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Post by Twin Togruta Dubh on Sept 19, 2021 17:19:59 GMT -8
Hop hipity hop down the the old main drag went out angels with dirty faces, Rhiannon and Aranrhod, singing gaily in unison as they moved along -Rhiannon and Aranrhod- "Do you remember back in the time, seein all the IF standin in a line?" Not missing a beat as they faced down the street, -Rhiannon and Aranrhod- "Froathing at the month, lookin for afight. High boots, cropped hair what a freakin site!" And with a burst of laughter disappearing down the street, smacking hands with the transients , bookers and drug dealers to the beat they made
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Post by Twin Togruta Dubh on Sept 19, 2021 19:48:07 GMT -8
The pair,Rhiannon and Aranrhod had been sightseeing and window shopping quite enthusiastically, alibi it much more quietly than their earlier robust movement. And they had isolated many an interesting item. But as night fell the one sister bluntly stated -Aranrhod- "Rhiannon - Mig ke ge!" And her sister agreed -Rhiannon- "Mi nab unt yeh." And with that the two hailed taxi. Laden with accessories the pair boarded and booked it
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Post by Twin Togruta Dubh on Sept 21, 2021 2:21:22 GMT -8
And they were back... ok maybe not by popular demand but notwithstanding, on goes the tale. So... as we, the Togruta Twins, bombed towards the Underworld, a massive ideological argument erupted betwixt the two -Rhiannon- "I think pink is a very rugged color." Looking at her sister in disbelief - Aranrhod- "Over my dead body are you putting a streak of bloody pink paint on my speeder." Rhiannon's eyes filled with rage but a smile grew and she said -Rhiannon- "Wait. You want to be killed? Then why do you care what color it is?" Aranrhod herself became lost for a moment in that skewed logic. But a reality struck her, one that she knew would hit Rhiannon hard too -Aranrhod- "You do realize how much of a heat score a pink speeder would be - right?" Mouth opening to respond, the bitter reality of just how much attention her pink speeder would engender struck the girl. Bargin. Rhiannon dispised the word. But.... Sighing deep -Rhiannon- "Aranrhod. Sweatheai. Think white and black. Togeather.... Makes grey." Driving - quite hazardously - Aranrhod listened, quite mindful that her sister could be, and probably was, attempting to smooth talk her -Aranrhod- "Ah huh...." And it was right there that Rhiannon made her play -Rhiannon- "Ok.... So we take my pink." Hands moving as she weaved her plan -Rhiannon- "Hit it heavy with some of your black paint... And?" The pair went silent for some time, as Aranrhod waited on Rhiannon to continue and Rhiannon waited for Aranrhod to start. Finally Aranrhod barked -Aranrhod- "Ko?" Rhiannon eyes rolled over and she spoke -Rhiannon- "Are you for real!?! You get dusty rose." Aranrhod actually liked that sound and responded to that effect -Aranrhod- "Mi'm nab." Something sinister in the air picked up as they neared a certain undisclosed address. They were there. Jimmy the Hutt's Chop Shop
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Post by Twin Togruta Dubh on Sept 21, 2021 4:50:47 GMT -8
And the girls found the business. It was not difficult, both having worked as part of Jimmy the Hutt's establishment many years ago. There the XJ-6 airspeeder was painted a slick, deep cloudy pink. The job was completely free of charge, "free" of course meaning that they owed a favor to the Hutt. Tricky way of working things but it was clearly understood by both parties. Furthermore, did to his many connections, ownership papers were drawn up, which legally made the vessel the property of the women. Left were changed, serial altered were completely removed and/or altered. It was completed fast, exceptionally well and the two Togruta left and returned to their apartment
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Silas Darkstar
Knights of Ren
Posts: 198
Affiliation: Knights of Ren - The Magisterium
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Post by Silas Darkstar on Jun 27, 2022 3:12:56 GMT -8
Missionary of the Obsidian Order
Coruscant, heart of the Empire. It was the greatest Ecumenopolis in the Galaxy. The entire surface was covered in cityscape that was thousands of levels high. People could be born here and live their entire lives without ever seeing the natural sky of the world. But they were also the same people who were responsible for completing the jobs necessary for keeping Coruscant running. Labourers, Cleaners, Builders, and all other assortments of workers who were paid cheaply lived in this Undercity. And it was here with the Obsidian Order sent some of its first Missionaries to the Imperial Capital. The Magisterium knew the best way to move up and build confidence amongst the Imperial Elite, was to gather information. Both upon those they sought to target and those whom would be rivals of their targets.
