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Post by Amaranth Australis on May 13, 2022 7:29:29 GMT -8
 Oyu'baat was busy in the early evening, many having flocked to the tapcafe for drinks after their work day was done. Most of the tables were full, as were the booths, and there was standing room only in the bar. Smoke wafted through the low-ceilinged main room, dimly lit by glowlamps, with the embers of various smokables in various mouths glowing in the dark corners.
Sitting at a booth with a pair of clients, Amaranth was just concluding some business with a pair of Barabels. Barsa and Garza were brother and sister, skilled hunters in their own right, but they needed special assistance with recovering a debt from another hunter. In her free time, Amaranth took jobs as someone who could boast an excellent success rate in recovering stolen items. Said item was across the table, a valuable gem, taken in payment for a contract unfulfilled. Amaranth had tracked the Rodian thief to Mandalore and recovered the gem.
"Thisssss one thanksssss you." Garza said, as the brother and sister rose, swiping up the gemstone in a clawed hand. Amaranth took the credits on her side of the table and put them away, nodding without smiling as her satisfied customers made their way out of the bar. She ordered a tihaar from a server with a look, and went back to her datapad. On it, a message icon blinked.
"Sister. Meet us at MandalArms in Keldabe." Short and sweet and no wasted words, typical of Reyn when he was busy. "See you soon, ad'ika." Amy replied quickly, then sighed, but half smiled when her drink arrived. She took a sip of the tihaar and tipped the server. Reyn could shabla well wait until she finished her drink. Unlike some shabuirim, she worked for a Kad damned living.
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Kaine Australis
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Post by Kaine Australis on Jul 18, 2022 3:46:29 GMT -8
It was early evening Keldabe local time when Kaine made his way into Oyu'baat. He took off his buy'ce as he wandered in towards the bar. The Old Boar returned nods sent his way, but he wasn't smiling. He hated work, and the Byss operation was putting a lot more work than he preferred onto his plate. Hence his unscheduled visit to the pub. He needed several drinks.
"Tihaar." Said the bartender, placing a bottle and a glass down for the Australis Alor. Kaine tilted his head. "Usually that's my line." The bartender just shrugged and walked away, leaving Kaine little choice but to accept his regular order, and pour his own. He did this right away, filling the glass with about three good slugs' worth of the fiery liquid.
Leaning on the bar with one elbow while he held his drink in his right hand, Kaine looked over the cantina. Mostly full, but not too rowdy, no arguments. There was only a replay of a bolo-ball match on the monitors, so no one was too entranced watching the match. No dancing girls either, Kaine noted with some disappointment. He was old, but not too shabla old. Sipping at his drink, Kaine did his best to empty his mind of numbers and statistics and shabla lists.
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Bey Kahn
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Post by Bey Kahn on Jul 18, 2022 7:37:41 GMT -8
From a set of swinging doors connected to the kitchen, a large gamorrean in a filthy apron passed through carrying a large plastic tub, which he began to fill with finished dishes from various tables around the bar. Flies buzzed around his snout as he worked, scattering as he swatted at them with a thick ham sized hand with sausage link fingers. Then the front entrance doors parted as the usual waitress returned from her smoke break outside. She waved at Bey and offered the lumbering porcine alien a warm smile."It's okay, Bey. My breaks over, I'll take over from here." He snorted in reply and nodded, setting the tub down near the hostess stand and heading back behind the bar. Once there he grabbed a dirty dish towel and began cleaning the bar top.Since his conversation with Galaar Fett, a few things had changed in the Gamorrean blacksmith's life. For starters he had made a home for himself in the city, or rather, in some low hills just outside of it. He had met with members of Clan Skirata just as the Legate had suggested, and even though they had offered him a place amongst their clan, it hadn't felt right. So in the interim while he was still figuring a few things out, he had taken a job at the Oyu'baat. It had started out as just mopping floors and scrubbing dishes, but as the weeks went on his duties had been expanded to working in the kitchen as a line cook and occasionally covering the bar when the bartender needed a break.As he polished the counter to a near sheen, he noticed the Mandalorian seated there with his helmet off, and the look of exhaustion on the man's face. There were more lines crisscrossing his forehead then his years suggested. Bey took this to mean the man was probably dealing with some stress. He squealed and snorted in gamorrese, his vocal cords unable to mimic basic or any other language really. Fortunately the disembodied tactical droid head hanging from his belt did most of the talking for him.You look tired, friend. Translated the droid. I think I have something that might help.Bending down, which was not easy given how much room the old swine's girthsome form took up, he found an old bottle of tihaar from beneath the bar. He blew the dust and cobwebs off the bottle, then rubbed a fat thumb over the label so that he could read it. The bottle was probably the oldest thing in the bar, by a few centuries at least.There you go. He placed the ancient vintage on the bar top next to the other bottle of tihaar. I'm not sure if it is still considered tihaar at this point, as I'm certain it could strip the varnish off the bar top, but it ought to help erase a few of your troubles. And more than a few brain cells at that. On the house.
