Post by Mike on Sept 15, 2011 17:41:45 GMT -5
Or some other funny title. RP with me and John. Suck it, bitches! More to come.
John: Merek sighed as he wandered through the streets. He'd been hoping to loose himself in some work. The planet was Lysian III, a smaller world within the Damion, with main exports of textiles and some plastics. Nothing fancy, or unusual, or particularly important. It was more self-sustaining though. So a planet without much problems had lately been having an upswing in crime. The planet normally policed itself, but it seemed that the game had expanded with the murder and assassination of government officials. The criminal element was organized, and some had been calling for outside assistance. The Daimon, of course was too busy and concerned with it's own problems, but perhaps a Jedi could look into the situation. Merek didn't dress in the usual Jedi attire. No, for him it was combat boots, a pair of loose fitting sturdy made pants with lots of pockets, a tight fitting undershirt with a light jacket. He carried no visible weapons these days, though one might catch the flash of silver from inside his coat, that hilt of an unlit lightsaber. Grey eyes watched those around him while his mind turned over facts and figures straight from the local government. The problem didn't seem that bad, other than a lack of resources.
Mike: Varias Phlox looked inside of the shop from outside the transparisteel window, holding his hand up to block the glare of reflection to see what was inside. Droids. He'd always wanted to modify another droid after his assistant had been repossessed by the Arkanian government. When the company he'd worked for, Modibio, had gone under, it had been difficult for such an underqualified Arkanian to find real work. Others had striven to be perfection, and while Varias had a naturally sharp mind, he did not possess the on-flimsi qualifications of most of the other jobless applicants. Lack of payments and lack of help from his wealthy parents, trying to teach him self-reliance, led to the seizure of all of his assets. It was all he could do to scrounge enough money to get offworld, to search for something; someone in particular, though he'd no idea who they were. A group that was well known throughout the galaxy and throughout history, one that his race was likewise well known for not being a part of. Few Arkanians had become famed in the group known as the Jedi Order, but they did exist. His head slumped forward, looking at the ground. The prices didn't matter; they could have been millions of credits for the simple fact that Phlox had no more than thirty-two credits to his name. Some simple work here, a favor with a glitchy droid, a damaged holopad, a malfunctioning hyperdrive; maybe, just maybe he'd have enough to actually find a place to stay for the night on this dump. But to find a way to another world, a larger world, where opportunity might await? A steady job, a place where he might begin his search for a Jedi? A holonet connection, a small roof with a 'fresher, a sanisteam if he was lucky, just some place he could call "house" until he found what he was looking for? That would be enough, and though not much, it was worth an entire starfleet to a man who had no home, no job, no food, and no real ambition or direction. But, Varias Phlox had one thing going for him, and that was his species' natural intellect; their expanded mind, excellent vision that expanded into the infrared, and mediocre experience with just about anything biological, medicinal, and mechanical that was in existence these days. He'd tried - and failed - in just about all of Arkania's major trades. So the man turned around; blue robes graying at the edges from wear and grime, stinking a bit from his long trip and lack of cleanliness, and pulled a hand through his currently greasy, long, white hair, and began down the thoroughfare, looking for the next opportunity to put some nerfsteak in his stomach and some credits on his chit.
John: Merek let his feet carry him, wandering down the street still. The Force was with him at the moment, though he only used the reserve carried within to sharpen his mind and allow him to move forward and backward in memory, and improve his already good mental tracking. It wasn't long before he'd found that the streets weren't as neat. Weren't as brightly lit. Vandalism and graffiti was more apparent, and people hurried a long the streets now, looking to go wherever without fuss or interruption. Most people belonged, for sure. But overriding it was a tension, and a wariness. The realization only dawned on him as he turned down a side street when a figure stepped out of an alley in front of him to the right, and another to the left. The one on the right was a human male, about the same age as Merek, unkempt, slightly filthy, and had scent of t'bac warring with spice. The other ahead was a 3 eye'd Gran, wearing a shirt that was stained with some sauce of some kind. He immediately dubbed them Smoker and Sauce as he noticed them. Merek couldn't help but notice they moved in tandem, which piqued his notice more. It only took a split second between them stepping out, and him snapping out of his reverie. He surruptitious glance behind him, along with that feeling of shadow creeping up from that direction told him there were at least three back there. Ambush. Were these with the new element, or were they natives? It was clear that he had made himself a mark by not paying attention, and the fact that his clothes were clean, he was clean. The clothes were better made, and were in good shape. He had money. Was it a mugging? Quickly he opened himself to the Force as he considered his options. The human in front seemed to be the leader. That was his target. "Well, well, well... What do we have here," Smoker said. "What do we have here?" The man's accent spoke of Imperial ancestry, but it had been perverted and corrupted into a more common version. "Looks like somebody's a bit lost, an' far from 'ome," Smoker continued, making his words almost a performance for the others. Merek reached out to Smoker's mind. "I'm not lost..." Smoker raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you're not lost?"
