After the beat

[Vulpesen]

Blaster scorch. The smell filled Vulpesen's nose as he stumbled through one of the many bar districts scattered across Nar Shadaa's surface. In his ear, he could still hear the aftermath of his recent actions, logistics being worked out, and charges being read to the accused. No doubt, captain Harlow could handle the situation from here. Right now, there was something else on Vulpesen's mind. How strong his next stiff drink would be.

Reaching the entrance of the bar, Vulpesen swung the door open and stepped in, holding it for a moment to let his company join him inside. He knew Mereel a bit. He'd seen him around at Hand events. And Coranthus seemed to have a fixation with the odd amalgamation of jedi and mandalorian. It had actually been his suggestion that Vulpesen invite the man on this mission. He'd proven himself capable,if a bit green. Enough at least, to impress the Valde. "Well... that was something."

[member="Mereel Vaun"]

 

[Mereel Vaun]

Mereel's relationship with the Dark Hand was quaint, to say the least, and nowhere was the oddity of it more exemplified than with the people who's fault it was for him being in the elusive organization in the first place. After they had saved his life on Coruscant, it had taken quite some time before the Valde had begun calling on his debt. In fact, tonight was the first night that the man had done so, and before now Mereel had only ever run into him, or rather mostly Garlan, by coincidences or during the party for the entirety of the Hand.

Despite that fact that his first job for them was now likely concluded, Mereel still couldn't quite believe that the Zorren's had called him in for any thing. His helmet and armor plates tinged black, he really didn't want to question why the Valde had decided to bring him in right now. Right now he just wanted to get something strong into his system. He sauntered on in through the door as the Valde held it open for him for a second and he gave him a tip of the helmet, "Thanks."

Mereel did a quick cursory glance over their surroundings as they entered, the bar was already pretty lively, music playing, and crowded with scum and spacer types. It was just his type of crowd, and a grin came to his face as he was suddenly plunged back into a familiar environment.

"You can say that again. Next time, give me a headsup and I'll have my helmet painted black in advanced."

It was only partially a joke. Painting his helmet black would actually help in the regards that it would make post-op cleanup and shining easier, but beyond that it would serve to not let new enemies know you had been shot in the face before getting to them.

[member="Vulpesen"]

 

[Vulpesen]

"And what would be the fun in that? It was kinda funny watching those spots appear one by one on your pretty armor." Vulpesen's tail flicked behind him as he observed his surroundings. Dressed in a fancy coat, covered in the dust of one of the most valuable metals in the galaxy, he gathered a few looks, quite a few seeming fairly hungry in nature, like a wampa staring at a tauntaun. However, a simply brush of his hand to reveal the lightsaber and blaster strapped to his hip was enough to ease any itch they might have been feeling on their own trigger fingers. "So, what do ya want? First rounds on me."

[member="Mereel Vaun"]

 

[Mereel Vaun]

Mereel furrowed a slightly agitated brow under his helmet, but it quickly lowered as he imagined how he must have looked from literally anyone else's perspective. Black carbon scoring peppered the blue of his armor in several places, but the most noticeable of his armor's battle scars was a perfectly circular scorch mark, positioned right above the 'T' of his helmet's visor.

He let out a low chuckle and popped off his helmet. Hints of a grin crept onto his face,'Tihaar's been wearing thin on me, think I'll mix it up tonight. Go with something less fruity.. maybe a lager. Yeah, that sounds good."

Clipping his helmet to his belt, he looked the over blaster marks on his armor with slight annoyance. It really was going to be hell to get the black sears off. He pushed the thought of cleaning out of his mind, they were at a bar, the only cleaning he was going to be doing here was cleaning the floors with anyone who got in between him and a drink.

"You lot really aren't keen on heavy armor, are you?"

[member="Vulpesen"]

 

[Vulpesen]

Walking over to the bar, Vulpesen took a place on one of the barstools, leaning against the counter as he grew comfortable. "A lager and an ale." While Mereel away took off his helmet, Vulpesen simply lowered his hood and ensured that his mask was put away safely. "Some of us enjoy it. Captain Harlow for one, and even my military advisor, like to be walking tanks. But others like myself, like to stay mobile. Why should I weigh myself down with beskar, if I can get this coat to block a wayward saber? So long as I'm not trying to trap the thing on myself, I should be fine."

[member="Mereel Vaun"]

 

[Mereel Vaun]

Mereel trailed behind as the Valde walked over to the bar and took a seat on one of the barstools. He followed suite and took a seat on a vacant stool next to Vulpesen, armor and stool creaking in protest as he did so.

