Jawamart

[Makkik]

Makkik sat behind the main counter at Jawamart, the largest junk shop on Mos Eisley, haggling with a particularly angry gungan. "Mesa speak bombad standard! Whya ganna t understand missa?!" Makkik blinked. "Ihavenoideawhatyou'resaying!" The Jawa barked in his extremely fast-paced and high pitched version of galactic standard, obviously annoyed. A small group of sentients had gathered to watch a Jawa and a Gungan argue. "Messa speak bombad okeedokee! Yousa re da one who ganna t speak standard!" After that, the Gungan spun around, and stomped out of the store. Makkik rubbed his forehead, and glanced up to the group of sentients, many of which were carrying merchandise they wanted to purchase. "Who'snext...?"

@maxwell hartson

 

[Maxwell Hartson]

He pushed past an Ithorian and into the front. "I need a vehicle." He muttered, staring at the Jawa. A grin was frozen on his face and he wore a white sleeveless shirt and some jeans with a key chain. He slammed his right hand onto the counter, clearing his throat. "It's got be able to keep my secure and preferably not dead while inside. Also a few offense devices, in case someone would attempt to...I'm sure you understand. It's also got to be red...and the horn needs to be able to play some type of folk music, you know?" He asked.

[member="Makkik"]

 

[Makkik]

Makkik blinked glowing eyes at [member="Maxwell Hartson "]. ...Folk music? The Jawa tilted his head to the side, contemplating that for a moment. "Hmmmmmmm.... Whatkindofoffensicemeasures? Hmm? Rocketlaunchers? Giantdeathrobots? PIcksomething!" Makkik was much more agited then normal. Dealing with gungans can do that.

 

[Maxwell Hartson]

"What about small death robots, machine guns, and perhaps some miniature road spikes or somethin' badass, you know?" He asked. The man seemed a bit off, but not enough to be marked as mentally unstable. "Also, it's gotta have a little cup holder...Oh, and...and a bit of blaster resistant metal and something that can take a lot of hits."

[member="Makkik"]

 

[Makkik]

Makikk frowned. He was joking about the death robots... Machine guns? Blaster-proof armor? Why did this guy need all of that? "Riiiiight... Howmuchcreditsyougot?"

@Maxwell Hartson

 

[RC 212]

[member="Maxwell Hartson "][member="Makkik"]

Mos eisley. This place was like a second home to the Dark Jedi merc. She had a lot of family that hailed from this place and it showed in their bloodline how harsh the desert could be. As she strolled down the street Lisa was lost in her head replaying past battles and thinking about how many peoples lives she had ended in this galaxy.

The young woman realized she was a terrible force of darkness. Something evil within her certainly lived in competition with her good side, and more often than not the animal came out to play.

"Hey watch it."

The Bounty hunter she had just bumped into gave her a glare and flashed his teeth. He was a trandoshan and she was not at all impressed.

"Problem buddy?"

He moved for his knife but Lisa was quicker. With no hesitations he force summoned her poisoned dagger from the bantha leather sheath and plunged it into his guts, twisting left and then right. The fast acting poison seeped into the wound and he slumped down, foaming at the mouth as he began to die.

"You done messed with the wrong woman boy."

Casually she withdrew the dagger and sent his corpse flying away with a force push. It impacted into a wall and there it stayed. Then she saw a sing for jawa mart. They usually had nice trinkets and odds n ends she needed.

Without further ado she walked in, and laid eyes upon a familiar sight.

"Ahhh Mr. Hartson, what bring you to this scumhole?" She queried, walking to the counter.

 

[Maxwell Hartson]

He slowly spun around, staring at the woman with wide eyes. He saw the Trandoshan collapse to the floor and slowly stepped back. "I-I-I think I'm j-just gonna...y-you know, l-leave." He nervously looked back to [member="Makkik"], as if requesting assistance. He attempted to push himself out of the door but was pushed back into the store's front counter due to a terrified Chiss fleeing the building. He stared at the woman, forcing a smile...a nervous smile, that is. "I-I-I was j-just...y-y-y..." The man went silent, frozen in place.