"I can go about my business."
"He can go about his business..."
"Move on," Merek suggested. After a moment Smoker grinned showing stained and broken teeth. "Oh sure, sure... Soon as you pay the toll for travelin' through my neighborhood. An' you know what, I don't like you tellin' me what ta do. It offends me, so that's gonna take some repairations for emotional distress." Merek sighed inwardly. "You tell him Grayfe," said one behind him. Grayfe apparently wasn't weak minded enough for that little trick to work. "Fine. How much," Merek asked as he slowly went for his money.
Mike: People began to move. He could feel it before he could see it - the nervous tension in the air, in...well, in the Force - it was palpable. And they started to move, all of them moving past him. He pulled his four-fingered hand from his hair and looked east down the road, thumbing the front of his once-formal, now-dirty robes for his infrared blinders and donned them so that, now with the sun in his direct vision, he could see properly. It was odd, how all his life he'd just thought that everyone had those kinds of feelings, those premonitions and great insight into the current happenings, the now, but after much research he'd found that it was the Force that spoke to him. Perhaps it was also what had distracted him from ever finishing any of his three majors in college. Most likely though, it was not. Though his solid-white eyes didn't need the blinders as a pure-blooded Arkanian might, they indeed helped filter most of the infrared spectrum that he was able to see. On his homeworld, this wasn't a problem, but on the surface of this planet, it was akin to staring directly into a glowrod for a few minutes. A man, surrounded by a few other humans and other species, notably a gran. It seemed as someone was about to become prey to a mugging. The locals seemed to have become accustomed to the obviously frequent crime here, and most had fled or watched from doorways and inside transparisteel windows, their general safety nearly ensured. Then the prickle at the back of his neck came; less from the Force and more from acute realization that despite being what he considered as an above average intelligence, Varias Phlox didn't have the common sense to move inside somewhere when he'd noticed the danger. A few of the eyes - including just one from the gran - passed his direction, taking him in, assessing a possible threat. Clearly unarmed, it must have been decided that whatever threat he posed was minimal, though thankfully for him, so was the net gain in accosting Phlox as well as this unlucky human. Varias wanted to run, but with eyes on him he wondered if such an action might make him stand out more - and something else caused him to stay. The teachings, the Code, as the Jedi spoke of it, spoke of selflessness and helping the less fortunate - an idea that Varias thought noble - and though it was not in his character previously, the man he wanted to be shone through just a bit, just enough to make him stay, to watch, to possibly seize an opportunity, a moment to help - or, more than likely - to console the man and speak to him when his mugging had concluded.
John: Merek's awareness was heightened, not only by the Force, but by years of combat training and more besides. He caught the reflection of the ones behind him in the clean pane of a storefront window. Something else caught his attention for a split moment, a figure watching, out in the open. An Arkanian? Interesting. "You look like you know your worth," Grayfe said. "So... I'd say a couple thousand ought to settle the bill." Merek tilted his head, and began pulling out the chits, acting as if it was a great burden. Grayfe was practically drooling as Merek handed over the money. "Oh yeah... One more thing. Your coat. It's a nice jacket," he said. "Sorry. I'm afraid I'm keeping that," Merek replied casually. "Sentimental value." Grayfe raised an eyebrow. "Oh really. I don' care," he said. "How does another thousand grab you... you can go get yourself a nicer coat then," Merek suggested. "Make it an extra on top of that, and you can leave with your jacket, an' your life." The Jedi Knight knew he was being fleeced, and he could have taken all of them in a single moment, but that wasn't the way, even if it meant giving up most of his pocket money. "Fine. Deal," he said, handing out the rest of what was asked for. "Don't 'ang aroun' long, or next time it comes out o' your hide," Grayfe said, pointing at him as he walked off, counting the money. Merek shook his head and slowly relaxed. Then glanced at the Arkanian.