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Kaine Australis
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Post by Kaine Australis on Jul 19, 2022 2:48:04 GMT -8
Kaine didn't see the Gammorrean approach from behind the bar, as he was looking away, but he heard the droid voice and turned. He met the porcine fellow's eyes and nodded, though he didn't understand their language, he knew it was polite to look at the one speaking and not the translator droid. And he was right, Kaine felt tired. Nothing tired him faster than desk work, as he thought of any work that didn't involve combat. Appreciating the gesture, Kaine threw back what was left of his drink and moved back to the bar.Looks old. Said Kaine, stating the obvious. Old is good. He opened the bottle and poured himself one before reaching over to grab a second glass which he poured for the Gammorrean. Join me? Kaine pushed the second glass over and raised his own.The Australis Alor had much respect for the Gammorreans as a people and a culture, indeed one of his commando units was mainly a Gammorrean affair, led by Grunt, one of the toughest old buggers Kaine had ever met. They wore the sobriquet of the War Pigs with pride, making for a very capable assault force. Like this one, many of them utilized translation droids, though they did not need such among themselves.The old boar raised his glass in toast. Take what ya can, give nothing back! An old pirate toast, but also suitable for warriors facing down death. Kaine grinned at his fellow as he made the toast. He wondered idly what this fellow's story was, and whether he might be a fighter...Bey Kahn
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Bey Kahn
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Post by Bey Kahn on Jul 19, 2022 4:29:43 GMT -8
Bey accepted the glass with a grunt, oinking his approval. Perks of the job. Translated the droid as the gamorrean raised the glass in reply, then downed it in one go. The time addled vintage burned on the way down, spreading warmth throughout his chest.
Then the coughing started as his throat felt as sand parched as the Dune Sea. He banged a ham sized fist against his massive chest, squealing and snorting as he chuckled.
See, I wasn't even joking. The owner was going to use it to take an old coat of paint off his beskar, but this seemed like a better use for it. He leaned on the counter and extended a shockball mitt like hand towards Kaine. Nice to meet a fellow that can handle his drink. The names Bey Kahn.
Something the Mandalorian had said rang a bell in the old pig's memory. He rubbed the stubble on his jowls with two fat fingers.
I got a couple of squatters living with me at the moment and I swear your toast sounds like something they would say. He shook his head dismissively. Ewoks.
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Kaine Australis
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Post by Kaine Australis on Jul 19, 2022 5:52:32 GMT -8
Kaine took his drink and moved to speak, but his throat had other ideas just now. Kad's beard but that stuff was bitey. Despite his best efforts, Kaine coughed his guts up for several seconds. When he could finally manage a word, he croaked out a very muted "Oya." and managed a weak smile, slightly embarrassed. He put down the glass and took several deep breaths until his sinuses stopped being on fire, then stood up a little straighter and took the handshake offered.Nice to meet you, vod. Kaine Australis. He nodded. Yeah, Ewoks are a sort, alright. One of my units has two of them, quietest little buggers you never saw. They could steal a rug out from under a Hutt's butt. Good fighters though, when they're not thieving.There weren't a lot of ewoks among the Mandalorians or even among Clan Australis, who never turned away willing help. The two Ewoks Kaine spoke of were Gorefang and Warfang, who were both in a Greenback squad, at home among the jungle specialists. He thought there might have been another ewok commando somewhere, but couldn't recall the fellow's name. He wasn't really prejudiced against any species, save the Anzati or the Vongese. Most people were just people, funny looking or not. And he'd found, most people could fight pretty well when given the right training and tools and welcomed as part of a family.What brings you to the bar? Kaine didn't know many of the regular staff at Oyu'baat like he had when he'd lived on Mandalore. Living offworld had some perks, but it did take one well away from what was going on in Keldabe and the other towns at the heart of Manda'yaim. Even when trying not to, Clans could become very insular and isolationist. Bey Kahn
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Bey Kahn
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Post by Bey Kahn on Jul 19, 2022 6:45:58 GMT -8
Hah! He snorted in amusement. Thieving seems to be about all they do. Without invitation, he picked up the bottle containing the old vintage and refilled their cups.
