A Fist Full of Credits [Canto Bight OPEN]

[The Master With No Name]

A FIST FULL OF CREDITS​

- CHAOS TALES FROM CANTO BIGHT -​

​

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LPBZ2LKd1D4​

​

CANTONICA​

DESERT OUTSIDE CANTO BIGHT​

​

A beat up and rusty YT-series freighter touched down in the desert wastes of Cantonica. The desert corporate world was a hot spot, particularly in just one, Canto Bight. The rest of the planet was a sun blasted rust coloured heath, but, Canto Bight had been transformed via corporate investments, big money, and greed into an artificial oasis. It was the play house of the rich and powerful of the galaxy. But, to the Old Master, it was his next target. Several hyperspace jump back he had come across some old hag. She had a scarf overhead, lines down her cheek and grey hair that clumped together in a sad braid. He had come across her during a stop by Tatooine. The old hag had been seated on a carpet with scrap and trinkets she sold as her wares. She had told him that she was selling what she could to pay for her daughter, Lileet, she called her. The old hag continued her yawn saying that they had been separated and slavers had sold her off to the race masters on Canto Bight. The Old Master had listened to her story, but, then again the old hag told anyone that passed by.

He was reminded of her final words. "I can offer you nothing but the wares I sell." He was in luck, his old YT needed a new transpasitor and she had it sitting on her rug. The Old Master pointed to it and offered a trade. He recalled her confused look. But, the deal was struck. Perhaps he could even nab some credit sticks while looking for the girl. Departing his freighter the Old Master removed the holo-curio that projected the young girls appearance. She was sweet, petite and with medium blonde hair. Closing the curio he returned to the small satchel that at on his belt. His cloths where old Jedi master beige robes tattered and riddled with holes. Over it all he wore a long brown worn poncho. His long gray beard and hair curled and cascaded over his shoulders and chest in a large mane. His cold blue eyes narrowed and glared at Canto Bight in the distance. With his DL-44 and lightsaber by his side he began to stroll across the sun baked dune.

Of course, the haughty and self-important patrons of Canto Bight wouldn't allow their security to let some drifter waltz his way in. Perhaps he could hitch a ride? Looking up, the Old Master watched the steady stream of low-atmo traffic stream in. Perhaps there was a freighter he could stow away in? Maybe even jump a ship and drop down. Who knew. What caught his eye however, was a sail barge flying not few meters off the sands. It was packed with Canto Bight revellers and some more less lavish workers, perhaps stock mean moving their wealthier employer's goods.

The Old Master's bushy moustache twitched upwards as his lips below cracked a grin. "That will do.", he said with a scratchy gruff low voice. Breaking into a full out sprint the old Jedi master summoned and pushed the Force down into his legs and exploded from a sprint to a Force powered charge. Shadowing the sail barge he waited until it passed by the summit of a tall dune. Racing up the side of the dune's shadow covered slope he leaped up and with a light Force blast below him he landed quietly atop the metal canopy of the sail barge. Holding on, he watched the oncoming Canto Bight skyline. He then lied low and waited.

"One roof more and I'm in." the old master plotted. Either nothing or a fist full of credits awaited him.




[member="Coren Starchaser"]

 

[Coren Starchaser]

The smuggler had made his trip to the world of Cantonica between helping push the agenda of the Galactic Alliance. He had made the trip to the far side of the Corporate Sector in the Tachyon Rising, his go-to YT-2000. That ship had been with him for so many decades that he knew ever sound it made. The joy of being Corellian, right? Sure, the ship had not landed as the Tachyon Rising, instead going by an alias of For the Supreme Leader. If he was going to be doing the job he thought he was? He wanted to sound like he was a loyal patron of the galaxy’s biggest fascist regime. It was… was, well, helpful. They were the ones who could send out kill teams.

Once he landed, however, he left his lightsaber with his droid, Porter, and was dressed down, casual smuggler style. His Power9 safely under his leather jacket as he stepped through the city. He had a meeting with a sail barge, and had paid to have some products moved off his ship. This was to get another few design people working on updating the Alliance fleet. The First Order, for all they were a pig-headed bunch, did make some decent starships. And the Alliance was using an aging fleet. Time to fix that.

