Half-Drowned Memories

[Julius Sedaire]

Location: Cantina, Unknown World in the Kathol Rift​

​

Glavo Pahro, the former Republic Jedi Knight known of Julius Sedaire, who would later become a Master of the New Jedi Order in the Galactic Alliance, and then drift into true Rogue status, sat unknowing at a sabaac table. A positively mind-boggling pile of credits sat next to him. A crowd of utterly disbelieving denziens of the cantina watched the grizzled Green Jedi flip over his third Idiots Array of the night. Truth be told, the luck he was having made even him nervous and anxious. But it was just as if the Force spoke to him. Reading the emotions of the other gamblers, instinct... It all came together in this. But he was pretty sure it was immoral to be doing thus.

Just in case, a lightsaber was tucked into his sleeve. Dissembled to pass through weapons detectors at the door, once he was within it had been easy... He had excused himself to the bathroom to assemble it, knowing the detectors were at the entrance only. And of course, everywhere in the Rift allowed a bit of protection. It was a frontier world. Some protection was allowed, and so his MP-1 was strapped low on his thigh in a holster, and Leviathan Bracers covered his wrists, a beloved and much worn green cloak draped about his chair like a jacket.

"Well gentleman... I believe that is where I bid you all adieu and join the rest of the bar... To be fair, life was generous to me. More than, so I will happily buy you each whatever you desire. Drink, woman, man, spice.... One vice, so nice, on me."

The protests died quickly as he sauntered up to the bar and then ordered a Corellian whiskey, on the rocks, and waited as he passed on instructions.

[member="Eliza Steele"]

 

[Eliza Steele]

[member="Glavo Pahro"]

The Nah'Malis system was far as Captain Eliza Steele would take the Corellian Dawn into the deep Kathol Outback. Going into the actual Rift itself was not in the cards for this petite smuggler; not that the captain's navigational skills weren't good enough, but there was no way in the nine Corellian hells she was going to subject her ship nor her mind and body to the bad effects that were well known to happen in that Force forsaken region of space... Well unless there was a poodoo load of credits to be made of course, but she doubted even that would persuade her. Steele had sound business standards and a winning risk vs reward formula. Wish she could say that about men.

Since helping with the Underground's rebellion efforts on Uukaablis, Eliza had made business contacts and set up smuggling runs here and there throughout the Kathol sector and Outback. So far so good. Right now the 'Dawn was docked at a little known shadowport she'd come across tucked away in the Duhrib Belt getting resupplied and refueled, which her wookiee co-pilot so kindly was taking care of while the fiery Corellisi sat in the cantina relaxing for a moment downing a whiskey or three at the bar. It had been a long journey and the booze had long ago run dry on the YT-1930 light freighter the petite smuggler called home.

A particular sabacc game across the cantina caught her eye, okay rather a ruggedly handsome individual playing and winning the card game grabbed the dark brunette's attention more so. He looked like someone Eliza had once known, but maybe the petite smuggler was trying too hard to see that man in him. The guy certainly had his flair, the mannerisms, and ordered the same drink too… Could it be?

"Congratulations on the fine game of sabacc you just played," the petite smuggler offered flashing a lopsided grin sideways at the man as he stood at the bar one seat between them. "Was that good ol' Corellian luck there on display or are you just that good, hmm?" Eliza asked with the grin turning into a playful smirk at the corner of her full lips, then the petite smuggler tipped back the remainder of the richly colored amber liquid in her glass to finish that round off.

A true Corellian didn't believe in luck or the odds, but sometimes one just needed to believe.

Spoiler

http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Duhrib_Belt
http://vignette3.wikia.nocookie.net/starwars/images/1/11/Kathol_Rift.png/revision/latest?cb=20091221004339

 

[Julius Sedaire]

The voice. Couldn't place it, and again the haunting and blurred image of the dark-haired woman with amber eyes swam in his mind. Banishing it by knocking back a rocks glass of Whyrens. Drained in a single gulp, he sighed a bit and motioned with two fingers to the bartender. Two glasses followed, and he slid one towards the woman speaking to him, considering what to say as he turned. With his beard finally shaven, Glavo looked years, if not decades, younger than he had with it. But nothing could quite erase the tightness in his eyes, a pained consideration earned from long toils and worry. The Aing-Tii had made him stronger, faster, but as a result he had become a bit harder of heart. The joking nature of old was more often than not skin deep these days.

"Just a couple of louts who don't understand the rules of the game, is all novelin.. No such thing as luck, and odds always change so why bother keeping them?"