Mike: Varias met the gaze, and despite his blinders, forced himself to look left and right, attempting not to meet the man's gaze. Had he really just handed over thousands of credits to those muggers? "Varias Phlox," he thought to himself, "you've been in the wrong line of work." The Arkanian took a hesitant step forward - just one foot, not even committing his entire body to occupying the space only twenty or so inches ahead, not wanting to abandon entirely the safety of where is left foot still resided - and held out a hand, head quirked sideways. "Sir, you...you have most definitely been the victim of a greivous crime, you..." He paused. "Certainly you had other options; you could have said you'd left your credit chits at home, gave them some small amount and let them be done with it; could have concocted some lie - sir, that was thousands of credits you just handed - sir, I..." Obviously flustered, and nervous that this man might take his aggression out on him, an alone and quite unarmed, dirty, tired, and poor bystander who had merely watched, not stepping in to come to a fellow sentient's aid in his time of need... "I - I am deeply, deeply sorry." And he was. As someone who could use any amount of money, to see someone give it so freely and lose valuable, hard-earned credits... Wait. Perhaps that was a pittance to this man, and there was more, perhaps, for someone who could do this man some manner of favor? "If there is anything I could do for you..."
John: Merek smiled after a moment, then slowly crossed the distance. "Those six have just helped me today," he said. "And you're right. I did have many other options. I would rather not be beaten to a pulp, or even to death by a group of thugs. And while I was down, they could have searched me and found I lied to them, and of course, they would know how much I really had on me. I would probably be dead now, and an example for everyone else here. Then too, though it may not look like it, I am armed. I could have cut most of them apart before they could react, and the others would have been finished almost as quickly. Wretched creatures as they are, they don't deserve to be killed on the principle of pride alone. I suppose that I could have gone hand to hand, but that's risky, especially with the Gran there. They're faster to react than humans, and stronger, and he was a boxer." He shook his head. "They get to go out, have some drinks, get high on spice, maybe enjoy good food for a few days, and spread around the wealth. I'm out some money, and I have a bruised ego, and everyone gets out without a scratch." He paused, assessing the Arkanian. Even though he was scraggly, dirty, obviously little more than homeless, the way he spoke was closer to aristocracy. Well educated at least, and as an Arkanian, his intelligence shone through as clear as a bell. He was aware the possibility of a con, but he sensed no deception in the man, even as he opened to the Force, brushing against him, then he frowned. "How long have you been on these streets," he asked, the gears in his head obviously turning.
Mike: Varias shook his head. "Sir, they might do such a thing, and perhaps people walked away alive or happy, respective to you and them specifically, but...they will do it again. Next time, to someone who may not have that many credits, and that person or group of people may not be so lucky. Or perhaps they will lose everything they have to some brigands on the streets." Inwardly, he felt confused - he'd known of crime, but had no experience with it, and was surprised at his own reaction to such a thing. It was...good-hearted, and that was an honest emotion he was having. He'd never been a good samaritan before. Perhaps something in his core, something yet untapped, was why he longed and searched for the Jedi? "I...well, I only arrived here early this morning, by this planet's cycle, sir. Why do you ask?" His head cocked to the side and he crossed his arms over his chest, more protectively than an attempt at arrogance or indignancy.
John: That answer surprised him, but only in part. Instead, there was an opportunity before him. "Indeed they might. You see, the coinage I gave them has been marked and is traceable. I'm using the money to track where it goes, and who it crosses, to give me a quick idea of who those 'gentlemen' were, how they are connected, and where those connections go." He smiled. "There is method to the madness." He paused, looking at Varias a few moments. "I'm Merek Steele... and if you have some time, I'd like to talk with you, maybe over an ale or two."
Mike: His arms uncrossed, though barely as he hesitated for a brief moment, then extended a four-fingered hand. "Merek Steele, you are a sly man. I am Varias Phlox, and...certainly, I would talk to you, though I think you'll find I'm not much of a drinker, nor do I have much in the way of credits, marked or otherwise," he replied.
John: "Thats ok, I'll buy," he said, then pulled out his comlink, hooking into the local datanet then found what he wanted. Minutes later they were in a small establishment that catered mostly to locals, but saw some outside traffic too. "I don't normally approach people at random," he said starting out slow. "But as you may be aware, there's almost a state of emergency going on here. The local government is seeking outside help as they're having a hard time getting a handle on the crime. Thankfully this place is one to have handled the last war better than most, so the planet is making money... a lot of money." He frowned as more bits were coming into focus, just by talking about it. "With the stability in the region, and the prosperity that's evident, there are refugees trickling in, which <c>
John: brings in other elements. Bad and good. So that's why I was sent here, but I'm wondering if there's not a larger design at work."
