Helping a Stranger

[Wren Vissar]

It was early afternoon.

Wren browsed one of the local shops on Zonju V, a planet she had never visited. She was sent there on another 'stroll the streets, make sure nobody starts issues' mission. Wren was barely ever assigned to anything else as she didn't have the greatest reputation among her superiors. She didn't care, either. Wren had never been someone to strive for greatness and resent mediocrity. It was a fine life to browse shops and restaurants and walk the slums of every planet.

Wren turned a small necklace that had caught her eye between her thumb and forefinger. It was a worthless piece of junk she could add to her box of 'jewelry she never wore' which had grown bigger since she had been traveling to more and more planets. At first, she thought it'd be nice to have a piece of jewelry or knick-knack from each place she visited but after a while she just lost track of what was from where and her collection just gathered dust. Wren let go of the quaint little necklace and walked out the door, a bell jingling overhead announcing her departure to the cashiers. The pretty blonde behind the counter flashed her a smile and said: "Thank you for shopping!" in such a falsely sweet way that it made Wren want to turn on her heel and punch the woman square in the jaw. Instead, she kept her eyes on the ground and rudely stayed silent.

Shoving her hands in the pockets of her tight brown pants, she headed towards the more questionable areas of the town she was in. As she absorbed her surroundings she found that she didn't like this planet. It was dusty and dry, brown and ugly. It had none of the lush forest or glittering buildings that some of her more preferred planets had. That was life, though. Not everything could be to her liking.

The downtown area she entered was eerily quiet. It struck Wren as suspicious. Closing her eyes, Wren tuned into the Force. She sensed something, so vague that if she wasn't focusing she would've had no indication of it. After a few seconds, she deciphered that it was a Force signature. A light one. It was nearby.

It seemed distressed.

Wren took off running towards the source, with every step it got more distinct. Suddenly, Wren heard a loud banging noise, like a brick hitting a metal wall. The source of the noise came from a rickety metal warehouse. There was a window near the top of the building and a rusted ladder that went to the roof. She climbed up to the window level, peering into it. The Force signature had been radiating off of a man, who she estimated to be in his early twenties. Wren could assume he was a Jedi like her. The man was exchanging words with a bunch of crooks around him. She could also assume they weren't friendly words by the way the Jedi looked tense and worried. The others had their backs turned to her, so she couldn't see their facial expressions.

Wren silently climbed down from the ladder, walking across the sandy ground cautiously, hoping to not alert the crooks to her presence. She drew her blaster from her holster. Parking herself in front of the entrance, Wren held it ready at her chest and waited for the right moment. She wondered if the Jedi had sensed her presence, yet.

She supposed it didn't matter either way. He'd know soon enough, anyway.

 

[Wren Vissar]

[member="Cotan Sar'andor"]

 

[Cotan Sar'andor]

Crack, crack

pzooooom

"Pew pew," Cotan replied from inside the warehouse he had bunkered up in, while slugthrowers and blasters repeatedly fired upon his position.

When he'd been called upon to adjudicate a dispute here on Zonju V, he expected it to be more like what normally happened when he was still with the New Jedi Order. Specifically, actual adjudicaton. Some negotiation. Stuff like that. He didn't expect it to be a dispute between a small town on the other side of the planet from the capital city and numerous angry bounty hunters and mercenaries who took offense to the town telling them "No murders, please." After said mercenaries and bounty hunters had gotten rambunctiously drunk and some of the townfolk had unfortunately been caught in the crossfire between them...and now the mercs and bounty hunters had teamed up against the town.

Fun.

"This is your last chance, Sarak!" Cotan yelled out, lightsaber in one hand and blaster pistol in the other. "You can surrender now and back off, and everything will be fine; but if you keep hammering at my position, you aren't going to like what happens next!" Any bystanders nearby would probably find it odd that the lone man who seemed to be pinned down by gunfire was the one telling the others to surrender, and most of the mercs and bounty hunters just laughed at him. Cotan sighed, shaking his head. He had wanted to solve this without any violence on his part, but it looked like that wouldn't happen. The hammering of blaster bolts and slugthrower rounds continued away, all of it being a distraction for the real goal, which Cotan already knew about and could sense the people trying to do it. It's like they forget that all of us Judges are Force Sensitive and a lot of us are also Jedi.