Here, loyalty was brought with the supply of necessities which many could barely afford or access. The Magisterium would make their plays carefully, making sure the Obsidian Order didn't grow too notorious so that when it eventually made its move in the surface levels, it wouldn't be looked down upon. Unlike the Deep Core, the Obsidian Order kept its focus upon developing assets for intelligence only
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Silas Darkstar
Knights of Ren
Posts: 198
Affiliation: Knights of Ren - The Magisterium
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Post by Silas Darkstar on Jul 13, 2022 18:40:53 GMT -8
Missionary of the Obsidian Order
The Underworld was dark and horrible, but it continued to prove a fruitful venture for the Obsidian Order. Outpost churches popped up across the multitude of levels that covered Coruscant's surface, delivering the news about the Ren and offering people a different path in life. Assets within a variety of gangs and industries were cultivated, providing an ever expanding network. While there were a fair share of failures, the Magisterium quickly saw to their disposal
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Dread Lord Havok
The First Order
Posts: 947
Affiliation: Sith, darkside, Adventists of the Eye, Imperial Remnant
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Dread Lord Havok on Aug 29, 2022 15:23:00 GMT -8
He sat up in the pile of rubbish outside of the hookah joint. In the eternal night of the underworld, the neon lights pierced the darkness and stabbed at his eyeballs. With a moan, he rolled over and covered his eyes with the baggy folds of his shirt. The night had not been good to him. When he shifted position, his head spun and he felt nausea suddenly presenting itself for review.
He rolled onto his stomach and upset the pile of garbage, which crumbled under his weight and slid him face first onto the pavement. His reflexes were still too dulled from the drugs in his system and he failed to catch himself, not that he tried. The impact added his face to the list of body parts that were going to soon start hurting.
Well, he'd deal with that when things started hurting. Right now he just wanted to get back to that beautiful dream involving two Twileks and a large slug with lots of plump slimy folds laying on bed of rainbows.
"Mmmmmm" He smiled, still feeling the end of his buzz.
"Move it asshole!"
He felt someone kick him. He didn't bother opening his eyes, still fighting to keep his dream in focus. He only pulled his legs up into the fetal position, hoping the world would just leave him and his dream alone. The purple twilek twirled her head-tails with glow sticks, and the Blue one slapped the slug with a nice wet FWAP! The slug started wiggling in time with the glowsticks and the blue male twilek rubbed his long head tails between the slug's fleshy folds.
"Oh baby!" He hung from the ceiling slowly doing pull ups, unable to take his eyes off the action below. The bar he was hanging from started spinning. Gently at first, but then gradually faster and faster until he felt like he was hanging on for dear life. For one moment, he felt pure ecstasy, before his grip slipped from the pullup bar and he was flung from the dream into a black void.
"NOOOOOoooooooOOOo!" he finally sat up. This time for real. Around him people of the underworld walked past him, paying him no mind, as he sat to one side of a main walking thoroughfare. "NO! NO NONO NOOOOO!" He furiously pounded his fist on an empty container next to the garbage heap. "NOOOOOOO!" Fuck that hurt his hand. "NO!"
His bloodshot eyes focused on his hand, which was bleeding by this point. More like bloodshot eye. His other eye was stuck shut. He wiped his hand on his shirt and tried to feel his face. He had a crusted scab over his left eye. It was oozing a little. He wiped his hand on his shirt again.
"Fuck." He looked around, semi-disgusted with himself. He looked down. Pants? Check. Shirt? Check. Well what was left of it. Shoes? He wiggled his toes. Gone! Sigh.
What time was it? In the darkness of the lower levels of Coruscant, it was impossible to tell. He reached for his datapad, but found his pocket empty. Theives? Pickpockets? Blast!