Sipping the second glass, he surreptitiously slid his arm along the counter when he sat it down, checking his lightsaber where it rested. The glass remained in his dominant hand. If needed he could throw the glass at her, kick back, draw the blade one handed whilst firing a few shots from the gun he carried. Hating himself a bit for almost impulsively having a plan to kill everyone in the room, the Green Jedi flashed a smile at his new found drinking companion. She had "rocket fuel for blood" as the saying went. Few were so bold as the Corellian people. That much, in all of his lives, he remembered. Very few. Which life this was he was in now, and how or when... Well.... That was more muddled the clearer the memories became. Such was life for him. Sip of the whiskey, then speaking again.

"Sed Valle Cnous tio. Sel ne Valle? That second one is for you. It's Whyrens... Not their reserve, but it burns like a kiss of Coronet City during the summers back home..."

[member="Eliza Steele"]

 

[Eliza Steele]

[member="Glavo Pahro"]

Dark chocolate eyes ran over the man as he sat down on the bar stool next to her. The way he had settled himself the guy was ready for a fight, if need be. Better to be prepared than not, but seriously…. The fiery Corellisi just shook her dark head as her own hand slid down her shapely body to the DL-44 heavy blaster pistol resting in it's leather holster upon her right hip and tied off on her tone thigh.

"De komprenevle Minmin Sel. Minmin Bey jusha konhraymark se Valle Sel," Eliza replied in Olys Corellisi ; the old language of Corellians. It had been a while since the full-blooded, Tryena-born had used it or had a need for it really. It was refreshing actually to find someone like her, again. Things were looking up… especially now that he'd bought her a drink.

"Danci, nevulet," the petite smuggler nodded with a most appreciative smile as she picked up the glass. "Well a reserve nowadays would cost you an arm and leg plus a kidney I'm afraid. Aplayteli!"

Steele tossed back the whiskey like it was water, catching one of the ice cubes in her pearly white teeth, then the fiery Corellisi let it drop down into the tumbler with a clank before setting it back onto the bar top... hopefully for a refill?

"Mhmm Sure does… If I may be so bold to ask what's got you out and about in these parts, hmm? It's sure a long way from our old stomping grounds."

Spoiler

Of course I do. I was just checking if you did.
Thanks, mister.
Cheers!

 

[Julius Sedaire]

"Me? Had business with some slavers in the Rift... They took my crew.... Couldn't get them back, but thanks to the Monks I made the bastards pay... Stayed on with the monks a spell, had nowhere else to go. Still hoping I'll find my people.."

Looking down, he knocked the glass back and silently swirled the melting cubes, watching the water thread remnant traces of golden-amber fire through it as his wrist spun. It was almost as intoxicating as the whiskeys' burn was to watch it swirl. Sighing, he sat the glass down and, to the grimace of the bartender, lit a death-stick and inhaled deeply. Winnings were secured, now to dull the ache that came from the curse that was his Force ability. Under his breath, as if in pairing with the aforementioned mini-speech, he muttered something about 'Atleast I think so' as he flicked ash from the 'stick and let it smolder in a chipped plasteel ashtray. Eyes didn't even need to scan the room to notice the tough coming up behind him, fist raised for the back of his head.

Without sight, the Corellian stood, spun, and smiled as the fist sailed where his head was. A swift strike to the neck, smacking and stunning him. A twist of the wrist and forearm, activating pressure points as the arm chicken-winged up behind him. Then several times the mans face bounce off the boards of the bar before his release. Spinning the arm like a dance partner, there was a definite crack of snapping bone in the shoulder, before Julius counted out a fistful of credits for his nights' stay and tab, slid them to the tender, threw the pouch of the rest of the winnings into the bloodied face of the interloper, and sat down to a fresh glass of whiskey as if someone hadn't just assaulted him with a possible intent to murder him after robbery.

"Sorry... Some are poor sports.... But if we are rare here, then that makes you rare... So what is a fine Corellian spitfire like yourself here in the Rift for?"

[member="Eliza Steele"]

 

[Eliza Steele]

[member="Glavo Pahro"]

Death Sticks… Oh how Eliza hated them. No good ever came from the highly addictive illicit substance that was a mild hallucinogen. The man either was an addict plain and simple or he was trying to numb himself to the reality of his situation. But who was she condemn him for it. Steele drank to forget her own demons. Quite the pair the two Corellians were it seemed.

