Nar Shadda Cantina :: Where the sunlight wanes

[Sola Tymon]

The smuggler's moon is a great many things: for the many born there, it is a life that's difficult to escape; for many rogues and opportunists, it's the central business district of the galaxy; and for the more fortunate, it's interesting. Much like Coruscant, the sunlight from the moon's star, Y'Toub, can only go so far: the vast majority of floors are left purely with artificial light, entirely untouched by the natural light above. Where the light can touch and where it can't is considered a crossroads by many: the difference between being able to enjoy your time if you're careful and being swallowed whole. While the truth behind the symbolism is debatable, it holds true enough for Sola's purpose: here is where business gets serious, the bridge between spice trading and unmentionable wet work - the exact flux in which the Steel Sleens make their living.

s o l a _ t y m o n

---

Twilight Cantina and Gentleman's Club, Nar Shadda, Y'Toub System, the Mid Rim.​

---

In one corner of the cantina, half-hidden behind the shadow of her booth's half-drawn curtain, Sola sat - if you could call it that, with her knees against her chest and her feet on her seat - on the other side of an obscure computer, idly tapping away at various buttons and prompts. Earlier, she had put out a few messages in shadier areas of the holonet explaining that a representative from the "Silver Sleens" - a group of contractors of several questionable shades, ranging from mercenaries to credit launderers - would be there to discuss potential contracts with interested clients. With a half-empty glass of water besides her, she continued to flick through several screens with her skin-and-bone arms - partially concealled beneath her baggy jacket and VR headset - monitoring all sorts of things, from her advertisements to some idle, more illicit activities.

 

[Jak Sandrow]

Stepping into the haze of the spice-and-ethanol riddled atmosphere, Jak's nose wrinkled a little. It was a smell one never quite forgot, and although it was always unique for every single cantina, there was an innate sense of familiarity with the scent. It promised work to be done, credits to be earned... and the ever-present feeling of a knife hovering near your back.

He went up to the bar, scanning the shadows of the room for a good spot to sit. Ordering a rather large amount of the local whiskey, he made his way around the tables to the darkest part of the room... where sat a very thin woman. With the very hi-tech headset she wore and the strange computer she had hooked herself up to, he assumed this would be his contractor for the month. And if the quality of the tech she had was any indication, this would be profitable indeed.

"So," he murmured, sliding into the seat across from her, "would you be one of the, uhm, 'Silver Sleens'? I'm here about a job."

[member="Sola Tymon"]

 

[Faceless]

The man known as Faceless was sat alongside the slicer, watching the shady cantina go about its due process; slimeballs and criminals came and went but this didn't matter much to Faceless. This is what his job entailed, the people he worked with, the locations he typically found himself in when not on a job, the smells; he didn't feel any particular attachment to any of it beyond the fellow contractor for the Steel Sleens at his side, after all developing attachments to things made an exploit on his end, a weakness to be used against him. That never boded well in his line of work, especially when the galaxy was in as much turmoil as it is... At least there wasn't a shortage of jobs to take on.

His idle musings of the people that went by and the cantina they found themselves in was suddenly brought to a close as [member="Jak Sandrow"] walked over and sat down in the seat opposite her. Faceless looked over the figure for a moment, observing his features and, more importantly, the equipment he carried. It was what he did with everyone that he came his way to make conversation, it always paid to be observant of potential threats or clients. He didn't say anything but simply looked to his side to [member="Sola Tymon"], nodding to her, as if to let her know she had this covered.

 

[Sola Tymon]

s o l a _ t y m o n

---

Twilight Cantina and Gentleman's Club, Nar Shadda, Y'Toub System, the Mid Rim.
Interacting with: [member="Jak Sandrow"].​

It wasn't very uncommon for Sola to be distracted when someone approached her. She liked to pretend that it was something important: lines of code streaming through her goggles, or a keen perception of nearby security feeds. The reality was normally much less glamorous: she paused for a moment after the green-skinned man approached her to quickly close the game to one side of her screen.
"Right, sorry-" she began as she shifted a little, twisting her legs to take them away from her chest and cross them over while sliding her computer aside. "Yes, I'm with the Sleens. I'm akkdog, who made the posts." From beneath her headset, she tilted her head a little, perhaps involuntarily, as she examined the man: while she had seen a colorful assortment of creatures across the galaxy, she had never seen one quite like him. While it was a point of interest, she did continue without delay.