He felt his head spin as he stood up.
The neon signs around him blurred and went out of focus, and then back into focus. Bartlett's Burgoines Bar? Bordgious? Bojioszee? For the life of him, he couldn't pronounce the name. "Where am I?" He walked into the bar next to the hookah joint.
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Dread Lord Havok
The First Order
Posts: 947
Affiliation: Sith, darkside, Adventists of the Eye, Imperial Remnant
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Dread Lord Havok on Aug 29, 2022 15:51:09 GMT -8
As he walked inside, a pair of anamorous bothans stumbled by the entrance clutching at each other and furiously rubbing their noses all over each other's faces.
"Ugh! Get a room!" he grunted. They paid him no mind and continued their shameless behavior. "Fucking Xenos and their godless..." He was still ogling them over his shoulder wishing he could make it a threesome when he ran into a table. "Oops, Sorry." he apologized to the table, before feeling foolish about it a moment later. He pulled his hair back out of his face so he could see with his one eye and made his way to the droid bar tender. The droid was mechanically rubbing a wet dirty cloth over the gritty metal surface that passed as a bar.
"Uh. Barkeep, where am I and what time is it?"
"You owe us 30 credits."
"30 Credits? You haven't even told me the time yet!"
"It is 8 in the morning. Standard mid-week, in the month of Emperor Augustine. This is 'Bartlett's Bourgeois Bar.' Level 1313."
"Thats the word! Boojewahzee! I'll have a Stiff Club."
"You must settle your account before additional refreshments may be purchased."
"Water? How about a water?"
"You must settle your account."
He sighed. "But 30 credits, just for telling me the time?" He tried to whistle and spat on the bar instead. "Sorry."
The droid ran the dirty rag through the spit and rubbed it on the counter. "The time and place were gratis. The 30 credits were for the... refreshment you bought."
"Last night?" He didn't remember being in here last night. "I think you have the wrong guy. I wasn't here last night." He stood up from the barstool.
"You were not here last night." The droid repeated.
He almost felt like a jedi. "I'll accept your apology and a glass of water, friend." He sat back down on the bar stool.
"You were here two weeks ago and never paid."
He stood up from the bar stool. "You must have me confused with someone else. Uh. Someone who has money." He backed away from the bar.
The droid scanned him. "Identity confirmed. You may not leave until I secure payment." The droid turned and yelled into the back room. "Boss! Another customer is refusing to pay."
"Woah woah! No need for that!" He held up his hands "Incidentally, do you have any idea who I am?" His tone was indignant, as if he was someone important.
"No" The droid's tone was monotone, waiting for his reply.
"Good." He ran for the door.
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Dread Lord Havok
The First Order
Posts: 947
Affiliation: Sith, darkside, Adventists of the Eye, Imperial Remnant
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Dread Lord Havok on Aug 29, 2022 16:08:58 GMT -8
His bare feet slapped on the duracreet pavement of the underworld. "Do you have any idea who I am?" Well that makes two of us. He ran up the street before taking a turn down an alleyway. He ran past two aliens threatening a third in what looked like a shake-down, or mugging in progress.
"Please just take my money!" The victim cried.
"Don't mind me! Just passing through!" He ran past them and turned another corner before stopping, and backing up to the corner again.
"I have a family!"
He peaked around the corner to take another look at the crime in progress. The ruffians were busy patting down their victim and pulling valuables from his pockets.
"Well look at that. 200! We have ourselves a big shot!" One of the criminals exclaimed.
"200!" he silently mouthed. Immediately his mind was cranking away. He could get 6 doses for 30 credits and then have 20 credits left over for... He paused wondering what normal people did with money that didn't neatly divide into 30 credit increments. He threw caution to the wind and stepped out back into the ally. "Pardon me," He began.
"Get lost hobo." One of the criminals growled at him.
"I am lost, I am wondering where I can find a lift from here to a higher level."
Criminal #1 "I said get lost!"
Criminal #2 "We all want to move up in the world. If you wouldn't mind, we're busy." The criminal pointed to the victim who ceased begging and now was only whimpering.
