From the Mists to the Smog

[Pharazon Draken]

If a year ago someone had told Pharazon that he would willing be on Nar Shaddaa, the infamous Smuggler's Moon itself, he would have been incredulous. Yet there he was, in the middle of a mass of foul smelling beings of all description and species, trying to enter into an equally foul cantina in the heart of one of the seedier polluted cities on the moon. Covering his mouth with a ragged cloth tied around his nose and mouth to prevent himself breathing in the worst of the pollution in the air, Pharazon weaved and pushed his way through the throng to the entrance of the cantina, at least given his height he could see his way above most of the other humans and aliens in the crowd he thought to himself.

Surveying the cantina, Pharazon was careful to look for anyone who could even be thought to possibly be a Hapan agent, he had been running from them the moment he had left the mists of the Hapes Consortium months ago. Luckily enough, he remarked internally, he did not believe any were here, only filthy people. Looking down at himself, however, he chastised himself as he was equally filthy, it would not do to start a fight or shoot out over a foolish comment. Strolling over to the bar, back in military straight position, chin held high, he looked around for the man he was here to meet.

Living the life of a fugitive was not like service in the Hapan Royal Navy or life in the courts, sometimes his existing skills were not enough. At least his cunning had kept him alive this long.

He had learned from talking to some less than reputable individuals that he had been forced to work with that a man named [member="Krest"] may be able to aid him in learning in some less than reputable techniques and practices in order to keep him alive had been seen here. As he drifted the Outer Rim and more often than he would have liked the criminal underworld, Pharazon feared he would need all the skills he could get to avoid being murdered, enslaved or disappeared out on the Rim. He only hoped he could meet whatever price this man would likely ask.

Pharazon took a seat at the crowded bar, wincing as he sat into liquid that he dearly hoped was spilled liquor, and ordered a drink, best to blend.

"Proprietor, might I ask you for a pint to order your finest ale?" Pharazon enquired, cursing himself for slipping back into his high galactic accent and for simply how he had ordered a drink in a place like this.

Judging from the look the bartender gave him, as well as the Aqualish and Neimoidian on either side of him gave him, he would blend in as well as a university and private educated noble bastard could amongst the lowest scum and villainy of the galaxy. At least he looked the part with dirty clothes, but his noble Hapan features could not be hidden, but hopefully nobody knew what Hapans looked like here though and noticed how drastically he did not fit in.

Glancing around for this mysterious [member="Krest"] fellow, he sipped his ale and tried to quite his internal fear and growing anger at the thought that he may have been lied to.

Spoiler

Huzzah! My first in character RP post ever! May it be the first of many and may it only be written better from here!

 

[Dezoti]

It wasn't often he was hired.

On Nar Shadda Krest found himself in one of the many, many, many bars located there. He had been hired by someone he did not know to smuggle him. The Zabrak could not fly a ship. At all. He could never figure it out, and decided to not bother after all these years. So when he was hired, he was confused at first. But when he saw [member="Pharazon Draken"] enter the bar, he understood.

Krest knew how to blend in any environment, and how to make a Noble seem less. Dirty clothes couldn't hide noble tendencies.

He observed the man from afar, taking note of anything that could stand out. Not much. The only reason the Templar knew the man was a noble was because for over a decade he guarded nobles. Seems the circle was complete. Quietly he moved to the table, sitting across from his employer. A friendly nod was offered.

"I assume you're the man who hired me. Shall we get down to business?"

 

[Pharazon Draken]

Pharazon only spotted [member="Krest"] when he got close, probably not a good sign. He knew how to plot, how to look and people and get a handle on them, how to get people to do what he wants, and how to keep and use secrets. He needed to know how to watch people, how to know where people where he thought, or he would not survive the year.

Returning the nod and ever so slightly cocking an eyebrow, Pharazon surveyed Krest, black facial tattoos, older than Pharazon though given his red skin could not tell by how much, clothes that fit into the wide variety of the outer rim denizens and potentially hide weapons, and were those cybernetic limbs? Yes, Pharazon thought, this man will do nicely.

"You assume correctly," Pharazon replied, lowering his voice as he slightly flicked his eyes at the other people around them, paranoia rising. "I fear I have a distinct need of your services."

"I must learn greater vigilance, how to blend in, to as great an extent as possible," looking Krest dead in the eye he added, "Can you do this or not?"

