'
It may have nothing to do with him, he admits that much to himself, but still he does remain vigilant, even if he continues to appear as relaxed as he was before he noticed them. Other than the young woman belonging to the Merchant Council, this seems to be the only other thing to have caught his attention after all, as the game does not elicit even a glance from him.
Somewhat taken aback by the droid's appearance and speech, Fialla eyes Jarl appraisingly. "Warrior Poet, huh? Well, I guess we'll have to see whether that part holds true or not." Chuckling, Fialla asks, "Hypothetical situation: The Empire wants to inspect your ship, and while you aren't carrying anything illegal, they are going to likely treat you as a criminal. How do you react in that situation?"
Krai Ven Station is governed by a council of 5 merchants, who's primary duty is to ensure the station is maintained and continues running. When they actually do meet to make decisions, it is often whether or not to raise the rents for goods storage in the warehouses.
The Imperial garrison primarily leaves the denizens of Krai Ven Station alone, as their primary purpose is to support the nearby penal colony of Salora.
You've heard of her and her recent ascent to Krai Ven Station's merchant council, but have not interacted with her previously.
Wiping the grin off of his face, Jarl turns to Fialla to answer her query this is after all still an interview, "In the past I have cited Regulations for search and seizure back to them having participated in a few from the other side. Drop a few names so they know I have some connections but not elaborate on what they are and give them the guided tour.
Unless of course I have a ship that I think can outrun em. Problem there of course is that if they have identified my ship I'll need a whole new ID for the vessel which generally costs creds and time none of us really have am I right?"
With a not-quite smile, Fialla says, "Quite true, that last part." Her expression changing to a bit of a grimace, she says, "I don't know how well citing regulations at them would be any more. They seem to either be ignoring them or claiming exigent circumstances with alarming frequency these days." Perking up a bit, she says, [b]"Still, at least they aren't making up charges to arrest people or confiscate cargo. It's almost like their CorSec officers trying to fill a quota."
Taking a sip of her Whyren's Reserve, she asks, "In the event that, for whatever reason, you would lose your cargo, what would your next move be?"
Checking in.
The young vurk tries to remain inconscpicious as he arrives on the Space Station. Is Master Rex here or has he been here he thinks to himself. The Force has led me here for some reason. Perhaps it shall makes its will known and soon. he says, making sure that his lightsaber is hidden but patting to make sure he still has it.
Going to the bar, exhausted, he will order a caf.
Caf, please. Double and strong.
Looking around and indulging in the strong brew he attempts to take in his new environment.
Perception
Really there are three options on the table after that:
one bribe them to get the cargo back if they are corrupt they can be bribed preferably before they haul the goods off of the ship,
two figure out where they store those goods in the sector and make an attempt to break in and steal the goods back, a tough endeavor to be sure, or
three steal the goods from someone else.
I would say buying the goods from someone else is an option but that puts us too deep in the hole on the whole transaction.
Won't be in the transport business too long if you have to start buying goods at a loss to replace what was already taken".
Suddenly the doors open, and an Imperial officer walks in, accompanied by 4 stormtroopers. The patrons who first notice them go quiet, producing a ripple effect of silence passing through the cantina. All are watched with wary eyes as two of the troopers take up positions on either side of the door, and the remaining two step into the cantina proper with the officer.
Mumbling something under her breath, Fialla rises with a gracious smile on her face and walks over to him, saying, “Lieutenant Jhoil, what brings you to the Star’s Rest, and with an armed escort, no less?”
Lt. Jhoil looks at her, and, with not quite a sneer on his face says, “It is a matter of Imperial security, and none of the Merchant Council’s business. Have everyone remain in their seats while we check their IDs, and we will be on our way.”
Not looking the least bit pleased, Fialla seems to have no choice but to step away and allow the lieutenant to go about his business, beginning with those closest to the door.
Despite his apparent sneer, the lieutenant is worried about something, and may be under quite a bit of pressure.
The group of three men have gone quiet like everyone else, but one of them seems incredibly tense, and his hand has vanished under the table.
Perception
Jarl sits back and relaxes waiting for the Imps to come his way, long gone is the time where he worried about these sweeps even this far out they try to flex their considerable might and who can stand up to them certainly not an old vet trying to make his way in the universe.
|
|
Vessani stopped everything with a quiet expletive. His prosthesis started itching at the point of contact as his eyes looked from trooper to officer to the patrons of the bar.