He tossed a credit chip to the host and nodded, stepping into the casino. An electro swing music was playing, a bit loud, but still, better than Jizz. That music just got… everywhere. But for now? It was a matter of finding the table that was hottest, and waiting until someone noticed him. He looked to Porter and nodded. “See what you can find out. But stay close.” He may need his lightsaber, but for now? A hand or seven of sabbacc? That was a good idea. He grinned as he sat down at the table, tossing some chips down, waiting for the next hand.

[member="The Master With No Name"]

 

[Shia Kryze]

"I'll raise."

No one wanted to look at the half-Rattataki Bounty Hunter - at least, everyone hoped she was a Bounty Hunter, and not one of those fanatical Empire lunatics - as she lounged back against her chair, took yet another glass (her eighth?) from one of the waitresses and pushed a not inconsiderable pile of credits across the table.

After all, she looked like the sort of woman who'd make things go south very rapidly if she lost the hand. From her obviously naturally bald scalp down to the narc-stick she was ostentatiously smoking.

Which was why you should never judge a book by it's cover, or a Mando'ade by her beskar'gam and relaxed smile. For Shia was in fact 'one of those fanatics' (well, she was a member of the Empire - and a fanatical follower of the Supercommando Codex, which wasn't quite what most people meant) and she was about as likely to draw down on a loosing hand as she was to drink while gambling. The fancy cocktails were all alcohol free. The narc-stick was real, but to her rattataki physiology it was no stronger than a really strong beer, and not terribly dangerous long term. She was however, having a genuinely good time for the first time in... several months. She'd very badly needed to get off of Mandalore, away from it's people and away from the culture that was tearing itself apart, before she did something everyone would regret. Too many people had done that already.

So why not go to Canto Bight, the hottest (literally and figuratively) place to relax in several light years? And as far from home as she could get. Sure, the place stank of Hutt and Corporate money, but a girl can't have everything in her holiday resort of choice.

Maybe the cute blonde haired waitress who kept looking at her might come off shift soon? Maybe, just this once, a sentient she looked at with vague affection might not be a slave, hired killer, assassin or in one particularly memorable instance, a HRD assassin posing as a slave. Shia, it should be noted, was not lucky in love.

[member="Coren Starchaser"] | [member="The Master With No Name"]

 

[Ember Rekali]

In a semi-private room off the main floor, Ember set about making some operating capital. Sabacc had been his game as a young Dark Jedi, and Alec had insisted he keep it up. Something about delaying senescence by keeping the mind sharp.

A handful of other sentients, all nattily dressed, had played at this table tonight. Most had left their money with him. He was in no mood for fairness. Had the Mandalorian Empire played fair when they crushed all resistance on Dathomir, or ripped children from their homes across Manda'yaim? They didn't deserve fair. The rich and famous of Cantonica stood in handily.

He didn't cheat against the old man across from him, though. He wasn't sure what he owed [member="Ijaat Mereel"] - unqualified support, a fist to the jaw, or a shattergun to the parietal lobe - but not a bent game.

Something brown and oaky burned on its way down. Ember set the glass aside and reexamined his cards.

"So anyways, with the Clan locked up in the pyramids or hiding in the Hard Roil, I had to hire extra hands. Twenty retainers from an alien crime lord on Jakku - Vee Toa, he's called. Been training them up, and I suppose it's going well."

 

[D'vok Windroamer]

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XT72CgEJQNQ

D'vok stared into the abyss of his whiskey glass. The air around him felt heavy, despite the lively nature of the casino. Then it hit him.
The spice was kicking in.
His pupils widened. Or did they get smaller? He couldn't tell. all he knew is that everything was turning a lot more vibrant, and the rodian sitting next to him didn't have that many antennae a few minutes ago. He downed the rest of his whiskey, his cracked lips contorting into a wicked smile. He thanked the bar droid for the drink, slid a few credits over to it, and turned around, heading to a Sabaac table. The events of the past 24 hours flashed in his mind like lights in a rave.
Go to hotel.
Make the deal.
The dealer was some Chiss that smiled too much. D'vok looked around the table. two Ithorians conversed quietly, well as quietly as possible for Ithorians. An ewok with an eye patch. He didn't even want to know. A zabrak couple who couldn't keep their hands off each other. And a Rattaki girl. His brain pounded some more, the wisdom of his past self echoing like a gunshot in the woods.
Stay in your room.
Don't get high off your own supply.
Seriously. Even if he offers you some.
Don't.
Go to casino.
Make the deal.
Stay in your room.
He wiped the sweat from his brow. He tried to concentrate on making eye contact with the dealer but his eyes kept melting into one another. His skin wasn't blue anymore, it was technicolor, changing every few seconds.
"Can I help you sir?"
D'vok stifled a cough.
"Yes please. Deal me in the next hand."
He put a handful of what he hoped were credits onto the table. They grew legs and crawled away. He began sweating again.
Stay in your room.
Make the deal.
Don't be stupid, save your money.




