A corner table at the Ol' Dullahan {Open to All!}

[10Tickler]

Haunting music floated through the air, thick with T'bac smoke and the acrid scent of Sweaty Warriors. Crinkling her nose at the odors, a lithe form slid through the crowds of Multiracial warriors and headed towards what was possibly her favorite spot in the Galaxy... The corner Table. The Ol' Dullahan had always been a nice place to go to relax, and now that she had been assigned to Train the Probies, she needed the help of alcohol more and more to relax each evening.

Pressing her order into the Table's controls, she Set the appropriate amount of Credits to Keep her drinks coming for three rounds before her beverage of choice rose from the hole in the center of the table. The smell rising from the Mixed concoction's rim was Sweet, yet at the same time Spicy, licking her lips softly, Celke Tarria reached forward and lifted the Glass to her nose, inhaling the fumes.

Made with Sullustan gin, Old Janx Spirit, and spicebrew, the Sonic Servodriver was a potent brew that was dry-tasting and seemed to explode with flavor in the mouth, and indeed it did as it passed over the Mandalorian Woman's lips and onto her tongue.

Having removed her armor before leaving her Small apartment, Celke was, perhaps, the oddest Mandalorian in this packed club, full of the Warrior people. She was barely over five foot tall, her cerulean eyes piercing and soulful at first glance. A shock of Out-of-control, black hair topped her head, going in all directions almost as though she had gone through a tornado and it had permanently mussed her hair into a tousled, insane look.

The clothes that she wore were non-assuming, rather plain even, as her baggy, white pants made no effort to display her bum to anyone, and the overshirt that she wore covered her bust almost completely.

Another Oddity about Celke was the fact that she wore no visible weapons on her, even in a Rough and Tumble establishment such as this. Yet, the Locals knew better then to Try and make a pass at her, having witnessed one of their own rushed out with a shattered wrist and dislocated arm. And that had merely been for a fingertip brush against her arm.

Downing the rest of her drink, Celke smiled and sat back, having set the empty glass down on the Table.

Who knows, maybe someone interesting will come in today she thought to herself as her second drink rose from the table's Central section

[Tanis]

Each step was agony for the wound in his leg, and each breath felt as if it would be his last for the broken ribs and blaster wounds which had scorched holes in his armor in the firefight above the skies of Concodr Dawn. Jaerikk strode into The Ol' Dullahan, walking as tall as he could: His blue armor was blackened where the blaster bolts had nearly taken his life, and his helmet was cradled in one arm. The lightning bolt tattoos on his face and neck stood out against his skin and his limp was very apparent. The badly wounded and barely alive Mandalorian stopped at the bar and set his helmet down.

His hand brushed the handle of his pistol, tucked away in the holster on his right hip as he reached for his credstick. Having sold the old wreckage of Sojourn, that old freighter which had been the only thing he had resembling a home, and which had played as macabre coffin to the remains of his family. He slammed it on the bar and looked at the barkeep.

"One of your hardest and I want the real hard stuff." He said evenly."

Jaerikk turned around and leaned back on the bar. He grimaced a but as one of the ribs poked one of his organs, but shook it off. He had time for a drink, and then there was work to be done. He waited while the bartender began mixing up all manner of powerful liquors in a bottle. He scanned the crowd looking for anyone who had the look of someone who might help him.

If only this planet had any members of his Clan, but all of them resided on Roon, and that planet was far too distant. He didn't have the time to get over there to find help. What he needed was a hand here, and now. That, and a ship, but the local yard had some choice budget models Jaerikk could afford. Ships later. Drinking and partners now. He turned around as the drink was set down in front of him.

[10Tickler]

Leaning back and narrowing her eyes as she sipped from her second drink, Celke whistled softly to herself when the man hobbled into the bar. Looks like you've been through the Wringer, the strainer and the Grater she said to him, popping her neck and using a Foot to kick a seat at the table she had sat at to the side. Care to sit and speak? Or are you gonna brood and Cry? she asked him, crossing her legs and yawning as she stretched out slightly, sitting forward from the Shadows and revealing a form to match the voice.

Five foot, three-quarters of an inch tall, Busty and a Spitfire, Celke was a small package indeed. But as it is often said, Great things come in small packages, and the offer to sit with her was rare enough. Hopefully this Offworlder would take her up on it, rather then risk offending her.

