Session export: DM Saloon

Diy’s grin widened at the stream of words, catching a couple familiar ones and filling in the intent with the others. She smiled pretty at the Ryn when her attention came back to them, putting on a light drawl, “Thank ya kindly, Miss.” The faux-Zelosian strolled off and found a place to sit.

Kaled slowly walked inside the saloon, still a bit exhausted from using the Force. “Hello miss.” Although tiered, he had enough straight to wave and give a warm smile to Ryn.

The Miraluka’s hand was visibly shaking as he stepped forward and searched for the first available free seat. As Kaled sat down, he let out a long sigh of relief. His mind cleared and muscles relaxed as he put his hands on the table.

I will need to ask dad for more training…

Two Shistavan approached the small saloon, one speaking quite animated, the other mostly silent and watching their surroundings. The siblings looked slightly dirty and a little tired, as if they’d been on the move for a bit. As they stepped up to the door, their conversation continued.

“We can’t stay long.”

“K'varr, I’m tired, you’re tired, I’m hungry, you’re hungry. We need to get some rest. Besides, I think we’re fine here. This planet shouldn’t even be on their radar.”

K'Varr gave a grunt in response as they stepped through the doors. They saw the group already in their and Tsunn gave a friendly wave to the patrons before the two grabbed a table.

“We must keep our presence muted.” K'Varr said in a low but smooth voice.

“Don’t worry so much, you’ll give yourself an ulcer. Besides, I really think we could be safe here. This place just gives me…good vibrations.” Tsunn spoke with an effeminite cadence, though their voice held masculine tones.

Wyndell Tyris kicked open the door, unceremoniously. He had somehow found a piece of wheat or straw and was chewing on it so it hung out the corner of his mouth.

“-so like I was saying, you never go full Jawa. Even if you’re playing a Jawa. There’s method acting, and then there is going full Jawa. He rolled his eyes.”

Apparently, a very patient Zeltron walked in beside him.

Diy watched the newcomers come in. She shot Wyn and the Zeltron a grin before her gaze tracked the Shistavanens to a table by themselves. They weren’t anybody she’s met yet. Standing, the Kiffar made her way across the room over there, pausing to squeeze Kaled’s shoulders. “Get some water, hun,” and then she was gone and moved on.

“Hello, two of ya look like ya been travelin’ a bit. New to Selen?”

Karran walked in, having doffed the leather armor he wore on the mission and replacing them with his more casual robes. Sleeveless, open-chested down to nearly his waistline and displaying nearly the full array of his Zabraki tattoos. He retained the pebbled reptilian leather boots that came up to his knee and the belt that held his lightsaber.

He took a deep breath, he could socialize and not drink. It wouldn’t be that hard.

After surveying the room briefly, he chose to join Diy at her table, a smile wrinkled the scars on the left side of his face as the chair creaked under his mass.

K'Varr immediately bared their teeth slightly at the newcomer, but Tsunn kicked their leg under the table, eliciting a pain filled groan from the overprotective older twin.

“Thank you for the warm welcome. My sibling and I are visiting this planet and this is our first time here. We don’t want to cause any bothers or anything, so I apologize if we make any mistakes. Are there any safe places to rent for a night or two?”

“We won’t be staying that long.” K'Varr attempted to chime in, before a second kick was delivered to their shin, producing another groan of pain.“

"We appreciate any references you could give. But don’t trouble yourself on our account.”

“Well, at the moment I have two vacant rooms at my home that you are welcome to, provided you do not attempt to rob or murder me.”

The Zabrak leaned back, “I have known several people that were just passing through Selen. Not one has finished passing through. They all seem to find some reason to put down roots. Maybe you will too.”

Diy wasn’t phased the least by the larger shista’s bristling, though her gaze did flick between the two of them with each pained grunt. A slight twitch of a grin. Seeing Karran welcome himself, Diy found herself a chair and set it backwards against the table, sitting down and crossing her arms over it.

“Funny how that keeps happenin’. Honestly, nothin’ sinister assure ya, as he said,” Diy tipped her head towards the Zabrak before offering her hand to the smaller, more talkative newcomer. “Diyrian, but feel free to call me Diy. ‘N’ his place is lovely.”

Tsunn smiled, their sharp canine-like teeth on display. They could feel the Force at work around them. These folks felt safe.

K'Varr, however, was not so easily convinced. When things feel too good to be true, they usually are. And their first priority was to keep their twin safe. They had sworn to their parents they would do so.

“I am sorry, but we must decline.”

“K'Varr, don’t be rude. These people are offeing to help us. We should let them.”

K'Varr looked to the Zabrak and the Kiffar. They didn’t trust the two. No one anywhere is this helpful or nice.

“Tsunn, I must insist we be on our way. Even if these people aren’t with… him… that doesn’t mean they are friends to us.”

“I understand your hesitation, but trust me when I say we need not fear them. I can tell. Just sit down and eat. We can discuss the rest later.”

K'Varr did not understand Tsunn’s gifts. But they knew Tsunn was adamant here. It was best to wait and prove to their sibling that the truth would out.

“If you do not wish to stay with me, I cannot force you. But I will ask if there is anything I can do to prove my honesty?”

The Zabrak leaned forward a bit, “A friendly competition, perhaps?”

Their paw was calloused but soft, a fact barely noted by Diy when she shook their hand. Her extended forefinger touched the wrist rocket clasped on their forearm and with a deliberate will, she tapped into the Force-bound emotions and memories trapped there. Something in the mix intrigued her and she ended up pushing farther than the usual surface level lick. Weary travel, conflict, reassurance and protective energy –

–Diyrian blinked, a bit of a daze look on her face. The feed had been severed from Tsunn retracting their paw. She gave a half-grin that was more awkward than present and friendly before leaning into her backwards chair. Her gaze lingered on the smaller Shista, even with K'varr’s distrust. Her attention didn’t fully returned back until the mention of a competition and drinks.

“Corellian Tea, Bonnie, thanks.” She turned to the others, quirking an eyebrow towards Karran, “What kind of comp we talking about?”

“It could be as simple as an arm wrestle, or a good old fashioned brawl.”

The Zabrak rolled his neck and shoulders to elicit a series of pops

K'Varr’s ear twitched at the mention of a competition. Though they kept their composure and wits at all times, the idea of competition had always been a draw to the Shistavanen. She looked at Karran, sizing him up. He looked quite strong, a very physically superior member of his race.

“A test of strength.”

K'Varr turned their body and propped up their elbow against the table offering their clawed paw.

Nicfer took the bearing of teeth from the two Shistavans to break away from Wyn. One eye roll at the Shistavans and an arm tug from Wyn and she was free to move about the bar. She quickly found a seat so that she could get something she had been missing while stuck in her training.

She held up a hand until Bonnie notices and she just murmurs, “Sunrise Caf love. When you get the chance.”

A touch out of character from her normal frak the galaxy attitude, but she had learned quickly that one doesn’t give attitude to the people making your drinks. She sat back and watched as things unfolded. She was hoping to learn more of her companions. Which was not a lot as Karran was already challenging the newcomers. Granted, not nearly has aggressively as he had done with her earlier. She should have sat their in silence. She should have just waited for her caf…

“Can you go more than 12 hours without challenging someone Karran?”