[member="Lisa Ticon"]

 

[RC 212]

@Maxwell Hartson

Lisa gave Hartson an evil smile. He was clearly intimidated by the savagery she displayed on the regular. This was a regret of hers. sometime pure savagery got in the way of diplomatic relations, but growing up with a pirate crew, especially as a woman had ingrained in her the powers to survive. This was her primary survival mechanism and she could not contain it.

"Relax Mr. Hartson, you've not crossed me yet, so you should have no worries."

She sheathed her dagger and lit a cigarette letting the smoke plum up from the corners of her mouth.

"What brings you here? Looking for new toys?"

 

[Maxwell Hartson]

"Yeah, a v-vehicle." The insane man looked at the corpse of the Trandoshan. He then glanced back up to the woman. He studied the foam at the mouth. "What the hell?" His gaze was now locked on the woman. "Y-you some f-force user?" He asked, disbelief on his voice.

[member="Lisa Ticon"]

 

[RC 212]

@Maxwell Hartson

Lisa laughed at Maxwell. He was anaive man, the force had it's application but to poison? No that was an entirely different skill, borne of hours of medical work on patients. Her poison skills had come from the years spent with the Pirates as well. Assassination was usually done by poisons rather than brute force, much easier to pull off and harder to track.

"Yes I am a force user. That is the work of a rare fauna however found on a very obscure planet you would most likely not know. It shut's down the nervous system and overloads the saliva glands. That's why he's foaming, but he's quite dead."

Her eyes glanced over the assortment of wares. She was looking for a rocket launcher, something that could be carried on her person for mercenary work.

"Tell me about yourself Mr. Hartson, where do you come from and what’s your occupation."

 

[Maxwell Hartson]

"W-well, w-we've met before. However, I-I-I come from Correlia. B-been street racing since age sixteen. I-I-I was born in a-a-a-a...b-bad location. Every day...h-he'd come by...insult me...h-humiliate me...attack me! WELL, GUESS WHAT! HE CAME AROUND THE CORNER ONE DAY WITH AN AWFUL LOT OF HIS BUDDIES! HE CAME OVER TO M-ME...'EM AND HIS BUDDIES! Y-YOU SEE, THAT NIGHT, I BE KNOWIN' WHAT HE BE UP TO!

SO, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT I SLIPPED MY FATHER'S BLADE INTO MY POCKET AND HEADED OUT ONTO THE STREET. ONCE HE SHOWED UP, I PULLED IT OUT AND I...I...I FETHING STABBED HIM! HE BEGGED ME FOR FETHING MERCY, BUT GUESS WHAT...HE'S FETHING DEAD NOW!"

The mad-man had gone into a rage, stalking back and forth and muttering to himself.

After about two minutes of unusual behavior, he finally stopped and fell to his knees. "FATHER WOULDA BEEN SO FETHIN' PROUD!" After about another two minutes of weeping, he pulled himself to his feet. He looked to @Makkik. "I-I apologize. Anyway, I need this vehicle for self-defense purposes." He declared as if nothing had happened.

[member="Lisa Ticon"]

 

[RC 212]

@Maxwell Hartson

"Ah so your a cold blooded killer. I have use for you, great use. Are you trying to make some credits?"

He'd probably never heard of lisas outfit the ravens, but then few had. They were underground for th most part creeping across the criminal world with slow methodical steps and murking everyone in their path.

 

[Maxwell Hartson]

"No, n-not a killer. It w-was self-defense." He shook his head multiple times. "I d-don't kill unless appropriate." He glanced back to @Makkik. "I'll b-be right back." He stepped outside, motioning for [member="Lisa Ticon"] to follow.

 

[RC 212]

@Maxwell Hartson

Lisa gave him and up down glance and simply walked out behind him, keeping her force senses alert and her weapon hand on the butt of her SMG. The air was hot an dusty and she squinted.

"Where we going?"

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Maxwell Hartson"] [member="Lisa Ticon"] [member="Makkik"]

Man, I just wanted to buy some junk.

