Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

Register a free account today to become a member! Once signed in, you'll be able to participate on this site by adding your own topics and posts, as well as connect with other members through your own private inbox!

Point Nadir

Nemo Sekh

Collector of Antiquities
_________________________________________________________________

RESH 9376 - POINT NADIR SHADOWPORT - SALOVAN'S SOUK
_________________________________________________________________

o2BSCPL.png
"Fake!? Who're you calling fake!?" Nemo cried at the Decraniated merchant. "You're literally a walking-" She gasped with frustration, snatching back the drawstring bag. The lobotomised figure started again in its bizarre mix of Huttese and Basic. "
5ivdUeF.png
50!? Each of these Kyber crystals is worth ten-times that!"


She couldn't deny the near-absolute certainty that they were fakes, but it did no harm to try. She'd stolen them in good faith, after all. If nothing else, that Chadra-fan would've been relieved to know she'd removed a fake from his collection. "Your loss." Frowning, Nemo stormed away for another stall- in the bustling Krayt Dragon nest that was Salovan's Souk, you could always find your mark.

She wasn't especially particular to selling fakes, but caf and hyperfuel weren't exactly free these days; archaeology was scarcely the gold-mine she'd anticipated. She closed on a retrofitted Viper droid, dealing with five customers at once, its numerous eyes whirling to deal with each. The Gand who looked to be its owner was deep in a game of Dejarik. Its rusted vocoder blabbered gibberish in a multitude of languages. Perfect. She forced her way over to it through the crowd. "Pure Kyber crystals-
5ivdUeF.png
90 each."
It paused to process the transaction. She leaned back slightly with anticipation. "Come on, rust-bucket... yes!"


She couldn't suppress a wide grin as its spindly arm gently swept the bag away to the bench of its stall, eye swivelled back to her. It barked a nonsense string of bleeps. "Is that... good?" It bleeped again. "...Sure." It stopped for a moment, arms dancing across the circular workbench to contend with her, a very angry Duros, and a headless droid simultaneously. With a sound like a small bell's ring, it spat a credchip back at her. "Pleasure doing business with-" She heard a hoarse cry over the crowd. She tore the credits away from the droid with a gasp.

Whoops. The Gand was not happy, stomping through the crowd towards her. "Blame the droid!" Her laughter wasn't helping calm him down. He drew a blaster. Poodoo. At least Gand weren't exactly famed for their running speed.

"Sorry!" Nemo leapt into a sprint, scrambling to duck as the first shot burst into sparks over the crowd. They didn't seem fazed- this was certainly Point Nadir.

[member="Alasdair Sitra"]
 
"How was I supposed to know the Golden Fork of Xim wasn’t actually a fork?” Alasdair seemed to believe it was an honest complaint as he walked alongside the tall and imposing Wookiee companion who was laughing with a gruff grunt. “Like you knew any better.” The merchant had practically thrown him back onto the street, much to Charlwook’s amusement, even though the damn Cerean had agreed to buy the archeological find of the century.

Picking the small fake jewels of the utensil he had in his hands Alasdair cursed. “We were this close buddy.” He made a small sign with his fingers, “This damn close to ten thousand credits.”
Char growled a frustrated expression that made Alasdair look up at him in shock.
“Wash your mouth out you filthy Wookiee.” He got another laugh out of Char for that one as well as a heavy hand patting down on his shoulder. “Just go and sort out something to get some credits alright?”

Char had left through one of the many open blast doors that made up the strip on Port Nadir, leaving Alasdair to wander while he dismantled the glorious ‘Golden Fork of Xim’ which had this morning been just an ordinary fork, a bit of gold paint and same fake jewels later and it had almost nagged him a small fortune.

PFZAAP

“WHAT THE HELL!” The blaster bolt missed Alasdair by mere centimetres, moving passed close enough for him to feel the heat. Through the crowd he saw a Gand, blaster in hand moving towards him, but it was obvious that Alasdair wasn’t his target. No, looking through the crowd which had much like Alasdair merely turned to see where the issue was rather then running for cover, he could make out the form of a blue skinned alien breaking through people in an effort to get away from the Gand. Trouble? Probably, his trouble? No.

But…

“Excuse me.” Alasdair put himself straight in the way of the Gand, who tried to side step him. “I said, excuse me.”
The alien shot a series of its click language towards him. It didn’t sound too happy.
“You almost shot me, I demand an honour duel.” The accent Alasdair was putting on was the most pompous Tapani crap he’d ever produced and he was loving it. “An honour duel good sir or I shall name you a coward.”
The Gand stopped trying to push past him and raised his blaster at Alasdair’s face, yet seemed confused when the scoundrel merely rolled his eyes. “You really should be more aware you know.”
Suddenly the alien was off the ground, his arm held tightly within the furry grip of Charlwook who had, apparently not disappeared as quickly as Alasdair had thought he had. The Wookiee released a loud roar, the Gand lost all colour and dropped his blaster, which was retrieved by Alasdair.
“Go home, before he rips your arms out.” He would suggest as Char dropped the alien, who in a bundle of cloth and sweat ran off cursing as he went.