Karran mirrored K'vaar’s pose and grasped his hand. He would use no Force Tricks. Strength against strength alone, sportsmanlike.

The Zabrak turned to Nicfer with an absolute deadpanned tone replied, “No.”

“Oh, don’t be sour. We just bonded over old hunting stories and scars.” Her voice thick with sarcasm.

She also looked round the bar at her new ….crew. Nope, still sounded wrong. New acquaintances … and her new bestie. “Are we not going to take bets on this? I’m willing to put a few credits on my new bestie Karran.”

Diy flashed Bonnie a smile before turning to the brewing competition. “Several creds on Horns here,” She tilted her head at Tsunn’s comment, gaze shifting to the joined hands above the table, “Oh, I’m bettin’ on it!”

As the bets concluded, K'Varr looked across at the Zabrak. Their eyes met, two warriors ready for their conflict. The Shistavanen felt his hands against their paws. Both figures tensed as they attempted to overpower the other.

K'Varr could feel the strength of their opponent. Their wills were keeping them locked in their embrace. Neither seemed to give an inch, and if they did, they took it back quick.

“I am…impressed. Your strength is notable. I wonder if your convictions are equally unbending.”

“I live by my codes unflinchingly. I have sacrificed much for my clan and people. Have you done the same?”

The Zabrak flexed as he pushed against the Shistavanen’s arm.

“Everything I do, and have done, is to keep twin safe. That was my vow, and I will honor that till death.”

K'Varr’s voice was gruff with responsibility. But it held a softness as well, a deepness some might find alluring.

The pair remained matched. Sweat began to bead, muscles ached. It seemed that they would stay locked like this forever until the Shistavanen’s arm gave away and slammed into the table.

Karran released his grip and called for another round for the twins.

“A good match. You are truly a worthy opponent. I respect your dedication to your family, and once again invite you into my home. If you wish, you may pay me rent of one credit per night as compensation.”

K'Varr’s arm felt sore. They realized just how weary their body was after an extended period on the run. Defeated, they leaned back and gave their sibling a glance.

Tsunn met their siblings gaze and placed a hand on their shoulder.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of. I think it’s time we rested. And who knows, maybe we’ll thrive here.”

K'Varr turned back to Karran.

“I will take you up on your offer. Just know I will allow no hard to come to Tsunn. I will put my trust in you though. You are a worthy opponent though. Perhaps you would oblige me with a friendly spar?”

Karran smiled. Big, broad, and sincere.

“Of course!” he planted a hand on K'varr’s shoulder. “You may choose the means and methods since I won this challenge.”

The Miraluka leaned in his seat after a few moment’s. His head turned around slowly, sensing the people in the room.

He debated on raising his hand. To Kaled’s knowledge, people working as the waiters or barmen were not so keen on that kind of gesture’s. Or was it the snapping with the fingers? It’s not like he spent a lot of time in the bars before, only helping his master Aru to translate some obscure things into Twi'leki.

After a few shy tries, the Miraluka raised his right hand slightly upward. Hoping that someone would be kind to notice.

“Ahhh, excuse me?” He said in a low voice, still tiered. “Could…I be rude to ask for some tea?”

“Ain’t rude to ask, Kaled,” came a familiar voice to the Miraluka – and several of those present – from the doorway. “Tea and a round of waters please, for the bar, ma'am, thank you.”

The man that stepped further in didn’t look particularly pleased to be there, but his scarred, tattooed face was tightly polite as he nodded to the Ryn waitress. Unlike the dusters and duster hats of some present, he was dressed in full black and gold armored robes, as if the heat was nothing to him. His violet eyes narrowed as they swept away from Kaled and over Karran and the unfamiliar Shistavanens, then Diy, and finally Wyndell and Soccora at the bar.

Mysteriously, the glass of alcohol that Bonnie was in the middle of handing to the woman just seemed to float over to nearest sink and turn over.

So, so mysteriously.

“Carry on, ay” he said after a blink, addressing the Arconans. “I’m just here to see how our new Marshalls spend their time.”

“Ruka?” Miraluka turned his head around suddenly confused at a voice coming from the doorway.

After a few seconds on debating if he was loosing his mind from all the tiredness, Kaled came to the conclusion that it was in fact his friend standing at the doorway.

The sudden rush of joy filled him with energy as suddenly he jumped from his seat and leaped forward, giving Mirialan a strong hug. Which in this moment was not as strong as he thought.

“Ruka! I missed you!” Kaled said as his voice was muffled from his head pressing against Proconsul’s robe’s.

The Mirialan gave a slight grunt at the impact, but the stern look on his face melted away at that, and his arms came up around the shorter Miraluka for a light hug. A smile tugged up one corner of scarred lips, showing a bit of teeth as his brows furrowed fondly.

“Hey, Kal,” Ruka said a little softer, patting the Miraluka’s back and rubbing up and down a little. It wasn’t hard to notice how almost drunkenly, draggedly Kaled moved, a hallmark of exhaustion, or the tremble to his arms. “I missed you too, ay. You okay, bud?”

Upon seeing Ruka, Wyn froze in place. Actually froze. He did not budge or move a muscle. He became a statue.

“Sir Buzz of the House Killington has arrived. Don’t make any sudden movement,” Wyn whispered, but apparently misjudged how loud he said it.

Tsunn was rubbing their siblings arm as they saw the Mirialan step into saloon. They saw the human male freeze, and heard his proclamation before releasing an attempted hidden chuckle.

“I think we could like it here.”

Karran stood from the table, pushing his chair back, and spread his arms wide.

“Ruka! My old friend! It is good to see you!”

He strode over to the Mirialan and wrapped his arms around the shorter man before lifting him from his feet and squeezed tight before dropping him back down.

Ruka’s look to Wyn over the top of Karran’s great horned head was a flat one. He didn’t respond any further to the comment though as Karran set him down, having taken the being picked up affair with a degree of unphased judiciousness that could only come from a lifetime of being a parent.

“Karran,” he replied, making sure to steady Kaled as the Miraluka practically slumped back into his chair and almost seemed to pass out on the spot. Frowning, he glanced over the pile of work on the table and promptly took off his cloak, folding it up and over neatly several times to make a pillow for Kaled to rest on. He smoothed gray hair like tucking a child in before turning back to Karran and – an eye twitch – Socorra.

“Sure, I’ll sit.” It sounded awfully like he was agreeing because it would mean her sitting first. “Why don’t you introduce me?”

“Hooray bestie! You just made me some coin. I knew there was something I liked about you!” Nicfer shouted from her bar stool. She looked around to the others that had made bets.

“Alright folks! Pay up!”

Wyn promptly sat at Socorra’s request. It was only proper, after all.

And he hadn’t even had a drink yet. Not very Wynning, but you can’t be one-hundred-percent perfect all the time. About sixty percent of the time, though, it worked all of the time.

Ruka’s eye twitched at his title, even greatly abbreviated by Socorra’s standards. But she wasn’t kneeling. That was so many worlds of improvement. Like, all of Gesthemane’s moons.