Vessani's eyes lock onto the officer's face, noticing that he was worried about something, though he was trying to keep it from showing. 'This isn't going to end well,' Vessani thought to himself. His hand slowly slid down his body, resting near his trusty slugthrower. 'Let's just hope things stay calm and they don't recognize me as a Jedi sympathizer.
At the sight of the stormtroopers, Jeren's attention is diverted from the table of three men to them and the Imperial officer leading them, his cup of coffee all but forgotten. Remaining relaxed, or at least as relaxed as he can be considering the circumstances, his hands almost reach for his utility belt, specifically two particualr pouches opposite each other, but he stops himself.
'This is certainly neither the time nor the place,' he mentally admonishes himself. Instead he sits back, resuming his observation of what is happening, at the same time trying to figure out how he should deal with things going wrong, but at the same time hoping that evertything goes smoothly, or at least as smoothly as possible.
Vessani stopped everything with a quiet expletive. His prosthesis started itching at the point of contact as his eyes looked from trooper to officer to the patrons of the bar.
[dice=Perception]1d20+8
[dice=Perception Reroll 1]1d20+8Vessani's eyes lock onto the officer's face, noticing that he was worried about something, though he was trying to keep it from showing. Looking around the room, he saw a hooded man looking incredibly tense. 'This isn't going to end well,' Vessani thought to himself. His hand slowly slid down his body, resting near his trusty slugthrower. 'Let's just hope things stay calm and they don't recognize me as a Jedi sympathizer.
It must be the exhaustion but the vurk doesn't really notice much.
Great...Imps. So much for luck.
His montrals pick up a lot of shifting and hands sliding slowly to legs. For IDs or weapons was anyone's guess. He notices the guy next to him still drinking caf.
He leans over a bit and whispers to the Vurk.
Either you know something I don't, or you're really confident my friend, because the Imps takin' time to come here usually ain't a good sign.
While Jarl looks surprisingly calm about the imperials having entered, NT-2B is less relaxed. His eyes flick back and forth between the soldiers. "Warrior Poet," his voice comes out with the same inflections - or lack thereof - but simply a decreased volume, keeping the secrecy but revealing none of his intended urgency. "Are they here for me? I do not wish to go back to Corellia. I am unique in the galaxy, you know. My place is out here, assisting people, not in a room theorising about droid construction."
Lieutenant Jhoil, flanked by his stormtroopers, approaches each of you and demands to see your ID. After you give it to him, he scans your ID and checks the results on his scanner, then hands it back to you. When he reaches a table of three men between the stage and the casino and begins to ask for their IDs, there is a flash of red light under the table, the screech of a blaster bolt, and the lieutenant goes down clutching his abdomen. All three men stand up, one holding a blaster pistol, the other two drawing vibroblades and lunging at each of the stormtroopers. The one with the blaster pistol begins aiming his weapon at the two stormtroopers by the door.
Initiative
Jarl Tenhos
Jace Concorkill
Jeren Vallin
NT-2B
Thugs
Stormtroopers
Vessani
Daaneth
Cloaked Man
Surprise Round
Thumbing on their vibroblades, the thugs dive toward the two stormtroopers, striking at them. Though one barely misses, the other strikes true, slashing the troopers's arm a deep blow.
The cloaked man's hastily fired attack goes wide of the two troopers by the door as he shouts, "Kill the Imps and let's get out of here!"
Begin Round 1
Jarl grabs both Fialla and NT-2B and pulls them both underneath the table so he, and they are out of the crossfire of the fight.
"Don't worry not2bee, I don't think these Imps are here for us!"
I have stayed out their way and they mine for a while now, no need to go ruffling any feathers, at least not unless I am getting paid to do it! Jarl thinks to himself as the fight breaks out around him.
|
|
Vessani, after registering the fact that, yes, three men in hoods can be complete idiots, and yes, a fight is now happening in the club, decided that discretion is the better part of not losing another appendage, especially the important one, and jumped behind the bar, still holding on to his drink. He looked beside him at the Sulistan bartender and quipped, "So, dinner AND a show! This place has all a modern man needs!" Finishing off his glass, he pulled out his slugthrower and peeked over the bar to scope the scene.
If this keeps up someone innocent is going to get hurt. Much as I love getting in the way of imps, Teeka is light years away and I don't have a ride off this station yet.
Daaneth moves into a flanking position behind the goons, hoping not to take a laser bolt in the back from the hooded guy. He activates the stun charge on his baton and takes a swing at his target.
The vurk will try to search his feelings with the Force.