Jethro scratched his nose, glancing from the Jawamart sign to the crumpled, foaming Trandoshan to the two hardbitten types just walking out of the store. The Trando had flown, looked like -- he could see heel-marks on the sandy road. That put the body a good distance from the store and the two mercs, maybe far enough that he could pick it over without getting interfered with.

Inside about five seconds he was crouched over the body. Fifty creds, good. Armor won't fit and I'm not taking the time to get him out of this crap. Knife, decent but it didn't do him much good. Oh hello there. He pulled out the Trando's blaster pistol and unbuckled the gunbelt. Hekler'kok HK-45. Cheaper than feth, kicks like a mule. I can work with this.

He donned the gunbelt and holstered the '45. Once the two mercs moved on, he intended to try and get into Jawamart and buy, well, some junk.

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Jethro Merrill"] [member="Lisa Ticon"] [member="Maxwell Hartson"]

Man, I just wanted to steal some crap.

In this Galaxy there were two types of people, well… there were probably more, but let’s keep it at two for ease of use. You got the people who coul-- okay, nevermind.

We ain’t here on a school trip.

Malvern hung back from the metaphorical crowd, two mercs who were seemingly at ease at snuffing out some poor bastard’s life like it was nothing, guy who was helping himself to the scrapes. Wasn’t cowardice, when you ain’t got a weapon you don’t push yourself into situation you probably can’t get out off without being more dead than before.

So the lad waited, maybe after things quieted down he could check out the biz.

Might have something valuable he could pocket.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Khaleel Malvern"]

The hair stood up on the back of Jethro's neck. Wasn't a Force thing, just a human thing. Crazy superpowers, those humans. They've got five hundred kinds of germs in their mouths and they can feel it when they're being watched. He caught Malvern's eye and, before he could stop himself, crouched protectively over the Trando's broken body. It wasn't like he was ready to kill for whatever might still be stowed around the bounty hunter's corpse and gear, and it sure wasn't like he was some vulture here to pick it down to the bone, but man, what self-respecting hunter only carried a fifty? There had to be more credits in here somewhere.

Trandos didn't normally wear boots, but this one did, big custom armored things that Jethro wasn't sure he could carry, let alone wear. But he eased them off anyway, eyes flicking between Malvern and the two mercs, and fished in one grody boot until he came up with a credit chit for just over five hundred thirty.

Now that's more like it. Gonna have some ribenes tonight.

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Jethro Merrill"]

Without even realizing it Khaleel took a step forward, before he managed to stop himself from doing anything stupid, that amount of money… people were killed over less on lil’ Coruscant. Yet this guy had it in his hand, could be easy, didn’t really look like a lot of man.

Then again, neither was he. Barely over 19 Khal was clearly starved- ain’t exactly a breeding ground for muscles, if ya dig.

Every once in a while a man’s gotta take a choice, ‘sgotta firmly pick between risk and reward.

Moment his spit hit the ground Khal already knew which choice he had made. Eyes went from the lucky guy to the retreating backs of the mercs and then to the door of the shop.

Making another choice Khal finally started for the biz.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Khaleel Malvern"]

Jethro watched cogitations stir behind the kid's eyes. The Trando's gunbelt felt odd, off-kilter; he hooked his thumb in it near the '45 and very pointedly didn't draw for fear of setting things off. Not that he was too good a shot, either, and he knew he didn't look the part.

But the kid didn't act on the opportunity. Jethro pocketed the chit and watched the kid make for Jawamart and the two departing mercs. Still a little ways away, Jethro stayed quiet. Might be a good time to leave -- except he did need those parts, and Jawamart had what he needed. He waited.

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Jethro Merrill"]

He pushed the door open of the mart, gave a noncommittal nod to the Jawa, [member="Makkik"], standing behind the corner. Shop was about what Khal had been expecting from it, nothing too fancy, but a wide assortment of odds and ends-

Mostly junk, but the poor man scoffs on the expensive crap people always aim for.

Ain’t nothing wrong with some ol’ reliable and above all cheap shavvit.

Keeping his hands to himself Khal kept browsing the store, trying to find something neat to nick. Some people would be troubled by having to pull such stuff, for him?

It was life.