With a loud bang the big loading door of the warehouse blew open, a squad of about eight mercs rushing in while the others hung outside. Cotan vaulted over a tarped-over machine, quickly firing his Glie-50 pistol (set on stun, of course) into the group. About half of the mercenaries dropped instantly, their nervous systems overloaded by the pistol; the other half all dove for cover and started firing on Cotan. He batted their bolts away, leaping forward and slicing one merc's blaster in half and removing the firing hand of the other in one swing, and then rounded on the ball of his foot, dropping the other two to his stun setting. He did a Force-enhanced quick 180 again, where the only unharmed mercenary of the group had pulled out a knife and was winding up to plant it between Cotan's neck and shoulder.

"Nope," he replied to that movement, a stun blast hitting that mercenary in the gut and sending him crumpling to the ground. Then he dropped down behind the cover the mercs had thought to use against him, which provided him convenient cover against any other mercenaries that might try to come in through the now-open loading door. Taking down eight members of the group would be disheartening to say the least, but that wouldn't stop any of the others outside from trying to ruin his day. While some more of the group came running in, Cotan started to call out a again, before noticing a flash of movement out of one of the upper windows. And...a Force signature? That felt like another Jedi?

That's spooky.

"You sure you want to keep this up, Sarak?" he called out again, while the mercs and bounty hunters started to fill up the warehouse. Thankfully now he was placed in a corner so they couldn't go around behind him, but it still wasn't an ideal situation by any means...not that Cotan couldn't still get out of it. "I'm not afraid to use lethal force if I have to, just ask the new Mister Lefty!" He wasn't entirely sure if he expected a reply or not, but he still got one from the grizzled old Ex-Ascendancy sergeant leading the mercenaries. "We've got you pinned down, Sheriff. If you're willing to leave this place and let us teach this town some respect, we might let you go with only some minor blaster burns!"

Cotan sighed and rolled his eyes. "No deal!" he growled back, reactivating his lightsaber and waiting for Sarak's command to fire.

[member="Wren Vissar"]

 

[Wren Vissar]

The sounds of whizzing blaster bolts flooded through Wren's senses. She cringed, hoping that the Jedi man inside wasn't getting murder while Wren sat out there, twiddling her thumbs. His force signature didn't fade, though, which made her breathe a heavy sigh of relief. She had to come in at the right moment or she'd screw everything up, possibly getting them both killed. She had to come in when everyone was still for a few seconds, giving her a clear shot to take a few of them down. Not kill them, of course, but injure them enough to take them out of the fight. She felt increasingly anxious with every shot fired, as this would be one of the biggest fights she'd experienced in her life.

Breathe, Wren. Breathe. You're tough. You're a Jedi Knight, you can kick all of their butts.

What was she saying? Even she knew that was a big, steaming pile of lies. She had just become a Jedi Knight and most days she didn't even get out of bed. Wren wished this was one of those days so she wouldn't feel obligated to help a complete stranger. She briefly debated turning around and walking away, but she'd likely assume the worst if she did that and never forgive herself. The sound of combat hushed for a moment. She now heard the Jedi and one of the crooks conversing. Apparently, this man was a sheriff of sorts. She nicknamed him Mr. Sheriff in her head, noting that it was horribly uncreative and she should be ashamed.

Mr. Sheriff's lightsaber ignited with that signature hiss. It was now or never.

Wren stepped out from her cover, blaster held out in front of her. She shot the man named Sarak in the kneecap without hesitation, but then realized her blaster wasn't on stun. She felt sick and guilty but continued with her job. She could apologize later.

Another red blaster bolt escaped the barrel, hitting a man straight in the left cheek of his hindquarters. She shot another man twice, once in each foot. One man shot at her twice. She squatted down, not completely avoiding the blast and getting grazed on the shoulder. From her position of squatting on the ground, she impulsively fired a shot, hitting him right in his meat puppet. Wren holstered her blaster after that, quickly exchanging it for her saber. She ignited it, a cerulean glow radiating around her. Wren felt horribly guilty, knowing she must have disabled the man who she shot in his... Well. She meant to have it on stun.