As chaos breaks loose and the officer gets shot, Jeren quickly drops down behind his table as a bolt of blaster fire that did not find its target finds his cup of coffee instead, shattering it into pieces and spraying him with the hot beverage.
"Tsk." Drawing his sporting blaster pistol, he nevertheless does not join the fighting, not yet at least and not until he can get a better understanding of the situation. Still, it is not only his own well-being he cares about as he looks around for any of the patrons in danger of getting hit, fully intending to pull them alongside him and behind cover.
NT-2B allows himself to be dragged under the table by Jarl, thinking that it is very likely to be the safest place for both of them.
"This is suboptimal," he begins. "It is possible that they will issue warrants for everyone here. "Exigent circumstances"", He says, echoing Fialla's phrase from earlier. "It would be best if we did not linger."
As blaster bolts begin firing and patrons begin panicking, Jarl grabs Fialla and NT-2B, pulling them to the ground under the table with him. A veteran of war, he know what to do when the blaster bolts start firing. Reaching out to the Force for guidance, Jace gets the sense that his best course of action is to take cover. After all, using his lightsaber or the Force will only lead to trouble. Drawing his blaster, Jeren dives for cover as his mug of caf is hit by a stray bolt. As NT-2B speculates about the possibility of arrest, Fialla grins and says, "Not with me here. The Merchant's Council would have a fit, and they need us too much for that."
Pressing their attack, the two goons lash out at the Stormtroopers again, though both miss their mark.
Finally recovering from the suddenness of the attack, the two Stormtroopers back up and, with weapons spitting lethal bolts fire upon the thugs, land solid hits, although they appear to be quite tough. The two troopers by the door open fire upon the cloaked man, with one connecting, causing him to grab his shoulder in pain. Truly, the Stormtroopers are efficient in their lethal assault.
As Vessani leaps behind the bar and quips to the bartender, Daaneth moves to intervene and protect innocents.
As he moves into a flank, the thug swipes at the interloper, scoring a blow. But, Daaneth returns the favor, and the thug convulses from the stub charge, dropping the vibrio blade and himself to the ground.
Cursing and holding his arm awkwardly, the cloaked man runs from behind the table towards the casino area, where there appears to be a back door to the establishment. Gird nods approval of Jark throwing Fialla under the table and then steps between the table and the fighting as her protocol droid shouts, "Oh, my this is terrible! We'll be blown to bits for sure!"
Daaneth swings half-heartedly as the hooded man passes by. Mostly keeping up the show for the troopers now that he's not wildly shooting up the bat anymore.
Jarl's blaster stays in his holster for the moment he turns to Fialla, "Any idea who these guys they are after are?"
Daaneth takes another swing with his stun baton.
Sorry bud, gotta keep up appearences. He whispers under his breath.
|
|
As bolts are bolting and grunts of pain are grunted in pain, Vessani had a flashback to his first bar fight. Of course, it was more civilized than this, with more punches thrown that blasters fired, but his adrenaline was flowing then just as much as it was now. Peeking up once again to see where all the major players were stationed. Drawing a bead on the instigators, and hoping that the Imps wouldn't be too curious about his identity, he drew a bead on the hooded man and fired.
Not wanting to draw an additional attention to himself than is necessary, that is how he has survived as long as he has, the vurk will hide behind a table.
Although he cannot say what exactly the reason behind the shoot-out is, Jeren is certain of at least one thing, that thing being that both parties involved in it are idiots and dangerous ones at that, firing shots inside an almost full cantina and risking the patrons' lives and well-being in the process. "So much for law and order," he mutters to himself sarcastically.
Running through his options, he comes to the conclusion he has close to none. Supporting the troopers does not sit well with him, especially considering what the Empire has been responsible for since before its official formation. But lending aid to a trio of unknowns with swords and blasters simply because he does not like their enemy hardly seems like a wise course of action. Besides, firing his blaster, even at stun setting, in the middle of so many people and without having proper training is not exactly a good idea. That leaves the Force. 'No,' he mentally answers that particular question.
Low profile it is then.
As Jarl asks Fialla who they’re after, she frowns and says, ”I don’t know, but I do know that it’ll be easy for me to find out with Lt. Jhoil lying on the ground.” Looking at NT-2B, she says, ”You said you’re a medical droid, right? Once the shooting stops, go see if you can tend to his wounds. I can get information out of the stormtroopers.”