Near:[member="Shia Kryze"]

 

[Tin'tinag]

Taggin around with the Jedi Order and the Commoner System Alliance had been fun while it lasted, but at the end of it all Tin'tinag just could not refuse the pull of the outer rim and her old life style. Sure not as fancy as that of a certified Jedi working for some big government but the feel of freedom, not rules tying you down or silly diplomatic restriction just made the life of a do gooder smuggler all the more alluring.

As such her new travels and dangerous adventures had lead the Twi'lek to Canto Bight, out of the way and a nice place to hang out after doing a job, nothing fancy but in her mind better then Tatooine, mainly due to the stupid Empire holding control of it these days, not a fun place to be anymore. Dressed in her usual smuggler/pilot attire, instead of her usual Jedi robes, the Ryothian Twi'lek casually strolled down the dusty streets of the outer rim planets, eyes scanning along the many stalls and flea marked shops for anything that may be of worth, as well as any useful parts for the ship.

[member="Ember Rekali"] l [member="Shia Kryze"] l [member="Coren Starchaser"] l [member="The Master With No Name"]

 

[The Master With No Name]

As the sail barge lofted over the outer buildings of Canto Bight, the Old Master used the Force once more to slide off the roof and land in a thud onto the round dome roofs of a few towers on the outer limits of the resort city. The city was a shining collage of white stone, lights, neon beacons, and chatter. The Old Master bent his beard into a frown. He preferred the quiet and charm of the middle of nowhere. Its why he hated the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, but, then again it had been 4 decades since he had set foot on that pile of steel they call a planet. Jumping down to a side street the Old Master appeared out of nowhere next to a bunch of dapper gamblers. Compared to their high end silk suits the Old Master appeared as a dirty drifter with his brown poncho waving like a disgusting bird. They stared at him and his obnoxiously large beard. The Old Master stared at them and their obnoxious clothing.

"Who the hell are you?" one gambler demanded, "Where did you come from?" The Old Master ignored the gamblers and instead grabbed one by his expensive collar and propped him forcefully against a stone wall. The gambler began to shout to cry but, the Old Master closed his mouth his rough hand. His skin rubbed like sand.

"I'm looking for the race masters." said the Old Master. "I'm going to remove my hand, should you let out one more of your high pitched squeals I will knock your teeth in and you'll be crapping bone for the next week."

The Old Master let his glare do the rest of the talking before slowly nodding. The muffled gambler mimicked his nod. The jedi master lowered his hand, and the gambler hesitantly pushed his voice out of his throat. "The race masters hang in the casino up the street."

"Good boy." the Old Master replied. He then waved for the rest of gamblers to scram and silently walked past them all. The gamblers now knowing they were safe from his presence drudged up some vainglorious courage and ran to the nearest security constable ​to report a crime far worse than what had occurred. The constable rounded some of his men and began to follow in the direction the gamblers had pointed out. Meanwhile, the Old Master made it to the entrance to the casino, gamblers and even irregulars to Canto Bight ([member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Ember Rekali"] [member="Shia Kryze"]) sauntered in and out. The Old Master watched the patrons walk in and pass a gathering guards. He then looked down at his own clothes and the back at the entrance. He didn't exactly match the clientele. And in the middle of the street he was attracting attention. Darting to the side he entered a crowd and scoped the casino. Seeing a high window ledge, the Old Master passed the crowd to stop below the ledge. In one Force leap he topped the ledge and squeezed through the window.

Perched on a ledge he looked down at the casino below. Sabacc and roulette tables lined the middle and sides as gambler passed by and took their seats or travelled to the bar. Climbing down, the Old Master made himself scarce and to blend in followed a crowd of scummy bounty hunters that were passing by. He tagged along for some time until he came to a sabacc table that had an rattataki woman and some other players. He needed to spot the racing masters, they were his ticket in and out of the race quarters.