"I'm, uh- You don't suppose you could spare some credits, eh?" Our hero flashed his most diplomatic smile and held out his hand, hoping for a handout.
"Fuck off beggar." Criminal #1 pulled out a blaster. The hobo did look pretty pathetic. Dirty stained pants, no shoes, a torn billowy shirt, and a big nasty scab over his left eye. 'Pathetic' never stopped Criminal #1 from killing a hobo before. He cocked his pistol.
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Dread Lord Havok
The First Order
Posts: 947
Affiliation: Sith, darkside, Adventists of the Eye, Imperial Remnant
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Dread Lord Havok on Aug 29, 2022 17:20:56 GMT -8
"All right! All right!" He held up his hands. "I'll settle for 30 credits. Final offer! Pay me and I promise, you'll never see me again!" He took another step towards them.
"A fucking dead-head. That's what we got here."
"Gor-damned druggies." Harmless. One of the numerous wonderfully addicted customers of their crime boss. Threatening him probably wouldn't do anything, but in order for the hobo to keep on buying product, he had to keep on breathing. How unfortunate.
Criminal #1 went back to ruffing up the victim while Criminal #2 watched the hobo pad towards them in his bare feet.
"Just 30 credits! A bargain to make such a dirty..." He sniffed his own armpit. "Smelly, ragamuffin such as myself, go away!" Within moments he was cozying up to Criminal #2 which he finally determined was a Heptooinian.
"Well, since you're asking." Criminal #2 looked up and down the alley to make sure no one could see. "Do you do that one thing humans can do with their mouths?"
"I can do a number of things with my mouth, friend..." He winked.
"Not now, Bludger!" Criminal #1 grunted over his shoulder.
"It will only take a minute!" Bludger started loosening his belt.
"For fuck's sake!"
"Calm down Bokk, look the other way." Bludger seemed very interested in what the Hobo might be able to do with his mouth. Also Criminal #1's name was Bokk, apparently. The hobo was practically hanging on Bludger by this time, tugging at his thick leather jacket.
"30? 30 Credits? You got it?"
"I'll give it to you afterwards." Bludger pushed the hobo down to his knees.
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Dread Lord Havok
The First Order
Posts: 947
Affiliation: Sith, darkside, Adventists of the Eye, Imperial Remnant
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Dread Lord Havok on Aug 29, 2022 17:29:53 GMT -8
It didn't phase our vagrant.
"Ok!" He pulled his hair back out of his face and he began reciting at the Heptooinian's crotch:
"When upon a winter's morn,
I found bed empty, forlorn!
My love was indeedly torn
and my heart strings rudely shorn."
"What? What are you doing?" That was not what Bludger was expecting.
"I'm doing a thing with my mouth. It's ancient love poetry." The vagrant explained.
"That's not the thing that I wanted you to do!" Bludger exclaimed. "That's only words!"
"Well, you failed to specify." The bum rolled backwards to his feet. "I believed I have earned my fee, unless you wanted me to finish the poem." He held out his open palm to Bludger.
"You don't get any of this!" Bludger slapped the pocket of his leather jacket where he put the stolen money. It felt suspiciously empty. "Hey!"
"Well, I suppose, I should be going." The vagrant tried to whistle and blew a raspberry and spat on the ground instead.
"Bokk! He pickpocketed me!"
They both whirled on the hobo just in time to see him disappear around the corner. Bludge ran after him. "Get back here!"
Bokk shoved the victim into a pile of trash and pointed his finger. "You breath one word of this to any one and we'll kill you..." he started to run after Bludger. "-And your family!" he called over his shoulder as he turned the corner.
"I won't say anything!" the victim cowered in the garbage heap for a minute before he was certain they were gone. He cautiously climbed up out of the garbage and hung his head to turn and head out of the alley.
"Say, would you happen to have 30 credits I could borrow?"
The victim, a Sullosian, jumped in surprise as the hobo walked around the same corner, but this time wearing Bludger's leather jacket. The jacket was too big on the vagrant, which meant it matched his shirt, which was also too big. "I, uh," He stuttered at the hobo. "They took it all!" He spouted as he started running up the ally to get away from the vagrant, assuming that Bokk and Bludger would be hot on the beggar's heels.
