Public Tell your Fortune, Visions and Dreams (open for drop-ins and passers-by)

[Velok Brokentusk]

"Alright, Fugly, wow me..." A single eyebrow raised, "What is the most dangerous thing I'll ever face, and what will be the greatest accomplishment I'll ever have?"

"Alright, Morsel, let us see what we shall see. The most dangerous thing you'll ever face, and the greatest accomplishment you'll ever have..."

Velok locked eyes with the Bothan girl through a veil of bitter smoke. But instead of a vision, he held up—

—A MIRROR!

The huge Whiphid roared with laughter. He was, however, dead serious.

 

[Velok Brokentusk]

"What would the past tell me if it could?" Amea chuckled as her arms crossed in defense and subconsciously leaned back from the man. This was bound to be good.

"Ooh, a skeptic." Velok made air-quotes with gigantic claws. "I think I can help you, skeptical human. Let us see what we shall see."

A smoke-vision impressed itself on both their minds. Velok blinked.

"Now this is interesting. Is that a gemstone? A chunk of ice? A Jedi holocron? I've never seen anything like it. I have no answer for you, skeptical human. Your past is a blur. Even getting this much was difficult."

He frowned.

"I'll try again, free of charge."

"What is that? A...wreck? A disaster?"

 

[Vesta]

Despite whatever attempt at pleasantries Velok Brokentusk might have provided it was his answer that mattered most to her. For several years now she had adopted a far more cynical view on her own path in life, and now the nihilistic perspective she had taken towards the galaxy at large finally intersected with the crushing truth of what she could expect. If it hadn't been clear by the phrasing of her question, the Sith lord had almost no illusions of whether or not she would succeed in her mission - there hadn't been a soul in the galaxy who had accomplished the impossible, and she wasn't even the slightest bit hopeful that she would be the one to finally break that mold. Still, in spite of the seemingly confirmed impossibility of her quest, he had given her one important offering that allowed her at least some comfort for the inevitable.

"To choose the end.. thank you, that is a better fate than I had anticipated." She said after a brief, pregnant, pause.

She supposed that when there was no meaning in any of the choices she made, given the inescapable demise she was circling that all of which were intended to avoid, then there would be at least one thing she could do which mattered - choose. She left the stall then, mostly satisfied, already having arrived at the general conclusion of what that choice would be, when the time came.

 

[Nerd Wizard]

Velok Brokentusk

The youthful Bothan snorted in annoyance at her own reflection, even as Quavrr raised a single flabby hand towards his single-tusked mouth, several odd, rapid-paced, high pitched snorts of laughter echoing from his throat as he practically shook with amusement behind the lanky tomboy.

Taking a moment to push her glasses back into place and swipe that stray forelock of unkempt red hair out of her eyes, the Bothan nonetheless fixed the Whiphid with an equally amused left-sided grin of her own, her turquoise eyes bright behind her glasses.

There was a brief pause and Riskyr took a moment to hug her travel cloak around herself, both to protect the lightsaber that was hidden from view, as well as to stave off the chill of the Tatooine night. The large cloak, as well as the presence of the bulky Gamorrean behind her, gave the teen an almost childlike appearance as she leaned back against her aged companion for warmth. "Alright... Forgive my sarcasm, even if that was pretty funny." Riskyr paused, even as she fiddled with the stool via shifting her weight, making the broken furniture wobble precariously in time with her motions, "Unless you want me to take those credits back, let's both take those questions more seriously. Also, you're not that much of an eyesore... I guess." She paused, sighing as Quavrr gave her a pat on the head, his meaty, sweat-laced hand ruffling the short-cut mop of red hair atop Riskyr's furry head, "I may even do one or two more of these if I like what I hear or deem the information relevant."

The Bothan's flat, long tongue tip appeared, dancing over her thin, tan-furred lips, her glasses reflecting the image of the massive Whiphid's face as she again looked up at him, this time with honesty and in all seriousness, "Again, what's the most dangerous thing I'll ever face, and what is the greatest accomplishment I'll ever pull off?"

(If he does use his Force powers on her, coupled with her Jedi scholasticism, I wonder how those two opposing forces meeting might lead to an interesting encounter?...)