"Are we done yet?" She asked, practically growling at them. The man clutched his crotch and yelled, making Wren cringe. "Or do you wanna end up the same as your buddy? The choice is your's, just make sure to tell me. I don't like surprises." Her voice sounded confident. She was surprised by this since on the inside she was practically having a panic attack. She hoped they backed off. Wren didn't want to do that again. Ever.

Wren cast a gaze towards Mr. Sheriff, attempting to get a read on him. Was he confident? Scared? Disgusted? She couldn't tell. She just stood there with the lightsaber in her hands, clutching it so hard her knuckles turned white.

[member="Cotan Sar'andor"]

 

[Cotan Sar'andor]

Call it out, Sarak, call it out...

Just when Cotan thought Sarak was about to call out "Fire!" he instead cried out "Kark!" and Cotan heard his bodily thump, while smelling the ozone from a blaster bolt wafting through the air. From the source of that bolt came more, the group of belligerents surrounding Cotan dispersing to cover while they tried to find the source of the newest combatant. All the better for me. Cotan rolled back out from his cover, firing on the mercenaries and bounty hunters as they moved. Some of his bolts dissipated harmlessly when they struck the armour that some of the fights had, but most of them led to unconsciousness for those hit. He rushed after some of the ones that had evaded or been protected from his stun bolts, his lightsaber chopping through their weaponry and some well-applied Force Pushes or punches knocking numerous of them out.

All told he took out about six more of them himself, the others having rushed to the other side of the warehouse. He turned back after that, catching sight of another lightsaber blade, and the woman holding it. "Thanks for the help," he said with a grin, looking down at the mercenary who, by now, had stopped yelling. "You're lucky you had a codpiece, Joran," he quipped at the man, who was Sarak's second in command for this little sortie. "Otherwise your world would've just gotten quite a bit worse - I'm sure the pain'll wear off in an hour or two." Joran just cursed back, still cupping his groin in his hands.

The mercenaries on the other side of the warehouse started coming out slowly after that, setting their weapons on the ground and putting their hands up in the air. Faced with the prospect of fighting two Jedi rather than just one, it seemed they were finally coming to their senses. Good. Cotan turned back to Sarak, leaning down to the man. "Should've known better than to pick a fight when your people were still hungover, Sarak," he said sweetly, patting the man on the cheek - to Sarak's credit, he managed to keep his face rather expressionless, even given the pain he must be in. "Shame you're going to have to get the other leg replaced now. That was a good hit to the knee, wasn't it?" While saying this, Cotan winked over at his new seeming-comrade, giving her a thumbs up, before pulling out his commlink and contacting the local chief of police.

"Sarak and his goons are all down for the count, chief," he said into the commlink, not quite understanding the garbled reply he got back. Terrible reception in this canyon, even on short-wavelength calls. Jeez. "I'm happy to help. Just wire the funds into my account, and I'll report back to the head honcho over on Kal'shebbol about all this within the week." He hung up the call after that, turning back to the Jedi standing beside him while the town's police force started coming over in their various repulsorcraft, cuffing and dragging off most all of the belligerents, aside from those who could still stand and walk. Joran definitely had to be dragged away. He's going to have some nasty bruising. Anyways, he was hoping this girl was a Jedi. She certainly felt like one in the Force, at least.

"You with the NJO?" he asked quickly, before moving on to his next bit of questioning - he doubted a member of the Silver Jedi would have tried to be that non-lethal. "You probably are; council didn't send you off to find me, did they? Try and drag me back? That'd be pretty rude of them if they did, although I wouldn't put it past them anymore."

[member="Wren Vissar"]

 

[Wren Vissar]

A codpiece. He was wearing a codpiece.

Thank God... Wren thought, breathing in a deep sigh of relief. Life without those parts would definitely be difficult and miserable. Joran may have been a dirty crook, but he shouldn't have to live the remainder of his life without his family jewels.