Mike: Phlox nodded, now seated inside, speaking low. He took off his blinders to reveal his solid-white eyes, with just a hint of a greying iris. A pureblood Arkanian he was not, though with all the offshoots nowadays, there hardly were any families that could claim the purity of the race anymore. "I see what you mean," he said, seeming a little cautious. "An influx of refugees would mean the poor have flooded a now-prosperous area, which would speak for the crime and preying upon those who actually have money. A way for common thugs to make good credits," he summarized. "And that influx of refugees, it could hide anyone, even a half-organized group, into setting up here and trying to work the system with that knowledge." Varias nodded to himself, and though it was hard to tell by his eyes alone, they drifted down, then quickly shot back up and focused on Merek again. "Who are you? Are you with the government here? And why tell me this; for all you know I could be one of them; been overseeing your mugging and just looking to get more from you now."
John: Merek tilted his head some and nodded. "That could be. And if you were with them, I just gave away my intentions, and my plan would fall apart, and I would likely be in enough danger that I should leave the planet." He shrugged. "Am I with the government... yes, and no. I'm working with the local government, as well as the Daimon Imperial government, though I am detached from both. I have the support needed, when I need it, and autonomy enough to make my own investigation, without interferance." He paused a moment to take a drink from the Whyrren's Reserve he'd ordered. Good Corellian stuff, and aged to perfection. "But, I know something about you that is rare, without being told by anyone. I also tend to be able to read people decently. Done it all my life. It's not 100%... nothing ever is. But, it's close enough that I rely on it."
Mike: Varias opened his arms, looking down as if checking for a stain on his shirt. He looked himself over, then back at Merek. "I am Arkanian. We're regarded as one of the most arrogant species in the galaxy. But you see that I am dirty, smelly, in dire need of a sani and some new clothes. Obviously poor, and if the racism holds true, there isn't an Arkanian that does not own a major corporation worth billions. I'm not your stereotypical Arkanian, which means..." he finished, slowing his speech, looking aside and utterly confused. "I can't even begin to wonder what you see in me, Merek Steele."
John: Merek nodded. "Tell me what you know of Jedi, and the Force... or if you have even heard of those things at all," he said. He was sure Varias had heard of at least Jedi. Most everyone had, especially around the time of the Protectorate War, and the events of Altar.
Mike: Varias shot up, but then quickly hunched back over, speaking lower still. "Why do you ask me this? I have spoken to no one of..." he let his words trail off. "Who are you really?"
John: Merek grinned, then slowly opened one side of his jacket, revealing the hilt of his lightsaber, the weapon of a Jedi. "I'm a Jedi Knight, among other things. And, I'm talking to you, because it has come to my attention, and is my belief that you have Force Potential."
Mike: Phlox slowly leaned back, his eyes wide, his head shaking in disbelief. His mouth sagged open for a moment, then, conscious of this, he snapped it shut and stared curiously. After a moment, he held up one of the four digits of his right hand, what would be an index finger on a human, and spoke slowly. "I have read that the Jedi believe that nothing happens without cause or reason, and that there is no such thing as a mere coincidence. I left home, poor and without any immediate goals, with the intention to search out and find the Jedi Order. And here I am, standard day six of my journey, at a bar on some backwater ball of dust speaking to a Jedi who indeed has found me." He put his hand back in his lap, his head again shaking back and forth. "Astonishing. I never thought I'd put stock into something as unquantifiable as a belief in a greater purpose, or being, or that the Force might be some...omnipotent entity...though today that has been abolished. Something greater than coincidence brought me here, even if it was just the Force telling me where to go in the guise of blind luck."
John: Merek smirked. "I see. So I was in fact called here," he said. "Well, mission accomplished. So what is it that I can do for you, now that I'm here?"
Mike: "I've been looking for the Jedi," he began, "because I know that I am Force-sensitive. Life hasn't treated me well as of late, and I've become fascinated by the allure of it all. Truly, I was hoping to find a place to belong, and to learn more of what the Force is. It has been an obsession, but never one that I thought would actually come to pass. To be honest, sitting here, now, with a Jedi, I'm not quite sure what it is I would ask of you." He knotted his brow. "What is it that you normally hear, from those who are potential Jedi, when you ask such a question?"
John: "To be honest, I never have done this. So it's new territory for me. Then again, it was a new experience the first time I ever met Jedi, much less worked with them," he said. "How is it that you're so sure you have the potential, and ability?"