Also, this is fitting:

 

[Kadora'Tra]

Kadora'Tra hadn't imagined she'd be able to get off Denon after her defection. She didn't expect to be still breathing if she were candid with herself. CorpSec had been her entire life. Climbing the latter tooth and claw above the aloof and spiteful humans in charge to get as high as she did necessitates a "do or die" mentality that was incredibly hard to shake. Arguably though, she acquired that trait before CorpSec even had a file for her. An orphan immigrant left to die, eating scraps out of gutters and acting more the part of an animal than a person.

The worst happened once she learned how to be people and acquired respect through skill and fear. They tried to copy her. Multiple times. For all she knew, she was just a new type of droid model trashed a hundred times on Altier after Darkwire decimated the DireX's Doppelganger program. Darkwire... Xan Deesa offered a lifeline, a second chance, a new identity. Then her corporate masters took her too, stole her body, and plugged her brain into a server box. Kadora'Tra returned the favor and left her life behind.

She missed her lieutenants, especially Lonnie. It couldn't be helped. She didn't want them to get wrapped up in all of this... but she also didn't want them stuck where she was. There were a lot of conflicting desires she needed to sort out. For now, she worked under an assumed identity and worked for the Z-Runners of Belazura with Daiya . It was the least she could knowing what Manfloon was planning to do to the planet, and with Daiya, at least she was somewhat familiar. She didn't remember files very often, and hers was small, but she had encountered the youth on more than one occasion to cement her to memory. The Pirate attack on Sekado Tower, Daiya rescuing a GA Senator and herself from abduction, the beach on Belazura when they displayed their rebel propa-no, the truth. It felt like the natural choice after meeting her again in the Speakeasy.

Operating under the assumed identity of Kitkat, holographically disguised as a blonde human girl, she was following Daiya some distance away. Daiya spoke with the whippid and seemed surprised before leaving. This piqued Kitkat's curiosity. Waiting for her turn, she would see the giant alien as well. Once it was explained to her, she looked skeptical before asking her question.

"Can anything be trusted anymore?" Her eyes shifted about, "Can I trust her?"

Velok Brokentusk

 

[Velok Brokentusk]

Velok's voice echoed down the dark street after Darth Mori.

"Trust your sword, friend," he called as she left. "Trust your sword..."

---

Nerd Wizard

The big Whiphid laughed under his breath, a seismic 'heh-heh-heh,' and made the mirror disappear. He threw a handful of incense on the burner. The smell that emerged wasn't just bitter, but cloyingly sweet and insidious: a psychedelic spice ground from local roots. "A proper vision, then. Let's see."

"You, Morsel," he said as the vision sank in, "will find meaning as long as you never take yourself or others too seriously. Your greatest danger will be the temptation to devalue that aspect of your nature, under threat of shame or contempt. Be who you are without justification. You owe nobody a reason."

He slid fifty credits back to her and smiled.

"And if you avoid that threat, your greatest accomplishment will be nothing an Outer Rim fortuneteller could predict."

 

[Velok Brokentusk]

"Can anything be trusted anymore?" Her eyes shifted about, "Can I trust her?"

"Oh, dear child, you can trust anyone, just understand that trust, like distrust, always leads to pain sooner or later."

"I see two trees alone on an island, lit by neon and flames. Not always entangled, but stalwart together. Your friend will not intentionally or willingly betray you, no matter how you grow apart."

 

[Shade of Decay]

"That one I can answer without a vision. Too many voices want you to ascend the wrong mountains. That doesn't mean ascension needs to be a false dream. But let's see what we shall see."

​

Velok sat back in his chair. "A glorious shrouded face. I don't know whether it's you or someone to fear, or both. I suspect the lack of concrete answer stems from the ambiguity of purpose in your heart."

The young man smirked beneath his facial tendrils. The question, in fact, hadn't been about him at all, but others—and the affirmation of his own thoughts on them was certainly sufficient answer to the question. The third coin was placed with the others as he thought over what the fortune teller's vision had shown him.

But, as always, more questions. The fourth coin was held between them.

"Is that which defines itself primarily in opposition merely a pale reflection of that it opposes, or can it, has it, transcended those roots to true unique existence?"

 

[Velok Brokentusk]

"Is that which defines itself primarily in opposition merely a pale reflection of that it opposes, or can it, has it, transcended those roots to true unique existence?"

"Son, if I don't know what the hell you're asking, how do you expect the Force to?"

But Velok added a new pinch of incense to the brazier on the stall's counter, a corroded surface of uncertain pedigree. A renewed vision found its shape.