 

[Coren Starchaser]

He was grinning. That was a good sign. Starchaser was the type of person who was rarely having fun nowadays. What he needed was just to unwind. And Sabacc was a good way to go about it. Watching the passing species, he waved over a server to grab a drink. Tossing a credit chit out to the Twi’lek, he called for one of the house specials and a glass of ale. Giving her a nod, the pilot turned back to the game. He grabbed his cards and looked through them.

“This world is pretty nice, huh?” He looked around the table and kept checking his cards. He looked around, seeing the crew in the casino and giving a nod. He knew what he was doing, for now he was just going to play cards. From there he’d get the deal to the weapons dealer, but until then? Wasting time. He tapped the table, and tossed some chips in. Was going to be good to play a little, win some and lose some.

The Force was dinging him, and he wasn’t quite sure what for, but he was watching the new comer to the table. He nodded to the older man. Probably a gun, and a lightsaber on the man.

“Your call.”

[member="The Master With No Name"]
[member="Tin'tinag"]
@D'vok Windroamer
[member="Shia Kryze"]
[member="Ember Rekali"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

A cigarra clutched in his teeth, he smiled as he played the game. To most, it was two old war dogs meeting over fine liquor and smokes. But those who could notice such would feel an almost electric tension and stress between the two of them. Enemies they certainly were not, but friends they weren't either. Not after what Ijaat had done. That conversation might need to come later. But for now, there was a game on, and more.

"I have a friend I've put a call out to, a student of mine actually ([member="Draco Vereen"]). He was helping refugees from Ra hide. Force Users of our people, and their families. I can put in a call. See who would be willing to help. We already busted a few of us out from their camps. Nothing as bad as they did, just raids. But whatever I can muster, I will. Most of my Clan scattered to the wind and plains on Concord Dawn, but they would rally. I've got a balance owed to our people, and intent is to spend the remainder of time paying the debt down."

Taking a long drain from his glass, the man blew a blue-grey smoke ring up towards the ceiling, checking his cards and calling the Warmasters bet.

"And when this is said and done, or now, I owe you words with this, for my actions. You are the closest thing to an authority I recognize. And the only one I respect anymore."

[member="Ember Rekali"]

 

[Ember Rekali]

[member="Ijaat Mereel"]

"I'm not sure that's a position for me. Authority means something different to me after the Field of Blades."

He slid one card face up into the field that fixed its value, keeping it from changing with the next random shift. The card was the Master, high value - a lot of risk, a lot of reward. He traded in his other card and the turn passed back.

"But yes, you owe our people everything."

A long drink drained the glass, but he waved away the butler droid.

"I want to crack a pyramid."

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Puff of the cigarra. A considering look again at cards. And he locked a 3 in, nodding to the other. And this time, he pulled a flask from his coat, the smell of tihaar wafting strong, but with faint undertones of orange and cloves. A swig, and he held it offered to the former Warmaster with a somber nod.

"You can not think it all you want. It's half of what makes you the right one. I've been to that field. It changes you even as short a time as I spent. But, we are going to need a rally symbol. And, frankly, i'm not it. I won't ever be, I don't think. But I'll do my part to make things right, even if it likely means I will be a footnote never allowed to be of the future I secure for us."

Another puff of the cigarra.

"A pyramid eh... I like it... Not been home in a long while...Half afraid the planet itself might try to kill me if I step foot on it again..."

[member="Ember Rekali"]

 

[Ember Rekali]

Private Sabacc Room
[member="Ijaat Mereel"]

A three...hm. Ember looked away from Ijaat's locked card, raised by a hundred wupiupi, and traded his one loose card again. This swap gave him the Idiot, for a total value of worthless. Funny how patience and risk went hand in hand.

"Good thing to fear."

He chewed on the other things Ijaat had said. Finally he sat back and folded his arms. He'd worn something clean, intact, and well cut for this, just a black shirt and pants. The comfortable clothes still felt strange; he'd worn something different when dead, and hadn't had skin.

"There's men who go after redemption so they can fix their image and feel good about themselves again, and there's men who just try to fix what they did, no publicity, no recognition. I've been both kinds. You?"

 

[Jim Pehico]

Jim was on his way to the casino, unfortunately he had to get his ship the Roska fueled before hand. He was told by a local that he should check out the market plenty of deals. As he walked through the market one person, rather a Twi’lek caught his eye. A yellow Twi’lek the color was quite rare for her species, so Jim was sure she was getting plenty of side glances by fellow market patrons. Jim walked over to her as she was looking at a stall.

