A New Ho- Cargo (Open to all!)

[vass Prong]

Nar Shaddaa.
Back again.

Vass Prong hadn't been there for a while, but now it was the best spot to make a profit. It felt a bit like home. It was completely different from his actual home planet of Ojom, but nontheless, there was a certain familiarity with the place.

He had picked up a bad deal back on Balmorra. Weapon parts of which he now knew for certain where a misproduced batch. It was already hinted by the eagerness to sell of the Toidarian when Vass drove a diliberately hard bargain. It was hinted even more by the presence of three armed Falleen at the deal. Backing up simply wasn't an option.

Now Vass was stuck with a cargo that was virtually worth its scrap price, but he figured some of the geniusses on Nar Shaddaa could work with the parts. The thought of selling them as if they were the genuine thing crossed his mind, but Vass just wasn't the kind of Besalisk to do such a thing. Besides; he had a reputation to maintain, selling flawed cargo wasn't going to help that.

Short on credits for a real cargo of his own and thus forced to take one from a shipping company, or the less legal versions of those. He briefly calculated how many 'regular' cargo's he would have to take before he could get to independent work again, and it just didn't suit him. A less legal cargo would be more his style, and he knew a place where to get it.

So there he was, on a sidewalk of Nar Shaddaa, the crowd bustling around him, traffic screaming by and over, standing in front of the holo-projection of the brawling ring that the cantina had inside. 'The Brawl' the place was called.

Vass let out a heavy sigh, filling the air in front of him with the smoke of his cigar. He simultaniously flicked the butt of the cigar away, scratched his head, and one was checking the heavy blaster-pistol on his right hip.

"Time to get myself a cargo, here's to hoping it won't cost me more then I am willing to give."

and he took a quick sip of his canteen with his final hand, moving through the crowd towards the entrance.

((Feel Free to step in, even if you don't want to sell a cargo, don't need to be smuggled, are just there partaking in the brawling ring, are just there selling deathsticks, buying drinks, playing pazaak, THEFORCEKNOWSWHAT)

[Apillis]

After a long bout of wandering and scouting uncharted space for the Mythics, Averia had returned to Aiaru to further her studying in the Mythics unique methods of Force manipulation, more specifically Levinkinesis. But her time there was temporary as always, not simply for the fact she worked as a scout among the Battle Mythics, but for what she truly was, which in turn lead her to feel of having had to fulfill other obligations elsewhere in the great void aside from the pull of wanderlust.

However, not everything works out so simply...

They say the Force works in mysterious ways, which to Averia was merely a pretentious way of saying they do not have a frakking clue for the hell is going on at the time. This was one of those moments for Averia, in spite of her keen perceptions, sometimes they just do not do a damn thing for a person. While slumbering in her scout ship, it was ambushed by a slaver vessel, captured and filled with potent knock out gas. Regardless of her attempts to escape upon being attacked, it was the toxic gas that did her in. Though through what the 'Jedi trance', as if the Jedi had a monopoly on all Force techniques, through the use of Force Body she was able to wake from the effects of the gas much quicker than most other sentient beings could. Albeit, it was not quick enough to wake from already having heavy shackles on her wrists and being locked within a force cage.

Which this eventually landed her on Nar Shaddaa, being sold to a bloated hutt named Leno with an over-size double-chin, even a hutt. He fancied himself something of a nightly show host on Nar Shaddaa over the holonet, showing varying bouts and battles between fighters and/or slaves against monsters, or even at times all at once in a battle royal, though the latter tended only be on pay-per-view. Nevertheless, there she was standing within Leno the Hutt's grandiose gladiatorial arena with holonet cameras all on her, her wrists still shackled. She was even on the Promenade's gargantuan monitor screens for public viewing. Averia noticed herself on just the surrounding arena's large monitors for the stadium audience as holonet cameras zoomed in on her visage. The Warden's cerulean gaze narrowed a little in irritation with a slight sneer.

It was only but a moment later she could feel the ground under her rumble and tremble ever so slightly. With a small sigh she could predict what was coming, and Leno the Hutt's high-pitched prideful giggling only confirmed her suspicions before she even saw what was about to enter the arena with her. With primal roars and heavy lumbering steps, it was a rancor that entered the arena. It was not even so much that she had been captured and sold off to a fat, stupid hutt to be tossed into an area for his amusement and Nar Shaddaa's viewing public, but the fact the situation was just so frakking cliche--it annoyed the hell out of Averia to no end.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, she then grumbled in a deadpan tone, "...Right."