Mr. Sheriff predictably thanked her for the help, which she replied with a head nod. He didn't seem to be hurt. Wren's shoulder burned from the graze of the blaster bolt but she didn't make a fuss about it. It was a mild pain. She was just grateful she didn't get crippled or killed. She brushed stray strands of slightly sweaty hair out of her face and switched off her lightsaber, holstering it and crossing her arms. She listened as Mr. Sheriff talked to the crooks and had to stifle her laughter when he mentioned that they were all hungover. That must have been why he had survived initially against such great odds. When he gave her the thumbs up, Wren smirked. More at Sarak to make him feel even more like an idiot for his deeds than Mr. Sheriff.

Mr. Sheriff radioed authorities about what had happened in the warehouse. The injured would be taken for medical treatment and then jail. Everything worked out fine. Wren began to wonder why she was so anxious before. Wren also wondered whether she should ask Mr. Sheriff what his real name was instead of calling him Mr. Sheriff constantly in her head. She didn't want him to consider her too friendly, though. She didn't want to make friends with people she met on missions.

Which was a stupid excuse and she knew it because she didn't make friends anyway.

He spoke to her first though and she decided to respond, patting herself on the back for being so chivalrous.

"Yea. I'm a Jedi Knight with them." She said. "And no, they didn't send me to find you. You're not that important." Wren said, though she noted he could be, it was just unlikely. There were lots of Jedis and Padawans in the Order and she doubted they would spend a whole lot of resources looking for one if they left. They weren't holding them captive, after all.

"How about you? Who are you with?" Wren had gathered he was associated with some sort of faction but couldn't piece together which one. He was either a silver Jedi or with another Jedi group she hadn't heard of. Part of her wanted to know if it was... Better. Wren had earned herself a bad reputation with her faction, and though it didn't bother her too much, she may thrive more in a new environment. Something about it felt selfish, though. The NJO had trained her since her youth, she couldn't abandon them now. She owed them. That brought up another question; Why would she stay if she was no help to them? If they didn't even particularly value her? Would any place value someone like her?

She forced herself to return from her thoughts to listen to what he had to say.

[member="Cotan Sar'andor"]

 

[Cotan Sar'andor]

"Not that important? Why, that's positively rude," Cotan replied, though where his tone sounded chiding, the grin on his face would make it obvious that he was joking more than anything. "I'll have you know that the grandmaster cried for at least thirty minutes when I said I was leaving." That was a blatant lie, but things like truthfulness and honesty wouldn't stop Cotan from making some of his jokes. "Said I was the best Jedi ever, and that it was a shame I was leaving. Which, that 'best Jedi ever' part is why I left and joined the O-R-C." More blatant untruths aside from the last bit. Hopefully she doesn't mind sarcasm. If she didn't, she'd probably find Cotan's jokes got really old, really quick.

"They call me a Sheriff now. The organization out here that is the local Jedi Order Stand-In is called the Judges; I don't really know where they come off calling a Sheriff a Judge, or a Judge a Sheriff, but I didn't come up with the ranking scheme, I just joined it." He flipped on the safety for his blaster pistol (which he had just been lazily spinning), replacing it in its holster, beside another one that looked exactly like it. "So, you are NJO? That's good. Can't stand those Silvers. Every single one I've met has been an arrogant schutta who isn't worth even a jar of huttspit. And that's ignoring the whole lack-of-balance issue. Some of 'em are about as dark and edgy as those Knights of Ren the next sector over." Laughing a bit at his own little joke, he motioned with an arm for the girl to follow him, as he left the warehouse and started walking towards the town cantina.

"So, miss Jedi, do you have a name?" he asked while he walked, calling his outer robe-cloak-duster-thing over with the Force from the post he'd left it sitting on after the whole fiasco started. "Or am I supposed to just tell my boss that a blunt girl with a lightsaber came in to help me out of nowhere? You might even get some sort of monetary compensation for the help if we've got a name to put to you, y'know."

[member="Wren Vissar"]

 

[Wren Vissar]

"Yea, I believe that." Wren's tone was near expressionless, making it hard to tell if she was joking or dead serious. "I'm not even sure if he would bat an eye if someone carried my decapitated skull to the grandmaster while blood was still squirting out of my neck. He'd probably say 'Oh, those Jedi, they're a dime a dozen. We can find another arrogant young woman to fill the role.'" She said, this time sarcasm practically oozing from every syllable. She had never even met the grandmaster, but she knew that lives were like pennies to big organizations like the New Jedi Order. There was no way they could care about every single person. Especially not someone like Wren.

