Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Mos Eisley

Kyber faces Cross while he turns down the volume on his speakers, their business transaction most likely over. He looks him up and down, sizing him up under his mask before twisting his upper body towards the bar and pulling the Barkeep close. He whispers to the barkeep and pays him. Kyber follows the barkeep with his eyes and slight movements of his head as the barkeep gives the Wookie that attacked the man before a drink. The Wookie looks over to Kyber puzzled for a moment before the wookie noticed Kyber unsheathing the blade on his thight about halfway. They both give eachother a solemn nod before Kyber turns back around to face Cross and Cambry while sheathing his blade.

Kyber reluctantly takes off his hood and grips the back of his helmet. He gives it a slight twist before pulling it off carefully. He sets his helmet on his lap and slowly opens his eyes while blinking rapidly for awhile, allowing him to adjust to the lighting. He reaches around blindly for his drink until he finally grasps it. He takes a gulp of whatever is in the glass while looking between Cross and Cambry with his now adjusted eyes to see what exactly they purchased.

[member="Cross Ikon"] // [member="Cambry Benjamyn"]
 

Cambry Owens

A Pseudo-Mandolorian. Sort of.
Cambry took the item, and took a seat over by the wall, across from a somewhat congratulatory Shistavanen. He continued to keep his wits about him even as he fitted the new addition to his gear over his gauntlet, finding it made a decent fit there. He tested the weight of it with his arm, gradually getting used to it as he watched the rest of the cantankerous, loud, partying cantina.
Another Mandalorian. Stang it. This place was lousy with them. Sooner or later, it'd be best if he left. But the ship was still in repower stages, and he had a better chance of survival in here than on the streets.​
This Mandalorian seemed shy of his armor, judging from the heavy cloak and robes. Not that Cambry wasn't himself, but this almost drew more attention than not. Figures, Mando's didn't usually do much to hide their appearance as was.​
He wondered what the deal with the Bartender was. Whatever it was, it caught his momentary attention. Only then did he notice that the wookie he had briefly sparred with had taken a seat at the opposite side of the main bar. There were more than a few patrons between them, but he couldn't be sure whether or not he'd know where he was.
Now he had license to be paranoid. The Wookie's friends could be anywhere in the bar, ready to ambush. That didn't suit the nomad spacer at all.​
He shrugged off some of the praise of his seating patron, and stood slowly. Ever humble, ever unassuming, even with the distinct armor he seemed to blend into the populace.
Slowly, he made his way to the door, cloak around his shoulders. The ship should be ready anyway.​
[member="Kyber Salurra"] [member="Cross Ikon"]​
 
Something made me twitch when the Wookiee sat down across the room.

My trigger finger was itching slightly. A sign that somebody was probably about to do something very pointless and stupid, and I would have to shoot them.

A Rodian stood up, glaring my way, and I shot him in the leg. He went down, swearing loudly in a mangled mix of Rodian and Basic.

"Anybody else want a shot? Or can I drink mine?"
 
Kyber spied the Mandalorian leave and decided it was time to take his leave as well. He hastily put down his glass and stood up as he was fitting his helmet back on just right. After making sure it was powered up with the distinct low buzz of static from his mic, he flicked his hood back over his helmet and picked up the rest of the drinks the Bartender left for him. Kyber walked towards the exit in an attempt to follow the other Mandalorian and perhaps learn what exactly he bought in such a shady place as this.

Kyber couldn't help but notice the shot as he was making his way from the bar. He looked at the man for a brief moment under the anonymity of his helmet. He took a mental note of the Man's appearance and garb, making sure to watch out for him in the future. As he passed the man's table on his way out he set down the glasses of booze for him (figuring it's better than going to waste) and gave him a quick and solemn nod before readjusting his hood and heading out himself into the sandy dunes of Tatooine.

[member="Cross Ikon"]
 
Outer Rim;
Arkanis Sector;
Tatooine.