A memory of his uncle was chastised him in his head for not introducing himself properly to this man he was to do business with. However, if there was one thing Pharazon had learned not to do it was to not give out his name needlessly, not in the Outer Rim, not on Nar Shaddaa, not with House Satinar agents still tracking him.

 

[Dezoti]

"Yeah, I can. Though I will tell you to be a bit less.. Serious. I know, serious problem you have, but you're going to draw attention if you keep being tense. Understood?" Rather casually he waved a waiter over, and ordered both himself and [member="Pharazon Draken"] a drink. He kept the conversation with the woman brief for his clients sake, but he did make sure to order the big man a double.

"Now, before we talk about anything else, you need to tell me what I'm helping you blend in from, a'ight? I can't help you if I don't know all the details."

 

[Pharazon Draken]

Forcing himself to relax, Pharazon took a sip of his drink to placate his new teacher and because deep down, he knew Krest was right. Keeping ridig and tense would make him stick out and sticking out would get him killed.

“I understand completely, though my predicament has led me to maintaining constant readiness, making myself even more noticeable is not ideal at all” he said, answering Krest’s initial question.

“Of course” he said, moving onto Krest’s second question, lowering his voice and leaning in, “While I may be too large to go sneaking around quietly in the shadows, I must be able to change my movement style, posture, and walking gait and the like, which I suspect you are skilled in” Pharazon replied.

“Furthermore, I require your assistance in spotting and evading tails or other unwelcome followers.” he added.

“I know I do not appear as if I could learn these quickly, I assure you that I am a quick learner and that you will be well paid.” he promised Krest, taking a generous sip from his drink, and ever so slightly relaxing himself again, trying to get himself into the body and mindset of someone who belonged here. He knew how to look at people and judge them, now all he needed to do was to learn how to imitate and act like others.

He bloody better know what he is doing, I am paying him almost all of my credits from my last protection job I dare say Pharazon thought bitterly, however, he had a strange feeling that Krest would be very helpful.

[member="Krest"]

 

[Dezoti]

Krest made sure to take a long, long drink of his ale as [member="Pharazon Draken"] spoke. Damn was this guy serious. The hell did I get myself into? Such thoughts were eventually pushed to the back of the Zabrak's mind, added by the light buzz he was being sure he would give himself. Nothing that would hinder his assistance of his employer, but enough to take his own edge off.

Draken was stiff enough for the both of them.

"Right, so. You're going to finish your drink, all of it, and we'll go from there. Goal? Get you drunk. Seemingly at least. Tipsy enough to function, but drunk enough for people to know. Then, we're leaving this planet to a much more remote venue. I can show you these sort of tricks along the way to the planet, and once there I can show you more. First things first though." All the while Krest had kept a placid smile on his face, being sure to seem friendly to Pharazon. Welcoming, the like, all to help ease this mans stress. That smile faded.

"If you have anyone trying to kill you, you need to tell me. I can't find assassins if I don't know they're there, aye?"

 

[Pharazon Draken]

Steadily keeping up with drinking, Pharazon was slowly but surely following Krest’s advice, he was maintaining his dignity and observance, but becoming, as one would put it, pleasantly buzzed.

“That sounds like an excellent idea” Pharazon replied, smiling back at Krest, he was slowly formulating in his mind a pattern of how to alter how he was perceived to others, he tried to adopt what he once had to do back on Hapes to fit in at the various events his mother would hold. It was not a sudden perfection of deception, however, he was certainly more convincing than when he had come into the bar.

When it came to telling Krest about his predicament, however, Pharazon had difficulty in concealing the emotions surrounding it, but at least they made him appear real, many people got emotional in cantinas after drinking.

“Krest” he began, rubbing his forhead and lowering his voice “Without telling you the whole story while remaining honest, I am currently being hunted by mists knows how many agents from Hapes, enemies of my family” who were also his family he silently fumed, anger beginning to bubble up. “I do not know if they have found me here yet, as the moon has kept me hidden so far”.

He also added, despondently and quietly in a tone barely more than a whisper, “Despite how I may appear I know how the galaxy works Krest, it is kill or be killed, use or be used, do not take me for a fool, I used to be able to hide and appear as whatever I wished on my world, I will learn.” He had no idea why he was telling Krest this, but while he was odd for the outer rim, he was not odd everywhere.