She listened to him as he explained his faction. Mr. Sheriff didn't give much detail, except for that the ranking system was stupid, and that irritated her. Wren was hoping to get a little more detail from him. Oh well. She thought. Maybe if they chatted more she'd get more answers. He then switched to the topic of being grateful she wasn't a silver Jedi, and in all reality, she was grateful she wasn't too. A lot of them weren't kept in check and were barely Light enough to be considered an actual Jedi. Wren had to make a conscious effort not to snicker when he bad mouthed them, peppering his statements with swear words. A grin crept across her face despite her best efforts to stop it. "Yea. They like to carry the label Jedi without actually acting like a Jedi. But since they're silver Jedi, they get away with it. Clever."

He started walking towards the Cantina and motioned for her to follow. Wren hesitated but then realized that there was nothing better to do. Mr. Sheriff wasn't intolerable either so it was unlikely that she'd hate every second of it. She followed.

"I'm Wren." She said. "I would normally say I don't care about recognition but I like money." Wren didn't know why she liked money. She didn't buy much, except souvenirs from planets and meals. It just felt comforting to have a stack of credits at the bottom of her drawer. It made her feel less vulnerable to the unpredictable nature of life. "I never got a name from you." She said since they were on the topic of names. He looked like an Elijah.

[member="Cotan Sar'andor"]

 

[Cotan Sar'andor]

"Y'know, I think you're laying it on just a bit thick there. The Grandmaster isn't that bad." Cotan continued walking along, though he patted at his pocket to make sure he still had his credits there. It'd be a shame to walk into the cantina, offer to buy a drink, and then not have any money to pay for it with; while he could likely get drinks for free given what he just did for the town, he was already getting paid for what he'd done. It'd be impolite to try and ask for extra from them. "Anyways, since you seemed a bit disappointed, think of the Judges as Jedi that use blasters just as much as lightsabers, if not moreso, and generally like to dress like they just stepped out of a Tatooine holo-drama versus wearing robes and such. That, and we're a lot more decentralized. Not really a big head of the group or anything like that, but we all know what we're supposed to do, keeping the law, protecting the innocents, stuff like that. It all works pretty well." He put both hands in his pockets, walking along relaxedly and trying to ignore the sand that would blow around with every gust from the wind.

That was his problem with most every planet like Zonju V. Too much sand. In his mind, it was bloody horrible when it got in your eyes. Painful and he couldn't stand it and it would almost never come out easily either.

"As for who I am? Jedi Knight Cotan Sar'andor, at your service." He finished the obviously-overly-grandiose introduction with a bow of similar theatricality, before straightening back up quickly. "Or as they call me out here, Sheriff Sar'andor. Or Sheriff Cotan. Or 'hey you!' if they want to be rude about it." He turned smartly down a side street, and at the end of it stood the town's cantina. It wasn't quite as big or grandiose as the one in Zoronhed, but that was just fine for Cotan; big places like that almost always were too loud and had too many people. "It's nice to meet you, Wren. Especially since you helped deal with Sarak and his group back there. It's weird to think about how willingly they banded together against the town and against me when I showed up, when just a few days ago they were drunk and fighting each other, which is why the town told them to leave...idiots." He shook his head and chuckled, walking up to the steps of the cantina.

"Well, Wren, are you willing to join me for a drink? I'm sure I can continue to tell about the Judges and the ORC since you seem so curious, and maybe in return you could tell me if anything interesting has happened in the GA and the NJO since I left." A likelihood that he significantly doubted. Fighting the First Order, fighting the Empire, fighting the Sith Empire...that seemed to be all the GA and NJO were doing nowadays, based on the news. Nor were they having a good time of it either.

[member="Wren Vissar"]

 

[Wren Vissar]

The Grandmaster wasn't that bad. Wren assumed the worst of everyone, despite her care for others. It was an unattractive quality of her's.