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Dread Lord Havok
The First Order
Posts: 947
Affiliation: Sith, darkside, Adventists of the Eye, Imperial Remnant
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Dread Lord Havok on Aug 29, 2022 17:38:34 GMT -8
"I know! I just..." He just hoped the Sullustian was smart and managed to have 10 credits hidden in his socks. He felt the pockets of the jacket and bag of credit chits. He talked to the pocket. "10 more credits would have brought me to an even 210." At 30 credits per dose, that would be 7 doses! Oh well. He shrugged and walked back down the ally and around the corner. The dead bodies of Bokk and Bludger lay in another pile of trash. Too bad. They didn't have any doses on them either. They must have been enforcers and not dealers. He wondered how much he could get for Bokk's blaster. He picked it up and tucked it into the waistband of his pants. He rifled through their pockets, and unloaded a datapad, commlink, and jewelry. A couple bracelets, rings, chains, bejeweled nipple rings. He raised an eye brow. "kinky." He resumed his search and continued pilfering. He found a data drive tucked into the bloody collar of the late Bludger's shirt. "Well I think that's everything." He pocketed the data drive and looked down at the criminals' shoes. He squinted his eye and looked at his own bare feet. "I wonder if they'll fit."
He stomped out of the side-alley onto a new street. The pockets of his new jacket were lumpy and full. He walked past a shopkeeper. "Oh by the way, there are two dead Heptooinians in your alley. They're naked. A couple of real perverts, I bet."
"Huh? What? Who are you?"
"Just a concerned citizen." he gave a two fingered salute and kept on stomping along. The boots were a little big on him, but with the straps pulled reeeeeally tight, he could walk in them. He could probably get 5 credits for them; they looked like real reek leather.
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Dread Lord Havok
The First Order
Posts: 947
Affiliation: Sith, darkside, Adventists of the Eye, Imperial Remnant
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Dread Lord Havok on Aug 29, 2022 18:33:04 GMT -8
He wasn't quite sure where he was, but he knew where he was going. He just didn't know precisely how to get there. He wandered up and down several streets looking for Noonian's Pawn Shop. The streets were slowly becoming more busy as the diurnal crowd began filtering from their dwellings and making the commute to work, or to the market.
Our concerned citizen wasn't too picky about directions and so he went with the flow. He joined a steady stream of individuals heading towards a partially closed giant blast door. Someone had set up a mobile stairwell on both sides of the gap in the unsealed door and was charging a fee for people to move from one side to the other.
"A toll staircase. How ingenious!" He wondered how much he might make on tolls if he found a way to do something similar. There were significantly more than 30 people waiting in line.
The person next to him grumbled. "I hear on level 1400, its an escalator, instead of a staircase."
The hobo supposed there was no pleasing some people. Regardless, as he waited in line, he wracked his brain trying to remember if he had to climb any stairs to get to the pawn shop. He thought he might ask his fellow grumbler. "Say, friend,"
"I'm not your friend." The grumbler interrupted him.
"Very well, enemy. I don't suppose you know where Noonian's fine pawnshop is would you?"
The grumbler scoffed. "Its right over there, Can't you read?"
Our homeless hero looked in the direction that the grumbler pointed. There in the twilight of level 1313, a neon sign flashed in hot-pink from across the broad open plaza. "Noonian's Pawn and Emporium." In smaller letters that were burnt out, it further read, "Mr. Ancklyt Proprietor. No solicitor's allowed."
"Thank you, enemy!"
The grumbler rolled his eyes and snorted, and went back to watching a holovideo on his datapad while waiting for his turn to climb the stairs.
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Dread Lord Havok
The First Order
Posts: 947
Affiliation: Sith, darkside, Adventists of the Eye, Imperial Remnant
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Dread Lord Havok on Aug 30, 2022 18:01:53 GMT -8
Beeboop.
He heard the beeping from his pocket and narrowed his eye.
Beeboop.
As he stomped across the plaza, he dug in his crowded pockets to try and find the thing that was beeping.
Beeboop.