“Good to me you, ay,” he nodded to Nicfer and Djenn respectively, noting the Zeltron in particular. Then, the man approached the bar and sat across from Socorra in the available stool Wyn didn’t occupy, an idle flick of his eyes setting her boots to rights out of the way where they couldn’t be tripped on.

He raised an eyebrow at the Battleteam Leader.

“Swelling getting to ya? Can rub ‘em if you want.” Though, his gaze drifted over to Wyn as he spoke, gauging between the two.

Tsunn and K'Varr gave eachother a confused look as the woman gave the Mirialan his introduction.

“Is this some kind of cult?”

Tsunn gave a nervous laugh as they looked around the table.

The Kaleesh strode his way to the bar pushing pass the the double doors, taking in the people and the bar itself the Sith made his way past all of them and found a nook all to himself. Easing himself down into the chair he reached up and undid the seals on his helmet and slid it off his head placing it on the table beside him.

There was no amount of self control being used in the moment to keep the Kaleesh from grimacing in pain as his body continued to scream and roar at him from the use of the Force from the fight earlier. He had not expected it to have lasted this long but these “fits” had proven to have gotten worse as the months dragged on. A salutation needed to be found and soon or else he would be more a hindrance then help to his fellow clanmates in a show of just pure exhaustion he just leaned forward and placed his head within his armoured hands staying there and breathing slowly

Hearing as much with his good ear turned towards the pair, Ruka looked over to the strangers and lifted one thick, broken brow at them.

“Pretty much.”

“Ay, ay, ay! I bet on the bull too,” Diy flashed Nicfer a grin before turning expectantly towards the smaller Shistavanen twin, apparently. She raised her drink and took a sip. A few seconds after a frown briefly slipped and she glanced down at the beverage, muttering to herself, “Forgot to ask fer virgin.”

The faux-Zelosian twisted in her seat to flag down Bonnie. That’s when she finally noted Ruka and caught the near full intro. She rolled her eyes, mostly at ‘shadow scion’, certainly a welcoming title in public. “Not a cult.” Diy pushed her beverage forward away from her, idly chatting. “Dajorra Marshals are just a band of folks gettin’ together ‘n’ keepin’ peace in the system or some kark.”

“If ya lookin’ for cults, there be one for some turbolift.”

“Well there are a lot of Sith cult’s out there. Can’t really remember one right now…” Kaled slowly lifted himself up from the table. Trying to keep up with the conversations and patiently waiting for his tea.

“But no, not a cult. We are a clan, a family. People and friends brought together to help wherever and whenever we can. And looking out for one another, even in the darkest time’s…No matter how hard the situation it might seem, we are there for each other and anyone that needs help.”

Miraluka’s tone was more monotone. Ether too tiered to speak more lively or he was doing a bad impersonation of Marick. But never the less, he spoke the words with confidence.

“Well…. that’s what I think anyway.” Kaled felt that the others might look at him as naive. But whatever they might think, he still cared for everyone.

Nicfer decided to slurp her drink loudly to try to drown out the introduction of Bestprentice. At this point being called newbie would be better, if not a bit insufferable as she seems to always be the newbie wherever she goes.

She does not quite return the grin from Diy, but a small smirk of acknowledgement does appear on her face before vanishing just as quickly. She was going to have to have a talk with them later. Seemed like one of the few she might be able to stomach.

“We’re not a cult? I was absconded from a prison and not told anything. Just go here and do this or that? I thought this was some weird cult.” Nicfer was smiling, but her eyes weren’t. The perfect mix is she serious or not.

“I mean, we do have our share of cults. Like the Church of Turbo'lyft/Our Lady of the Night…” Wyn mused out loud. “We refer to our fearless leader as ‘Shadow Lord’ and her right hand his ‘Scion’… spooky stuff, really.”

Wyn wiggled his fingers to sell the mystique.

“Jazz hands and spooky don’t really go together, but somehow you make it work Wyn.” Nicfer calls from her seat. “How many of these cults are you the head member of? Or the only member of?”

“I try…but hey, have a heart!” Wyn looked offended, and sniffed.

“Surprisingly, only one. But since Atyiru literally came back from the ‘dead’, that cult powers itself at this point in worshipping her…”

Ruka shook his head at all that with a soft snort. Being the Proconsul was bad enough; he wanted to stay away from godly fanaticism with a ten foot pole. He sipped his water.

“Have you been here long, Nicfer?”

“No. Not at all. Do I look like I have spend prolonged periods with these folk? Trust me, if I had, I’d be just as skilled with the…” She pauses searching for a word. “ Quirks to match.”

Hearing Socarra talk, Nicfer’s attention was pulled from Ruka. Nicfer’s face contorted in skeptical scrutiny. “Wait what? Are you saying your ARE a head of a cult?”

Ruka’s expression flashed to something grim at the mentions of killing oneself and a lack of rejoicing for her return. Sighing through his nose, he slipped off his dark gloves and scooted closer, gently taking one dark foot in his hands, propping both across his legs and beginning to massage, not unlike he once had for his mother or did for Cora at times. He eyed her as he did so, picking up a certain unpleasant waver in her demeanor; it was hard not to, connected as they’d been once.

“Just avoid thinking in terms of cults too much,” he advised in a mutter.

“Yes, done with the cults!” Diy exclaimed with a ‘done with that’ tone, hopping up from her backwards chair and grabbing the Corellian Tea. She strolled over towards Kaled and placed it down with a wink before heading to the bar.

“We just shot up a bunch of ruffians,” she intentionally drawled the word out, “I’m dusty ‘n’ thirsty,” her gaze glanced to Nicfer and then lingered on Karran. “Let’s drink ‘n’ chat, eh?”

“Bonnie, another Corellian, virgin, luv.”

Shot up a bunch of…

Ruka’s expression became pinched and cold again, an odd comparison to his careful ministrations.

Kaled’s head lifted up when he heard a glass touching the table. Without second thought, the Miraluka reached out and grabbed it.

Cold? Hmmm… maybe it’s one of those ice tea’s. Should I-? No this will do as well.

As he brought it up to his lips, Kaled took one big sip. The taste was… funny. He felt burning, a lot of burning! The Miraluka’s face turned sour, as he quickly turned his head from left to right. Not knowing what to do he finally managed to swallow the liquid. Feeling it burn through his throat as it reached the stomach. Kaled caught, covering his mouth as he tried to breathe in some air.

“Cough, I think…this..cough…is not mine?”

Wyn wrapped his arms around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

“I don’t know if they have it here, but I can go find an Jawa for you if that is your desire, my queen…” the Defender mused.

“Let’s not eat people,” Ruka interjected. “I’m sure the kitchen can cook some meat.”

Wyn tapped his chin. “Sir Killington does have a point…let me go talk to them.”

Wyn disappeared into the back and could be heard causing a ruckus within a few moments as he no doubt touched things he wasn’t supposed to touch in the cooking equipment.