"What do you need, uh..?" Sola began before trailing off, lifting an almost-skeletal hand to make a vague rolling gesture, attempting to prompt for a name. While she didn't offer a response to the changeling beside her, she pressed on regardless: whether she noticed and didn't respond or just didn't notice, it remained to the same effect.

 

[Ugoto Chivaro]

Location: Twilight Cantina, Nar Shaddaa
Objective: Talk to Friends

Rahgot the Mandallian did not like the smuggler's moon. It was too crowded. Too cramped. Too many people. He preferred wide open spaces. Mostly because he was a beast of a giant and wide open spaces were the only ones that could fit him reliably. Two Helix Syndicate Enforcers entered the Cantina before he did, taking up position on either side of the door. Bull's-eye helmets surveyed the crowd, but otherwise they kept to themselves. After that, Rahgot had to duck to get through the doorframe. Not a lot of Mandallians for customers here, he imagined. As usual, there was the customary shifting of seats as people turned to look at him. First him. Then the Enforcers that came with him. Would most people know who they were this far away from the Alignment? Probably not. Better give them a show, then.

A waiter happened to be strolling by. Rahgot reached out one gargantuan hand and clasped him by the shoulder, hefting him up with the same ease as one might pick up a small puppy. The waiter squeaked (as most people would, given the circumstances) as he was raised to eye level to the Mandallian. Rahgot was not a pretty picture. Chipped tusk. Many scars. You did not crawl out of the gladiator pits without picking up a few permanent editions. "Silver Sleens," he growled.

With a shaky hand, the waiter indicated the booth where [member="Sola Tymon"] and [member="Jak Sandrow"] were currently located.

"Thank you."

Rahgot returned the waiter to the ground, gave him a pat on the head, and began his slow, lumbering march over to the booth. His goons remained by the door.

 

[Jak Sandrow]

He shrugged, leaning back passively in his seat. "Well, I'm here about the job offer. You guys said you needed a professional? I'm your man. I've got plenty of good kit, and enough experience in the field to make a Hutt look twice." Granted, he was exaggerating a little with his experience, but these people didn't need to know that. "Provided the contract has good pay, I'd gladly sign on. You need your jack-of-all-trades? Right here."

His eyes slid to the silent one, gave a quick up-and-down, and went back to the computer whiz.

At the approaching footsteps, however, he slowly turned in his seat and looked up, up, up at the new arrival. "Ah, hello there. I'd scoot over, but I'm not sure you'd find it comfortable, friend."

[member="Helix Syndicate"]
[member="'Faceless'"]
[member="Sola Tymon"]

 

[Faceless]

The silent one stirred, speaking out in a Corellian accent, smooth as silk but gruff and with a sense of purpose and age all the same, sounding as if he were in his mid-fifties as he'd look towards [member="Jak Sandrow"]; "So you wanna sign up, huh? How long you been in the business, kid?"

That was when the new arrival entered the booth, he also noticed the several 'plus-one's' that had been brought to the unofficial recruitment 'office'. Typically, things like this never ended with a positive outcome; seeming all too similar to a muscle in on the newly founded and upcoming mercenary group. Regardless, Faceless took no action just yet, doing exactly the same as he had with the Jack-Of-All-Trades that was sat opposite his slicer; checking out the figure's appearance and whatever equipment he was carrying. He'd simply shoot the figure a nod, awaiting Jak's response on his question.

[member="Helix Syndicate"] | [member="Sola Tymon"]

 

[Sola Tymon]

s o l a _ t y m o n

---

Twilight Cantina and Gentleman's Club, Nar Shadda, Y'Toub System, the Mid Rim.
Interacting with: [member="Jak Sandrow"]; [member="Helix Syndicate"].​

At no success to her attempt to get a name out of him, Sola let out a quiet 'hm' as she dropped it back to her lap. She sat a little awkwardly, crossed-legged atop the perfectly capable complete seat. When the changeling took the lead in the conversation, she reached over to her computer to slide it back in front of her, to return to her "work" elsewhere. That is, until two henchmen and a much taller leader thumped into the room. As soon as they made their presence overt - which was more or less immediately - Sola was looking; it was hard to miss, even without his escort.

As Rahgot approached, gruesome in appearance as he was, Sola lifted a hand to distantly clear her throat. Her VR goggles bobbed up and down as she reluctantly looked over his features, finding little comforting about them.
"I take it you're here on, uh.. on business?" she pressed out, restraining a nervous stutter.