As for the OTC, it didn't sound half bad. Less structure but most importantly a new start. Wren felt useless; bored. She was only assigned to simple tasks because nobody could rely on her. She wanted to make an actual difference which she supposed she did today. If she were to start over, though, she would have to change. Wren would have to overcome her oversleeping habit, she'd have to learn to take care of herself, she'd have to at least be civil. Wren figured she could manage that last part. She was civil as it was, she just had a knack for pissing people off.

"Doesn't sound so bad," Wren said. "Just sounds like a lot of commitment." As soon as she said that her stomach turned. She disgusted herself with her own laziness. With her own fear of commitment, which was something most people with any human decency didn't shy away from. Wren wished she could just take it back. Mr. Sheriff would probably feel the same.

God. Why do I say things?

After she swallowed her disgust, she learned Mr. Sheriff's name was Cotan. It was a fitting name.

"You too," Wren said in response to Cotan. "Those guys were dumber than a box of rocks. Who shows up to a fight hungover? Cost Sarak a kneecap for his dumbassery." It really sucked that he'd have to get surgery to fix his knee but unlike usual Wren didn't feel any pity for him. He was being incredibly reckless and maybe it'd teach him a lesson. Tough love.

"Oh, nothing is happening in the NJO. Or if there was, I wouldn't be involved." Resentment echoed in her voice, either for herself or the Order. "And as for the drink, it sounds better than walking in circles around this awful planet."

[member="Cotan Sar'andor"]

 

[Cotan Sar'andor]

Well, that sounded bitter.

Cotan thought for a second whether or not he should ask Wren's own distaste for the order after what she just said, but decided against it - he'd only just met her, after all. It seemed a bit early to start broaching such topics. Best to stick to ones like 'what do you do for work, where do you live, what's your favourite planet in the Tapani sector,' stuff like that. And they'd already taken care of the first of those three.

"So, Wren, what's your favourite planet in the Tapani sector?" he asked while they entered the cantina, and were walking towards the bar. "I'm partial to Fondor, myself, although Procopia's nice too. Fondorians are pretty strange, though." He took a seat at the bar, waving the bartender over. "Corellian rum, please, and whatever she wants," he said, gesturing to Wren. The bartender gave a quick nod and turned attentively to Wren, before moving to grab whatever she ordered alongside Cotan's. Thankfully, at this time of day, the cantina was mostly empty.

While the bartender busied about, Cotan turned to Wren with an expectant look in his eye. "So. Tapani sector. You aren't one of this people who likes Aleron, are you? That place is a literal trash heap of mining and refineries outside the city domes. I could barely breathe when I had to venture out into the open wilds on a mission there."

[member="Wren Vissar"]

 

[Wren Vissar]

Wren was bitter among other things. She hoped she didn't come off as wanting to whine about her life problems because she didn't. She just wanted to be passive aggressive and let it all pile up until she lost her mind and started eating dirt or something weird like that. She tapped her fingers on the counter in thought until he spoke up to offer conversation.

"The Tapani Sector?" She asked, clearly confused on why he would ask such an oddly specific question to get to know her. Wren was no expert on social interaction, but if she were trying to get to know someone she'd usually ask them stuff like what their favorite book was. It proved to be somewhat of a thought-provoking question though as she had never really made up her mind on the matter.

"I guess Mrlsst is cool." She said dismissively. "The shrubbery and buildings are nice to look at."

The waitress came around to take her order. "Shesharilian vodka with vanilla. On the rocks." Wren wondered if it would be socially indecent to get tipsy around someone she just met. Maybe she should've ordered something less strong, like a mixed drink.

"Oh, I hate Aleron," Wren said. "I hate the smell of industry and pollution. I can't imagine how people actually live there full time. I would think it'd be detrimental to their health."

The waitress circled back around with their drinks. Wren picked it up, feeling the condensation gather beneath her fingertips. The liquor slid down her throat and filled her chest with a slight burning sensation. It was mostly bitter but the slight sweetness of the vanilla complimented it.

"Where are you from?" Wren asked. "I'm from Kesh." Wren figured since she wanted to know more about the ORC she may as well get to know Cotan a bit. He may be more willing to help if she was friendly.