[Tanis]

Jaerikk turned his head and looked at Celke. His red tattoos stood out against his skin and had the expression of a man with a mission.

"I'm here for a drink, and then I'm heading off to kill some pirates. They hit me before I reached atmo of the planet and ransacked my ship, murdering my family and almost taking me with them. Now if drinking to their memory is brooding and crying, then by all means, I am brooding and crying."

Jaerikk was rather terse, but then again, he was getting anxious for a crew. He had already posted his request on the holonet and had squared away his new ship, Astral Fury away for launch, he was just waiting on at least one to take up his offer for the job. He was a Mandalorian, and didn't particularly mind if this woman was just that, small and female, she looked like she could handle herself in battle. Maybe.

Jaerikk went back to his cup and finished it with a gulp, groaning as the burning liquid coursed down his throat and into his stomach. He turned to Celke and walked over to the seat she had offered him, and took it, sitting down carefully. He was a tall man, and well built, his Neo-Crusader armor creaking and cracking as he walked over and sat across from her. He put his arms on the table.

"What is it you want to talk about?"

[10Tickler]

Well, Obviously not about any of your personal, Depressing Topics, Or any of my Work woes, because obviously, you win there too she said, sighing and sitting back once more, propping her feet up on the table's edge. You play Sabacc at all?

[Tanis]

Jaerikk finally leans back in his chair dropping one arm below the table. He shakes his head, dark hair following the movements of his head.

"No. I don't play many games because I have little time for them."

Jaerikk sighs.

"My idea of fun is exploring and killing pirates."

[10Tickler]

Ah yes, Of course, Death and Chaos, Calamity and Destruction...the meat and Potatoes of Personal Vendettas Sipping from her final Drink, taking it slower now that she had a nice Buzz going, Celke kept her sharp, Cerulean eyes on the male.

While some would comment on the Oddity of her lack of Armor, she just wasn't wearing it at the moment, didn't feel the need to.

That was just how the Femme Fatal was.


You do know what they say, right? she asked him, raising an eyebrow and popping her neck, the small insignia at her collar pressing against the skin of her cheek.



Without waiting for an answer, she spoke again.

Before you set out Revenge, Dig Two Graves... One for your Enemies, one for yourself.

[Tanis]

Jaerikk sat back against the seat and pulled a t'bac cigar out of a pouch at his belt. He shoved one end into his mouth and light it with a rather fancy lighter for a Mandalorian, before exhaling a bit of the smoke over the table. He then leaned forward and placed one hand on the table.

"You talk a lot for someone with nothing to say. If lecturing me on how I intend to spend my life is all you have, I have ammunition to buy and a crew to find. I'll worry about digging graves when I have bodies to fill them with, and if my destiny is to die, then I welcome it with open arms. I am not afraid. Now if you will excuse me..."

Jaerikk stood and turned to leave.

[10Tickler]

Exhaling in order to blow the smoke that had crossed the table like an invasion, Celke sighed as the, rather understandably, angry, bitter man essentially told her to Shut the Hell up. As he stood and Turned, the petite Femme spoke again, probably against her better Judgment.

Your new ship...Can it Hold a Light interceptor?

She smirked as she awaited his response. She had just gotten the ship recently, and it had taken a huge chunk out of her Savings, however, she had grown rather attached to it, and wouldn't be leaving it behind to be ravaged for parts by some desperate recruit.

If so, You Can consider me hired for the low, low fee of some excitement. I'm Young and bored of teaching idiot brats how to kill bare-handed

[Tanis]

Jaerikk turned back to her, and over one shoulder, replied quite tersely.

"It cannot. No Light Freighter has room for an onboard fighter, so if you're coming, you're coming without it, or you're not coming. Frankly, I really don't care which, I'm leaving this rock in a few days and not coming back for a few months, so if you're coming, Bay 78 in the shipyards."

Jaerikk strode out of the bar and into the afternoon sun of Concord Dawn. He cracked his neck a moment before running a hand through his hair. He really wasn't any closer to a crew than he had been before, because he was quite sure that wisp of a woman would be uninterested in joining him on a pirate hunting expedition. He walked towards the shipyard, and the vessel which would be his new home.