Faction Jingle All the Way

[Zak Amroth]

THE WAYSTATION CANTINA
TERMINUS UNDERCITY
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Zak hated the holidays.

Life Day season on Terminus was the busiest time of year. Its many spaceports were bustling with weary pilgrims on their way home or visiting loved ones. Hundreds of competing cargo services jostled the skylines in desperation. Even the run down cantina which served as his unofficial base of operations clamored with unusual activity. A festive spirit had infected the underworld. Crime never stopped, but around Life Day it usually crawled deeper underground. It was all disgusting. So many happy families. He'd never had a family and he'd turned out just fine! All he needed to do was eavesdrop on his deputy's comlink to know that they were more trouble than they were worth.

Speaking of deputies...

"YULA!" the Sheriff of Terminus hollered, "DEPUTY PERL! WHERE'S MY HAT?!"

The other patrons ignored him. Evidently this kind of thing happened a lot. So much so that not a soul bothered to mention that Sheriff Amroth's wide brimmed hat was very much on top of his head. Albeit drooping ever so slightly. He stumbled to his feet, just in time to nearly crash into a young woman staggering inside and out of the city snows. She was moving fast as if she were in a panic. Zak in his half drunken stupor failed to notice any of this.

"Watch where you're going, lady!"

"The child..." she stammered, "You must protect...the child..."

Ignoring his objections she shoved a bundle into his arms before her legs gave out from under her. It was only then that the Judge noticed blood welling from an apparent chest wound. He nearly dropped the now squirming bundle with a squawk of alarm before on instinct he peeked underneath the swaddled cloth first. Gazing up at him in wide eyed terror was one of the most hideous creatures Zak had ever laid eyes on. It was so green...and its ears!

​

"Gross!" he made a face, "Deputy Perl! Detain this...thing while I investigate."

 

[Yula Perl]

Even holiday cheer could seep into the crevices of The Waystation, as evidenced by the colorful holiday lights wrapped haphazardly around the bar, likely plugged into an overloaded circuit with the way they flickered and occasionally let out a loose shower of sparks.

Yula had turned her comm down low so that Zak’s voice was little more than a fly in her ear. The Zeltron was seated at the bar, busy chatting up a roguish pilot with an interesting scar running from the corner of his nose to the crease of his eyelid.

For her part, Yula was a walking Life Day advertisement with her Father Sithmas hat, ugly sweater that was somehow also raunchy, and necklace of obnoxious, blinking plastoid lights.

It wasn’t until Zak had haphazardly thrust a bundle of something into her arms, that Yula’s attention was forced unto the Sheriff. “Hey-wha—!” She reeled back from the unexpected weight and warmth of the package, pulling back the corner of the blanket to reveal…a baby?

“Oh, kark no Amroth. I’m not ready to be a mom!”

She glanced back to find that the handsome pilot had made himself scarce. Great. The alien bundle peered up at her and cooed softly. “I thought you were drugs,” Yula mumbled.

Sliding off the stool, she hefted the child onto her hip—as she’d done with her sisters when they were little—and fell in step behind Zak.

“Congrats on getting laid, I guess?” She wasn’t sure exactly what Zak had done the narsty with to produce…this.

Zak Amroth