“You took your time.” Alasdair turned to the Wookiee, who pointed a finger at the scoundrel and started barking in a frustrated tone. “Me?” Alasdair pointed right back at him. “I didn’t start anything, he almost shot me? Plus he was chasing—“ He turned around and made a sweeping motion towards the crowd trying to see the lone runner wherever she was.

[member="Nemo Sekh"]
 

Nemo Sekh

Collector of Antiquities
Well, there was a first time for everything. An upset buyer who'd given up after the first shot? Nemo wasn't complaining. Wait- why had he given up? She stalled in the crowd, edging up against an empty stand and peering back into the crowd. They'd forgotten the shot had ever happened. Most of them hadn't even noticed, by the look of it. Now the rumble of a thousand wayward footsteps and the inter-species roar of haggling voices replaced all that had happened. Point Nadir. "Hell of a place..." She murmured, a smile of disbelief widening.

There was the Gand- running off in a sweat, no less. Served him right. But why? Her eyes narrowed, one hand passing the wafer-thin credchip between her fingers. The golden slip of metal caught the light with each turn. Not a bad start to the day by any stretch. Still no sight of her saviors. The bazaar looked suitably, well, bizarre. No doubt he'd had a run in with the wrong mercs. Something of the sort. He seemed the type to have the wrong connections. All the same, she felt things might be about to take a turn for the interesting.

But first, to find her mysterious allies.

In a place like Salovan's Souk, it was hard to tell where one person ended and another began, but that had to be them. Right mix of muscle and wits. A pair, Wookiee and Human, who oddly managed to look perfectly in place and yet slightly clueless at the same time. Off-worlders, for sure. But here, who wasn't?

She began to wade through the crowd ahead, figures of all sizes looming overhead. "Wish I was a Wookiee..." Being a small Twi'lek made it easier to crawl through tunnels and not much else. Then again, she did find her self doing a lot of that.

At last she broke through the crowd and paced towards the couple. Hopefully they were the right guards. It'd spoil the day to get shot now. "Hey. You guys wouldn't happen to have a seen a Gand just now, would you? Short, sweaty. Scared-looking." She raised an amused eyebrow, pearly whites showing. Always paid to make a good first impression with the wrong types. "For that matter, what brings a pair like you two to Salovan's Souk? You don't quite seem the type. Not so grubby, and... glitterstim-laced."

"Nemo Sekh, by the way. You almost certainly have not heard of me."

[member="Alasdair Sitra"]
 
“Hey?!” Alasdair shrugged yet made sure that he looked overly offended by the rattling that had come out of his Wookiee companions mouth. “I had the situation well handled thank you very much.” A small roll of laughter was cue to Char’s thoughts on the matter and not only did it infuriate the scoundrel more but also made him laugh, which frustrated him even more.

To add to matters a small voice had crept up behind them and pipped up, the initial distraction causing Charlwook to turn and give a small greeting in his native tongue, while Alasdair remained staring at that one point on the wall he had made his friend in order to avoid seeming too amused with the Wookiee’s joke before. He listened as the Wookiee made conversation, then after the attempt at resisting became too much he turned and came face to face with the blue faced alien who had approached.

“The Gand? You mean old Babas?” He gave a smirk, “He seemed to want to get to know you pretty bad, Charlwook encouraged him otherwise.” Charlwook on the other hand muttered, laughed and then rubbed his hand through Alasdair’s hair. “His name could’ve been Babas? I dunno, I’m sure there are lots of Gand called Babas.” She had made a mention about Glitter-stim, which he ignored, horrible stuff that punished him for days when he was younger, since then he had sworn to never take the stuff again, no matter how good a deal it was on the table. She introduced herself and Char suddenly burst into his own introduction.

“Shhh.” Alasdair said, which got another angry yet amused growl out of the Wookiee. “She probably can’t even understand you, I practically can’t when you get all ‘look at me’.” He extended a hand. “Alasdair Sitra, pilot, business man and just plain all around generally good guy. The walking carpet is Charlwook, but you can call him Char. “…and you’re right, I’ve never heard of you.” He winked. “However you wouldn’t be interest in buying old treasure would you? Been a hard day and people just don’t seem to want to bite?”