“Is now, Kali. There’s a fruity taste somewhere after the spice, trust me,” Diy called to the Miraluka, sipping her own version of the drink – didn’t hit quite right but the droid made it well enough without. She leaned back against the counter, idly looking over the other patrons. A quirked eyebrow towards Ruka rubbing Sock’s feet, a pass on the Kaleesh. Eventually, she glanced over to the new Zeltron lass.

“Never got to talk much earlier. Somethin’ about captains? Not military, m'guessing. Where ya hail from?”

“HEY! No. BAD Chef. Baaad,” Wyn scolded as he snapped his fingers, extended one hand, and a protective ward through the Force enveloped his immediate body. The sports and other projectiles collided with the corona of translucent light that made up the barrier.

“Yu Mo Gui Gwai Fai Di Zao!” he chanted sternly. “My partner is hangry and you do not want to deal with her when she’s hangry…” he lowered his voice into a stage whisper.

Nicfer a small sip from her drink as she determines if she was going to respond with long sullen silence or mean comment slash jab. However Diy just seemed… different. Something in her gut was telling her maybe don’t be an ass to this one. That and she didn’t want to be too perdictable. ‘Gotta keep people on their toes. Leave them guessing…’

Pushing some stray hairs from her face to draw attention to her hair cut, “What, this hair cut doesn’t scream military issue to you? Or was it my disciplined demeanor that made you think not military?”

She took another drink to hide a smile and to keep the giggles at bay.

“Nah, I’m Core born but don’t claim it. Left as soon as I could. I prefer to call ships home more than planets.” She puts her cup down and leans against the counter as she recalls some memory for a second before shifting her attention back to the conversation. “What about you? Where do you call home?”

Ruka just rolled his eyes at the ruckus and moved on to the other foot. He kept a general watch over the rest of the bar and the chatting Galereians and visitors.

“YOU NEVER GO FULL DALEK, DROID,” Wyn swore as he tactically retreated from the kitchen.

He dropped his barrier once the door was closed behind him. He padded back over to Socorra and flicked his pony tail from one shoulder to the other.

“Sorry, love, no Jawa or Ewok. I tried.”

The Sith sitting down with his head in his hand had been trying to keep all the noise from the conversation’s and his own internal thoughts. But the screaming and droids angry outbursts had ticked something in the Kaleehs’s mind as his hands went to the pistol on his hip.

His head lifted from his hands he crimson eyes glaring death at the droid as the slugthrower was drawn from his holster the Siths hand idly flipping the hammer back chambering a round with a audible click. He held it idly by waiting for the fight to continue but with it now having been defused he lowered his head once more but he didn’t holster the gun.

“I guess here fer now,” Diy shrugged, gesturing with her glass to, well, the room. “Estle City, not…here.”

The green-haired Kiffar grinned, dimples pushing up the hook-ended line across her cheeks. “Before that some dingy rock in space ‘n’ ‘fore that, the Flamin’ Rose. She was a beaut.”

Nicfer hums in a agreement hearing Diy talk of Flamin’ Rose.

“Spoken like a pilot and a spacer. Previous ship you served on? Last home to me was Gamblers Purgitory. Slept in a hammock in the cargo hold, next to the bulkhead that hummed from the generators on the other side.”

Nicfer let out a sigh and her shoulders relaxed thinking back to that time.

“I swear, I’ve never slept so good.”

“Nothin’ better than the noise of a ship to sleep to. I don’t know how folks do it, sleep without hum or bustle of the city.” Diy took a drink, fiddling lightly with the stirring straw in the glass.

“Nah, didn’t serve really. Rose was home. Her pilot helped me out a tough spot, took me in like a younger sister and showed me the ropes. Way of working with certain people, ta shoot, fly, move goods, y'know?” she winked.

After settling their bet, Tsunn and K'Varr sat quietly observing the others. The two Shistavanen had never felt the familiarity these folks seemed to have. The ease of their conversations. It drew Tsunn, like a moth to flame.

The conversations about the ships and home in particular made them feel…understood. Picking up a nearby datapad, Tsunn worked the device easily and ordered several drinks for them and their twin.

“The two of you do alot of spacing?”

“Here ‘n’ there, less than the past,” Diy looked over to meet the Shistavanen’s gaze. “Would be nice ta get ma lady out more.”

“Mine was a smuggling crew. We ran some legit stuff, but that was just to help polish the rep so to speak. But the same deal, taught me what I know now.” She pushes her glass out of the way, and holds up two fingers to Bonnie to get her attention for a top off when she was free.

“Now I’m here. Being taught but not sure what I’m learning…”

“For a while I spend more time out in the black than on the ground, but those days seem to be behind me.” She gestures to her fellow marshals, but is implying the larger brotherhood in general. “Right now I’m not even allowed to fly my own shuttle on loan to my assignments.”

Her eyes narrow into a glare but not direct to anyone in particular. “Guess their worried I’ll steal it or something.”

“Please, being set on fire is like, so 30 ABY,” Wyn replied dismissively.

He rested a hand on Socorra’s shoulder and let it remain there.

“Heh, I’m sure that’ll let up eventually. They did fer me.”

Diy crossed her feet where she leaned on a stool and against the countertop. She reached down and brushed off some dust and grime from her green pants before looking back up to Nicfer. “Anytime ya wanna go on a flight, let me know. The Lady’s Flower doesn’t deserve sittin’ as much as she does.”

She tipped her head towards Tsunn, “What about ya’ll? What’s yer story?”

Tsunn looked to the Kiffar and blushed under their black and white fur. One problem of their like, they never learned to lie well.

“Uh, I mean, we’re just traveling from planet to planet. We have some old…friends…that we’re trying to steer clear of. You know, bad breakups and such.”

The pesky ghost seemed to take exception to the whiskey too, promptly whisking it out of her hand. Across from her, Ruka had paused in his massaging, as the glass slapped into his waiting palm. His glower was out in full force.

“I wonder who indeed,” he said, flat and tight and quiet between them, leaning forward. “Socorra. I don’t mean to explain your body to you, but you do know you can’t be drinking like this with the baby. Right? Tell me you ain’t know better and choosing to do it anyway. Not liquor this far into your [second] trimester.”

“Tri–what do I–” the Mirialan stopped, inhaling. “Ay, okay, first of all…Tatootine as in…last mission? Or before we found out you was pregnant?”

“Lord Buzz Killington the Third it’s correct, luv. You aren’t supposed to drink with the baby. So I’ve been swapping out beer and other drinks …”

He cringed and wondered, was this how he finally bit the bullet? Denying a Mandalorian alcohol? RIP.

He did, however, try one trick that had worked before. He reached over the counter, grabbed the gun-hose, and sprayed some seltzer into a high ball glass. He added a little mint leaf as a garnish.

He handed it to Socorra and, as he did, reached out with the Force, subtly, to make her taste like whiskey while really just being a bit of very baby-safe bubbly water.

Ruka’s eyebrows rose and rose. He actually looked… somewhat impressed?

Though, it wasn’t good that he’d been doing it without her knowing.