Quickly returning to his drinking, Pharazon again fell into what would become the foundations of his new facade, he ordered another drink, from a different waiter of course, one who had not seen him come in. His voice was now deep and arrogant, as he had heard the guards of the Hutts speak, his posture, spread wide and imposing like the mercenaries he had seen at the spaceports, his face was that of casual, as if he cared not for what anyone else was doing but was ready for anything like he had observed in the smugglers.

As time past and he kept steadily drinking he became more comfortable in it, it was by no means perfect, but neither were the airs many thugs put on to seem tough. It was, however, an improvement over what he had been when he came in, these past few months of constant running had played havoc with his old mannerism. The main difference that he noticed was he was slipping back into how he used to act back on Hapes. That was for the best, but it also made him worried, but he smothered those concerns and focused on following Krest’s advice.

After some time had passed, Pharazon decided he should ask Krest where they would be going as he felt it was now time to continue as per Krest’s plan.
“Where will we be going to continue the training then” he asked, smoothing out his clothing and getting ready to leave without standing.

[member="Krest"]

 

[Pharazon Draken]

(Woops, internet problems caused double post)

 

[Dezoti]

Krest sat and drank with [member="Pharazon Draken"] , talking about practically anything that came to mind. Tricks in Pazaak, which Twi'lek dancers the Templar knew personally, the like. All small talk, save for the chat about the assassins. Royal assassins. Well, the ex Red Assassin doubted they'd be up to the caliber needed. At least at first. Oh, how unlucky they will find themselves when they set upon the wrong body guard.

Heh, bodyguard.

All of a sudden the man stood, stretching out as he nodded once to the larger man. "That, my friend, is a secret. Now come on, we're gonna miss our ride." Yeah, he was also wasting time until their ship was going to leave. That, and he already noticed the man sitting at the bar and never once taking his eyes off his target. He'd be a problem, but not one they needed to deal with just yet.

In a hushed tone the Zabrak spoke to his charge. "Also, one of your buddies is close by. I'm gonna teach ya how to slip away in a crowd, so stick close and don't look back. And don't stop, for any reason. Well, unless I say so. Understood?" Without waiting for confirmation the red man took off in a quick walk, weaving his way through the crowd of species and people. This was a good planet for Draken to hide on, enough taller species for him to blend in with.

 

[Pharazon Draken]

Pharazon had noticed one of the men at the bar staring at him as he glanced around while he had been ordering a drink. He is no Royal guard, perhaps a hired knife of House Satinar or of one of the real agents after me Pharazon thought, casually standing with Krest.

“Let's go then” Pharazon said casually to Krest, refusing to look at the man at the bar while standing, “His friends and those that hold their leash will not be very far away if they are who I think they are” he added lowering his voice below the sounds of the cantina.

As Krest moved away and out of the bar, Pharazon followed purposely but not as if he was running. Exiting into the throng of people, Pharazon was picking up on Krest’s plan he thought, in a place like this even he did not stick out as if on a human world. Continuing to move as instructed, following Krest close behind and to his side, Pharazon thought about looking back to see if he was coming, but dismissed the idea immediately. For one thing, Krest had told him to not to, and Pharazon did wish to follow his instructions and learn from the obviously experienced and worldly zabrak. However, Pharazon knew the main reason he didn't was because he had an unshakable, intense, and oddly burning feeling in his mind and all his senses that he knew exactly what he would see if he turned around. As the two made their way through the crowd, the man from the bar, along with two other men walking in different points throughout the crowd silently tried to keep pace and follow the pair.

Fear and anxiety chilling his body and egging his fight or flight chemicals on as they surged through his body, Pharazon kept his eyes straight ahead and continued on with Krest. Hopefully he had a plan, but looking around at the crowd Pharazon did still feel they might evade the trio, how he knew there were three he had no idea, for at least a time.

 

[Dezoti]

"Relax."

It was all the Zabrak said to [member="Pharazon Draken"] as he continued through the crowd. Without warning however the Zabrak ducked into an abandoned alleyway. Despite the lack of cover, Krest didn't seem the least bit worried. A single hand trailed along the wall beside him as he walked, now slower, until they reached the end of this ally. Ahead, the spaceport.

"Shortcut."