 

[Ugoto Chivaro]

Location: Twilight Cantina, Nar Shaddaa
Objective: Talk to Friends - [member="Sola Tymon"] | [member="Jak Sandrow"] | He of the Broken @

Rahgot smiled at Sandrow. It was not a pleasant look for him, but it seemed sincere and friendly enough despite it all. "Yes. Kind of you to say."

More often than not his size was more of a hindrance than an advantage. Especially in situations like these, where taking a seat might have been more conducive. You made due with what you had, though. Rahgot did not choose to be a Mandallian Giant, nor would he have picked otherwise if he had been given the opportunity. Too often people didn't realize what they had until they were gone. Rahgot had decided long ago he would rather be built like a Wroshyr than the house of cards most other species got saddled with. Like this Silver Sleen woman here. All bone. Very sad. But she could probably make up for it, if her cyber-parts were any indication.

"I am here for this, yes," Rahgot explained. His grammar was not so good, but he was a congenial Mandallian nonetheless. "I am from Helix Syndicate. But, also acting on behalf of his eminence [member="Gorba the Hutt"]."

The Syndicate had been dealing more and more closely with that Hutt in particular these past months. Something had presumably been arranged, but to what end was anyone's guess. It must have been important to get them to stick their head out of the Alignment. "Vile gang has taken control of important place. Place they should not have, do not belong. As Gorba says, it belongs to Hutts. Yes. To return this place to Hutts, Gorba would like to contract Silver Sleens to assist in recovering this place. Pay is large."

The fins on his head wiggled slightly, and Rahgot regarded Jak Sandrow, who did not seem to already be a member of the Sleens. "Gorba hires you as well, if you want."

 

[Reks Yarroq]

The Cloud Runner landed in the Smuggler's moon, it hadn't been much time since Reks and Ashra visited Nar Shaddaa, they have heard of a group called the "Silver Sleens" where looking to make contracts the pair didn't loose time and went to the Twilight Cantina, once inside the trandoshan noted a group of people in a corner of the cantina.

"Get a seat near the door and stay alert" He said to his partner.

The togruta took seat and slowly place her hand on the holster to draw her blaster easily, the trandoshan went to that crowded corner and look at all the people there then he speaked.

"You know if you want to keep in secret this "reunion" a crowd in the corner won't help, in any case I heard the sleens are looking for people, I'm a bounty hunter, need the muscle I am your Lizard."

[member="Sola Tymon"]

 

[Faceless]

Faceless
Location: Twilight Cantina, Nar Shaddaa
Objective: Find potential clients & work

Faceless looked over to the representative of two factions, letting out an interested hum as he made his offer, the masked man didn't shuffle in his seat, yet the figure who spoke with the voice of a seasoned veteran of his trade seemed to speak out, however the voice seemed to shift with the change of opinion of the hulking figure, sounding more like a Cathar than the Corellian accent that he had put on prior when speaking to Sandrow. Strange for a change in accent and tone entirely depending for such a insignificant thing but alas, this was the price that Faceless had to pay, his problems were his own and that's exactly how he wanted it to be. Regardless, there was a job offer and a client who wished to talk business, he now had something to focus on.

"Gang cleanup? We can deal with that, no problem. We've got a list of contractors, depending on how big of a gang we're talking about, the more firepower we can bring in and help you and Gorba's waste disposal." the figure then looked over to Sandrow, nodding his head; "I think we've just found the perfect trial to test your worth, what do you say kid, interested?"

Another figure entered by the form of a Trandoshan, he'd look him over like he had with everyone else for a moment before holding his finger up for one moment toward him, a polite request for him to wait as he awaited the response of Rahgot.

[member="Helix Syndicate"] | [member="Jak Sandrow"] | [member="Helix Syndicate"] | [member="Reks Yarroq"]

 

[Jak Sandrow]

Jak nodded and pursed his lip in happy thought. "Seems like we have our merry band. I'll be your man on the inside - my stealth suit is almost unparalleled, and I know a thing or two about slicing as well." He turned to the not-so-silent man. "And it doesn't matter the years of experience if you can get the job done just as well," he grinned.

Cracking his knuckles, he smoothly stood up. "Gentlemen. Lady." Tossing a business card to the faceless one, he said in way of parting, "Name's Sandrow. Lemme know when and where we meet up, and I'll be there. For now, I need to, ah, make like a tree, and get out of here."

Tipping a non-existent hat to the crowding table, he took a swig of his whiskey, paid off the bartender, and headed to the door.