“I just dumped out all my Mama’s booze whether she screamed at me or not,” he offered, and then sighed. “Socorra, I can tell ya about it later, it’s, I don’t know, you can find a doctor you trust. But short story is strong alcohol or any alcohol at certain times hurts the baby. It’s bad for they brains and organs, and what’s in your blood is in their blood. Your doc might tell you you can have wine or caf in small amounts, something sometimes, especially much as you drink, might be hard on your body to cut cold, but it’s something you gotta do if you want your kids safe in there.”

“And, Lady of the night bless us…” Wyn mimed putting on a blindfold and then drawing a ‘cross’ across his chest, “…our ki*d* is going to need all the brains they can get…” he tapped his own head to sell his concern.

The Mirialan rolled his eyes at that particular epitath, but caught the emphasis on the singular. He almost snorted.

Ruka, tactfully and with his usual lack of self-preservation, at least tried to stick a hand in front of any further napkin assault.

“Now, I’m not saying not telling you what he was doing weren’t okay,, it’s not, but…maybe forgive the guy, he’s only looking out for his kid – both your kid – and trying to do it without upsetting you. He kriffed up yeah but he here , ay.” More awkwardly, he added, “I’m sorry it’s oseek.”

“Not in front of those with sensitive ears,” Wyn whispered loudly and conspiratorially. He definitely didn’t look in Ruka’s direction.

The double half doors swung open once more, allowing the admittance of a towering figure. Like most days, Doon bore his armor with him, despite heat conditions. Especially after the last event he’d taken part in, bars full of brotherhood members may not be the safest for everyone involved. Still, he stepped into the room with a golden eye inspecting those in it. It didn’t seem there was too much trouble immediately. At least, no lighting being thrown yet.

The Black Shistavanen held a thick cigar between his jaws, always practicing a delicate hold on it so he wouldn’t slice it in two. A light cloud of sweet smoke followed his head, exhaled by his nostrils to create a swirling curl through the air as he moved towards the bar.

He recognized a few people. Some quite friendly - his single eye rested on Diy - and some not quite as friendly - he glanced to Socorra, and almost immediately had the urge to cough. He suppressed it, mostly, rumbling a bit as he cleared his throat. Past the smoke, his damaged nose still picked up the scent of another Shistavanen, appearing to have a chat with Diy and a Zeltron. He considered sitting near the Shistavanen out of habit, but decided to go the safe route and find space on the other side of Diy, so he wouldn’t be a wall between them.

He growled out an informal greeting in Shistavanen before looking at Diy and the Zeltron. “Greetings. Making friends, Diy?”

“Yeah. I just might have to take you up on that some time.”

The comment was made off handed and Diy had already turned to the two talk to interlopers. She probably could have talked to Diy for hours. Felt good to have real conversation with someone not trying to lord over you. But she knew better than to keep spilling everything. The damage she’d done on jobs where she got some poor sap to spill their life story. She got up from her stool and made some vague comment about getting air or some such before stepping out for a bit.

“Absolutely not in front of these ears,” Ruka deadpanned.

Diy nodded to Nicfer as the Zeltron mentioned getting some air. Her gaze shifted back to Tsunn as they spoke, a brow quirking curiously. “Bad breakups can be a she-akk. Wish ya luck with that.”

She sipped from her spicy fruit drink. Her gaze shifted between the two siblings. “Hmm, Selen’s good fer layin’ low.” Probably because there would be twenty people willing to have your back, she mused. The Kiffar glanced up at her name and cracked a grin to Doon, “Always. Doon, Tsunn and K'varr. New ta planetside.”

Ruka looked abruptly horrified and extra green all at once. He put his hands up, gesturing all over.

“First of all, ay, don’t talk about my private memories, ay, ay, still can’t even– you seeing those– and no, no updates, no illusions, no more Tyrises or you, no no no.”

Rrogon was idly listening into the conversation at the bar his thumb abstinly moving over the hammer of his pistol cocking it and decocking it with soft clicks. But that all stopped when the name Marick was said.

It started with a idel twitch in the Kaleesh’s left eye then his gun hand started to shake. There was a deep seated rage that began to swell up within the Sith from seemingly out of nowhere. He..knew that name…he was sure of it just hearing it gave him such a visceral emotional reaction that he felt within his whole body.

Then the headache set in stabbing searing pain that began to black out his vision the pain almost unbearable even for the stalwart Sith. It didnt stop but only grew to the point where both of his hands shot up to his head the slugthrower dropping to the wooden floor with a audible metallic clunk as the Kaleesh hissed in pain.

Blurred memories were swimming before his mind but the pain made it far to difficult to focuse on any one for to long lest another deep stab of pain blindsided him again. But that name Marick, Marick MARICK. Keep coming back again and again. Rrogon could get that name to stop repeating in his mind.

A low growl enminated from somewhere deep in the bowls of the Kaleesh’s throat it was somthing primal and vengeful as that dammed name slipped from his lips.

“Marick.” Came the name venom dripping from each uttered syllable

Tsunn and K'Varr looked at the Shistavanen who towered over them. His black furr similar to their own, but his face marred with scarring. K'Varr raised a brow, interested in the obviously battle hardened specimen.

“A pleasure to meet ya.” Tsunn said, assessing the newcomer.

K'Varr merely grunted in acknowledgement. They were feeling uneasy with the growing group.

Doon took another draw for the roll between his teeth and exhaled it down towards the floor, his eye bouncing between the two Shistavanen curiously. He couldn’t recognize their scent, between his gimped sense of smell and what little experience he had with other packs, there wasn’t a chance. Still, he was curious. He rumbled out in Shistavanen, hoping to speak to them in a more comfortable tone than standard. “Tsunn, K’Varr. Do you come from home? Or was your pack wandering like mine?”

There were other options, but the chances were set. Then again, with the sheer number of Shistavanen Doon’s seen recently, it gave him pause. So too, did the smaller of the two, Tsunn. His head tilted to give his eye a better view of the Shista. He even plucks the cigar from his mouth so he could attempt to get a better read on them.

Rrogons mind was a haze of confusion and rage, he couldn’t see anything with his eyes being closed shut. But he could feel Soccoras mental intrusion even though the pain and haze. His reaction to it was out of pure instinct some primal nedd to protect his mind from prying eyes who wanted to see so.thing they shouldn’t.

The crimson eyes of the Soth flashed open as his hands shot out in a attempt to grab the Mandalorian by her exposed neck but with the haze and pain he miscalculated his close she was to him and missed completely.

It wasn’t enough to stop his momentum however as he spilled put onto the floor quickly rising to his feet to lunge at the woman again. Right hand moving to the sword on his hip drawing the blade with a metallic shriek.

Tsunn and K'Varr gave eachother a short glance at Doon’s question. The smaller Shistavanen reached over and grasped their twins hand before turning to Doon.

“We’ve never set foot on home, as far as we can remember. And we have never been part of a pack. Our lives were spent in the service of another.”

Tsunn cod feel the unease Doon had for them specifically, though they didn’t know why. For easement sake, they kept themselves still to not arouse any unfavorable reaction from the much larger Shistavanen. K'Varr kept their eyes on Doon, ready to fight the warrior if need be to protect their sibling. None would come between them again.

