| abstract
| - Trader's Way - Coronet City The Trader's Way is a wide and well maintained road that runs between the Coronet Space Port to the north and the center of town- Nebula Plaza, to the south. The sleek plastisteel of the light fixtures decorating both sides of the road contrast the old-style brick of many of the houses that line the street in between the various shops that have sprung up. To the east is a broad road winding towards Homeport Lane. __________________________________________________________________________ Simon Before you is a young human male of average height and narrow build. His hair is a deep brown, parted and cut short. A strong jawline and deepset eyes of blue-grey give the man a stern look at a glance. For facial hair he wears a well groomed goatee and mustache, trimmed short and of the same deep color as the rest of his hair. All in all, the man's demeanor can be summed up in a word: aware. Simon is dressed in earth tones. Light tan, loose fitting trousers are tucked into soft leather boots that come up to just under his knees, and are tied tight with brown, leather chords. Tucked into the top of his pants is a simple shirt of a matching color. Over this is a loose wool tunic of dark brown, covering his arms completely and hanging down below his waiste. It's comfortable clothing, suitable for most climates and cultures. Markus A man in his late twenties, he appears to be a little bit more than six feet. He sports his silver white hair cropped short. The large brown inquisitive eyes, along with his full black eyebrows, seem to be attentive all the time. His skin is a tanned white, along with the hard jaw line and well-defined nose and the short stubs he sports as a beard, give this man a look between a gentleman and a scoundrel. His lips, almost constantly in an impish grin, along with the sparkle on his eyes project a very fiery personality. His body looks to be well maintained and built; strong, and definitely in shape. He is currently wearing a light gray long sleeved shirt. The sleeves folded half up his arms. Over it, he wears a sleeveless black jacket that obviously has seen one too many days. The dark black pants, worn loosely and fitted to perfection, seem comfortable enough in him. Everything is complemented by a set of dark gray boots that definitely have seen better times. Dracon You look over and see a male human at about 1.75 m and 60 kg. He wears an old naval uniform, but all insignia have been ripped off. He has dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. He has dark eybrows that seem to darken and shade the rest of his face. There is a large scar from his eye to his chin. He has white socks and military black boots. His right hand has been replaced by a prostectic robotic hand. On his fake hand he wears a black glove with a small tear. On his other hand is a small scar, near his thumb. The man has a slight slouch and holds his head down. __________________________________________________________________________ Simon enters the area as Delila leaves after talking with Markus... Except that in her storming off, Markus is forced to move out of the way of the woman. He seems about to say something about it, but his mouth open, the man seems to think better of it and with a muttered comment he just moves further out of the way. When he is addressed once more, Markus simply shrugs. "Not really. Just visiting Corellia.", he offers, frowning a bit at Darcon for some reason. Dracon turns away from the odd wander. He stands and moves to the new arrival. "Hello" Simon walks in from the direction of the Smuggler's Dig and the busy starport with a pair of chatting Ithorian close on his heals. With idle curiosity, Simon walks along, watching people as much as he's watching buildings and signs and such. So taken with looking all around him that he doesn't notice Dracon approach until the greeting is offered. Startled, Simon stops in his tracks, and looks toward the other. Before he can open his mouth to speak, the pair of Ithorian behind him shoulder past, almost roughly. Simon straightens after a moment, a frown following the pair as they keep going before turning to Dracon and saying with a bow of his head, "Salutations, Sir." Well, isn't today a day for shrugging? As Darcon turns away from him, that is what Markus does. It was proving to be an odd day. He looks in the direction of the space port, frowning a little as he considers something. But slightly shaking his head, he decides to continue his walk down Trade's Way, instead of returning from the space port area. The CorSec guards that had arrived before, apparently deciding that nothing was going on move on their ways walking, for better or worse in the direction Markus had chosen. "Hey, you.", the one that had bumped into him before calls him, "You were the guy that was in my way before, right?", comes the question. Markus, gulps and turns around, "Well, yeah." Dracon notices the two officers return, but before he can hear what is happeing the young man approaches him with a greeting. Dracon smiles at the man but notices an odd weapon hanging from his Belt. "What's that? And why would you bring it here?" He asks, raising a finger to the man's belt. Simon's brow draws into a V at the stranger's question. That he