He let his armored arms rest freely on the table and let the weight of his armor lean him partially over the countertop. Having lived most of his life behind a suit of heavy durasteel plate, he could see the wisdom in wanting to stay more maneuverable, but that wasn't what stood out to him.

Mereel's voice channeled disbelief and he raised a skeptical eyebrow, "That can withstand a strike from a saber?

[member="Vulpesen"]

 

[Vulpesen]

The look of shock brought a grin to Vulpesen's face and he lifted up his arm to display his sleeve. At a closer look, Mereel would likely be able to notice the generous helping of silver dust, covered in a glossy of adhesive. "Phrik dust. I found that I very rarely got hit with slugthrowers. Most of my enemies would swing lightsabers at me. So, I covered my coat with a metal that couldn't be cut with a saber. When they started using the force, I layered the inside with tarentatek leather." He lowered his arm back down and picked up his glass to enjoy the first long sip. "I've been thinking of getting an upgrade."
[member="Mereel Vaun"]

 

[Mereel Vaun]

As he began to down a hearty gulp of his lager, the Valde lifted his sleeve. Mereel's eyes detected and began staring at the silvery powder straightaway. His drink caught in his throat and he started coughing violently, lager threatening to return to its glass.

After several seconds of trying to keep his drink down, Mereel spoke up with a somewhat raspy voice, "Unless you're planning on switching to a solid phrik slab, I'm not sure how you could possibly get much better in terms of armor protection."

With the first part of his drink still not quite settled, Mereel took another swig. "That's funny though, I've been thinking about getting less armor. This -"

Mereel knocked a fist against his chestplate, ".. isn't even beskar, so what's the point?"

[member="Vulpesen"]

 

[Vulpesen]

"The point is it'll slow down the blaster or dagger attempting to poke a hole in your chest, but I get your point." Vulpesen rested his arm back on the counter and took another sip. "And slabs are too heavy. I don't feel like lugging something like that around in the middle of a battlefield. Much easier I think to just avoid the hits. Then they don't get the chance to rattle you. Although, I have been thinking of upgrading it a bit... spinning the phrik into a weave instead of using dust. Might be a tad heavier and take a tad bit of work, but mix that with some good shell silk and it should come in handy."

[member="Mereel Vaun"]

 

[Mereel Vaun]

Mereel nodded in response to Vulpesen's first comment. He had considered throwing his armor out of an airlock as soon as he found out that the item of his familial heritage was a sham, but had ultimately decided against it. He was a practical man, even though his armor was a cheap imitation of real Mandalorian beskar'gam, he had realized like the Valde had that it would still protect him.

"Yeah. That's true. I don't think I could've gotten shot in the face without it either.

The armor also still retained a certain sentimental value, but that wasn't something he was about to dive into a rant about with the Valde yet. Mereel chugged down the last of his drink and waved down the bartender, "Another."

Something of a lightweight, Mereel was already thoroughly immersed in a buzz. "There's far more wisdom in what you just said than I care to admit.. But phrik weave?

He let out a long, sharp whistle that would likely irritate everyone around them, " - Now that would be one expensive upgrade."

[member="Vulpesen"]

 

[Vulpesen]

Finishing his own drink about as fast as Mereel had his, Vulpesen decided to move on to his usual, a glass of fine whiskey which he enjoyed the first long sip of. Something about that burning sensation always got to him. Fully relaxed, Vulpesen did find himself wincing a bit at the whistle, his ears a bit more sensitive than mosts. "I've used phrik plate in the past. And being a king, I'm certain I can afford it. The main trouble will be refitting the terentatek hide onto it to ensure that I remain protected from force attacks from the sith. Or perhaps I should simply imbue it to be resistant to the force. That's the thing about lighter armors. They can be amazing if you can prepare them right, but they do take quite a bit of work and thought."

[member="Mereel Vaun"]

 

[Mereel Vaun]

Mereel smiled as the bartender slid his next drink to him. This would likely be his last for the night. Alcoholism had blighted him in the past, back when he had been a criminal lowlife. Nowadays, he avoided drinking unless it was in a social setting, and going beyond two drinks was something he reserved for very special occasions. He hadn't yet decided whether tonight was one of those, but he had a feeling he would find out soon enough. Since he didn't know much about Zorren metabolisms, he thought that the Valde had just upped the ante by ordering whiskey.

"Fething hell, forgot I'm drinking in the company of nobility. I reckon you could order something lighter and more durable than this suit with the snap of the fingers."

Mereel emphasized 'snap' with a snap of the fingers and a cocky grin. He didn't know many nobles, but trashy holodrama stereotypes taught him that what he had just done had a 50/50 chance of pissing off the Valde. Taking a sip from his lager, he crossed his fingers and hoped that he hadn't.