"It's either a volcanic Sith pyramid or a nipple," he said flatly, waving a hand through the smoke. "Make of it what you will. Ask opaque questions, get opaque answers."

 

[Shade of Decay]

"Son, if I don't know what the hell you're asking, how do you expect the Force to?"

But Velok added a new pinch of incense to the brazier on the stall's counter, a corroded surface of uncertain pedigree. A renewed vision found its shape.

"It's either a volcanic Sith pyramid or a nipple," he said flatly, waving a hand through the smoke. "Make of it what you will. Ask opaque questions, get opaque answers."

"Opaque? Why, old friend, I prefer philosophical."

Still, the coin was placed upon the counter. "I suppose it does depend on one's mood at the time, though; I know even I've had little patience for the sorts of questions I'm asking before." The fifth, and final, coin was slid across the counter. The one payment before services rendered. Maybe this final question was just a bit of a freebie?

"What can change the nature of a man?"

 

[Cato Fett]

A little tri-wheel delivery scooter, balanced with the hulk of a female besalisk manipulating its front-seat control rods against a high piled, zip-strapped tower of reconditioned water-filters, buzzed past the small minute-past-midnight crowd. Patchy wiring blinked its hazard lights on-off in the desert dark. Curious folk, locals gowned in foil ponchos and synth-fibre kasa-hats holding up wheat-oil lanterns, starport coolies stripped down to waistbands, drinking grain-liquour from battered plasteel flasks and thrumming with 'buzz', and a handful of offworlders showcasing fashions, postures, kit, and queries stemming from offworld concerns. All accreting into a rough semi-circle, a waxing crescent, facing toward the fortune-tellers strung-up stall.

Cato draped a rough burlap cowl over a brushed-steel helmet and adjusted worn kevlar belts strapping a narrow duffel-bag behind his shoulder. Could scent his own sweat, acrid with salt. Transport out-of-system was thirty-six hours behind schedule, the air-con units in the starport overnight capsule pod rooms broken, and he was longing for a deep, bone-penetrating soak in a proper mineral onsen. An ache was beginning to tear away inside his belly. He edged past the ghostly, semi-cthonic Khil that seemed to drift about on the edges of his boots and thumbed a burnished platinum-gold 50-uck credit onto the fortune-maker's splintered table. Stepped back into line, his off-hand sliding unconsciously onto a narrow tanto-pommel jammed across his stomach-plating, and waited his turn.

Velok Brokentusk

 

[Sal Katarn]

Sal wandered through the market, but stopped when he came across a big fella talkin' about fortunes and fate.

Weren't much for any of that, but oh... what the hell.

"Visions, huh?" rasped the mercenary. He scratched the back of his head, fingers trailing through greasy locks as he wondered what to ask, then shrugged.

He looked down at the callouses on his palm.

"Well... I've only ever been good at doin' one thing."

Killing, specifically. And not even that good to tell the truth of it.

"Will I ever do anything else, or is this it for me?"

 

[Velok Brokentusk]

"What can change the nature of a man?"

The final coin vanished in the gloom beneath the canopy. Velok flicked a skittering of incense into the burner.

"Lightning strikes a mossy altar. Heat and force can catalyze transformation, but the vital element is the sacrifice. A man can change to the extent that he's willing to sacrifice what he values. Becoming a new thing means giving up the old."

 

[Velok Brokentusk]

"Well... I've only ever been good at doin' one thing."

Killing, specifically. And not even that good to tell the truth of it.

"Will I ever do anything else, or is this it for me?"

A cold night wind tore the incense from Velok's claws and stripped the smoke from the corners of the booth. The wind stabbed through Velok's pelt with unexpected force. He shivered. A Whiphid of Toola, shivering on Tatooine.

A crumpled square of flimsiplast wrapped around one of the booth's corner poles. Velok snatched it before the wind could tear it free. After a long, incredulous moment he handed the flyer to Sal.

MOS ESPA COMMUNITY COLLEGE

 

[Shade of Decay]

The final coin vanished in the gloom beneath the canopy. Velok flicked a skittering of incense into the burner.

"Lightning strikes a mossy altar. Heat and force can catalyze transformation, but the vital element is the sacrifice. A man can change to the extent that he's willing to sacrifice what he values. Becoming a new thing means giving up the old."

The Khil nodded.