[vass Prong]

Vass was just making his way through the crowd, two hands reserved for drinks, the other two for keeping them save from the multitude of beings present. He witnessed the preview of the battle to come and the announcement of the Rancor caught his eye. Raising his eyebrow slightly.

“Poor sucker that drew that short straw.”

Coming up on the upper viewing ring, A slightly sloped floor with a railing to keep people from tumbling in (a couple of warning signs on the railing said the Bar nor Arena would be accountable for any accidents), he saw who drew the short straw. A pulchritudinous lass with a pale complexion, still bound against a Rancor!

Vass nudged one of the fellow onlookers, a Trandoshan:

“She only meant to be food? What did she do?”

The Trandoshan lifted up his shoulders in a shrug replying in the eerie voice:

“I don’t know, I reckon it’s just an appatizer”

And while the Trandoshan fixed on the arena again with a toothy grin, Vass just shook his head, downing the first of his two drinks.

[lion]

"Hey, irrespectful of the why-reason, should be fun." Piped up a voice from the general din of the bar, the mingling raised-voices of the Brawl's forming an auditory fog that the mystery high-tone just barely managed to squeak through. Perched atop an old, rusted-out T1 series droid, using the flat of its head as something of a perch to sit upon; a blue furred rodent offered an idle smirk; tapping his right ankle against the servomotor housing as the droid wheeled forward.

It wasn't the first time Rex had frequented The Brawl; the promise of liquor and entertainment was always had to pass up on the Hutt's Moon. After all, with a good day's trading done, there were credits to burn and few places better to whet one's whistle and lighten one's pockets than an arena that served liquor. The fact it was in semi-clean glasses, no less, only furthered the appeal; the Brawl was one of the most hygienic establishments on the city-moon, even with the blood-and-guts visceral showcases put on in the combat floor below.

"Not get show-display like this in Republicness-space, you bet." Continued Rex, smirking all the wider as the Squib, twiddling his fingers against the neck of a bottle of Correllian whiskey, shifted closer to the end of his droid's head, eager for a view. Oh, now that was a pretty human as far as the tall-people went, though why she was tied up against a Rancor was beyond the Squib's comprehension. Safety, probably; wouldn't want the beast to wind up injured, after all. "Big slimy slug-Hutts not do much, but put on show? they do good."

[Rugs]

It’d been a while since Tsubasa visited Nar Shaddaa.

As far as the Matukai was concerned, it hadn’t been nearly long enough. A few months? A year, perhaps; the exact date of his last visit was a hazy blur somewhere in the back of his mind, lost among memories of his ever-shifting surroundings as he drifted from one far corner of the Galaxy to the other.

Yet, no matter how hard he tried, Nar Shaddaa was always there; always returning like the drunk old friend that had a penchant for showing up at the worst possible time with the worst possible ideas for misadventure. Inwardly, some part of the Matukai’s soul probably craved the grimy, crime-riddled world despite his constant self-promises that he’d never go back again.

Especially after getting stranded on it all those years ago.

“But here I am anyway,” he muttered to himself. He wandered now through a dark, poorly lit and hardly clean tunnel beneath The Brawl’s arena. He’d come to fight a few rounds — a guilty pleasure, even if he told himself it was just to pick up a few extra credits while he was stopping through. At least he fought in the non-lethal rounds. The worst he’d done was introduce his foot to the wrong side of an overzealous Sephi’s elbow when the idiot wouldn’t accept that the fight was over.

Shame. He wasn’t half-bad looking.

But a few rounds to shake the combat cobwebs off, a more credits in his pocket, and life was good. He’d already loaded most of his gear back onto The Vagabond, save his wan-shen, which was collapsed neatly at his side. He wore a sky blue sleeveless shirt and some smoke-grey pants that fanned down the leg out to hide his shoes.

“Where else would you be, Tsubasa?” asked Ifrit, his draconic droid companion who currently perched on Tsu’s shoulder.

“Nothing, Ifrit,” Tsu said with a sigh. “Just a figure of speech.” One day, the droid would grasp idioms. One day.

Hopefully before Tsubasa was dead.

He bounded up a short flight of stairs and through swinging set of double doors into the crowded seating around the arena. The crowd noise washed over him like a wave, and the sudden proximity to so many people beat against his senses before he quieted the noise out.