[member="Reks Yarroq"]
[member="Helix Syndicate"]
[member="Sola Tymon"]
[member="'Faceless'"]

 

[Josh Dragovalor]

And immediately bumped into another man, just slightly shorter than the 6'7 oversized piece of grass.

Granted, at 6'4, the young man was no Ewok. Or was he still a young man? He was nearing his 30s now, and he had experiment worth even more decades than he had already been on the battlefield... But the face that stared back at [member="Jak Sandrow"] was likely the last one that the Vinithi had expected to see out here in a cantina out in the middle of Nar Shadda. "Excuse me" The man spoke in a medium-toned English accent. He had been about to push past him when his green skin caused him to look him in the face, out of habit. He stopped, studying his face for a moment as his eyes would squint a moment. And finally, he seemed to realize just who he was looking at.

"... Jak Sandrow?"

The voice conveyed an obvious sense of surprise and bewilderment. The man behind it? Jedi Master Josh DragonsFlame, a man that Sandrow had long ago called a close friend, back when the Jedi had been a Knight... And far younger.

 

[Desmond C'artyom]

Narr Shadda… It had been some time since Desmond had stepped foot on the slimeball that was “The Smuggler’s Moon”. Not since the Empire warred with a local crime lord by the codename of Miss Blonde. Desmond had been sent in to negotiate a peace (Or assassinate) the arms dealer.

The Imperial agent and Commando was flanked by four grey cloaked men. Their faces were shrouded in shadow, but if one were to look closely enough they'd find that all the agents resembled Desmond. They were in fact clones of the Chiss. Near perfect matches with even the same cybernetics. They approached the bar and Desmond appeared to give a simple nod to his men, but in that split second volumes were spoken.

Secure the rear entrance Phantom.

Revenant remain near the front.

Ghost find a suitable vantage point.

Spectre you’re with me.

The agents said not a word to one another, but spoke instead via cybernetic laces integrated into their cerebral cortex. As their leader gave commands the clones raced to do his bidding. When all were set Desmond received signals from his agents and he entered the bar followed by Spectre. Desmond scanned the bar while appearing to look nowhere in particular. It was quite the “Gentleman’s Club”, dimly lit, holographic dancers, and a one eyed Bothan bartender. But, Des was here on official business and needed to locate his quarry quickly. Once Desmond was satisfied he had spotted his targets he made his approach while Spectre walked to the bar and ordered a drink.

Desmond made a methodical pace towards the woman with the VR headset, the man known as “Faceless”, a unknown green urchin, and the gargantuan underboss. He patted his own grey cloak until he found what he was looking for. A flask filled with aged Corellian brandy. He withdrew the expensive liquor and took a seat with the mercenaries and criminals.

“Greetings,” Desmond said in his rich Imperial accent as he poured several glasses of the drink “I have a proposition for you Steel Sleens,”

 

[Faceless]

Faceless caught the business card tossed to him by [member="Jak Sandrow"], flipping it over to check the details laid upon it before handing it to [member="Sola Tymon"] as he'd speak to her directly; "Make sure you're getting all this down, put this Sandrow guy into our contact database." as he'd wave the Trandoshan to sit opposite the Chiss who had taken the initiative to find a seat. Funny, for such a newly founded group who had only just recently put their names out there to the general public, they had already got plenty of folk wanting to either sign up or hire their services. He didn't mind, not one bit, it actually gave him the satisfaction of a result that this idea of bringing these various specialist of their field together to provide an unbiased service to the galaxy as a whole was actually about to pay off. Regardless, the short inner-monologue with himself stopped as he reigned in his focus, looking to [member="Reks Yarroq"] first; "Speak to my associate to my side, she'll take your details and we'll be in touch." he stated simply, not wanting to keep the potential client waiting around for too long.

Faceless' vocals changed again, sounding a lot more formal and Imperial in accent as he'd gesture for [member="Desmond C'artyom"] to speak his piece; "By all means, go on. You have my full attention."

As a man who operated behind the curtain, he certainly had the talent to change dialect and tone to fit better with each potential client. Shapeshifting did have its perks, even if his personal history held a darker side to it all.

 

[Reks Yarroq]

Reks sighed as he tooked sit as the man known as faceless ask him, the Trandoshan looked at the newcomer he was a Chiss and speaked with what it sounded like an Imperial accent, the Trandoshan wouldn't know he never spoke to an imperial, he change his attention to [member="Sola Tymon"]

"My name is Reks Yarroq, I'm a bounty hunter but I also do some smuggling jobs all depends on the credits, my ship is a modified YT-2400 Light freighter has a top speed of 1,150 km/h in the atmosphere and an acceleration of 2,886G, the Hyperdrive is a Soro Suub Griffyn class 0.75, and one more thing I have a partner I'm the brute she's the brains if you need anything else I'll be on that table" The Trandoshan pointed to where her partner was sitting.

