Private Of all the joints in all the towns in all the galaxy...

[Perail Staite]

Location: Son-Tuul Spaceport

The Café Corellien wasn't the sort of cantina with twi'lek girls in skimpy clothes. To be sure, Perail's black leather pants were tight, but that wasn't the main attraction. There wasn't a band that no doubt snorted spice to get through the night, either, and nobody was dancing here. It was a quieter sort of place with a melancholic atmosphere.

The owner was a washed-up freighter captain from Corellia, and when you find yourself retiring on Son-tuul, everyone knows what 'freighter captain' really meant, not that it was considered disreputable around these parts. As a publican, he had a reputation as a fair man who wouldn't tolerate any ruckus in his establishment. He wanted you to enjoy your Corellian whisky and home-made ryshcate in peace. He didn't have a bouncer, that would have ruined the atmosphere. But there was a blaster on Perail's hip.

Closing hour was nearing, the light was dim, the air was stale, and only a few patrons were left, many quietly sunk into their seats, a few conversing in little more than a murmur. Perail had moved a barstool behind the counter and was sitting on it, leaning forward with her elbows on the bar, looking gently into the six eyes of an inebriated spider.

The harch was far from home, not entirely atypically for his individualistic species, many of whom struck out into the galaxy to make their fortune. Only he hadn't made a fortune, and he didn't know what he had done wrong, why he had trusted the wrong people. It went over his head how exactly he had ended up in debt to the Pride. His species was naturally long-lived, but he doubted he would see the end of his natural life-span.

For this one evening, he sought comfort in the haze of drink and the company of this curious mammal, who neither judged nor advised, and whose sympathy he could somehow feel even if he found the faces of its species inscrutable. Perail took a gulp from the bottle of Corellian ale that she was allowed towards the end of her shift. She smiled sadly, but somehow encouragingly. "You can't say you haven't lived."

The harch shifted its mandibles slowly and clumsily. "Yes <click> I've made a good showing <click> haven't I?"

She wasn't going to tell him what to do. Maybe he would calm down, pick himself up, and try again to find a way out of his predicament. Or maybe he would resign himself to his fate and wait for the end. But she had a hunch that what she had said might trigger a process within him that would eventually allow him to come to terms with his fate, in whatever way; for him to be at peace, or at least not so much in agony. That was all she could hope to do for him. When he had come in, she had felt his whole being writing in pain - now he was already better, and it wasn't just because the drink had dulled his mind.

The door opened and a new presence appeared. She straightened herself up, got off her stool, and smiled apologetically at the newcomer. "We're closing in half an hour."

 

[Asara Ta'kona]

ASARA TA'KONA || STORM
SON-TUUL SPACEPORT
TAG: Perail Staite
GEAR: Link shiz here

​

The woman walked into the bar after quite the evening. Four doors down was a very typical grimy cantina bar where two missing twi'lek women had been traced. They hadn't been seen on Ryloth for nearly four years and had passed through the hands of slavers into the bar she had just left, one run by any one of a number of spaceport gangs. She had been saddened speaking to two women, they had been so manipulated they barely even understood the situation they were in, acting as though they might simply be staff in an elegant bar. Luckily things had gone well, the manager had no interest in pissing off a Jedi, and when given a choice of the easy way or the way that Asara would need to meditate over afterwards? The girls were quickly free, in the back of an authority medical van and would soon be on their way home, no blood had been shed.

"We're closing in half an hour."

"Then I won't waste too much of your time. Large whiskey on ice please." She smiled at the young barmaid and pulled up a stool. She watched the woman pour as she twisted her neck to get the kinks out, what an evening. And something in her mind troubled her, the slave-owning bar manager capitulated very easily, and she felt it might not be the end of it. Little did she know of the dark clouds gathering outside this second bar.

 

[Perail Staite]

Location: Café Corellien, Son-Tuul Spaceport
Tag: Asara Ta'kona

Perail placed the tumbler with whisky - Corellian, of course - on the counter before the new guest. "Take your time", she said. Far be it from her to make guests uncomfortable by making them feel they were about to be rushed out the door again.

The first thing that must strike any human or near-human about this woman was the size of her bust and thighs. She had the proportions of the HoloNet models that Perail gathered boys liked to look at. Spending months on a small freighter with a bunch of guys made it impossible not to become privy to such things - even if she hadn't been invited to join in watching, which she had been.

However, the twi'lek was not dressed to show herself off, and she moved with an energy entirely unlike that of a 'model'. Those thighs were muscle. You did not want your arse kicked by this woman - metaphorically or literally.

Perail wondered idly if someone had just got their arse kicked by her. "Long day?" she asked casually. She struck her as someone who had, indeed, had some late-night business and was now trying to unwind with a quick nightcap.

The harch paid his tab and withdrew, waddling towards the door. Perail took another sip from her bottle, then produced a piece of cloth from under the counter and began wiping the surfaces of the traces of the night, occasionally throwing a glance at the guest to make sure she knew she was listening and not ignoring her.

 

[Asara Ta'kona]

ASARA TA'KONA || STORM
SON-TUUL SPACEPORT
TAG: Perail Staite
GEAR: Link shiz here

​

She smiled and held the whiskey up to their health before taking a slug. "Yeah, I won't chew your ear off though, my tiredness is simply a reward for a good deed, so I should enjoy it." she laughed and finished the glass, tapping it on the bar for another.

Her lobes pricked up as he heard the Harch trying to tell a couple of new patrons they were about to close only for him to be rudely told to mind his own karking business. She knew that voice, one of the goons that had been around while negotiating for the release of the slaves. She could feel the menace in him, he was pitching for a fight.

"If this bar is blaster proof I suggest you hide." she said quietly as Perail Staite topped up her glass.