[member="Cotan Sar'andor"]

 

[Cotan Sar'andor]

Once the bartender and his assistant (looked to be his daughter; far too young to be his wife, by Cotan's estimation) poured out their drinks, Cotan stopped the bartender from taking back the rum. "Just leave me the bottle," he said with a small grin. "Long day, eh?" the bartender asked in response, tallying up the price quickly in his head; he pursed his lips and shook his head, before writing down a price that Cotan assumed was half of what he'd normally charge (especially for an entirely new bottle of Corellian Rum) and setting the tab for the two drinks right in front of him. "Well, after what you've done for the town, I imagine you probably need an entire bottle of rum. And don't," he started, noticing Cotan open his mouth about to protest, "Try to argue me into letting you pay full for this. You're still paying more than you would if you went to a liquor store for it instead."

Cotan sighed, shaking his head. "Well, at least he didn't try to give these to me for free," he whispered to Wren once the bartender was out of earshot. "Anyways, Mrlsst? I always found it kind of boring, to be honest. The greenstalks and the Mrlssi are cool though, I suppose." He knocked back his first shot of rum, pouring himself another in quick succession. "Also, Kesh, really? You've got to be pulling my leg; your skin isn't purple enough for you to be from there." The grin on his face would make it obvious that he knew full well that Kesh also had a prominent human population.

"Thinking about purple skin, that reminds me of what I said about Fondorians being weird. Not only are they entirely hairless, but they have purple blood. But they aren't really any different from baseline humans genetically. Strange." He knocked back shot number two, although he neglected to pour himself another this time, instead counting out a few peggats to pay with. "Anyways, I'm from Naboo, personally. Life out here is a lot different than home or the Jedi temple were, that's for sure." He set three peggats - about one-hundred twenty credits worth - on the bar, passing it and the written tab over to the bartender. Enough to cover the drinks and a good tip, only slightly less good if Wren decided she wanted to pick up one more drink.

"Man, it's a really long way from Kesh to here, come to think of it. About three times as far spinward as Naboo would be..." His brow furrowed as he started to think about the route it would take to get to Kesh. Hop over to Imynusoph, take the Hydian to Darkknell, Darkknell to Sanrafsix, take the Duros Space Run to Enarc from there and then hop on the Triellus Trade Route and just follow it to Formos, and then you can just hop over to Kesh from there... Cotan shook his head at the thought of the trip; with a high-class hyperdrive like his ship had, it'd still take at least a week if nothing went wrong. "Yep, really long way. Getting to Sullust from there would be annoying and a half, only a little bit shorter than coming here...but you'd have to stop at Eriadu, and that place is barely any better than Aleron. No thanks."

[member="Wren Vissar"]

 

[Wren Vissar]

Wren's face contorted into an incredibly pained expression when he laid out money to pay for her drink. She felt like she was being stabbed in the chest and that someone was twisting the knife in circles. It seemed to be a dramatic reaction to a relatively common favor. Many people paid for their buddies when they went out to get a drink. It was courteous. Wren couldn't stand thinking of him actually spending money out of pocket for her though. It felt like she was being dependent or some kind of burden. She felt threatened, in a way.

"Don't pay for me." She said. Her tone wasn't particularly rude or angry, but it carried some type of emotion whether it be guilt or confusion. Wren took out her credit chit and put enough credits on the counter to cover the cost of her vodka. Her credit chit barely had enough in it to cover her part of the bill. She quickly put it away after distributing the credits so Cotan wouldn't notice. It would be embarrassing and she didn't want him to ask why she barely had any despite being a Jedi. That was another story.

After her nerves had calmed, Wren responded to his statements.

"I think I've heard the purple joke at least a dozen times. Good job on creativity." She said rather dryly.

"Naboo... I can't say I'm not jealous. I've been there once and it's beautiful. The waterfalls and the green trees and the scenery." It was becoming more apparent that Wren had an appreciation for nature. "I mean, Kesh was beautiful in its own way, but Naboo is on a whole new level. I think if I could choose a place to spend the rest of my life it would be there, Alderaan, or Scarif." Scarif was probably the leading candidate for places she would willingly spend the rest of her life in.