made little effort to conceal it hadn't been much of a problem most of his time away from his home planet. Many mistook it for some sort of tool or cylindrical lantern. There had been only a few that took note that he wore it where some men might strap weapons to their waist. Slowly, Simon gives his weapon a glance, then turns his blue eyed gaze on Dracon. "I wouldn't have any other place to keep it, Sir. You know what it is?" If the CorSec guards had heard the word 'weapon' uttered from across they way, they make no sign of it. The one that spoke before seems to have his attention fully put upon Markus while the silent one behind him stands like a shadow, his arms folded across his chest. He shakes his head as his partner speaks, though it is hard to say what the gesture is for. "We have certain laws in Coronet City that you might not be aware of," the first guard says, gruffly. "Laws concerning trafficking in public areas, and Good Citizen laws. Are you familiar with these laws?" Dracon turns his head a second and notices the guards fully intent on Markus. They seem to be reallly angry with him. As he turned his gaze back to the smaller man he heard the young mans response. "Yes, I haven't seen one in a while, I think I saw one on Tatooine a few years back, I was in a cantina there was a fight..." he trails off. The younger man obviously is uninterested in the full story. He then turns and notices the CorSec officers as they slowly corner Markus and move their hands to their weapons. Dracon catches a few words "I hope there isn't going to have to be any bloodshed, it's a beautiful street." He then turns back to Simon. "Well... I...". Exactly. What is Markus suppose to respond to that? He blinks a few times, trying to offer a friendly grin. "I haven't been in Corellia a while now.", although his voice has been softened, the Corellian accent in it betrays his origin. Absently, the man scratches his head. "I'm sorry for what I said before. I didn't realize...", now a sigh. "Look, sir. This is a misunderstanding in my part, and I profusely apologize. It was wrong of me to jump up like that, and I accept that.", after buying some time, his words become more articulate. "I'll make sure I get myself familiar with those laws, and this won't happen again.", and Markus then offers what he tries to pass as a sincere smile. And here is a Corellian trying to bargain his way out of trouble. The officers slowly back away from Markus. "I don't think you get the point." One officer pulls his blaster and jabs it into Markus's chest. "We think you need to come with us, to familiarize yourself with our laws." The other officer the pulls his blaster and aims towards the others in the way. "You saw nothing. This man needs to come with us." With a curious expression on his face, Simon listens to Dracon, then follows his gaze toward Markus and the CorSec guards as they appear to give the white haired Corellian some sort of firm treatment. Unbidden, the memory of village bullies comes to Simon's mind as he watches the two men. He says in response to Dracon's words, "I hope there is no fighting here." There are still many things that Simon doesn't understand about this galactic civilization he's become a part of, but one thing he is extremely familiar with now is the look and use of a blaster. If there was any doubt in Simon's mind that these two Law Officers were up to no good, it is erased when the previously silent guard draws his weapon and turns it upon he and the other fellow. Reacting off of instinct more than rational thought, Simon bursts into action like a flock of wild birds fleeing a glade. Spinning to his right, his robe flares out like a cloak as his right hand goes to his weapon and brings it up. A double snap-hiss, and as suddenly as he'd started moving, Simon stops, his lightstaff held defensively in front of him. The flash and show had been to draw the man's fire away from Dracon, of course. And per the queue, the stranger wisely moves to take cover. Markus just stands there. Things happening too fast for the poor young man. He had a response in mind for the guard, Corellians always do. But it quickly vanished, as the events unfold. He recognizes Simon, from the other day at the spaceport. But that's where recognition ends and surprise stats. "What the...", is all he can say, as the other man brings out the curious staff. A few blinks from Markus, and a short sigh as things seems to be going out of control here. Well, he can't just let Simon get fried, can he? After all, the man seemed nice enough. Making his decision right there, and using the show the other just presented as a distraction, Markus launches a solid elbow attack towards the midsection of the guard standing next to him. "I'll regret this.", the muttered words escape his lips. CorSec guards are trained for many things, but nothing in the current handbooks prepare law officials for dealing with situations like this. They had inadvertently initiated a sequence of events that was suddenly well beyond what they'd expected. Taking in the stranger and messing with him was all they'd had in mind... a means to take out their aggressions for failing to deal properly with the earlier disturbance. The one that had been the silent shadow knew better, but what was to