More to come!
John: Merek sighed as he wandered through the streets. He'd been hoping to loose himself in some work. The planet was Lysian III, a smaller world within the Damion, with main exports of textiles and some plastics. Nothing fancy, or unusual, or particularly important. It was more self-sustaining though. So a planet without much problems had lately been having an upswing in crime. The planet normally policed itself, but it seemed that the game had expanded with the murder and assassination of government officials. The criminal element was organized, and some had been calling for outside assistance. The Daimon, of course was too busy and concerned with it's own problems, but perhaps a Jedi could look into the situation. Merek didn't dress in the usual Jedi attire. No, for him it was combat boots, a pair of loose fitting sturdy made pants with lots of pockets, a tight fitting undershirt with a light jacket. He carried no visible weapons these days, though one might catch the flash of silver from inside his coat, that hilt of an unlit lightsaber. Grey eyes watched those around him while his mind turned over facts and figures straight from the local government. The problem didn't seem that bad, other than a lack of resources.
Mike: Varias Phlox looked inside of the shop from outside the transparisteel window, holding his hand up to block the glare of reflection to see what was inside. Droids. He'd always wanted to modify another droid after his assistant had been repossessed by the Arkanian government. When the company he'd worked for, Modibio, had gone under, it had been difficult for such an underqualified Arkanian to find real work. Others had striven to be perfection, and while Varias had a naturally sharp mind, he did not possess the on-flimsi qualifications of most of the other jobless applicants. Lack of payments and lack of help from his wealthy parents, trying to teach him self-reliance, led to the seizure of all of his assets. It was all he could do to scrounge enough money to get offworld, to search for something; someone in particular, though he'd no idea who they were. A group that was well known throughout the galaxy and throughout history, one that his race was likewise well known for not being a part of. Few Arkanians had become famed in the group known as the Jedi Order, but they did exist. His head slumped forward, looking at the ground. The prices didn't matter; they could have been millions of credits for the simple fact that Phlox had no more than thirty-two credits to his name. Some simple work here, a favor with a glitchy droid, a damaged holopad, a malfunctioning hyperdrive; maybe, just maybe he'd have enough to actually find a place to stay for the night on this dump. But to find a way to another world, a larger world, where opportunity might await? A steady job, a place where he might begin his search for a Jedi? A holonet connection, a small roof with a 'fresher, a sanisteam if he was lucky, just some place he could call "house" until he found what he was looking for? That would be enough, and though not much, it was worth an entire starfleet to a man who had no home, no job, no food, and no real ambition or direction. But, Varias Phlox had one thing going for him, and that was his species' natural intellect; their expanded mind, excellent vision that expanded into the infrared, and mediocre experience with just about anything biological, medicinal, and mechanical that was in existence these days. He'd tried - and failed - in just about all of Arkania's major trades. So the man turned around; blue robes graying at the edges from wear and grime, stinking a bit from his long trip and lack of cleanliness, and pulled a hand through his currently greasy, long, white hair, and began down the thoroughfare, looking for the next opportunity to put some nerfsteak in his stomach and some credits on his chit.
John: Merek let his feet carry him, wandering down the street still. The Force was with him at the moment, though he only used the reserve carried within to sharpen his mind and allow him to move forward and backward in memory, and improve his already good mental tracking. It wasn't long before he'd found that the streets weren't as neat. Weren't as brightly lit. Vandalism and graffiti was more apparent, and people hurried a long the streets now, looking to go wherever without fuss or interruption. Most people belonged, for sure. But overriding it was a tension, and a wariness. The realization only dawned on him as he turned down a side street when a figure stepped out of an alley in front of him to the right, and another to the left. The one on the right was a human male, about the same age as Merek, unkempt, slightly filthy, and had scent of t'bac warring with spice. The other ahead was a 3 eye'd Gran, wearing a shirt that was stained with some sauce of some kind. He immediately dubbed them Smoker and Sauce as he noticed them. Merek couldn't help but notice they moved in tandem, which piqued his notice more. It only took a split second between them stepping out, and him snapping out of his reverie. He surruptitious glance behind him, along with that feeling of shadow creeping up from that direction told him there were at least three back there. Ambush. Were these with the new element, or were they natives? It was clear that he had made himself a mark by not paying attention, and the fact that his clothes were clean, he was clean. The clothes were better made, and were in good shape. He had money. Was it a mugging? Quickly he opened himself to the Force as he considered his options. The human in front seemed to be the leader. That was his target. "Well, well, well... What do we have here," Smoker said. "What do we have here?" The man's accent spoke of Imperial ancestry, but it had been perverted and corrupted into a more common version. "Looks like somebody's a bit lost, an' far from 'ome," Smoker continued, making his words almost a performance for the others. Merek reached out to Smoker's mind. "I'm not lost..." Smoker raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you're not lost?"