There was just red in the Sith vision has his durasteel sword free from its scabbard taking it within both of his hands turing the blade down aimed in a execution style right for the womans stomach.

“Die” he hissed in his native toung the language harsh and full of malice as the blade descended piercing the womans torso drawing a spray of blood, he intended to drive it deeper and twist the blade but found he was unable to do so by unseen hands that locked him in place

After a few moments of examination, Doon nodded, then spoke in standard. “I only remember being dragged along as a pup, fleeing our home. Mercenary work from there.”

He continues glancing at the two. His instincts wanting to reach his mind towards them like he had been training to do. See what he could learn about their own unease. But that would be an immense hypocrisy to him. Instead, he figured the normal way of talking to someone would suffice. He glanced behind the bar to a tender, indicating with a gesture to the two shistas. “Another drink for them. Whatever they’d like. I’ll take a Bloody Rancor.”

After the order, his attention was drawn across the room, to the commotion. His single eye twitched, blood pressure immediately rising as the man drew a blade. Why can he never have one relaxing day at bar?

The Shistavanen took a moment to hand his cigar to Diy, before dashing surprisingly quickly across the room. Heavy metal boots pounded the floor as the towering figure moved. All 7 feet, 7 inches of the Shistavanen impact the sith. Heavy metal armor adding to the sheer strength of the blow. Even with Doon’s size, it was surprising to see the attacker flung at the wall like a toy.

Doon continued moving, The force rippling around his arms like the electricity that bounced between his claws. As the sith bounced off the wall Doon’s massive left paw grabbed him by the front of his face, slamming his head back against the wall. As he bounced off it again, sharp claws crackled with energy as Doon raked them across the front of his chest with a right slash. Finally the left paw wraps around their throat, threatening to close into a fist. Doon keeps the man pinned, feet off the ground with his snarling Maw right in his face. Finally, the Shistavanen lets out a rumbling growl, left ear laid back to match his snarl. “Bad move, Karkwad.”

Skar felt the force screaming out to him even before the wall of fur and muscle slammed into him from the side picking the stalwart Juggernaut clean off his feet and into the nearby wall.

He could feel his head being slammed into the wall again and again. He could feel the claws rack past his amour and into sturdy flesh beneath.

As blood began to drip down his body and the vice grip of the Shistavanen closed around Rrogon throat. A crule smile began to form on the former gladiator face as a horse laugh hissed through gritted teeth.

“You should have knocked me out kid” growled the Sith as cracking electricity began to gather around his hands before leaping off and striking Doon with a howl of power and force.

Doon’s eye changed. The bright golden orb was consumed by black pupil as he gave an animalistic growl. The Shistavanen shuddered at the impact of lightning, but leaned into the sith, his grip clenching tighter. Rage boiled from the armor clad wolf, and spilt from him in a bubble of numbing aura. Slowly the crackling lightning began to fizzle and flicker, shrinking back towards the sith’s hands as it was suppressed.

Despite the slightly scorched fur under his armor, the Shista did not falter in his steel like grip.

K'Varr watched the larger Shistavanen as he grabbed the attacker and slammed him against a wall. The male Shistavanen’s muscles rippled beneath the fur, much to K'Varr’s surprised delight. They tries not to let this attraction be shown as they grabbed their bag and pulled out their helmet.

Placing the helmet atop their head a loud whine could be heard as their armor sealed itself to protect them. They walked to the fighting duo, and grabbed their grappling line from their belt before tying the rope around the struggling Skar.

Before the woman hit the ground, an invisible hold caught her like a pair of arms, gently carrying her away and lowering her to the floor as carefully as possible. Tables and chairs cleared away in her path like a parting sea, and as she touched down, a body was there, skidding legs sliding on knees under her head to pillow.

For all that care, the voice of the person was harsh and snapping with cold fury command.

“SULVIR, KARRAN, GET HIM LOCKED DOWN, NOW!” Ruka yelled to the Arconans. “Diy, stunners up, you put them down if they move a muscle beyond restraining. Journeymen, comm home and tell ‘em we got a situation, Qek-Forn-Forn-Two. Healers, get over here! Bonnie, bring us boiled water and vodka. Move it. Wyn!”

Wyn was already in motion, adrenaline surging. What was he supposed to do? What could he do? Improvise…no, focus. Ruka’s words helped. Heal, protect. Defender. Defend her.

The baby.

Wyn reached into the slipstreams of the Force without having to think about it. Reflexive. He’d always had a unique relationship it- with great power came the understanding that he was responsible for not abusing it- for never using it to toy with people as his father had, to help and protect instead of manipulate and hurt.

He grabbed a hold of Socorra and let the Force channel through him, pouring the full brunt of his will and focus into healing the wounds closed. He grabbed his trusted nerf-wool towel he never left home with and started to clean up the blood while the wound closed and her bodies cells started to regenate and mend.

Once he knew she was stable, Wyn turned his focus somewhere else. He didn’t care, honestly, if Doon snapped Rrogons neck. He knew Ruka was there and was twice as powerful and strong as Wyn. However, Ruka wasn’t going to lightsaber one of his own members.

So he focused on Rrogon instead. He focused, and tried his best to stave off dark thoughts. He thought of the things he could do or try to do the Kaleesh’ mind. But he realized as he probed and reached to the Force that there was already a lot of scarring…damage.

So, in the grip of anger, he managed to think of something else. He cast an illusion over the embattled Kaleesh, hand forward, brow furrowed, all the intent of his will and power behind it.

Tsunn stood back as the chaos reigned around them. Their twin was amidst the fight as well. Unsure of what to do. They grabbed a stun grenade into their grasp and held it. Just in case.

Seeing the woman, with child, stabbed in such a way brought the Shistavanen back to their own youngling days. Their owner was a vile, despicable tyrant. Tsunn had seen this type of action before, and was not equipped to help now.

Cold wire began to be wrapped around the Juggernauts body as he continued to struggle against the beat that had him by the throat. A pulse of strength and rage coursed through the Sith as he flexed even under his restraint and with ease the metal wire snapped clean off of the Kaleesh.

Then his vision changed into a white expanse, a ever ending room with no noticable walls or a ceiling. He didnt feel the pain anymore or really anything for that matter just was more free floating in this blank space.

On the outside the Kaleesh fell still in all of a second his eyes glazing over and body growing limp in Doons hands he was completely at there mercy now

“He’s down, Sulvir,” Wyn called out. His voice was crisp, clear, and entirely devoid of his usual mirth or humor and carried easily as would be expected from a stage actor.

He immediately lowered his hand and went back to holding Socorra, running a hand through her hair. “Come on, I’m supposed to be the swooning maiden…not you.”

Doon’s grip held the limp figure aloft, still pinned to the wall. His lips were curled back, showing his sharp teeth, ready to snap shut on any of the numerous targets he stared at. His eyes slowly began to refocus on the unmoving man, his raging snarl still rumbling from his chest.

Kill Him. Snap his neck

The thought shot through him as if someone spoke it into his ear. It sent a chill down his spine, but his grip didn’t change. Instead, his empty paw went to his hip to unclip the hilt of his Saber. He jams it into the attackers gut, pointed upwards towards the chest cavity. It was unlit, as of now. But he would not hesitate to ignite it should the struggle recommence.