"So, tell me. What's it really like? Your life, I mean. Do the holos hold up to reality?"

[member="Vulpesen"]

 

[Vulpesen]

"Probably. But I try not to dip into the coffers too much for personal gain. Veradune is still recovering from a few hundred years of crap." Another sip of his drink, and Vulpesen smiled at the delicious burn as it slid down his throat. Zorrens often loved to drink, and with his metabolism, a single glass of whiskey was burned off about as quick as a beer. He might feel it a little faster than others, but drunkenness wasn't an easy condition to keep for his people.

"It's certainly got a bit of glamour. But Veradune's not like what you see in the holofilms. To be a zorren is to fight, drink, and risk, and as the Valde, I'm supposed to be the best at being a zorren." A few memories reached him and the Zorren couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. "You know, I used to live here. For six months I lived in this underworld, lying, cheating and swindling to afford my next meal. And I was good at it. Damned good. I must have drained thousands of credits from the underworld here. Funny how only fifteen years ago, I was a street rat, learning to live it rough before selling his life to the vows of the jedi."

[member="Mereel Vaun"]

 

[Mereel Vaun]

Happy that he hadn't earned himself a slap to the face for upsetting Vulpesen, Mereel remained silent as the Valde spoke, taking small sips of his lager here and there but mostly just listening to the man's account of being a king, and then of being a bilge rat.

Mereel raised his glass, "Being a criminal sleezebag. Now that's something I can drink to!"

And so he did, taking a long drink of his lager before slamming the bottom of the glass down on the countertop. The bartender gave him a disapproving look but said nothing of it.

"Soon as I turned sixteen, I stole my daddy's Starfighter and fell in with the underworld, and hard. Did everything from less-than-legal bounty hunting to a bank heist between my mid-teens to my early twenties. Some things caught up to me though - put an end to my degeneracy before a bullet did."

[member="Vulpesen"]

 

[Vulpesen]

Vulpesen laughed and lifted his drink before taking a long sip. Thankfully for the bartender, his was not a glass meant to be slammed down and as such, he simply lowered it back onto the counter. "I wouldn't call myself a sleeze bag back then. Certainly a delinquent. The group I ran with generally stole from other criminals. We found the various syndicats and rings and took what we wanted from them. Still, glad we got out of that... I left when a shot landed a lil too close to home."
[member="Mereel Vaun"]

 

[Vulpesen]

Vulpesen laughed and lifted his drink before taking a long sip. Thankfully for the bartender, his was not a glass meant to be slammed down and as such, he simply lowered it back onto the counter. "I wouldn't call myself a sleeze bag back then. Certainly a delinquent. The group I ran with generally stole from other criminals. We found the various syndicats and rings and took what we wanted from them. Still, glad we got out of that... I left when a shot landed a lil too close to home."
[member="Mereel Vaun"]

 

[Mereel Vaun]

Mereel's glass was not a glass meant to be slammed down into the table either, and after he did so a crack formed in the bottom of it. Lager started leaking out onto the countertop, and the bartender walked over to him and removed the now-defective cup from in front of him with no small hint of annoyance.

"Hmm, not a sleezebag and a focus on stealing from criminals? Old you sounds less like a thug and more like a vigilante to me. What pulled you out of it though?"

[member="Vulpesen"]

 

[Vulpesen]

"Back then it was a game. All excitement. I ran, I stole, I fought, and I was damned good at it. It was an amazing game... until it wasn't. I found out that the game had a price for losing. So, I packed up and went off to do what I thought I was meant to. I became a jedi." Grinning a bit, he downed his glass and motioned for another. "You can see how that went. Been a pauper and a prince, and everything in between."

[member="Mereel Vaun"]

 

[Mereel Vaun]

The bartender returned in front of them, setting a new lager in front of Mereel and delivering whatever it was that Vulpesen was drinking next. He had already drank half of the second lager he had.. it looked like tonight was going to be one of those exceptions to his normal modus operandi.

Mereel sighed. Resigning to fate, he took a dutiful sip from the drink now in front of him. When he set it back down on the counter, there was a grin of quaint understanding on his face, "While I can't say I've been a prince, and I certainly can't say that I stayed around in one place long enough to feel the effects of being a pauper, I get the wanting to run off and join the Jedi bit."

He took a long swig from his drink, the alcohol in his system made him completely unconcerned about choosing his words carefully, "Can you really say that the Jedi screwed you that bad though? I mean, look where you are now."

Setting down his drink on the counter, Mereel gestured around at almost everyone and everything in the seedy bar. A frown spread across his face, "Okay.. so maybe this isn't the best example, but you get what I mean, right?

[member="Vulpesen"]

 

[Ghost369]

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