lose? Besides... when was the last time they had a chance to draw their weapons? With mouths hanging open from surprise, they're eyes are fixed on Simon. The first guard is caught completely unaware by Markus's attack. His solar plexus is abused by the white haired Correllian's attack and his wind rushes out of him all at once well before the gun that had been in his hand has a chance to rebound off the concrete of the street. The second guard reacts differently. He had been the more experienced of the two after all, and before he has a chance to think, his trigger finger quickly squeezes off several quick volleys in Simon's direction. With arms pumping like a furious oarsman, Simon's lightstaff moves, the twin green beams of energy moving to intercept the blasts. Markus doesn't have the time to debate who, or rather, what this stranger is. He sees the weapon out of his inmediate opponent's hands, and the white haired man continues in his attack, launching now a sweeping kick towards the CorSec official. Hopefully, this will take the man out of the fight enough for Markus to make his strategic retreat. Of course, there is then the extra baggage of leaving Corellia in time before any of this becomes any bigger. But that will have to wait, until he is out of this one. Simon is completely left to his own devices, at least until he manages to deal with his own problems. The gun is waiting for Markus to grab it, but again, the priority is knocking down his oponent. The bit about the gun is put in his combat queue, though, as a probable next step to attempt after his current little trick. Winded, disoriented, surprised, and in pain, the CorSec guard is no match for Markus's moves. Like a pin in a game of bowls, the guard goes down, smashing hard and flat on his back and striking his head on the concrete soundly. He doesn't have time to form a conscious thought before consciousness is robbed from him. The second guard, on the other hand, begins to form more reasonable thoughts as he realizes that the shots he fired at the goateed stranger were deflected as if by a force shield. His rapid firing stops, and a few moments later, Simon's lightstaff stops its whirling, its wielder breathing heavily from exertion. Black grooves in the concrete mark the path where the weapon had gone low in Simon's efforts of defense. A Jedi. Or one of those others. Maybe two. The thoughts form in the remaining guards mind and he realizes that he can choose to continue to fight and possibly die, or he can try and salvage the situation. He licks moisture to his lips which had suddenly gone dry, then says, "Did I say you saw nothing? I meant... _we_ saw nothing. Nothing at all. My partner is just really clumsy. That's it. Clumsy." Markus' efforts leave the young man drawing in some short breaths, beads of sweat on his forehead, as he stands up from the crouching position he had ended up at after the sweeping kick. The Corellian smirks, "Right.", he says to the guard. It is now that he has the time to analyze what just went on. Who is this guy? And what is that thing? A small frown, something to find out later on. Markus takes a few steps, towards the gun laying on the sidewalk and picks it up, studying it for a moment. Walking back to the guard that was still on his feet, the one that apparently had chosen the better part of valor when he had spoken, Markus offers the gun to the officer. "Yeah, this was just a big misunderstanding. Nothing happened here.", he says, matter of factly the edges of a grin on his lips. That done his attention returns to Simon, and to the weird instrument he used as a weapon. There is respect and wonder in Markus' brown eyes. And whole full pack of curiosity too. The CorSec guard accept the weapon with numb hands made entirely of thumbs. He nearly drops it twice before he manages to clip it the his belt. He holsters his own weapon, then crosses his arms in front of his chest to hide his shaking, now that the initial wave of adrenaline is beginning to subside. "Just a big misunderstanding," he repeats with a nod of his head. While he'd been speaking, his eyes had been locked on Markus. When he stops, he gives Simon a quick look, then turns his attention toward helping his partner. As the guard holsters his weapons, Simon relaxes visibly. As he extinguishes his weapon, his shoulders slump slightly as if he'd been carrying a heavy weight. He shakes his head slightly as he clips the now quiet cylinder back to his waiste, then says to Markus, "Perhaps we should go some place that is not here." His tone is simple, but there is a subtly recognizealbe trace of disappointment. Markus offers a quick nod to the retreating guard, but in reality his attention seems to be focused on the strange cylinder Simon used during the fight. "That's a handy little tool.", he offers, with a sly grin. Then the words from the other man hit him. "Right... We can go back to my ship...", the voice trails off, as the white haired man tilts his head around, to see if they are being followed. With the display Simon just offered, it may be unlikely that someone would want to mess with them, but one never knows. "Lets go to that bar at the spaceport. If there is anyone following us, we will be able to pick them up there.", he offers, gesturing for Simon to