He turned his head to look at the others, assessing the situation as best as he could over his left shoulder. His muscles were still tense, adrenaline pumping through them, aided by the force. Which, caused him to immediately recoil from it. The supernatural power left him, leaving him to his own muscle as he attempted to cut himself off once more.

“Take him there. Thank you, Bonnie, sir,” Ruka snapped distractedly, and with Wyn’s bloody towel putting pressure around the blade, thought every prayer he could think of while trying to recall the first aid he’d learned in his years at war now. Vodka splashed over the blade and her stomach. Boiled rags for more padding around the towel. And just…

Normal wisdom said never, ever to pull out shrapnel. But they had healers right here. Wyn and Kaled.

“Kal, need your hands. Be ready, both of you.”

In all of this commotion, Kaled was just… stunned. What was going on?! Why did Rogan just snap?

All of his body just went..numb. In one moment it felt like there was no sounds. It felt like one of the, episodes, was going to happen before he was snapped out of it by Ruka’s voice.

“R-Right!” He jumped out of his chair. The sudden rush of adrenaline woke him up from any exhaustion he felt just a moment ago.

As Kaled stepped closer, the faint metallic smell filled his nose. Blood. He could almost feel it in his mouth. The Miraluka’s stomach turned over.

Oh no! No,no,no!

As he approached Mirialan, Kaled’s head shook from left to right. He could see the wound, but if he just started poking around…

With the quick motion, Kaled grabbed Ruka’s hand, navigating his fingers where the opening might be.

His hands were shaking, visibly so. As he reached the entry point the Arcanist placed both of his hands down.

“J-just… g-give me a minute…” He said in a whispering voice. Almost completely shaking.

Kaled took a deep breath. Concentrating on that one spot. Biting his lower lip, he once let the Force work through his hands. Normal he didn’t got used to using this much in a single day, but now’s the chance to see if the his training paid off.

At one moment it felt like he was going to loose that connection. His hands shook more and more frequently, and his body almost gave in to the exhaustion.

Biting down on his lower lip, drawing blood, he pushed onward. Putting all of his energy in this one task.

Ashla… just a bit…more… please..

Only once the blade was out and the healing seemed, to their collective senses, fully done did Ruka relent even slightly.

He reached out and clapped Kaled on the shoulder, helping steady him.

“Good job, Kal,” he said, low and firm. “You saved them both. Now let go, it’s alright, ay. Rest.” He turned to the pale Bonnie. “Ma'am, can you get us some food and waters? Whatever is easiest.”

Then, he turned to Wyn, and met the man’s eyes. “Hey. Hey, I get it. I get it. We’re gonna get some real medics here real soon just to make sure, yeah? Here, take her. I gotta corral this sithspit.”

The Mirialan passed Socorra into the arms of her child’s father, the bizarre feeling of being able to do so, a father being there, a foreign but good thing. He nodded to Wyndell, then stood up…

…and started barking orders again.

“Sulvir,” he pointed to the Shistavanen. “Good work, now stand down and stand by to get medical review. Breathe. Drink something. I’ve got a bit of bacta if you need it.” To the two Shistavanens whose names he didn’t know that had helped. “You two, we’ll need some witness statements from you, and all the frang that’s gonna be involved. Appreciate your help. Someone will talk compensation and safety with you. Can’t order you around, but I’m asking you to stay if you can.” To Diy and the Journeymen, “You all stay with Kaled. Decompress. Watch each other. Medical will get to you for psych checks and debrief once we’ve got injuries covered. Karran,” as he spoke, a flick of his fingers sent the advanced stuncuffs on his belt towards the vegetative Kaleesh, telekinetically moving arms behind his back and then clasping them, “you’re on guard duty in these nice peoples’ drunk tank. Do not use excessive force, but if he makes any aggressive moves before we’ve got a security team here for extract, you have permission to contain the threat. Those are orders. Move it, ay, ay.”

As if timed by the Force itself, his comm pinged. Qyreia.

Miraluka only nodded as Ruka clapped him on the shoulder.

Once again he started to trace the wound with his fingers. It closed, on which Kaled let a log sigh of relief. Finally letting go of his lower lip, blood still dripping from it just a little.

He smiled as Kaled sensed that the baby was fine. The two auras shined like two star’s in a dark night sky. As the Arcanist moved backwards, he stumbled a bit, but gaining a solid footing. The use of the Force took a toll on the young man but it seemed there was still some straight left in him.

He reached in into his medkit, pulling out a small bottle of pills and placed in in his Aunt’s hand.

“S-so” Kaled stared, his hands still a bit shaky “pain medication Auntie…use it only if you need it. No alcohol.”

He placed his hand on Wyn’s shoulder, giving him a reasoning smile before turning around to everyone in the room.

“Diy? D-do you need something? Anyone else hurt? Master Skar are you feeling alright?”

K'Varr watched the catatonic Skar being dragged away, and heard Doons angry growls. The Mirialan’s orders rang out in the Saloon and they knew it was better to follow them.

The Shistavanen removed their helmet, their armor releasing the seal with a whine. Approaching the bar, they grabbed a bottle of whiskey and poured two glasses as the staff took care of the Skar problem and cleaned up the mess. K'Varr approached Doon and held out a glass.

“Take a breath and drink?”

Doon’s shoulders heaved as he caught his breath, eye narrowed at the door the Sith was drug through. His snout was wrinkled in a snarl, one that slowly gave way to a rattling cough. He quickly drew an inhaler from his hip, and took a hit from it. He released the fog as he glanced at Socorra. His attention was drawn away from the bloody scene as K'varr returns with a glass of what smelt like alcohol.

He seemed to not even hesitate in accepting the glass. He raised it slightly towards the other shistavanen, Speaking in their shared tongue “Thank you. And for the assistance.” he offered before taking a hearty swig from the glass. The golden eye passes over K'varr again, giving them another once over after seeing them jump straight into helping.

”Ruka,” came the steady but stern voice over the Mirialan’s comm, ”who was it and what did they karking do this time?”

“…-am-am-I-okay!?” Wyn stammered, seemingly, for once at a loss for articulation. “Woman, you just got stabbed!” He covered her hand with his and his worry did not, in fact, go away.

The Miraluka jumped in surprise as the sudden loud demand from Socorra, not really getting who did she want to find.

As she got up and let out a gasp, Kaled immediately rushed over to her side. Placing on of his hands on her shoulder and the other on the stomach.

“Nonono…” He started, panic still getting a hold on him. “You sit. You take it easy. Take breath and just….” Kaled didn’t finish the sentence, instead he made a exhaling gesture with one of his hands.

K'Varr took their own drink and downed the burning liquid. The Shistavanen hadn’t drank often, especially not something so strong and they could feel the effects settling within them. They were….warm.

“It seems that you’ve found a pack in this place. Attempted infanticide aside, have you found them deserving of your aid? Have you found them…trustworthy?”