“So miss,” Jim said towards the lady. “Find anything good at this market yet? Cause I think I have.” Jim said flirtingly winking towards her.

[member="Tin'tinag"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Private Sabacc Room
[member="Ember Rekali"]

A raise. No matter. Ijaat wouldn't use his gifts to cheat, but instinct could work as well as the Force. The cards weren't playing terribly well, but he rode it out, calling. A drumming of fingers worn by forgework and war, thinking.

Then he looked the Warlord in the eye, with golden brown eyes piercing. There was pain, regret, but determination buried it all and burned from him in waves.

"My name is not my own. My son, if I can ever find him, will carry it on. So publicity is not my concern. I just want to set things to right for others."

 

[Jorco Czeku]

The Rodian had gotten some more high end clothes to fit in more before coming here. He always wanted to go gambling on Canto Bight. It was like a dream of his. Considering that gambling was his favorite hobby, he always thought that it was a matter of time before he made it here. Perhaps he could even make i big here. But given his track record, gambling took more then it gave for him...but that wouldn't stop Jorco.

Walking into the casino he looked around. Being kinda amazed with the amount of diversity in there. Seeing a lot more aliens then he expected. Perhaps he wasn't going to be as much of an outcast as he thought. But he knew of the more corrupt individuals that came to this planet to party. Being the galaxy's worst. Most people would think a place like Nar Shaddaa would be it, but this place takes the cake. The issue was that this is where the wealthy spent their time. So that made it okay, at least politically. But now was his time to get himself into some big time gambling!

 

[Tin'tinag]

While looking through the different street stalls Tin heard an odd voice behind turning around to gaze upon some man, giving a slight eye roll at their comment. Not but a few minutes on world and already someone was flirting with her, well the clothes she was wearing didn't help in warding off men, kind of their whole point in all honestly. "Well, you may have but I'm still looking, but you do have nice taste, I'll give you that", Tin stood up from her crouching position turning her full body around to face the new comer, "So, where you actually looking for something at one of these stalls? Or is this how you pick up girls, because it is a rather interesting approach, all but one I can tell gets a lot of rejections".

[member="Jim Pehico"]

 

[Ember Rekali]

[member="Ijaat Mereel"]
Private Sabacc Room

"Good answer."

A random change swept the table. The Idiot became a midrange numbered card in the suit of Flasks. That plus the locked Master gave him a total of twenty-one. Good, not amazing. Negative twenty-one could beat it, or any hand with an absolute value of twenty-two or twenty-three, or a special hand like an Idiot's Array. But still, twenty-one... Why let the perfect be the enemy of the good?

He looked up at Ijaat. Why indeed?

"Alderaan." He locked his last card. The die was cast.

 

[D'vok Windroamer]

Spoiler

More music cause I'm a lil queen who loves setting tone:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DX42_3ZKv8c

Had time passed? D'vok couldn't tell. He looked down at a pile of what he thought were chips. They looked more akin to the eyes of some ungodly creature of nightmares. There was more of them than when he started though, so that must be a good thing. He glanced around the table. The zabrak couple had left, presumably because they wanted to escalate their public displays of affection. The Ewok had also left the table, retreating to the bar. There were two new arrivals, though. An older man, and one around D'vok's age. The older one's beard appeared to go on forever, and floated around him akin to tentacles on a Sarlaac. D'vok paid little attention to the other man, despite the fact that to D'vok he looked ten feet tall and had lizard teeth. D'vok rubbed his eyes, and looked up. The ceiling was bleeding. All the lighting turned a sickly green color. D'vok turned back to the table. Was he talking? He couldn't even tell. More chips. That was good. He was winning, he thought. He raised his hand and signaled to a giant flaming lizard who appeared to be serving people drinks.
"Excuse me, Corellian Whiskey please, and try not to get any fire in it please."
He blinked, and the waiter, who now appeared as a fairly attractive twi'lek woman, gave him a dirty look, before handing him the drink. Something familiar. He sipped the cool beverage. The ice cubes shook menacingly as he set it down on the table, and began to talk all at once. D'vok ignored them. He looked up again to the table. The only noticeable people were the Rattaki woman, and the two gentlemen.

[member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="The Master With No Name"] [member="Shia Kryze"]

 

[D'vok Windroamer]

((I'm a triple posting idiot, sorry))

 

[D'vok Windroamer]

.