As he walked towards the table the Togruta stand up and ask

"So... What do we got?"

"We'll have to wait, but it seems we got something good in our hands"

[member="Faceless"] / [member="Desmond C'artyom"] /

 

[Ras'Kel'Kanto]

Twilight Cantina and Gentleman's Club, ​

Nar Shadda, ​

​

Actors present: Ras'Kel'Kanto.​

One Tat'Tit'Twister. Three shots of Blue-M

Ras carefully pulled each glass off the end of his serving platter, his cybernetic fingers handling the containers with an almost cat-like grace. It's been a busy at at the Gentleman's club, which makes it a busy day for the company's favorite cyborg. Waiting tables in a 'Shadda pit wasn't exactly what he 'wanted' to do, but it was part of an agreement the Sleens had with the landlord. The company gets a place to lay low and recruit, the club gets free security and labor. Of course, Ras is the only one doing both. The cyborg wasn't bitter, Ras understood that he's probably the best pick the unit has for a waiter.

Probably because I get the most tips.

Kanto chuckled while slipping past customers, bobbing and weaving across the club floor. The photo-recptors mounted on his 'ears' twisted around, tracking the entire cantina behind the mercenary. This serves the duel purpose of keeping an eye on things, while watching out for a customer's drink order.

 

[Sola Tymon]

s o l a _ t y m o n

---

Twilight Cantina and Gentleman's Club, Nar Shadda, Y'Toub System, the Mid Rim.
Interacting with: [member="Faceless"]; [member="Reks Yarroq"].​

​

When Faceless took over the brunt of the conversations, Sola let out a quiet sigh of relief. Social skills weren't exactly her strength - even being in the cantina, or anything beyond a dark corner of a quiet ship, was a little uncomfortable. She directed her attention back to her computer. Her hands deftly typed tapped in information as it came: a Jak Sandrow was interested in working - thanks, random passerby; Gorba the Hutt was looking to hire the team to take back a location of interest; a certain Reks Yarroq was also interested in work, to which she offered a simple affirmative nod; and now what sounded like an Imperial was approaching the team. What a busy day.

"Mm." Sola hummed towards Faceless, in a way that didn't sound like it meant much of anything. Between them, he may likely know that it was her responding affirmatively: that she was keeping track of everything, between her computer and her headset. With half of her attention focused on the conversation, she began double-checking her "privacy measures" in preparation for some database spelunking: they would need a contact number for Jak - Reks too, if he and his partner-in-crime decided to leave - and the records of Gorba the Hutt and his goons alike were a point of interest for her.

 

[Jotham Noktis]

Kiliar Seral​

---

​

---

Twilight Cantina and Gentleman's Club, Nar Shadda, Y'Toub System, the Mid Rim.​

Interacting with: Himself​

​

​

The hulking, cybernetic bounty hunter-tycoon sat idly in one of the furthest corners of the cantina. Before him, on the table, was a large drinking mug, half-emptily filled with ale. The air around the bounty hunter was considerably foul and was certainly less than inviting. It was however apparent that the bounty hunter had more than a couple drinks. Given the context, he must’ve been a heavyweight. Although ridden with an array of different cybernetics and gadgets, it was still easy to tell that the bounty hunter was a Kiffar - a tattooless Kiffar at that. His hair was long and black, and was braided at several ends with an exquisite taste, and he wore a distinguishable red military greatcoat.

Regardless, Serial had an excellent view of the internal premises; his cybernetic eye was ultimately an enhancement in identifying friend from foe in the convoluted, busy environment of the Twilight Bar and Gentleman’s club. It wouldn’t difficult to see, or pick up on the implicit nature of a conversation – as was apparent with the conversation that was being had with Faceless. He grumbled idly, gritting his teeth as he'd be concentrated with thought.

 

[Jak Sandrow]

Jak blinked, looked once, twice in befuddled amazement. "What... [member="Josh DragonsFlame"]? What are... what are you doing...?" His breath felt short. It was like a portal into the past.

"It's... been years..." Jak didn't know just how long had passed since he had gone into self-imposed hermitage, but the way Josh's beard was maintained, it must have been some time. "How... how have you been?"