[member="Nemo Sekh"]
 

Nemo Sekh

Collector of Antiquities
Nemo shot Charlwook an apologetic look. "Only Shyriiwook I can speak is ancient, sorry. Too much time digging in the Shadowlands, and not enough chatting in it. Unless Xaczik's your thing?" She flashed him a grin all the same. He seemed friendly, and not in quite as slick a way as his smaller friend. Scoundrels, one and the same. Easy charm and quick hands. She'd know. Too much experience there for one lifetime.

"Sitra, huh." She shook his hand with a wry smile. "You mightn't know me, but I may just've heard about you." She somehow doubted that gave her an edge, given what may have been his reputation. "Same Sitra I hear had one nasty number on his head corewards? Or am I misremembering?" There were a lot of Sitras, and goddess-knew how many more scoundrels with a pretty price stapled to them. That was other thing about smugglers; credit a dozen, anywhere you turned. A hundred tousle-haired rogues crawling out of the woodwork. But him? There was something different in the air, she felt it. That rare dynamite edge. Mercurial luck. She felt it for sure, like a kilogram of beskar in her gut.

In that regard, they were one and the same. Be it a trick of the Force, or Lady Luck's own favour, here was a kid always rolling sevens. But maybe fate's own dice were just loaded. They'd see.

"'Old treasure?'" Nemo raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know you were a scholar too," She snorted. "I can see why you might've ended up on Point Nadir trying to pull that one. Trust me, I've had my fill of fakes for one week." The Twi'lek nodded in Alsadair's direction with a smirk. "And I'm not just talking 'bout your pearly whites."

"Why, what've you got for me? Lost blade of Exar Kun? Palpatine's G-String?"

[member="Alasdair Sitra"]
 
“You’ve heard of—“ Alasdair couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Finally.” He leant back and gave another characteristic smirk, “I mean, yeah. Of course you’ve heard of me.”
Charlwook grumbled and Alasdair gave him a ‘shut up’ look with a quick glance. “Work with me here.” The Wookiee shook his head. “Well, what would you know anyway.”

Turning his attention back to the Twi’lekk the Corellian ignored the Wookiee who had, began to talk to the young treasure hunter about something he really didn’t care about, Charlwook was there because he was a damn good mechanic and useful as muscle, not to start scaring potential clients off with his silly Wookiee talk. “While Underpants would be good.” He spoke over the conversation and stole the attention where he could. “We have something better.”

He rummaged into the pocket of his jacket and produced a battered, now not so golden fork. He presented it to Nemo and with a flourish rolled it around his fingers. “This is the Golden Fork of Xim. We managed to acquire it from an ancient tomb that we found on—oh?” The end of the fork fell off and clattered across the floor. Charlwook laughed. “Well…It was the Golden Fork of Xim.” He threw the fork over his shoulder and huffed. “So that is that idea out of the window.”

Char had continued to talk to the Twi’lekk. Which gave Alasdair time to think, they had been so damn close to pitching that sale with the Fork, which surely gave them a chance with something else, anything else. “So you said you’re a scholar. Do you happen to be a scholar who like credits? Because if you do,” He gave a knowing glance to the Wookiee. “I think we could help each other out.”

[member="Nemo Sekh"]
 

Nemo Sekh

Collector of Antiquities
"Any publicity is good publicity, I guess." Nemo said, raising her eyebrows. She shot Charlwook a sympathetic look. "What's your smaller friend got over you to stop you dismembering him?" She gave Alasdair a sympathetic gesture and a smile. "No offence." Too many credits to say otherwise? The pair looked scrappy enough that she couldn't quite believe that. A life debt, perhaps; seemed Wookiees were always handing those out to the wrong sorts. Nemo couldn't help but despair at the thought of being mortally shackled, at the behest of another's whims; however charming they might (or might not) have been.

"Oh! The golden fork of Xim? That's-" Oh. The fake disintegrated in an instant. Her imagination had a run ahead a little- she really shouldn't have expected more. She giggled alongside the Wookiee, gazing down to the utensil's shattered remains. She gave Alsadair a wry smile. "That's a real shame. I know a Hutt who'd have loved that. Then again, given your reputation..." No doubt they both knew she didn't exactly have to finish that sentiment, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You wouldn't have his spoon, would you? Hutts do enjoy soft food."

Her expression intensified. She stepped aside to let the crowds pass, leaning against a market stall. "Credits? No, I'm in the business of selling fakes for charity. Treasure hunting, or, uh... grave-robbing, it's quite a philanthropic trade. Orphans love ancient Gamorrean earthenware." Nemo glanced over her weather-beaten clothes. "As you can see, it's really paying off. Who needs hyperfuel anyway?" She spoke with the same sardonic grin.

"Why? You got something better than spray-painted spoons up that sleeve of yours?"

[member="Alasdair Sitra"]
 

Users who are viewing this thread

Top Bottom