"I suppose you do have some of the wisdom of your forebears, don't you?" he said, enigmatically. He stood, pushing the stool aside, and bowed to the fortune teller. "Until we meet again." As he rose, though, he spoke out—this time not verbally, but mind-to-mind.

I did enjoy your book. You'll have to send me another some time—don't worry, I shan't be difficult for you to find.

Then, with a final nod of the head, the Khil dissipated, blowing away on the small breeze in the market like a cloud of smoke...

And Velok would feel as the coins, too, disappeared in an instant. Although, if he had a datapad on him, he'd notice the small notification of funds deposited into his account from an unknown donor, with the reason given: Payment for services rendered.

 

[Velok Brokentusk]

Stepped back into line, his off-hand sliding unconsciously onto a narrow tanto-pommel jammed across his stomach-plating, and waited his turn.

"You, Mando..."

Velok stared at the coin but didn't take it yet. It gave him a place to look other than the armored hand on the knife hilt. He asked himself if he was ready and had no answer.

"Are you here to kill me? I'll tell your fortune either way, of course. Professional courtesy."

 

[Nerd Wizard]

Velok Brokentusk

The Bothan's form went still as the Whiphid added some sort of minced plant into one of his incense bowls, the action causing Riskyr's ears to fold back in annoyance as she briefly contemplated whether she'd soon hear the planet's core or anything strange and unnatural brought about by some hallucinogen and her own mind's confused state. She didn't want to even think about what a snoutful of whatever plant that was would do to poor Quavrr just behind her.

Fixing the Whiphid with a cautious, though polite eye, the teen smirked and took a cautious, small inhalation of the sweet-smelling incense that was rapidly beginning to surround her and Quavrr alike, her lanky form and his body of semi-viscous fat each shifting as the both of them cast their glances over the area; but, of course, the small, roofed kiosk showed little signs of anything amiss, to say nothing of any form of danger. The cloying, smooth wisps of smoke soon had the Bothan admiring the aroma, even as her pupils began to dilate, the smoke itself appearing to form exotic colors before her, even as her mind began to feel somewhat tired, though, thankfully, the incense did little to affect her higher functions in any way, even as her pupils spread wider and wider, almost comically so, accentuated ever-so-slightly by the lenses of her glasses. Fanning his free hand over his porcine snout, Quavrr squealed to Riskyr in annoyance, turning his back to the Whiphid and Bothan and taking a step or two back, away from the incense, though still close enough to render aid if his youthful companion were to have needed it at all.

A moment later, the Bothan girl had begun to gag, even as the smoke, billowing forth with seemingly greater intensity, formed a myriad pattern of effervescent, aurora-like delight, the colors shifting into an alien-colored vision of herself. A whispering touch of what only could have been the Force itself tugged at her mind, and the Vision altered itself even as the odd sensation that had been described by the old Jedi as the sign of a Force User's influence tugged at her perception and probed her mind, forming the multicolored, aurora-like vision of herself miming something akin to a quest summarized in a holonovel, the vision even including multicolored aurora-infused copies of Quavrr, her refurbished research droid, 7K-88 and even her human Father's stern, haggard, though loving visage and mannerisms, imitating a few key moments from her own past: her first meeting with Quavrr, during which a drunk Elomin had stolen the Gamorrean's clothes and a recovered scroll from a destroyed museum, and an embarrassed Risk had accompanied the cloak-wrapped (and otherwise nude!) soldier-of-fortune in exchange for the opportunity to catalog and study the items he recovered - it had been a fateful meeting, the the Gamorrean occasionally met and traveled with his teenaged charge every-so-often since that time... 7K-88's initial activation, his photoreceptor whirring, focusing in and out, before settling on Riskyr's signature, left-sided smile, oil-stained fur and tired, though excited eyes bright as the young girl, despite having HATED machine maintenance, then began to revel in the excitement of having learned something about droid repair... Her Father's salt-and-pepper-haired head and his aged, bearded lips shifting down towards the Bothan girl as she settled in for bed, pulling a soft blanket up as his lips pressed to her furred forehead as she settled in for bed... The joys of the Holonet and its countless reams of knowledge being sifted through by her eager and ever-curious mind... A laughing Bothan swinging a wooden play-sword, pretending it was a lightsaber, bearing a red bathrobe for a cloak... The smoke swirled before the Bothan, beginning to form a new shape...