"I can go about my business."
"He can go about his business..."
"Move on," Merek suggested. After a moment Smoker grinned showing stained and broken teeth. "Oh sure, sure... Soon as you pay the toll for travelin' through my neighborhood. An' you know what, I don't like you tellin' me what ta do. It offends me, so that's gonna take some repairations for emotional distress." Merek sighed inwardly. "You tell him Grayfe," said one behind him. Grayfe apparently wasn't weak minded enough for that little trick to work. "Fine. How much," Merek asked as he slowly went for his money.
Mike: People began to move. He could feel it before he could see it - the nervous tension in the air, in...well, in the Force - it was palpable. And they started to move, all of them moving past him. He pulled his four-fingered hand from his hair and looked east down the road, thumbing the front of his once-formal, now-dirty robes for his infrared blinders and donned them so that, now with the sun in his direct vision, he could see properly. It was odd, how all his life he'd just thought that everyone had those kinds of feelings, those premonitions and great insight into the current happenings, the now, but after much research he'd found that it was the Force that spoke to him. Perhaps it was also what had distracted him from ever finishing any of his three majors in college. Most likely though, it was not. Though his solid-white eyes didn't need the blinders as a pure-blooded Arkanian might, they indeed helped filter most of the infrared spectrum that he was able to see. On his homeworld, this wasn't a problem, but on the surface of this planet, it was akin to staring directly into a glowrod for a few minutes. A man, surrounded by a few other humans and other species, notably a gran. It seemed as someone was about to become prey to a mugging. The locals seemed to have become accustomed to the obviously frequent crime here, and most had fled or watched from doorways and inside transparisteel windows, their general safety nearly ensured. Then the prickle at the back of his neck came; less from the Force and more from acute realization that despite being what he considered as an above average intelligence, Varias Phlox didn't have the common sense to move inside somewhere when he'd noticed the danger. A few of the eyes - including just one from the gran - passed his direction, taking him in, assessing a possible threat. Clearly unarmed, it must have been decided that whatever threat he posed was minimal, though thankfully for him, so was the net gain in accosting Phlox as well as this unlucky human. Varias wanted to run, but with eyes on him he wondered if such an action might make him stand out more - and something else caused him to stay. The teachings, the Code, as the Jedi spoke of it, spoke of selflessness and helping the less fortunate - an idea that Varias thought noble - and though it was not in his character previously, the man he wanted to be shone through just a bit, just enough to make him stay, to watch, to possibly seize an opportunity, a moment to help - or, more than likely - to console the man and speak to him when his mugging had concluded.
John: Merek's awareness was heightened, not only by the Force, but by years of combat training and more besides. He caught the reflection of the ones behind him in the clean pane of a storefront window. Something else caught his attention for a split moment, a figure watching, out in the open. An Arkanian? Interesting. "You look like you know your worth," Grayfe said. "So... I'd say a couple thousand ought to settle the bill." Merek tilted his head, and began pulling out the chits, acting as if it was a great burden. Grayfe was practically drooling as Merek handed over the money. "Oh yeah... One more thing. Your coat. It's a nice jacket," he said. "Sorry. I'm afraid I'm keeping that," Merek replied casually. "Sentimental value." Grayfe raised an eyebrow. "Oh really. I don' care," he said. "How does another thousand grab you... you can go get yourself a nicer coat then," Merek suggested. "Make it an extra on top of that, and you can leave with your jacket, an' your life." The Jedi Knight knew he was being fleeced, and he could have taken all of them in a single moment, but that wasn't the way, even if it meant giving up most of his pocket money. "Fine. Deal," he said, handing out the rest of what was asked for. "Don't 'ang aroun' long, or next time it comes out o' your hide," Grayfe said, pointing at him as he walked off, counting the money. Merek shook his head and slowly relaxed. Then glanced at the Arkanian.