Ah! The comlink! He pulled it out and was about to answer it when it stopped beeping. He shrugged and put it back in his pocket. By this time, he was nearly at the shop. The windows of the place were barred and a security droid stood watch, blaster in hand. Our hero hobo walked up to the door expecting it to automatically open. He ran into it when it did not conform to his reasonable expectations-- and remain closed.
"Ow!" His face reminded him of how he woke up this morning. Come to think of it, most of his body ached at this point, and he couldn't remember why.
"Admittance is denied to armed individuals." the droid was scanning him.
"Of course I'm armed!" He flapped his arms like wings. "You're racist!" He pointed his finger at the droid.
"Play on words detected. Clarification. Arms, meaning weapons."
"I'm not armed!" He protested again, rubbing his forehead.
"My sensors detect you have two blasters."
"Oh these arms." He pulled out the two blasters from his waistband.
"You must surrender them to enter."
"But I am pawning them!"
"Then you must remove the power cells."
"But I am pawning the power cells also!"
"Once you pawn the blasters, Mr. Ancklyt will provide you with a receipt and I will return the power cells to you."
The hobo sighed. "That seems like alot of work." He patted the scab over his left eye. "-for me, and I am disabled! Look! One eye!"
"That is the procedure." The armed droid insisted.
The vagrant examined the blasters. "Where are the power cells?" He poked and prodded it. "You wouldn't know how to..."
The blaster suddenly fired a bolt upwards, nearly missing the shop's neon sign. The droid grabbed his hand and disarmed him. The door to the shop opened and the security droid pushed him through into the shop. The door closed immediately behind him once he was inside. "Hey! Those are mine!" He pounded on the door, but the droid was not responding.
"Those blasters aren't yours. Not by the look of it, Icarus." The voice came from behind the hobo.
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Dread Lord Havok
The First Order
Posts: 947
Affiliation: Sith, darkside, Adventists of the Eye, Imperial Remnant
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Dread Lord Havok on Aug 30, 2022 18:09:53 GMT -8
"Huh?" Icarus turned around to see the shopkeeper, presumably Mr. Ancklyt himself. Icarus looked around the shop to make sure that 'Icarus' was his name and just to make sure that Mr. Ancklyt was indeed talking to him and not reminding someone else that their name was Icarus. "Icarus." He repeated. Nope, didn't sound familiar, but he supposed it'd have to do for now.
Mr. Ancklyt was a tall Gozzo with a plump feathery body and long thin arms and legs. Around his waist was a leather belt decorated with numerous bejeweled fobs. The alien sat at a counter in the center of the store. Around him, were rows of shelves. Every possible space on the walls and shelves was taken up by things. Big things, small things, round things, flat things, technology things and organic things. Even an impressive assortment of things hung from the ceiling.
The Gozzo addressed Icarus again. "You were fumbling with the blasters like you'd never seen a p-94 before in your life. Are you here to reclaim the stuff you pawned yesterday?"
"What did I pawn yesterday?" Icarus didn't know what the bird-man was talking about. It seemed as if they had some sort of shared history. Which was altogether reasonable given that Icarus could remember the shop's name, but...
"Some bits of rare tech."
"Rare tech?" It didn't sound like him. What would he be doing with rare tech? "No. I'm here to pawn some things."
"What have you gone and done now?"
His mind went blank. He stood there rubbing his chin thinking about the question for nearly a minute and he still hadn't said anything. "Uh," was all he could manage as he found himself distracted by his surroundings. He once again found himself admiring all the things in the shop.
"Look, if anything is stolen, please don't tell me anything." Mr. Ancklyt shook his head. "Some of the things you've brought in here..."
"Its not stolen." Icarus was defensive and fairly certain that you couldn't steal from a dead body. "It's salvaged." He tried to look down his nose at the Gozzo, which was difficult because the big bird towered over him.
"If you say so. Well, come up to my counter and let's see what you've got today."
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Dread Lord Havok
The First Order
Posts: 947
Affiliation: Sith, darkside, Adventists of the Eye, Imperial Remnant
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Dread Lord Havok on Aug 30, 2022 18:34:37 GMT -8
Icarus emptied his pockets, starting with the jewelry.