Yet, even then, the influence tugging at her mind continued, and, with some resistance, Riskyr shook her head, her frazzled, short red hair again falling over a single turquoise eye. Waving her hand through the smoke, the Bothan coughed and, folding her ears back, she fixed the Whiphid with that odd, left-sided smile of hers, her curious eyes searching up and down over the alien's gargantuan, bulky form, one of her ears twitching as the tomboy casually and shamelessly used her free hand to scratch at one side of the seat of her Corellian breeches, loose and blue-striped along the sides of the legs.

"Damn... You're not a crackpot..." She paused, snapping her fingers even as she did her best to focus her strong-willed mind upon the Whiphid's eyes, her pupils still widened and her eyes beginning to blink rapidly in response to the dilation, the lights beginning to annoy her. Upon hearing the snap, Quavrr, his thick, blubbery arms crossed over an equally blubber-infused chest, grunted as he reappeared, a heavy blaster pistol of an Imperial variety in one hand, though he did not point it at the Whiphid directly. His orange eyes level and cautious, he parted his single-tusked visage, half of his rumpled, pitted, dark brown, burned face giving him a hideous appearance as he growled though his open maw, half of the teeth on one side of his lower jaw missing, the Whiphid could now see, as he faced the larger alien unflinchingly.

Hushing the Gamorrean, the Bothan hummed softly, using one hand to fan away the rest of the smoke from her, her tan-furred hand replacing the fifty credits before the Whiphid, on the kiosk's table, in another incense bowl. "Force Sensitive, huh?" The Bothan paused, reaching into her cloak to remove a small pack of cigarras - she need to get the incense out of her system somehow, or at least take her mind off of it as best she could, to say nothing of the pain in her dilated eyes. A lighter flicked at the tip of the cancer stick, and the scholarly teen took a small pull from the nicotine, exhaling the smoke from her nostrils as she lit and offered a second nicotine fix to the Gamorrean. Practiced and at ease, the porcine alien's free hand grasped the cigarra with his fat fingers easily, slipping the coffin nail between his single tusk and the nearest good tooth, even as the both of the Whiphid's guests began to carefully, casually smoke before him.

"Your secret's safe with me..." The Bothan huffed a brief cloud through her thin lips, even as her analytical mind tried to keep calm around the Force User before her, "It's worth your earning that money, perhaps more properly, if you answer the following, Sir..." Risk took a longer pull from her cancer stick, exhaling through her nostrils easily enough as an ear twitching, her tongue shifting the cigarra to the right side of her mouth as she cracked her knuckles, then leaned forward towards the Whiphid, "I'm dying to know... Will I ever meet a Force Spirit, in any form?... Also... Which aspect do you serve, hmm?"

 

[Velok Brokentusk]

"I'm dying to know... Will I ever meet a Force Spirit, in any form?... Also... Which aspect do you serve, hmm?"

"I serve nothing and nobody, Morsel. But as for aspect, I am Velok the Youngest, called Brokentusk. Grandson of the Sith scholar Velok the Younger, and great-grandson of Lord Velok the Elder, who stole the Sith Empire's greatest treasures and scourged the armies of Mandalore and Gand. Terrible people, and I rank among them. If I am not a Darksider, there is no such thing."

Shapes stirred in the darker corners.

"I bear curses for my sins. One who I murdered walks with me. Would you hear her words?"

 

[Cato Fett]

"No," Cato said, voice filtered through a throat mic vocalizing out of his helmet's micro-speakers. The sound was scratchy, broken, threaded with audio artefacts. Simultaneously, his hand rose and waved amiably, stepping forward out of the crowd perimeter. "Just a moment of your time."

He wiped the knuckles of his glove along the underside of his jaw, wiping a trail of perspiring beads. The errand felt a touch odd and prodigal but recently, the answers to his smallest questions seemed blackly onerous to reach. A fog hovered across his mind, robbing him of crucial clarity. Cato coughed slightly behind his helmet and cantered his head forward at Velok.
"...Where will I eat tonight?"

A kind of quiet, what spacers sometimes called 'the passing of angels', fell over the draped stall. Someone hawked behind him. "That's it...? Feth."

 

[Velok Brokentusk]

"...Where will I eat tonight?"

"Well in that case, since you're not here to kill me, I'll tell you the answer free of charge. You're eating with me."

A minimally-gnawed dewback drumstick thunked onto the counter. Velok produced a knife and cut a generous slice of smoked meat.

"Please, friend, have a bite and tell me what you really want to know."