Log:The Shadowport: Serious Bithness
Sluis Van was a heavily idustrialized world on the Rimma Trade route near Eriadu (Home of Grand Moff Tarkin and his ostentagious memorial) and Clakdor VII (Bith) Liz's home world. His father had worked from time to time at he massive Shipyards above the planet which everyone who's apporached the world could clearly see with their own eyes even if they were blind. Most of the global population lived there now... but this dry arid city or Aruis was still bumping on pay day.
"YASSSSSSS" exclaimed the voice of Liz'diot, poping the cork on some Namana Liquor. "Welcome to my SANCTUARY of the OMNIVERSE..." He was behind the bar in his hover chair, his battle droids acting as Bar keeps for the time being, some extra programing he had added to them.
Liz had aquired the bar from the two previous owners, a Bith and Human, after paying them a sum of money. There was rumor they wanted more... but got threatened into taking the lesser sum. Anyone who knew the Bith probably wouldn't question that story. Music bumped, but not too loud. Bith were sensative to too much sound, big brains and all. There were some Snek like sluis in the bar, Humans, and other Bith enjoying their drinks and doing the best to ignore the new owner. "AHHHHHHAAAAA, YASSSS. Give me all your credits!" Chug Chug Chug.
Its a bar. Count Eriu in. The Hapan is considering the natives, her gaze sweeping over the snekky sneks curiously as she tries to blindly mouth at her straw to suck down more of the fruity concoction that is likely to hit her in the gut later. Side lip movement and finally she catches the slippery straw and begins to suck down the drink. Mmmmming happily as she leans on her elbows int he bar, she glances up at the exuberant and volume always set to ten - Liz. "You know..you are rather loud. I would like to point this out. Not that I think it will change anything but an observation needs to be made."
She hooks her feet agains the lower rung of her stool as she nurses that drink slowly and with lazy care.
The doctor also likes bars, though less so lately. Her previous experience of the places had been far less fraught with blaster fire, and she's starting to become wary of places that serve alcohol and allow the members of Shadowport inside. That being said, she's hesitantly optimistic that tonight things will be nice and easy and won't involve having to glue anyone back together. That's kind of the dream for health care professionals---don't make me work. Or if you have to make me work, only make me work a little. Please don't make me super glue an alligator back together. If you loved me this wouldn't be happening.
The lavender-skinned woman is dressed in a cute little black cocktail dress, leaning into that sense of optimism that she's not going to have to crawl on the floor (though she's sadly conceded that that might be happening and worn modesty shorts underneath). She invites herself to belly up to the bar next to Eriu and orders something...colorful and sweet. It's her jam. She lifts herself up onto an adjacent stool and smooths her skirt out.
"Well, it's a party. If there's a time to be loud, it's really now." And not when they're breaking into something. Or getting shot at. Which is basically the only stuff they do, it seems like.
"To be honest, I'd rather know he's coming," was the rebuttal from the man with the plan, Zhu Yan. Not sure why I keep making those rhymes, because 'Yan' rhymes with 'Then' when said properly. There was something strange about the way the left arm of The Jacket drooped lazily down across where a shoulder was expected to be. Yan's own drink was this horrible, horrible bottom shelf stuff, because to hear him say it, he'd spent way too long drinking with a certain Twi'lek and now his taste buds were ruined forever. "A stealthy Liz is, like, the worst Liz I can think of. Imagine you're going about your business, walking your vornskr," not a euphemism, "or doing botany at seven thousand feet, and suddenly, boom, dead. I'd rather have the warning!"
Where Eriu Jynx and Doctor Thiccness go, Karr'roga is often not far behind. For several reasons. One being the most obvious, the second being that in attempts to perhaps do harm to Eriu Jynx; Karr'roga gets a treat: The eye of a Gand hunter, or the hand of a Trandoshan. Oh! Or the head. The heads are nice. But the large Barabel follows these figures to this place because, slowly, The Shadowport has become territory. His. He peed on it, in one way or another, and as such the large Barabel now has a reason to vivisect those who would try to pee on it, or steal it, or kill it...or any of those inside of it.
Others dress nicely. Others dress like birds trying to find mates. Karr'roga has on what looks like a poncho of leather scraps...what one might pray to their gods is just from Dewbacks and not...anyone else. The hood pulled up, the rotting leg of a Bith braided up so the meat stops falling off and it hangs around his neck in the open.
He's there. Quiet. Silent. Standing right behind Yan, not making a sound - even as a bowl of Roga Treats is held in one taloned hand and the other plucks fresh eyes out - and pops them into the fanged maw.
Gone is his typical suit, and definitely long gone and likely incinerated is the outfit from the previous Thyferra venture. He's in something less formal, just some fatigue pants with a couple suspicious bulges in them, and an every day standard touristy t-shirt, not too loud, not to brooding dark. Kaavenn is there to try to get to know more about the group he was hooked into finally.
He's got a bad feeling about this.
It's a bar at least, and he's taken a seat on a stool. For Kaavenn, it the music he is not sure about, his ears twitching here and there, but the booze he's pleased by enough, trying to actually relax for once. What he is trying to find is a carnivore special on the menu, something he can bite into even if there is no full service while he keeps an eye on the hooligans.
Gaz follows Kaavenn into the bar, spinning a little bit of nothing on one finger and casually sauntering towards the bar. She's in her usual gear, which is to say, she's in a tank top and thrashed jeans that look maybe a half size too small, no shoes, and a lit tabac stick dangling from her lip. Drawing on the tabac, she grins and lifts a hand to those gathered, "Hey everybody!" Approaching and sidling up onto a stool to order up a drink and turn that grin towards Liz, "Look at you being all entreprenurial! How's business, Liz?"