The manager didn't like the staff getting too tipsy when working, despite this being a Mandalorian tavern where drinking was as much a part of their religion as fighting, so he was usually sworn to stick to a few steins of ale while on duty. After his shift though, Bey had grown quite a liking to the local spirit, downing buckets of the stuff in his off hours.
But the boss didn't appear to be around right now, so...salute. He knocked back another, then continued.
It's a bit of an odd story, but well, you look like you could use a laugh. I owned a blacksmith shop in the Under City of Taris, which is where I've been living the last twenty years. Mostly converting scrap the outcasts would bring me into weapons, which they'd then buy back. Anyways, there was a bit of a rakghoul outbreak and I was forced to leave my shop. I'm sure my forge is making a nice nest for one of the muties right now. I was trying to find a way off world when I ran into the ewoks I mentioned, which is where things get really strange. They offered me a ride off the planet, only so long as I help them break their ship out of an impound lot. Well, I agreed and that went about as well as you might expect, with the First Order firing hot laser at our butts while we high tailed it out of the system. The crew were former pirates who wanted to get back to that sorta work, but I talked them out of it.
He pushed one sausage finger down on the counter.
I make an honest wage, always have. So, we started working as caravan guards for merchant ships traveling between the Outer Rim and the Core. We were in between jobs when we took port here in Keldabe. I had been raised by a Mandalorian growing up, Sloan Skirata, who taught me everything I know about fighting and shaping metal. It seemed to make sense that while I was here I try to get in touch with my roots. I even met with a few members of the Clan, but... He shrugged. ...I dunno. It just didn't feel right. So, while I've been sorting things out, I took a job here at the Oyu'baat. It pays the bills, though I swear the squatters are eating me out of house and home. They said they owe me something called an ewok life debt. Never heard of such a thing, to be honest, but so far the way it has been working is that I've done all the saving, whereas all they seem to do is spread fur on my couch and eat up all the food in my fridge.
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Kaine Australis
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Post by Kaine Australis on Jul 19, 2022 7:53:42 GMT -8
Kaine knocked back his own second drink of the "hull cleaner" spirit, and was not quite as overwhelmed as the first effort, managing to keep it down smoothly enough not to cough up his ring. He was, however, glad that Bey was doing the talking. He listened intently while his stomach captured the happy warmth of the alcohol.
He was surprised to note some familiarity with Bey's story. He'd spent some time in Taris's undercity himself, and he'd been raised, after a fashion by a Skirata, who had taught Kaine everything about being a Mando'ad. He didn't know much of ewoks except that they didnt think much of other species and cultures as a general rule.
Well, i reckon they're talking osik about a shabla ewok life debt. Ewoks aren't Wookiees, despite the fur, heh.Kaine could see that Bey looked fit and solid enough to make for a capable fighter, and if he was Mando'ad, that was a safe assumption. He'd dealt with Rakghouls, which were bastards, especially in numbers. And he hadn't missed the word forge. A goran was always respected and valued among Mando'ade. Nothing wrong with tending bar, Oyu'baat will always be busy. If you'd rather fight, there are ways, and it's honest work that pays better than bar or guard work. I have a unit of Gammorrean assault commandos in my own Clan, good solid fighters. Kaine didn't offer to just let Bey into the unit, that would ultimately be Grunt's call, even if he wanted to join up. Clan Australis was happy to accept fighters from any clan, so long as they fit well into their units.Bey Kahn
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Bey Kahn
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Post by Bey Kahn on Jul 19, 2022 8:57:10 GMT -8
The big pig had filled their cups for a third round and had his own glass held in front of his tusks, when he paused, considering what Kaine had said about gamorrean assault commandos. He blinked after a moment, the build up of gnats drawn to his snout bringing him back to reality. He waved the flies away yet again and sipped the tihaar this time, smacking his lips as he savoured the taste, assuming that's what ya called the burning sensation going on in his mouth.