Mike: Varias met the gaze, and despite his blinders, forced himself to look left and right, attempting not to meet the man's gaze. Had he really just handed over thousands of credits to those muggers? "Varias Phlox," he thought to himself, "you've been in the wrong line of work." The Arkanian took a hesitant step forward - just one foot, not even committing his entire body to occupying the space only twenty or so inches ahead, not wanting to abandon entirely the safety of where is left foot still resided - and held out a hand, head quirked sideways. "Sir, you...you have most definitely been the victim of a greivous crime, you..." He paused. "Certainly you had other options; you could have said you'd left your credit chits at home, gave them some small amount and let them be done with it; could have concocted some lie - sir, that was thousands of credits you just handed - sir, I..." Obviously flustered, and nervous that this man might take his aggression out on him, an alone and quite unarmed, dirty, tired, and poor bystander who had merely watched, not stepping in to come to a fellow sentient's aid in his time of need... "I - I am deeply, deeply sorry." And he was. As someone who could use any amount of money, to see someone give it so freely and lose valuable, hard-earned credits... Wait. Perhaps that was a pittance to this man, and there was more, perhaps, for someone who could do this man some manner of favor? "If there is anything I could do for you..."
John: Merek smiled after a moment, then slowly crossed the distance. "Those six have just helped me today," he said. "And you're right. I did have many other options. I would rather not be beaten to a pulp, or even to death by a group of thugs. And while I was down, they could have searched me and found I lied to them, and of course, they would know how much I really had on me. I would probably be dead now, and an example for everyone else here. Then too, though it may not look like it, I am armed. I could have cut most of them apart before they could react, and the others would have been finished almost as quickly. Wretched creatures as they are, they don't deserve to be killed on the principle of pride alone. I suppose that I could have gone hand to hand, but that's risky, especially with the Gran there. They're faster to react than humans, and stronger, and he was a boxer." He shook his head. "They get to go out, have some drinks, get high on spice, maybe enjoy good food for a few days, and spread around the wealth. I'm out some money, and I have a bruised ego, and everyone gets out without a scratch." He paused, assessing the Arkanian. Even though he was scraggly, dirty, obviously little more than homeless, the way he spoke was closer to aristocracy. Well educated at least, and as an Arkanian, his intelligence shone through as clear as a bell. He was aware the possibility of a con, but he sensed no deception in the man, even as he opened to the Force, brushing against him, then he frowned. "How long have you been on these streets," he asked, the gears in his head obviously turning.
Mike: Varias shook his head. "Sir, they might do such a thing, and perhaps people walked away alive or happy, respective to you and them specifically, but...they will do it again. Next time, to someone who may not have that many credits, and that person or group of people may not be so lucky. Or perhaps they will lose everything they have to some brigands on the streets." Inwardly, he felt confused - he'd known of crime, but had no experience with it, and was surprised at his own reaction to such a thing. It was...good-hearted, and that was an honest emotion he was having. He'd never been a good samaritan before. Perhaps something in his core, something yet untapped, was why he longed and searched for the Jedi? "I...well, I only arrived here early this morning, by this planet's cycle, sir. Why do you ask?" His head cocked to the side and he crossed his arms over his chest, more protectively than an attempt at arrogance or indignancy.
John: That answer surprised him, but only in part. Instead, there was an opportunity before him. "Indeed they might. You see, the coinage I gave them has been marked and is traceable. I'm using the money to track where it goes, and who it crosses, to give me a quick idea of who those 'gentlemen' were, how they are connected, and where those connections go." He smiled. "There is method to the madness." He paused, looking at Varias a few moments. "I'm Merek Steele... and if you have some time, I'd like to talk with you, maybe over an ale or two."
Mike: His arms uncrossed, though barely as he hesitated for a brief moment, then extended a four-fingered hand. "Merek Steele, you are a sly man. I am Varias Phlox, and...certainly, I would talk to you, though I think you'll find I'm not much of a drinker, nor do I have much in the way of credits, marked or otherwise," he replied.
John: "Thats ok, I'll buy," he said, then pulled out his comlink, hooking into the local datanet then found what he wanted. Minutes later they were in a small establishment that catered mostly to locals, but saw some outside traffic too. "I don't normally approach people at random," he said starting out slow. "But as you may be aware, there's almost a state of emergency going on here. The local government is seeking outside help as they're having a hard time getting a handle on the crime. Thankfully this place is one to have handled the last war better than most, so the planet is making money... a lot of money." He frowned as more bits were coming into focus, just by talking about it. "With the stability in the region, and the prosperity that's evident, there are refugees trickling in, which <c>
John: brings in other elements. Bad and good. So that's why I was sent here, but I'm wondering if there's not a larger design at work."