As the trigger slide against the metal she stood and in a single motion activated her lightsaber. She was like a flash and the first bolt in the barrage scored a direct hit on its firer. But it was not the only shot and the remaining rapid fire blasters were opened up at her and the innocent bar behind. She blocked shots with her blade but due to the volume could not aim so round hit windows, smashed glasses and scored walls as they flew about.

Another stray blaster shot hit a bottle of 90/90 on the table and it burst into flames. Asara used this oppurtunity to telekinetcally flash hot alcohol and broken glass at one of her opponent's, the alcohol only burned for seconds but the impromptu incendiary would buy her some breathing room to focus.

 

[Perail Staite]

Location: Café Corellien, Son-Tuul Spaceport
Tag: Asara Ta'kona

There were unpleasant voices outside. That happened sometimes, but usually didn't make its way inside. Occasionally there were even shoot-outs in the street nearby. It was best not to pay attention, and Perail hadn't had any rough time since she'd come here.

She had a bad feeling about this, though. Even before the door opened again, the woman spoke her warning. Perail took no time to wonder about the strange timing - instead, it seemed natural to her, because it was in perfect alignment with how she herself felt about the situation.

She ducked behind the counter, and it wasn't a moment too early. The door flew open and all hell broke loose. Not only was there blaster fire from the entrance right at the location she had been - the twi'lek woman was standing right in the middle of it all and wielding some sort of energy weapon. Perail's eyes widened.

A girl screamed and, nonsensically, jumped up on a chair before she was plucked from it by her companion, who held her closely while they pressed against the wall. An Ithorian grunted indignantly, but did not move from his seat.

Perail fumbled for her blaster, which she had little practice drawing. It wasn't a reasoned decision - if one had thought it through, one might have come to the conclusion that it would be best to sit this one out, since whoever was shooting couldn't possibly have anything against her personally. But she did not think it through - the didn't even begin to think about it all. What she felt was that she, and the bar which she represented tonight, were being attacked. And when you were attacked, you had to either flee - which she couldn't, and the bar couldn't - or fight back. Even animals knew that.

When she finally had the blaster in her hand, after what felt like an eternity, but was in reality only a few seconds, she plucked up her courage and got on her feet, staying as low as she could while still aiming across the counter at the intruders, and for the first time in her life actually pulled the trigger while pointing a weapon at a person without thinking much about it.

 

[Asara Ta'kona]

ASARA TA'KONA || STORM
SON-TUUL SPACEPORT
TAG: Perail Staite
GEAR: Link shiz here

​

The young woman behind the bar fired her blaster towards the opponents, she seemed very inexperienced at this but a gun was a gun and it gave the assailant something to think about.

She lept across the room and whipped her blade around cutting one of the rifles in half and putting a hammer blow of a fist into his gut to double him over. Her blade flashed out again removing the other man's gun and his trigger hand in a single stroke. The guys looked at each other and looked at the Twi'lek, they were clearly outmatched and needed to rethink their lives rather quickly before Asara ended them. She stood with both of her hands on her saber holding the humming blade ready to strike again. As a Jedi, she would let them choose retreat, as much as there was an eagerness to finish this fight for good.

"Fuck this, I need to get to a hospital."

Asara nodded slowly in agreement as the two guys gave it one more thought and then turned tail to run. The Jedi held out her hand and shut the door behind them before deactivating her blade and clipping it back to her belt. She let out a long sigh, her drink had been spilled, that was a shame. As she walked back over she felt something crack under her foot. She looked down and wrinkled her nose as she saw the severed hand of one of the shooters.

"That's disturbing." she laughed, then straightend one of the stools back up with the force. "Are you OK?"

 

[Perail Staite]

Location: Café Corellien, Son-Tuul Spaceport
Tag: Asara Ta'kona

Perail merely stared with wide eyes at how the situation resolved. When the twi'lek woman commented upon the severed limb she stepped on, she let out a chuckle, out of nervousness and to release tension more than actual amusement. She went over to the door and punched the button to lock it from the inside, then looked around the room. Everyone looked in stunned silence, but nobody was moaning in pain or otherwise indicating that they were injured. "I'm okay, yes", she said without hesitation.

It took her only a moment to pick herself up and spring back into action. "Follow me everyone." She made for the door to the kitchen, which was dark and deserted - they didn't offer food so late in the night, and the cook had long gone cleaned up and gone home. Perail hesitated for a moment, but then switched on the light. Nobody was even trying to get in anymore, their attackers had withdrawn and it hadn't seemed like there was backup; they had other worries now.

The was some clunking as inebriated guests were shooed through the kitchen and into a small corridor. It had a storage room with an open door at the other end, and a door off to the side. "That's the staff door, it leads outside. Best get yourselves home. I'm... so sorry", she said. It was scarce comfort to the frightened souls, but the couple, stumbling past, caught a sheepish smile from her, and the guy put his hand on her shoulder in passing as if to express his appreciation before continuing to lead his companion onwards.

Perail ushered everyone out except for the twi'lek woman, whose was not shaken, unlike the rest of them were, and seemed to be in no hurry, then slumped against the wall. She finally realised she still had her blaster in one hand, hanging limply to her side, and holstered it. She was clearly unpracticed in the procedure, or maybe it was simply her nerves, but she needed both hands to put it in.

"I should go clean up. Maybe I'll still have a job in the morning, although I don't know..." she commented without conviction, but at the same time, there was no fear or worry in her voice. She seemed oblivious to the fact that after what had transpired - or more precisely, after what she had done, reaching for her blaster right away -, Son-Tuul might be a less than safe place for her. And it somehow didn't occur to her to ask what had happened. Maybe it was the shock, or maybe she just took for granted that the galaxy was an insane place where insane things happened.