follow. "From there, we can go to my ship....", a pause and he nods to the other man. "My thanks for your help. If you need passage out of this planet, let me know.", Markus' offer sincerely. "Lets go.", and he starts on his way back to the spaceport area. Simon nods with Markus's words, then gives the two guards a long look before following immediately. He wasn't certain that the trouble was completely behind him, and the thought of turning his back on a man that had just been shooting at him is a little unsettling. Simon and Markus move off to the Smuggler's Dig... __________________________________________________________________________ Cantina - Smuggler's Dig The Smuggler's Dig is known throughout Corellia as a place where only the extremely cautious dare to enter. The main Cantina section of the Dig is a place where many brawls -and deaths- have occured. At this moment, the cantina is filled with many creatures, some humanoid, and some not. The air is filled with the haze and musky smoke expelled from differant makes of cigarras. A long bar is situated over at the northeast corner with many stools gathered 'round. __________________________________________________________________________ Well, ok, so it isn't the best place to visit this time of the year. Or actually, any time for that matter. But it also provided the advantage of it being less likely that CorSec agents will come in to look for them. Markus, despite of himself, takes in a deep breath. "It has been a while, since I've been to a place like this.", he admits in a soft voice to his companion. Why someone would enjoy a place like this, would be beyond most people's understanding. Deciding to avoid the big crowds, Markus heads off towards a small booth, away from the long bar at the northeast corner. The young man sits down, waiting for his companion to catch up. Suddenly a fight seems to break out, at one of the tables near the bar and Markus finds himself questioning how good his idea really was. Hitch-hiking and drifting had brought Simon to many places and ports like this one. It had been less than an hour before that he'd graced this very bar with his presence, sitting quietly by himself over a non-alcoholic drink. Walking slowly behind Markus, Simon's blue eyes move about the room beneath a disapproving frown. That he'd spent a fair share of time over the last months in dives like this didn't mean that the young man liked it. As he starts to sit, his attention shifts over the scuffle near the bar. He pauses halfway through the motion of sitting, considering the wisdom of coming to this place. He'd hoped for a place free from fights, but settling for a place that he wasn't actually involved in the fights would have to do. "Interesting home, this Corellia," Simon says. This time, there is no mistaking the disapproval in his voice. "It reminds me of one of the great trees back on Telgosse. Beautiful and majestic, yet beneath the rough surface crawled vermin." "It is sad, I guess.", Markus admits with a slight nod of his head. "I think that's why my father took to piloting all the time. Corellia is home, yes, but a home that is better to visit than anything else.", the young man explains. As the ongoing argument near the bar seems to be getting a bit louder, Markus frowns in thought. For now, it will have stop bothering him. "This is a good place to wait, though. I doubt guards will follow us here.", the explanation coming with the act of telling his previous thoughts on the matter. "After some time, we can just move to my ship." The Corellian then shrugs, but the brown intelligent eyes seem to be fixed on Simon now. "I don't mean to intrude or anything. But what kind of weapon is that one you used?", the white haired man can't help but ask. Curiosity overtaking his reason. 'And how do you get one', he felt like adding, which causes a small grin to appear for a moment. "As I said before, it is a very handy little tool.", and in Markus' voice there is something else besides praise to the weapon. A perceptive mind would be able to pick up praise and respect for the one wielding it. When Markus speaks, Simon's gaze remains fixed on the man across from him, forcing himself to become oblivious to the distraction of the ruckuss near the bar. At the end of the Corellian words, Simon purses his lips at the question regarding his weapon. Whether he detects the respect and praise from the man sitting across from him is unapparent in his countenance, as he looks down at the surface of the table thoughtfully. Slowly, Simon moves his left hand to the cylinder of his lightstaff and unclasps it from his belt. There truly had been few that had asked of the weapon, and those that had asked previously had been easily distracted by other words. This Markus though... Simon couldn't put his finger on it, but the man was unique, and deserved a more honest answer. Setting the weapon on the table in front of him, he begins to explain. "This is the result of the _Selas_ Ritual of Acceptance," Simon says, giving the title an odd emphasis. "It is crafted by the _Selas_ after hours of meditation and under the watchful gaze of his teacher. The teachings of it come from your ancient order of Jedi. You know of this order?"
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