"Kesh feels a long way in my mind, too. I haven't been back there since I joined the New Jedi Order. I lived in Sullust for awhile. Now I just go wherever they send me." Wren said.

With that, she finished her vodka. The small glass had already made her feel slightly tired but not enough to constitute as being tipsy. She didn't drink often so she was a bit of a lightweight.

"I'm surprised we didn't run into each other. You mentioned you were in the NJO. I'm assuming you're either nineteen or twenty, anywhere around there. We would've been Padawans at around the same time." Wren said, choosing her words carefully as to get him to open up more about his time with the NJO and his switch to the ORC. Perhaps he had a similar experience. It would feel nice to be able to relate to someone.

[member="Cotan Sar'andor"]

 

[Cotan Sar'andor]

Cotan wasn't that easy to fool when it came to money, however. He simply pushed the credit chip back towards Wren, letting the bartender take the peggats he'd set down instead. "You'll be hard pressed to find a place out here that'll take those," he said, nodding at the credit chip. "No electronic readers for them in small towns like this anyways; gotta learn to use Hutt currency. Which means carrying around a lot of actual cash." He poured himself one last shot and put the stopper back in the bottle of rum, before standing up once he was finished with it.

"Twenty-one. It's a pretty well-sized group, though, so that's probably why you never saw me; especially after Master Qurah chose me to be his Padawan. We did a lot of travelling around." He conveniently left out the small issue of the year or so he was held prisoner by the Sith, although Wren wouldn't have any way of knowing that as it was. Some things you just don't mention on the first day. He checked the time off the old-fashioned clock in the cantina, before looking back towards the door. "Well, I've got to go to my ship and holocall the Marshal who sent me out here. I'm sure I'll have another assignment waiting for as soon as I'm done, too, even if it means I have to sit around twiddling my thumbs here on Zonju V for a week; they haven't sent me off this planet in about a month and a half."

Tucking the bottle of rum into one of the large inner pockets of his robe-cloak thing (he refused to call it a duster or a trench coat), he looked over to Wren. "Care to join me to the ship? I'm going to be going to making the flight to Zoronhed now that I'm done here, anyways, and if you left your ship back at the main spaceport there - of if you took a shuttle to this planet - and then got a speeder ride out here, it'll probably be the quickest way back." He suddenly grinned, with an obviously-joking look to his face and tone to his voice when he spoke up again. "Besides, it'll make it easier to keep playing twenty questions if we don't just ditch each other."

[member="Wren Vissar"]

 

[Wren Vissar]

Wren squirmed when Cotan paid in discomfort. She hated feeling reliant. Later she'd find a way to get Hutt currency and pay him back or this was gonna be in the back of her mind, irritating her, every time she saw him. For now, she just said "Okay. Thanks." Without looking him in the eyes. Wren often looked to the side or down when she felt guilty or uncomfortable. It was one of those automatic things that she couldn't get rid of.

His life as a Padawan seemed more eventful than her's. Her master had focused on lightsaber combat and less on being in tune with the Force and knowing the planets around them. As a result, she was very good at swinging around her laser sword, though sometimes Wren felt like her proficiency in that area was rather worthless. Using a lightsaber against a non-Force user, or even a Force User who didn't wield lightsabers, was often lethal. Lightsabers could cut through practically anything and if used to parry blaster bolts there was a rather large chance it would deflect and hit someone. She mostly used her's for the intimidation or in dire situations. If the day came where she would have to battle a Sith using sabers she would be well prepared. For now, she mostly practiced in private to de-stress. If she had friends she would certainly spar with them for fun.

It was really a shame she couldn't use it more often. It was about all she was exceptional at. Wren was okay with a blaster, decent at hand to hand combat, but she wasn't anything special. Today she got lucky. She usually missed a few times before landing a hit.

Cotan finished his story and offered her a ride out of there. Her lips began to form no, but she remembered how slow her ship was and how she was certain it would give out soon. It was outdated and small and made a screeching sound whenever she started it up. If she let him take her there he could be there if she was stranded. The only downside was being more indebted to him.

"Alright." She said. There might be a place along the way she could exchange her credits for Hutt currency so she could pay him back. She stood up beside him and waited to follow his lead.

[member="Cotan Sar'andor"]