76dca652-ad7f-4172-abe7-87943d504080.jpg


A sudden ruckus of conversation swept the apparently popular man from their conversation. She took no offense, he had little choice really. Though, she caught herself smiling at him even after he had looked away. The man seemed to, well, she wasn't really sure what the word was. But the first synonym she could bring to mind was 'pure.' The way he shook after the encounter, where pride would hide such fear in a normal man. And the way he handled himself. Cautious, yet effective, as if it were her cover. And her smile became crooked, as if she had lost track of it, but she caught herself in the middle of it and shook it off, staring back down at the counter with wide eyes. She hadn't even ordered a drink yet. Nothing alcoholic, certainly. A sigh of release, teasing herself silently for being such an odd ball, and then swinging back into view, observing the cantina life. For once, it was cheerful. Funny how that worked, with such ease, the transition of scenes. One moment, an enraged wookie holding the frantic man as if he were nothing but a lifting weight, and a knife, and blood. And now there was laughter, echoing with the bouncy music.

She had nothing more to say here. In truth, she had actually enjoyed herself, which was a surprise. She had assumed the night would be long, and dreadful. An analytical process of the bounty hunting process. Sitting in the target's territory and waiting for the moment to strike. She was still relatively knew at this, and it always felt like she was the underdog, but she had managed to pull things off each and every time. Luck? Perhaps, but she had learned to count on it. Two finely dressed nautolans entered the bar's entry arch, hooded so that their head-tresses spilled from the veil of shadow which covered their face. Her face froze tight, and then relaxed completely; though her eyes were different still. Determined. With a smaller motion, Xenia waved over the bartender as if to order her first drink. Leaning in a bit closer, she pushed forward a credit chip and, with a confident smile... she began the process.

"This should cover my tab, I think... oh, keep the change," she began, and he took it to scan it over the various holoscreens which made up his register. He ran it again, as if confused, and looked back at the woman. But she was already leaving her seat, and heading through the central floors. After one weak attempt to summon her attention, he fell silent and a thin smirk lit up his face. "Drinks are on me tonight, boys," she said with a slurred voice, as if she had already had her fair share of the bar's offered beverages. Most , at least all who understood standard-basic, instantly craned their necks towards the announcement, hesitated, and lunged toward the bar. There was some chatter, explaining to those who didn't understand at first, but for the most part they got the message. Even so, the credit chip had been generous, carrying more than enough to cover a night's expenditures. The nautolans had seen her, but it didn't interrupt her confident strut over to them. And they started towards her, their faces looking threatening.

"Hello boys, I've been waiting for--"
"Cut the poodoo, Seezo, where's your payment?"

She had just spent it.
Pissed it away, without concern.

"I have it, chill out," with a dismissive wave.
"Yeah, well we need it now," said the first.
"Cough it up," the other, with follow up.
"Ooh, you both can talk," she said with a sarcastic excitement.

They certainly didn't look pleased.
But she stepped through them, right through the middle, parting them with her hands.

"Ey, where's the payment--"
"Chill," she interrupted.
"You ain't leavin' without payin' up, little lady--"

I suppose that's when they both felt it, pressed up into their guts.
She held two pistols, safety off, stun canceled. Full powered.

"Liiisten," she offered with a whisper.
"What're y--" one pleasded at the same volume.
"I said listen," and now she was more firm, continuing.
"I reeeallly need you to like, disappear, for like... ever."

Certainly a thread, though unneeded, for their eyes rolled back regardless. Bending at the knees, both of the nautolans slumped to the sides, their hands covering their eyes and wiping their foreheads. For some reason, they were sweating, heavily. Deep breaths and a weak protest, but Xenia was already gone. Her weapons concealed again, and her cloak pulled around a quickly moving silhouette. She couldn't tell you for sure, even now, exactly how long it took for the nautolans to fall over to their deaths. She had seen it a few times, when studying durations, and none had lasted much longer than a minute against the toxin. And yet, when had she placed her attack? It had all been so fluid, and that was just it. The art was in the finest details. It was only a small clink, the noise made when she tossed something small to the ground. No, two somethings. Two rings, one which she had previously worn on her left pointer finger, and the other along her right middle finger, with two others. On the bottom of the ring, there was a small needle point, sharp enough to penetrate the fabric of clothing, and yet not be noticed right away. Even a simple touch would have been enough to deliver her venom, she had merely needed the excuse. One nautolan coughed, and the other gave in right away, though both lay dead on the floor by the time she had merged with the night air.

They had been a problem anyway...

[Exited]

[member="Kail Ragnar"]

[member="Cambry Benjamyn"] | [member="Makkik"] | [member="Flora Burn"] | [member="Cross Ikon"]
 

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