Mr. Ancklyt went through Icarus' treasures, peering at them one by one with a loop. "These are fake." He set aside the golden chains.
Icarus picked at the scab over his left eye. Little bits of it landed on the counter.
"The metal is fake; it's actually plastoid." The Gozzo set down the nipple rings and picked up the finger rings. "And these rings... well, this stone is semi-precious but..."
"Aw come on! They look nice! Everyone wants to look good!"
"Yes. True. But..."
"An astute businessman- er, business-bird such as yourself, would know that the unwashed masses are thrilled by sparkly trinkets and some species' reproductive cycles depend on using such things to attract a- oh." He realized he was telling this to a Gozzo and coming across as rather patronizing.
"Let me finish, Icarus. The problem is, I sold this ring to a Heptooinian last week. This particular Heptooinian is in the Kogue Clan. He is a regular. A good customer. Good enough that I only cheated him a couple of times because he keeps on coming back and buying more." Mr. Ancklyt put down the jeweler's loop. "But... there's blood on this." He held up the ring.
"Oh. Interesting." Icarus did his best to look casual as he brushed some flecks of scab off of the sleeve of the Heptooinian-sized leather jacket he was wearing. "I have some boots to sell too." He offered as he lifted a leg and put the whole boot, with his leg inside, on the counter. "Real Reek leather! 5 credits?"
With a sigh, Mr. Ancklyt pushed Icarus' foot off the counter. "They're imitation Reek." The proprietor recognized the boots and looked disgusted. "I can't sell these."
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Dread Lord Havok
The First Order
Posts: 947
Affiliation: Sith, darkside, Adventists of the Eye, Imperial Remnant
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Dread Lord Havok on Aug 30, 2022 18:47:45 GMT -8
"What? Why?" Icarus blinked vacantly.
"Because they are too unique. They are identifiable. They are custom. If I try to sell them, my customer is going to come back in here and see them, and then I'll be on the Kogue Clan's bad side. They can make things very hard for any business on this level."
Icarus nodded, as if he understood. Honestly he wasn't sure if he cared about clans. He cared that he couldn't sell his stuff, and get another 10 credits. Daddy wanted to be able to get his seventh dose... "What about... the blasters? P-95s?"
"P-94s"
"Whatever. What would you take for those? 10 credits?"
The Gozzo tried not to look too excited. "I donno, 10 credits is... alot." He made a big show of scratching his beak, and ruffling his neck feathers.
Icarus pursed his lips sensing he went too low. "Uh, 70 credits?"
"Why did you go up to 70?"
"Because 70 divided by 30 is 2, remainder 10?" Icarus answered accurately.
"70 is much too high." he lied. The Gozzo knew the value of those blasters was about 120 each. 70 was still a bargain. "How about 35?"
"No deal." That number would leave Icarus with extra credits, and what was he going to do with those? Buy food? Settle debts? Psht! Nonsense! He started putting the jewelry back in his pocket.
"36?" Mr. Ancklyt offered, hoping to successfully exploit Icarus' lack of familiarity with the p-94s.
Icarus thought about it and double checked his math in good faith. "No can do. I could do 10, 40, 70, 100-"
"Deal! 100!" Mr. Ancklyt began shaking Icarus' hand. The Gozzo had panicked when Icarus started packing up and listing off higher numbers and so he made a deal before Icarus could go any higher. He was still getting the blasters at a better than 50% discount.
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Dread Lord Havok
The First Order
Posts: 947
Affiliation: Sith, darkside, Adventists of the Eye, Imperial Remnant
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Dread Lord Havok on Aug 30, 2022 19:07:17 GMT -8
What about..."
The proprietor responded quickly before Icarus could make a counter offer. "For the 100, I'll also take the jewelry and the boots. I'll even give you a pair of boots that fit you."
"Deal! I knew you'd see reason." Icarus emptied his pockets of the jewelry that he took from the Heptooinians. He didn't seem to mind that he was giving the pawnshop more things for the same 100 credits. An ID cared fell out of Icarus' pocket onto the counter.