Mike: Phlox nodded, now seated inside, speaking low. He took off his blinders to reveal his solid-white eyes, with just a hint of a greying iris. A pureblood Arkanian he was not, though with all the offshoots nowadays, there hardly were any families that could claim the purity of the race anymore. "I see what you mean," he said, seeming a little cautious. "An influx of refugees would mean the poor have flooded a now-prosperous area, which would speak for the crime and preying upon those who actually have money. A way for common thugs to make good credits," he summarized. "And that influx of refugees, it could hide anyone, even a half-organized group, into setting up here and trying to work the system with that knowledge." Varias nodded to himself, and though it was hard to tell by his eyes alone, they drifted down, then quickly shot back up and focused on Merek again. "Who are you? Are you with the government here? And why tell me this; for all you know I could be one of them; been overseeing your mugging and just looking to get more from you now."
John: Merek tilted his head some and nodded. "That could be. And if you were with them, I just gave away my intentions, and my plan would fall apart, and I would likely be in enough danger that I should leave the planet." He shrugged. "Am I with the government... yes, and no. I'm working with the local government, as well as the Daimon Imperial government, though I am detached from both. I have the support needed, when I need it, and autonomy enough to make my own investigation, without interferance." He paused a moment to take a drink from the Whyrren's Reserve he'd ordered. Good Corellian stuff, and aged to perfection. "But, I know something about you that is rare, without being told by anyone. I also tend to be able to read people decently. Done it all my life. It's not 100%... nothing ever is. But, it's close enough that I rely on it."
Mike: Varias opened his arms, looking down as if checking for a stain on his shirt. He looked himself over, then back at Merek. "I am Arkanian. We're regarded as one of the most arrogant species in the galaxy. But you see that I am dirty, smelly, in dire need of a sani and some new clothes. Obviously poor, and if the racism holds true, there isn't an Arkanian that does not own a major corporation worth billions. I'm not your stereotypical Arkanian, which means..." he finished, slowing his speech, looking aside and utterly confused. "I can't even begin to wonder what you see in me, Merek Steele."
John: Merek nodded. "Tell me what you know of Jedi, and the Force... or if you have even heard of those things at all," he said. He was sure Varias had heard of at least Jedi. Most everyone had, especially around the time of the Protectorate War, and the events of Altar.
Mike: Varias shot up, but then quickly hunched back over, speaking lower still. "Why do you ask me this? I have spoken to no one of..." he let his words trail off. "Who are you really?"
John: Merek grinned, then slowly opened one side of his jacket, revealing the hilt of his lightsaber, the weapon of a Jedi. "I'm a Jedi Knight, among other things. And, I'm talking to you, because it has come to my attention, and is my belief that you have Force Potential."
Mike: Phlox slowly leaned back, his eyes wide, his head shaking in disbelief. His mouth sagged open for a moment, then, conscious of this, he snapped it shut and stared curiously. After a moment, he held up one of the four digits of his right hand, what would be an index finger on a human, and spoke slowly. "I have read that the Jedi believe that nothing happens without cause or reason, and that there is no such thing as a mere coincidence. I left home, poor and without any immediate goals, with the intention to search out and find the Jedi Order. And here I am, standard day six of my journey, at a bar on some backwater ball of dust speaking to a Jedi who indeed has found me." He put his hand back in his lap, his head again shaking back and forth. "Astonishing. I never thought I'd put stock into something as unquantifiable as a belief in a greater purpose, or being, or that the Force might be some...omnipotent entity...though today that has been abolished. Something greater than coincidence brought me here, even if it was just the Force telling me where to go in the guise of blind luck."
John: Merek smirked. "I see. So I was in fact called here," he said. "Well, mission accomplished. So what is it that I can do for you, now that I'm here?"
Mike: "I've been looking for the Jedi," he began, "because I know that I am Force-sensitive. Life hasn't treated me well as of late, and I've become fascinated by the allure of it all. Truly, I was hoping to find a place to belong, and to learn more of what the Force is. It has been an obsession, but never one that I thought would actually come to pass. To be honest, sitting here, now, with a Jedi, I'm not quite sure what it is I would ask of you." He knotted his brow. "What is it that you normally hear, from those who are potential Jedi, when you ask such a question?"
John: "To be honest, I never have done this. So it's new territory for me. Then again, it was a new experience the first time I ever met Jedi, much less worked with them," he said. "How is it that you're so sure you have the potential, and ability?"
More to come!