Jace and Jeren continue to keep themselves out of sight and harm’s way to ensure they continue to avoid the notice of the Empire. NT-2B remains in cover as he processes Fialla’s request. The remaining thug, sensing he’s in a bad place, throws down his vibroblade and raises his hands above his head. One of the two stormtroopers nearest him place him in restraints, as the two by the door survey the room looking for more trouble. The other turns and fires his blaster after the cloaked man.
The stormtrooper's shot flies wild, thankfully going high and hitting the wall instead of a civilian.
Vessani dives over the bar and fires his slugthrower at the fleeing cloaked figure, catching him in the leg and bringing him to the ground, his blaster skidding away from him. With both thugs subdued, Daaneth puts his stun baton away as the trooper arresting them says, begrudgingly, ”Thanks for your assistance.”
Jarl turns to Not2bee, "Hers is a very good idea, I will assist you". Still, his distaste for who he is helping is on his face.
Aid Another NT-2B - Treat Injury
NT-2B is pleased to help, and as soon as the firefighting dies down, he's at Lt. Jholl's side, surveying the damage to the man's abdomen and doing what he can to close the wound and restore the officer, at least enough to be able to stabilize him to get to a proper facility.
The wound on his abdomen is quite severe, and you would normally expect someone who had taken such a wound to have quickly expired. Surprisingly, he is still alive, and you are able to stabilize him enough for transfer to a bacta tank-equipped medical facility - so long as he doesn't have to go too far.
Walking up to one of the troopers, Fialla plants herself in his way and says, "No agreement with the Merchant's Council allows for having a firefight in a cantina. I demand that you tell me what this is regarding."
Considering her for a moment, the trooper, pointing at the cloaked man says, "This man is an escapee from Salora. We've been hunting him since we found out he might be on the station. As this is Imperial business, no notification was deemed necessary. Go about your business."
Just uh...doing my duty for the Empire!
Daaneth smiles a broad grin, knowing that most other humanoids find his mouth full of sharp teeth unsettling.
While the stormtroopers get yelled at by the female human , he heads over to the Zabrak who took the last goon down.
Nice shot! I almost believe you hit him on purpose, maybe they should have you train the bucket heads. My names Daaneth by the way. He smiles again, more genuine this time, then turns to the propieter of the bar. Hey Contri, put our drinks on their tab!
Whether she thought he meant to troopers or the thugs Daaneth really didn't care.
|
|
Vessani glanced at the Togruta that sat beside him before dismissing him out of hand. Right up until he congratulated him on his shot and offered a free drink. "To tell the truth, I was aiming for his shoulder, but I had already had a couple of drinks, so I guess my aim was a little off," Vessani admitted, gulping down what was left of his drink. "Ah well, if I had shot him in the head I probably would have gotten carted away for murder or something knowing my luck." Vessani absently scratched at his shoulder where his cybernetic arm was attached. "So, name's Vessani, stranger. What do I call the man getting me a free drink?"
he vurk thinks to himself, Allying with the Empire? Really? Or playing both ends against the middle?
Holstering his pistol, Jeren breathes a sigh of relief. Not only did it all end relatively well, but he also did not have to tip his hand, so to speak, to help the situation along. Standing up from behind his table that he used for cover, he dusts himself off and moves to join the Togruta and the Zabrak, the two people that actually did something to end this whole fuss just a little sooner.
"Greetings," he says with a smile, "and thank you, I suppose. Things could have gotten ugly." He pauses and shrugs. "Well, uglier, and considerably so."
Taking a look back at the table he had been sitting so far, he sighs and turns to the bartender. "Well, there goes my cup of caf. And it was almost full too. Could I trouble you for a fresh one?"
Contri brings your drinks with a smile, and a nod of thanks for Daaneth and Vessani. "Your intervention was timely. I don't think those troopers would have cared about how much damage was done to my bar. As it is, I'll have to plaster up a couple of blaster burns."
You notice that the bar seems to resuming a sense of normalcy. Both of the thugs are in cuffs, and an Imperial medical team has arrived to transport the injured officer back to the Imperial section of the station. The cloaked man, his leg bleeding, glares in Vessani's direction and says, "You'll regret interfering in this. I won't forget it. Judgement is coming." The stormtroopers exit the bar, dragging the unconscious prisoner behind them and half-supporting the cloaked man.
Fialla walks over to Jarl and NT-2B and says, "Well, that's the best I'll do for information out of them. Still, it's something, and I'll look for more while you're working for me. Assuming you still want the job, of course?"