What happened next wasn't totally unexpected to be honest. It was a shadowport after all and the ruggedly handsome Corellian did just clean up at the sabacc table, though to the degree he put the ruffian down was another thing. Eliza's dark gaze moved from the bloodied interloper on the floor with the remains of the credit pouch dumped atop him to that of the man who sat back down at the bar nonchalant-like. He was really beginning to intrigue the fiery Corellisi; kinda got her blood boiling if you will.

Eliza reached for her refilled glass of whisky, but didn't toss it back. She just fingered it in a thoughtful way as the smuggler's answer to his question formed in her mind.

"Minmin Bey Ihn anhicva unu do. Mia pahro devas konsent de Valle… I haul this and that from here to there. Since the rebellion, the Kathol Outback has opened up and there's good potential for making solid credits so here I be. I'm Eliza Steele by the way," she answered with a confident smile, extending her hand to him in a friendly manner for a handshake though ready to sink a blaster bolt into his gut if he tried anything stupid.

"And who do I have the pleasure of sharing drinks with?"

Spoiler

I am a rare one indeed. My father would agree with you.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

"Glavo Pahro is the last name anyone called me worth keeping. Master Distiller at Rywen's out of Galtea, only real producer of Corellian spirits, authentically, that is not on Corellia. Guess at one time some others called me Julius Sedaire. Tooled with some Green Jedi types, fought for the Alliance... Before my life went and capsized. It's all a bit muddled... Damn monks...."

Breathing in the scent of those around him, he grinned a bit to the rather surly looking guard sergeant who stepped in, looked to the assailant, and then Glavo, and promptly laughed and gestured for his men to drag him away. Glavo raised his glass to the man who saluted crisply. Despite the appearance, this was not any criminal activity. His connections in the Outback made his reputation known beyond a doubt. Later, the Sergeant would drop by. Likely off duty. A drink or two might be shared. They would exchange stories, with the Sergeant presenting any facts against Glavo. It would go from there. Rolling his shoulders, Glavo shrugged and pulled his collar open a bit, nodding to Eliza.

"You ever want legitimate work, a ballsy pilot willing to move whiskey is welcome. And sometimes I have other errands. And my ship is too unique to use them on typically."

[member="Eliza Steele"]

 

[Eliza Steele]

[member="Glavo Pahro"]

A sienna brow arched up high in interest as the man spoke of who he was and his story, but more importantly what he made. Any one who produced real Corellian alcohol had to be a good guy in her book, right?

"Well then especially nice to meet you," Eliza smiled in a pleased way before taking a nice, slow sip of whiskey savoring the taste before letting it slide down the hatch. She didn't want the evening to be over too quickly. In fact, the fiery Corellisi hoped it was just getting started.

"I'm always looking for jobs that are legitimate and maybe not so much. I got myself a good ship and dependable crew. Either way I'm sure we could work something out… So tell me more about Galtea and your distillery of fine Corellian spirits. You have me totally intrigued now. To be honest, I've only passed by the planet on my way down the run."

 

[Julius Sedaire]

"When I came back from..... exile.... I needed a job... I signed on as a taster and regular distiller at Rywen's.... It's a Galtean distillery that they hold is an offshoot of the original distillery. The name supposedly is Olys Corelisi for what we call Whyren's now. The Gulag Plague killed much chance of verifying the claim, but it is curious they have such strong traditions that mirror Corellian distilling and brewing so closely. Either way, we are a craft business... While we could be as mass produced as some, we focus on variety and quality over volume. We make an Aing-Tii themed drink that is marketed off-planet so far, and are ramping up the other products to be marketed beyond there as well."

Here, he grabbed a flask and other things within his long-vest, the flask beingmade of gnarled wood, and removed a stopper made of similar wood and handed it to her with a grin. The smell was licorice and herbal, heavy handed,and he took it back as he poured it over a sugar cube on the spoon. After pouring he lit the whole thing on fire with a heavy old zippo style lighter made of corellian bloodsteel. The flame was a merry blue color that dance and melted the sugar into an almost caramelized sugar that trickled off as he poured more over the spoon. Swiftly he mixed it, and from the water glass at his side he dribbled just a few fingers worth of water across the drink, and an herbal, floral mixture of scent spread across the bar. Gesturing to the glass, he waited.

"Based on an Aing-Tii drink we call 'Absinthe'.... The authentic brew is so strong is causes halucinations and psychotic delusions in humans. We toned it down and adapted the recipe whilst keeping the flavor profile and such as much as possible. Go ahead, try it if you want... It isn't Corellian... But.... It is good..."

[member="Eliza Steele"]