Tsu didn’t plan to stay too long; he didn’t particularly care for the fights to the death that were sure to follow as the evening progressed. But he didn’t mind a chance to relax and catch a bit of action before he headed back to his ship.

"Big slimy slug-Hutts not do much, but put on show? they do good."

He heard a treble voice squeal over the audience. A Squib, he determined, as he followed the sound to his blue-furred source. Don’t see those every day.

As fate would have it, a place was open near the furry little creature, and not too far from a Besalisk. Tsubasa wandered over, glancing into the arena. A woman with electric pink hair waited below, facing off against a Rancor.

Tsubas thought he could sense the Foce in her, but it was so hard to tell in such a crowded venue…

“Starting the rancor fights already, eh?” he muttered. “Not wasting any time tonight.”

[lion]

There was no getting away from it; as soon as the foreign voice spoke out, as soon as the melodious tones of metallic buzzing and humming of droid activity hit the Squib's sensitive ears did Rex find himself met with a gift from the heavens. The most koovy object he had yet to lay eyes on, better than the old laser-scorched command couch from that Republic starfighter, or the shiny bottlecap he'd found in a trash-heap that now adorned his ship's comms unit; these successes of great luck and salvage-ness failed to compare to what his golden eyes took in.

A droid, that looked like a lizard, that talked and flew, all on its own. Possibilities whirred through the azure rodent's mind as if speeding through hyperspace; not even the value of merely the parts of such a fine, miniaturised droid but the whole realm of possibilities such a small machine could bring to the table. 

"Mostest welcomes, armor-human; how did you find that droid?" Started Rex, the squeaky-voiced Squib's voice accelerated to an excited pace as if to out and out telegraph his excitement. To hell with the fight between bound girl and Rancor, which a subtle if not-so-polite tap to his droid's visor would be recorded, this was worth his attention. "Rex looking for a droid-machine similar to this one; you perhaps interested make-trade, yes?"

[Apillis]

The rancor lumbered toward her, drool dripping from between the gaps of its immense fangs of its wide maw. Averia took a few steps backward in reaction to the enormity of the creature. She had killed monsters before--but this was a bit different, not so much do to the size of the creature, but she was armed and her movements not limited by an arena. She took a few side-steps to her right while keeping her eyes fixated on the rancor, and it watched her carefully as if ready to strike should she try to run.

Her eyes narrowed slightly seeing how well it followed that simple movement of hers. It was actions she took a few more times, watching it eye her, testing how closely and intently it followed her. And it was as she concerned, the creature had not been starved--they seemed to have fed it at least enough to keep its wits about it, yet still be hungry enough to want to feast on anything they tossed into the arena with it.

There was little recourse she could take in her mind, and that was to outright fight the beast until she could find some means to kill it. Perhaps amid the torn about corpses and bones of the victims she could find something, but for the moment--she needed to create an opening. Make the beast commit itself to an action she could counter-strike. The answer seemed clear at that point to her.

Averia begun making sudden movements as though she were about to charge right at the beast, which ignited its prey drive causing it to lumber toward her more and more. Abruptly she seemed as though she was about to sprint right at the creature, with a roar the rancor slammed its left clawed hand down at her like cat attempting to pin a mouse with its clawed paw. But its short claw just narrowly missed Averia as she moved at a blurring pace to her right side in a side-stepping leap backward. But before the beast could raise its hand off of the dirt arena floor, Averia putting the strength of the Force behind an axe-kick striking as swiftly and hard as she could--with a loud, echoing crack snapped its claw in two.

The monster reeled back in agony and roared in primal rage and pain. The stump at the end of its small finger where a ragged claw had been begun running and dripping with the beast's blood. The crowd went silent with this unexpected turn of events--the silence only broken by the beast's roars of pain and anger. The cameras focused on the determined cerulean gaze of Averia staring the beast down as a faint smile grew on her angular visage.

[vass Prong]

Vass Prong had clasped the railing of the spectator platform with his lower two hands when the girl started charging for the rancor, his drinks kept steady in his upper two hands. On his way to the spot he had spared a glance for an odd draconic droid fluttering around, smiling inwardly as he saw a squib worked up over the thing. The fight had Vass’s interest now though, he had held off a sip of his drink to see what the girl was up to and his hands clenched the railing when the bound girl managed to draw blood. He shared in the silence of the crowd, only to lead it’s eruption into thunderous applause and cheering with his bottom two hands.

“Now we know why the girl is bound, she got spirit!”