Pub crawl!

[CaptainBonkers]

The Drunken Rancorn was a good place to start the evening. It was slightly off the beaten path but still well known inside certain circles which ensured a lively clientele, though the place usually didn’t really lit up until later in the night. Still, despite the place being about half full the air was filled with the mixture of very loud conversations and music that was apparently kind of popular at the moment. Jayec couldn’t say he was too into it but it served its purpose as background noise for bar. He didn’t come to these places to listen to music anyways. He came for the cheap booze and good company and the grill at the place wasn’t too bad either but their price/quality ratio was way off unless you were deep in your cups. Really deep. Then again at that point of inebriation you really didn’t care what stuff cost. You wanted something, you bought it (or took it by gunpoint) and regretted it at the morning along with the pounding hangover.

Now was not the time to worry about hangovers or drunken mistakes. They were tomorrow’s Jayec’s worry and screw that guy. He was a dick anyway. Today’s Jayec was more interested in getting thoroughly plastered with people he really enjoyed having around and/or trusted not to immediately roll him once he got too drunk to stand on his own two feet. Of course the bar for who counted as friend in his business was fairly low. Anyone who did you the courtesy of giving you a heads up that they had accepted a hit on you counted as a friend in these circles.

Anyways, this evening of R&R was something that they all needed after all the crap they had been through recently. Urban combat for breakfast, a crashing and burning party on a sinking float and acting out the plot of a B-holo horror movie on a space-station. They had had a busy few months alright. Hopefully this evening would allow the lot of them to unwind a little. Or a lot, if things proceeded as planned; Jayec personally intended to have a fun night out on the town, drink and be merry and possibly get in a fight or two. Basically just have good time.

Most of the people were already there, either occupying the bar or dispersed among the tables and private lodges. Some had even stepped one the dance floor. Mostly younger members of his outfit. Jayec shook his head at them and smiled. It was good to see the youngsters having fun. He himself needed a couple of more stiff ones in his system before he could step on the dance floor himself. By that point he was usually enough past the point of caring that he looked like someone having a seizure or trying to start a fight. That was the one problem growing up Mandalorian; the only moves you learned were Mandalorian and Mando dancing had been described as ‘sparring to a music’ or worse.

He had left his armor home for tonight, mostly because he didn’t feel like having to look after his helmet for the whole night. Also because he didn’t want the others trying to play with his helmet’s emergency induction port once they got drunk enough. It might have been designed to withstand combat and hostile environment but Jayec wasn’t sure it could survive drunk Ylva. That woman could be quite the handful once she got her drink on. And if he left his helmet home, he might as well leave the rest of the armor there. Instead he had donned a simple jacket made out of Krayt leather and other more civilian type of clothing, though he still looked more like a merc than a civilian sitting at the bar and waiting for rest of his buddies to arrive so they could get the evening started.

[Meira]

Thunk.

"What the hell, man?!"

Farla shrugged, but the smile on his face belied his self satisfaction. "Three out of five?" he asked, laying the mock innocence in his voice on thick. Ylva gave a gesture with her hand to show what she thought of that idea and forked over the credits she'd already lost to him.

"Damn shark." she said, trying to seem angry but unable to keep the chuckle out of her words. He'd played her good. No sense in crying about it. Downing the last of her beer, Ylva left Farla to find his next darts victim and turned back toward the bar.

The Drunken Rancor was not one of her most frequented drinking spots, but Ylva enjoyed variety and so she sometimes came into the place. It did have that nice balance of casual atmosphere with quality booze, if a bit expensive, that was sometimes hard to get just right. She didn't have to worry about dressing up, nor did she feel like she had to get tested after using the refresher. In any case, it was a good pick as a starting point for the night.

"Another?" the bartender asked as she leaned onto the surface. Ylva nodded and watched as the Devaronian filled her glass from the tap and then slid it across the counter toward her. Having a tab open, the interaction ended there. Ylva liked that. Nothing worse than a chatty bartender. Lifting the glass, Ylva drank as she surveyed the scene. Many of the Blind Eye's people were already present, drinking, dancing, swindling unsuspecting victims out of credits... It would be a good night, Ylva was sure of that. Some of her boys were here, though not all. Remy, bless him, had volunteered to stay back home and come pick anyone up when they'd had too much. Off the clock as they were, Simone and Tomasso were not wearing the trademark black shorts of the Jolly Janitors uniform, but had still managed to squeeze themselves into equally tight -if longer- pants. Ylva smiled to herself as she watched the boys bicker over the jukebox. Adrien had already found a girl to dance with and had been spinning her around the dance floor for the past three songs straight.

Movement at the door caught Ylva's eye. She wasn't sure why, but Ylva had half expected Jayec to show up in his armor this evening, if he showed up at all. It wasn't that she didn't believe he could let loose. It was just that she so rarely interacted with him when he wasn't "on the job" that she still had some trouble imagining Jayec as anything but in control. With a grin, Ylva downed the last of her beer and rapped it on the bar a couple of times to get the Devaronian's attention.

"Get this man caught up!" she said.