See, that's more along the lines of what I was looking for. I mean to speak no ill of Clan Skirata, but their plans for me seemed to involve pushing a plow and working the fields. He shook his horned head from side to side, drool dripping over either shoulder. I have nothing against hard work, but I'm not much of a farmer. Even as a young porkling in the village I grew up in, it was always the sows that tended to the crops. Us boars were made for fighting.
As though to proof his point, the gamorrean wrapped one massive ham sized hand around a durasteel napkin holder resting on the counter. Then slowly, he gave it a squeeze. The metal crumpled under the exerted force and before it was over, Bey stood up to put his full weight on the warped piece of metal, squeezing it into a flat disk on the bar top. Then with a flick of his fat fingers, he slid the disk towards Kaine.
I can do the same thing to a skull. Well... He shrugged his broad meaty shoulders. ...it's a bit messier but you get my point. He finished with an oink, then winked one squinty eye. I think I'd like to meet these gamorrean commandos.
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Kaine Australis
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Post by Kaine Australis on Jul 22, 2022 12:52:23 GMT -8
Kaine was liking the way this was going, though he suspected the tihaar was taking hold and making him nice and mellow. He'd at least forgotten his troubles. He wondered what Grunt and the rest of the lads were up to, confined to the ship. He'd snuck away for a couple of days, leaving the rest of the ori'rami'kade aboard Carnifex. They had plenty of work to do to prep for the Byss mission.
You know they call me the Old Boar. Kaine grinned, pointing to the war pig signet on his shoulder plate; the emblem of Clan Australis was a large angry-looking tusked porker. I reckon they'd like to meet you too, ner vod. Let me see what they're about. He pushed a few buttons on his forearm's datapad and commed Vevut, one of his Jare'rami'kade who always had the pulse on what was happening.
Boss. Came the voice, though Kaine could hear some sort of noise in the background that he couldn't place. Vevut. Said Kaine. Is Grunt around? Need a word. Vevut's voice crackled back over the comm, and the Australis Alor distinctly heard cheering in the background, and a distracted tone in Vevut's voice as if he were watching something. Ahh... Yeah, he's around. Kaine had a sinking feeling. Vevut. He said. You lot aren't on the ship are you?
There was a long pause before Vevut spoke once more. Well, boss, the thing is.... He began, somewhat hopelessly. Kaine swore. You're playing fucking bolo ball aren't you? Vevut came back quickly. Not all of us, boss. Kaine waited, but he didn't think he was going to like this. The Witches and the Goldies are still aboard ship, we only needed eight teams, like. Kaine ground his teeth. He couldn't leave them alone for ten minutes. As if bringing down eight hundred commandos instead of the whole thousand was somehow supposed to mollify him. I'll be in touch. And he cut off the comm before Vevut could continue. Looking up at Bey, Kaine shrugged.
It seems the gammorean commandos are closer than I thought. He explained. We'll find them at the Mesh'geroya fields north of the city. On the plus side, they'll have brought drinks and they'll be easy to find. On the minus side, there'll be eight hundred drunk Mando'ade screaming their heads off.
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Bey Kahn
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Post by Bey Kahn on Jul 30, 2022 4:22:31 GMT -8
A bunch of drunken Mandalorians screaming their heads off at a ball game didn't sound like a problem to the old smith. Frankly it sounded like a good time. He just hoped they'd save him some ale, though knowing these people as he had come to over the past months, there seemed little chance of that. Like the Gamorreans, the Mandalorians enjoyed their drink. And the Gamorrean Mandaloreans enjoyed it even more.
Sounds like a fun time. Translated the droid head as Bey oinked his approval. Resting his elbow on the bar top, he pointed one sausage finger at the entrance to the Oyu'baat. I got a swoop-hog out front. Its technically a two seater, but... Well, look at him for porks sake. ...it'd be a bit cramped.
Plus somehow he didn't think this Kaine fella would be keen to ride twi'lek.
I can meet you there, unless you have other transportation.
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Kaine Australis
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Post by Kaine Australis on Jul 31, 2022 5:28:18 GMT -8
Kaine grinned. I'll walk off the booze and meet you there, ner vod.
It wasn't that he was opposed to doubling up on Kahn's swoop, or that being in close quarters would bother him, but Kaine really was feeling the effects of the drink. He wanted to be semi coherent when he chewed out the culprits that had organized whatever extracurricular expedition the commandos were on. Kaine suspected that it would be on the grand scale of shenanigans, given the mission they all knew was ahead.