K'Varr spoke in their native tongue looking to Tsunn who was helping clean up the saloon. They were desperate to keep their younger twin from harm.

“Keeping Tsunn safe has not been a job I’ve done well. I’m trying to do what I can though. I want to stop running so much, but their safety is paramount to me. So I want your honest opinion. If we were to stay here, offer our services and support, would we be safe?”

Their vice was low, gruff, but with a feminine quality to its cadence. They didn’t speak much, but this was too important to keep silent.

“Oh my gods, why are you following me!?”

The shouting came from outside and sounded, for those near the door, like Mune. It was followed by a thump and a yelp. Then came laughter that sounded much like the younger Cinteroph sibling.

“You just walked into the door frame!” Carr was caught up in a fit of laughter, cut off only when he yelped. “Did you just trip me with the Force?!”

“Bite your tongue; I would never do such a thing to my sweet little brother, would I?” Mune snarked back before finally entering the establishment. “You better behave yourself, this is a saloon, and you should not even be here to begin with.”

Carr snorted and pushed past Mune to glance around. They both stopped, taking in the scene. For a moment, they both wore identical expressions of confusion. Their ears to the sizes, an eyebrow raised, and heads quirked quizzically. Their tails stilled behind them. From one Shistavanen tidying, to two more drinking, to Socorra trying to rise and Kaled keeping her down.

“Umm… did I miss something?” Mune asked no one in particular.

Carr saw Socorra and tried to hurry towards her, worried for his friend. Mune reached out and had him by the shoulder before he could make it more than a step. “It looks to be handled; we stay away unless aid is requested; let us go to Doon,” they spoke quietly in Shista. Mune guided their brother over to Doon and K'Varr.

“Probably?” The Miraluka said, tilting his head. Not really knowing what she referred to.

As he gently rubbed Mandalorian’s stomach, Kaled relaxed. Trying to get a sense of how Socorra was feeling emotionally with the Force.

There was anger, no surprise there honestly. Frustration, anxiousness and what seemed to be… awkwardness?

Kaled suddenly stopped moving his hand. Carefully getting it away from her belly.

“You seem to be… alright?” He said awkwardly before taking a step back. “So remember medicine, no alcohol. And just take it easy? Yeah! That! I’ll just…” Kaled’s head turned around, sensing a general idea of people sitting and pointed over to their direction. “ I go there…” He said smiling ever so slightly before starting to move away.

“Oh and thank you. For the medicine.” For a brief moment Kaled stopped moving. Realizing what he said he turned around.

“I mean…your welcome. Welcome for the medicine. I go now.” As he turned around, the Miraluka slapped himself on the forehead and immediately regretting that action because now he had blood on his hand and his face.

Dummy… that’s just… great.

The Mirialan stepped closer to the door as Mune and Carr passed, nodding to them and trying to keep an eye on everyone and especially Socorra as she sat up and started asking things, but he did have only one really good ear, and his comm was pressed to it.

“If I just say Skar?” asked Ruka, though the tight tone of his voice betrayed not irritability but something much deeper and sharper. “One second everything’s fine, then I think Marick got mentioned? Next thing Socorra is going over to him and he stabbed her in the stomach.” He jaw worked and he turned into the doorway, stepping just outside but leaving his senses alert and extended. “Qy, she’s franging in her third trimester. We were seconds from a double kriffing homicide and now I’ve got the man cuffed in some goddamn bar’s closet.”

There was a clattering sound, as if the comm on the other end were thrown to the floor, skittering across the smooth surface. The Throne room, if the echoes and the sounds of concerned people not-Keira were any indicator. There was a loud grumble — “Do I have to karking bolt that frackwit schutta to the goddamn ground?!” — almost a wheeze, before footsteps came through the speaker until it was apparent the comma was back in the Consul’s hand.

“Okay. Okay, how is Socorra doing now?”

Ruka sympathized. He wanted to throw things too. And scream. And bring the building down. And shake everyone involved.

And most of all, go hug his kids.

He shifted his weight as he answered, cradling the comm to his good ear while running a hand over his dreadlocks.

“She’s been healed. Twice. I pulled a kriffing sword out of her belly, crovja, I don’t know how she’s not in labor or if the baby is okay. But she’s trying to get up and yelling at folks.” He turned his other ear…hole…towards the collection of people. “Wants to know where Skar is. Dunno why. I’m keeping this place locked down and everyone sitting until we can get some actual medics here. Think you can light a fire under somebody? Security too. Sulvir and him nearly offed each other and I’m not sure how calm they all gonna be soon, ‘specially once Skar wakes up from whatever Tyris – the other one – did to him.”

A flurry of muffled noises followed; something about tracking down where “here” was. The Zeltron didn’t exactly keep the closest tabs on Galeres’ business anymore. Not like she used to.

“I’m sending a DDF detachment now, plus some Citadel Guard. Skar is under arrest. If you have to knock him out a dozen times before he gets into a cell, then that’s what we do.”

Doon watched K'varr speak, his eye held firm to them, understanding the intensity of the question. He took in a breath as he considered a response. Some way to wrap his experience with this group that had become his pack up into a neat bow. His attention was caught by the door, pulling his attention away from the other shista to a new pair that entered.

He waved his hand, beckoning them closer as he responded to K'varr. “I asked myself that question before, when i first joined. Were the people here worthy enough to call my own? Would they be enough to replace my pack? Could I care for them?” He paused, casting a look back at the others. “I have found that not only are they worthy, but that their own ferocity can easily match any of our Kin. You will be more than safe. You will have found a Home. One that will help you grow, one that will allow you to help in return.”

He raises the empty glass, glaring into it as if it should be full of much more. “Let us get more. On me. I will tell you about my new pack, and how I have changed.” With those words, he walked to the bar, giving the others plenty of room to take care of Socorra.

Mune watched Doon on his path to the bar and could not help the grin that crossed his muzzle. A grin that Carr noticed. A grin that made the younger Cinteroph curious and follow his older sibling’s gaze. Carr rolled his eyes and, with a complete and utter lack of subtlety, let alone a lack of volume control, exclaimed; “Are you watching Doon’s tail?”

The Arcanist, usually so graceful but for the occasional walking into door frames (and a column on another occasion), tripped over their own feet and muzzle planted on the spot.

“Huh. Neat,” Carr commented.

“I loath you so much right now,” Mune mumbled into the floor.

“I wonder if Doon will buy me a drink!” Carr took off, leaving Mune to grumble and collect themself. “Hey Captain! Can I have a drink too! Also, hi! I’m Carr!” He announced to K'varr with a wide grin, “Voidbreaker’s most talented slicer!”

Tsunn finished cleaning up and saw the two new Shistavanen enter the saloon. They were surprised to see so many of their race in one random establishment. Hearing the younger Shista’s proclamation of slicing ability drew their attention.

With a toothy grin they approached the group and stood next to the young Carr.

“You’re the best slicer? I guess that I met my match then.”

“Will do, ay. What a sithshow. Think we just need to throw out the book altogether on them QFF codes and say, ‘if they more than three Arconans in one spot, prepare for trouble.’”

A glance at the sky, then inside.