Just then the group of three came into the alleyway. Before they could do a thing however, the wall blew up. The very same the Templar had ran his hand along just a moment ago erupted outwards, showering the assassins in debris. And keeping them from catching up. Without even the slightest hint of a hurry he went back to go for the ship.

"We're gonna be late, come on."

 

[Pharazon Draken]

Cocking an eyebrow in irritation at the Zabrak’s direction, Pharazon let the comment slide with just an internal sigh, he would relax once his kin and supposed loved ones stopped trying to kill him. Continuing to follow him, moving as if nothing was wrong, Pharazon followed Krest down the ally in the direction of the spaceport.

As the three entered, Pharazon spun in their direction, blaster drawn and an instant off being fired. However, he was instantly struck by an odd feeling, What in the mists… then the wall exploded. Pharazon was shocked, but not shocked enough to disrupt his natural instincts.

Swiftly following Krest out of the ally, he did not know if all the assassins were dead, he had a feeling one might be given how badly the wall fragments cut him. But, he knew that these would not be the only ones after them if the person he thought was organizing this was commanding this operation.

What in the mists indeed Pharazon thought looking at the Zabrak in a new light, So this is what the force can do he pondered. He had never met or seen a force user before, the very subject only spoken of in hushed tones on Hapes. Old hatreds die hard, especially those to do with the downfall of the Lorell Raiders all those thousands of years ago, though he did know enough about it from his own idle study to know this is what had probably caused the wall to explode.

“Right behind you” he said determinedly as he went with Krest into the spaceport toward the ship Krest had waiting, he only hoped that his assailants would not also have a ship in waiting. He knew that more would of course be on their trail now after that display in the alleyway.

 

[Dezoti]

"They'll probably follow us to where we're going, but at least there we wont have so many variables." It was almost like Krest was reading [member="Pharazon Draken"] 's thoughts. He was, in a way. Years of existing with the Force had taught the Templar to at least sense unease of those around him. And it wasn't hard to figure out the possible reason behind it. Still, he walked on, never once casting a glance back to Draken or the men he had blown up. Timing was important.

The pair would reach their intended ship right as it was about to take off. The large cargo ship had it's loading dock still open, something Krest had paid a little extra for. Yeah, he planned this all out. Casually the Zabrak stepped on board even as it began to lift off the ground. Blue eyes finally returned to Pharazon's figure, and the metallic limb was offered.

"Take my hand now, so we can head off. But mind you this is a point of no return. Think fast."

There was a slow rise in the ship, and it was clear that only a second was between climbing aboard and remaining behind. Krest was certainly curious on which the man would take.

 

[Pharazon Draken]

“They would never let me go that easily” Pharazon replied, keeping his voice steady but his feelings betrayed his true meloncoly for his current life and grief at how those who hunted him were once friends. Continuing to match Krest’s purposive strides, Pharazon followed him into the spaceport and to the waiting cargo vessel. As Krest mounted the boarding ramp and made his offer, Pharazon realised he really had made the right choice with Krest. Any other bar room thug would simply have offered to back Pharazon up in an alleyway fight, but Krest, Krest was a calculating planner. Exactly the model Pharazon needed to mould a part of himself into, or at least as close as he could to.

Taking a final glance behind him, he saw the pursuers had seemed to have backed off, or where at least keeping their distance at the moment. However, in the corner of his eye he saw a glimpse of a face. A glimpse of his… his… sister? His heart raged, his blood coursed through his body, his breathing quickened. You send Bethelthyia after me mother? You would send your own daughter… you would send her after me? You would help those mist filth Satinar’s hunt me down?! The sudden burst of thoughts and feelings threatened to overwhelm him before he swiftly locked them down. Another part of his old self hardening to his current reality, another now smaller part of himself mourning this latest change. Turning back to Krest and his extended hand as the ship lifted off, Pharazon looked Krest dead in the eye and, firmly clasping his outstretched forearm clambered his way onto the ship.

Looking away he said distantly, eyes ever so slightly misted with already drying almost tears, “Yes... there truly is no turning back now.” He headed into the ship as it lifted off.

As the ship lifted off and headed into the atmosphere, a shadowy figure skulked away whispering into a comlink before deactivating it “Identity confirmed mother, the Satinar were right, if only they were more capable...” She drifted off, before adding “the second attempt shall not be so sloppy, I will personally make sure of it”. She then closed the comlink and sent the encoded message deep into the heart of the Consortium.

[member="Krest"]