He pushed back from the bar, intending to wander his way through Keldabe to the fields. A locator ping from the other Mando'ade gave him the location on his forearm's datapad, which he could get on his HUD. Hard to get lost that way, even when a little sozzled.
Looks like they're at the grounds just north of the city.
Bey, Kaine suspected, wasn't going to be as affected by the booze as him, and wouldn't need nav aids and HUD to find his way. Kaine realised just then he'd repeated himself. Kriff. Grunting with the effort and being loaded a little heavily, he heaved his shebs up and towards the door, heading for the playing fields.
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Post by Blubba the Fatt on Oct 20, 2023 17:44:37 GMT -8
The doors to the Oyu'baat swung open, admitting the large bulbous form of a Hutt in ill-fitting Mandalorian armour. Blubba Fett slithered in, leaving a trail of slime in his wake as he made his way towards the tavern's bar-top. Melon shaped yellow eyes leered at some of the locals enjoying a drink and a meal at the various tables situated around the establishment. He grumbled to himself.
"All these Mandalorians not wearing their buckets. Shameful, is what it is." Grouched the ungainly Hutt. His own helmet, which was several sizes too small for his mountainous Hutt head, was strapped to his blubbery crown with a thick cord of rope. It could be argued that he also wasn't wearing his helmet, but if you asked Blubba about it, he would still say it counted. It was his fathers helmet after all, belonging to the human Mandalorian that adopted him into the culture so many centuries ago. The Hutt wore the poorly portioned suit in honour of his late Papa, who just so happened to be a card carrying member of the Children of the Watch, which was where his grievance with the lack of worn helmets came from. The countertop shook as Blubba's armoured belly bumped into the bar.
"Tihaar." He croaked, his fat tongue sliding across his salivating lips. He leaned over the bar top, causing the whole counter to creak as the wood cracked, and called after the Gamorrean bar-tender. "And leave the bottle." Bounty hunting worked up a heck of a thirst. That's what he was, when he wasn't taking jobs as hired muscle for the kingpins of the underworld. Bounty Hunter by trade, one of the best in fact. Well, if you asked Blubba that is. He certainly wasn't making any top ten lists with his dismal track record.
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Otto Von Bralor
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Post by Otto Von Bralor on Jul 18, 2024 6:27:36 GMT -8
Continued from here.Crack! A sharp crack of splintering wood sounded over the pitter-patter of rain outside as the swinging saloon style doors of the Oyu-baat were kicked open with force, allowing a weather drenched figure in what appeared at first glance to be Mandalorian armour but was soon revealed to be something else entirely, to step into the light of the cantina entrance. They were garbed in dark armour studded in barbs and spikes that protruded from plates attached to an insulating environmental suit. The keen eye of a blacksmith might notice that the alloy the sinister assortment of steely protection was comprised of was alchemized Sith iron instead of the usual beskar, distorting the image of anything reflected off its corrupted surface. Ribbed hoses extended up from below a gorget encircling the armoured figure's neck and plugged into the sides of his T-visor helmet at its base, venting carcinogens and wisps of polluted smoke through a respirator grill built into the bottom of the helm. Lastly, a long filthy brown pauncho was hung from the gorget, draped over the front and back of the armoured man's torso. Behind the featureless expression of his helm, Ibram Lok smiled, allowing pus to seep from the corners of his mouth and drain disgustingly into his suit. Gloved fingers flicked open the clasps of twin holsters positioned on either side of his belt, allowing the Mordolorian to quickly draw the two Renegade heavy blaster pistols he carried, raising them up to chest level as he purposefully walked into the establishment. It was half empty this time of night, in the wee hours of the morning when the sun was on the verge of peeking up over the horizon, but even at that ungodly hour the Oyu'baat was never completely empty. The slimly designed blasters from SoroSuub bucked in Ibram's gauntlets as he squeezed the trigger repeatedly, unloading his blaster clips at anything that moved.Pew! Pew! Pew! Pew! Pew! Pew! Pew! Tracking software installed in the Mordolorian's helmet made it easy to select targets as he began to butcher indiscriminately, murdering first the bartender by placing a burning bullseye through the dead centre of their chest, then putting down two of the waitresses as they attempted to find cover. He then turned his attention to the patrons, most of which that were still here at this time were half inebriated and could barely stand, let alone shoot straight. These he took out slowly, savoring each tick on his kill-counter as the tally grew larger.
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