---

Ylva's drink count: 2 Beers

first drink: 1d20+7= 11, vs. 5-3+1=3 I WIN
second drink: 1d20+7=19 vs. 5-3+2=4 still winning

[Neology]

Lidah Faine did not, in general, go out to drink. The Blind Eye was well stocked with any sort of libation that she might care to indulge in – and her own loyal security people besides. But power was a balancing act and loyalty itself much more complex than a simple transaction, credits paid for services rendered. Leaving her fortress after all that had happened lately sent a useful message. Here I am, untouchable as ever. I am not afraid of the Hutts or the Black Sun. She supposed that might even be true, in a way. Her nightmares were more specific, informed by years among the Sith. Greed, at least, made sense. She had never been to the Drunken Rancor before and probably never would again. The atmosphere was strange, a glossy market-tested veneer that was slightly out of place on the Smuggler’s Moon and becoming more and more surreal by the moment. Jolly Janitors and mandalorian mercenaries were starting to fill the place up, people she knew but not well and definitely not in this context. It was weird. There was no agenda, no script for the next few hours. Just … Try to have fun. With her friends. Who all worked for her. Riiight. That doesn’t help. Lidah waved half halfheartedly at Ms. Vuk and ordered a drink at the bar. Old Kaasian Proper, an Imperial stout. Lidah grimaced at the pun. The Sith caricature on the label grimaced back.

[Fromikeable]

Vance looked just about as tired as he felt. Hunched over a bar stool with his head propped on his elbows, he rubbed gently at the bags under his eyes. Sleep was a fond memory, replaced at every turn by work, research, and management. What time had he gotten to bed last night? Had he even? He honestly couldn't remember, though he was pretty sure he'd just fallen asleep in Hertz's office answering calls.

The man had woken him with a mug of hot chocolate and a fresh set of reports. Force bless him.

There was just so much to do. Between the Hutts' assault on the Blind Eye, their trap at the space station, and now the Black Suns assault on the Blind Auction, the token stability of Nar Shaddaa was shaky at best. The obvious problem was simple; the Black Suns were trying to muscle in, and the Hutts were trying to push everyone else out. They would no doubt be fighting each other, sure, but that still put the Exchange in a vice between them. Over very little time, they'd gone from semi-peaceful coexistence to cold war-esque tension.

Now it was just a question of seeing who had the balls to pull the trigger.

Vance knew that it wasn't going to be them, and so he'd begun to prepare. With the help of Hertz, every Exchange boss on the moon had fortified. Gone were the crappiest of security systems, loosest of operations, and sketchiest of clientele. In were new protocols, new guns, new training, new organizations. No one was truly a lone wolf any more; everyone sent a report in once a week. If a business went dark, they knew. If someone spotted anyone not flying Exchange colors in their neighborhood, they knew. If there was a whiff on the wind, even just a weak one, someone was waiting with a bottle and a cork to send it on up the chain.

That had all been happening before, of course, but not with the rigor Vance had managed to refine it down to now.

But Force about, had it taken some work.

So there he slumped, sipping his ale as numbers and to-do lists ran amok in his head. Biting his tongue in a bid to quiet them all, he watched as Jayec appeared without armor. Fascinated to see him for what must have been only the second or third time in the flesh, Vance looked him up and down as the Janitors and Mandalorians cheered, Ylva demanding that he catch up.

He huffed a small smile, offering up his ale in a small toast toward them both.

Turning his head the other way, he looked to Lidah. Honestly, he was surprised she'd come; if he was averse to parties, then she was downright allergic. The same could be said of his thinking; what did the Compeer have to deal with mentally in the face of brinksmanship like this?

"To your health." Offering an apologetic smile, he offered up his bottle for a small cheer. It felt like the least he could do, despite all the work.

[Rugs]

The Titled Twi’lek. No, that’s not it. The Raging Ranger. Good, but no. The Incandescent Ithorian. The Tipsy Tib. What’s with all the alliteration here?

The Drunken Rancor.

“Finally,” Locke said as he spotted the gathering place for the evening. Well, part of the evening. He sauntered in through the doors with the confidence of a man who wasn’t late to the party and took the scene in. The bar was nice. Seemed like a place that’d charge enough to keep the worst folks out, without slipping into the territory that only the rich and famous could afford.

Not that the Blind Eye couldn’t rent the whole damn place out for the night if it wanted. Locke strolled by the dance floor, where some Jolly Janitors and mercs fro Jayec’s crew were already starting to strut their stuff, on the way to the bar itself. He offered a warm hello and wave to Jayec and Ylva and settled in by Lidah, just as Vance was finishing a toast.

“To the magnificent Lidah Faine,” he said, holding up a cupped hand as if raising a glass. He grinned broadly at her. “And to her magnificent crew, one late spacer notwithstanding.”

[CaptainBonkers]

”I'll drink to that!" Jayec bellowed in reply to Ylva sweeping in and signaled the bartender. ”A round of shots to everyone and Correlian whiskey for me! Neat. Oh, and make those shots double for me. I ain’t here for the ambiance, after all.”

A loud cheer filled the air as the patrons swarmed the bar seeking their free shot. The Devaronian manning the bar got to work on the drinks with less than excited expression on his face. He began with Jayec’s order, picking a bottle of Correlian whiskey off the shelf behind him and poured a good three fingers into a glass. The bartender then returned the bottle on its place on the shelf and retrieved another one, filled with clear and greenish, and filled two shot glasses.

The horn-headed alien delivered Jayec’s drinks promptly and then got to work setting up and filling the several shot glasses for the others, grumbling to himself. The Mandalorian downed the two shots in quick succession. The alcohol burned nicely on its way down his throat though the taste itself was nothing to write home about. He wasn’t even 100% sure what he had just drank. Maybe Kuati spirits but who gave a crap. It was booze and not too expensive.

As soon as he had slammed the second shot down his throat, he got to work with the whiskey, though with it Jayec took his time. It was too good of a stuff to not enjoy. Them flyboys over at Correlia might have been a bunch of cocky morons but they did make good alcohol. And decent ships, though their obsession over engine power was kind of strange (if you asked Jayec firepower was what counted). Their DUI numbers had to be through the damn roof.

“That’s some good stuff.” he said grinning, after enjoying his first sip. “Enjoying yourself so far, Wolfie?”

---

Drunk score: 3 (7 next round) DC below 8, automatic success