"What's this?" Mr. Ancklyt picked up the identification card belonging to a Sullustian. He looked surprised.
"Oh, I was just holding that for a friend." Icarus tried to take it back, sensing a general badness or disapproval from the Gozzo's reaction.
The shopkeeper yanked it away. "That's Dr. Zwooiam's ID. You should take that back to him at his clinic. He needs this to be able to dispense medication." He held it up to the light to confirm that it was real. "Or I'll hold onto it for him."
"I was just going to take it over there, after this." Icarus snatched it back. "To Dr. Swoopian."
"Zwooiam."
"Where is the clinic?" He tried not to look too excited. Clinics are where they keep drugs!
"Right around the corner."
"Excellent. I just wanted to make sure." Icarus held out his hand. "Pay up." He kicked off the oversized boots onto the pawnshop floor. Who could walk in those things?? Well, he supposed probably people with bigger feet than he had.
The Gozzo payed Icarus with a single 100 credit chit.
"Pleasure doing business, Mr. Ancklyt."
"Likewise, Icarus. Also I will be giving the clinic a call later to make sure that ID does make it back to him. He's a good doctor. He cured my nest-cough."
"Relax! Doctor Noonian and I are great friends!" he gave a hurried wave as his bare feet slapped the pavement outside the store, forgetting to pick out a pair of boots.
"It's Zwooiam." The bird muttered. Icarus would be back. He'd remind him about his boots then.
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Dread Lord Havok
The First Order
Posts: 947
Affiliation: Sith, darkside, Adventists of the Eye, Imperial Remnant
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Dread Lord Havok on Aug 31, 2022 6:45:03 GMT -8
Our intrepid Icarus was feeling quite pleased with himself. He now had 300 credits, or enough for 10 doses! He was going to get smashed tonight! And it was only... what time was it? He checked his datapad. 11:40. Not even noon. He'd do it after he went to the clinic. Noon. It was almost 12 hours since he last...
Beep.
Not the beeping again. Icarus pulled out the comlink. The handheld communicator had a message. Apparently the call he did not answer prompted the caller to leave a message. He played the recording out of idle curiosity.
"Shipment, 3pm. West dock. Second pallet."
That was it. That was the message. Icarus wondered what wonderful things might be in the second pallet at the west dock. Why did he want to find out? Well, having secured the means to party, he felt like a wealthy gentleman on holiday. A bonified tourist on level 1313. Why not try to figure out where the west dock was and what was in a pallet? If it was valuable, it might further fuel future pharmaceutical fun.
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Dread Lord Havok
The First Order
Posts: 947
Affiliation: Sith, darkside, Adventists of the Eye, Imperial Remnant
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Dread Lord Havok on Aug 31, 2022 6:48:32 GMT -8
He turned the corner and saw the clinic. A large medical sign, with two First Order troopers standing by the entrance. Why were they always in pairs? Icarus was a little leary, but he told the good Gozzo that he would return the ID, so he'd give it his best shot.
"Halt citizen. State your business or medical need." A trooper challenged him before he could go into the clinic.
"I need to return this ID to Dr. Swampian." Icarus held up the official identification card with the hologram logo of the First Order.
"I'll see that he gets it." The trooper reached to take the card and Icarus pulled it back away.
"I wanted to give it to him personally. I believe he offered a reward?" Icarus had no idea whether a reward was offered, but rewards were usually offered by rich people that felt bad about stealing from poor people. The other kind of rich people didn't offer rewards.
"Is that so?" The trooper sounded skeptical.
"Yes. I think it was 30 credits?" Icarus suggested.
"I'll have to call it in."
"Suit yourself, my good man." Icarus put his hand on his hip and waited, hoping that he would get 30 more credits out of this endeavor. If not, he was prepared to bolt.
"There's a man with your ID out here. Leather coat. Barefoot, messed up left eye." The trooper paused. "Uh, huh." The trooper eyed Icarus. "Yeah, black leather. Brown pants. Long hair... No. Scanned him, no weapons. Alright." The trooper ended the call. "He said you can come in. He'll treat your eye."
"Open up." The other trooper tapped on the armored clinic door and it opened, allowing Icarus to enter.
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