"Pitiful HUMONS, I am doing my best to contain my sixth dimentional voice... as you know, if you heard my true voice your heads would cerainly explode. INDEED, HAHAHAHAH!" Liz gives an animated explination to EJ before his good mood faults as he sniffs the air. "What is that FETID sme-" Bith eyes lock with the Crocs and he stops. Did Liz just gulp? He might have. Bulbous eyes look to Naia as she comes to sit up next to EJ... "Helllooooo." He motors his way over towards the Lavander Nautolan. "Can I get you something, dear FLARNA. Ha..." He turns towards Gaz, eyeing the ball of fur a moment. "Herm... not bad... a little hairy. Herm..." He looks between Naia and Gaz. "Both of you would do... Want some death sticks?"
Liz had also taken of the illicet trade that went on here and perhaps that was cause for some hurt butts and bad feelings. Perhaps that's why a group of Sluis Mobsters walked in just then, long coats and hats on top their slithery snek heads.
Eriu chuckles at Naia and somehow manages to keep her straw through the motion of it. Her eye tick upwards and then over at Yan, "Mmmm no no you are definitely right," she remarks as a thoughtful expression spreads across her face. But then there are Gaz and Kaa, a smile offered to them both before her gaze lingers on Kaa for a few moments.
Sniff sniff. OOF. The smell is starting to hit in her the face and though her stomach churns in response to Karr's scent, she digs into a pouch at her side and gets out a small bottle and begins to spritz the air around her, Yan and Naia...then turns slowly to see Karr. The leg.
She looks ill.
She spritzes at him - once, twice, three, four rapid in succession mists hit him and then she wrinkles her nose. "Its starting to turn."
Naia smiles good naturedly at the bith, which, in all honesty might be part of the problem. Oops. "Oh, I think your lovely droids are already seeing to my needs." She tells the bith, leaning on her forearms easily---like someone used to bar crawling. At least a little. The nautolan turns her head to look at the barabel, an affectionate crinkle to her eyes, even as that cute little nose wrinkles in delicate distaste. Oh well---there are some men who you just don't say 'you can't do that' to. Karr'roga is one of them. There's really no telling /him/ that the thing is starting to disintigrate. He's going to have to come to that conclusion on his own, even if it means waiting for it to fall off.
As for deathsticks. Yikes. Doctors are, of course, not immune to substance abuse, but it's quite a different matter when you are acutely aware of exactly /what/ a substance will do to you at a cellular level. "Well, that's very generous of you, but I think at least one of us should keep our wits about us. You know, marginally." Which is to say she's still going to have a drink. She's just not going to blast her brains out of her ears and nose with chemicals.
Spritz spritz spritz! Yan was wet! Though thankfully not hysterical. That would come later. "Hey why in the-" he was complaining, oddly having placed his drink down and using his right hand to wave away the horrible sticky wetness that was some sort of air freshener, as the left sleeve of The Jacket flapped limply. Then he turned and finally his eyes registered what his sense of smell had been desperately trying to warn him about. And there was the leg. It was zombifying rapidly. Oh god. Oh god in heaven.
"Y'know," Yan started, trying to clamp down on his lunch, "you might as well eat it now while the meat is good." The meat was FAR from good.
As the complaints raise about Liz'diot's old leg (braided and turned into a necklace) the Barabel just...stands there. Chewing thoughtfully on big eyeballs, and small ones. Mediums, too. Red, yellow, black, brown. Blue, green, red, gold. A little amphibian had found its way into the bowl, and without looking or identifying it? Karr'roga tosses the living thing into the air and it gives a loud CROAK.
Before the fanged maw claps in the air, and he swallows the beast whole. Slitted pupils staring out from the hood of his skin-poncho, tongue swiping at the large teeth. "Thisssss One will never get rid of The Good Luck Charm. It wasss The King of Puss' leg. It did not even get sold for fifty-five-thousand credits." A click of the tongue, "Forrr Thissss One is a good comrade. You all belong to Thisss One, and when you die, yourrrr parts will be kept. Because you are important."
Hisses rise and fall, the large tail giving a final THUMP on the floor - before the fanged maw turns to Eriu Jynx. Sniffing at the air as he and Yan are assaulted by...THAT SPRAY, before tossing the bowl at Liz'diot - "They insssult your leg. Thissss One keeps it."
His nose sniffs at the air, it can't help itself is has a mind of his own. Kaavenn makes a face and looks over towards Karr'roga. He's not going to wear earplugs, so already he is formulating what he can possibly spray the Barabel with that will help. Maybe reek musk or industrial citrus disinfectant. He takes his mind off the issue to glance over at Liz mentioning sixth dimensional voice, originally hearing it as SITH. So his momentarily confused face must be semi-priceless. Gaz is offered a deathstick and he snorts softly. His nose wrinkled again, this time EJ has made for a perfumed bith leg bouquet. He is not sure it is an improvement. He mutters at the bar as an aside to Gaz. "Maybe try sedating him, and getting it away from him, and incinerating it?"
To cope with it, he just tilts back his head straight up, drink in hand to take it all at once. He promptly seeks another, not enough booze in the galaxy, but he can try to make a start. Yan makes his suggestion and Kaavenn makes a face, one need not be a Jedi to see that lie. He's got a nose for such things... Karr'roga ends a little critters life, he has a mild moment of irrational jealousy, it can smell no more! At the mention of a good luck charm, but the bowl of eyes thrown at Liz makes for an actual laugh. Finally he just turns his glowing red eyes onto Gaz. "Do you remember that conversation the other day?"
Turning an amused look towards Liz at the 'a little hairy' comment and offers, "Sorry Liz, I shave for no sentient. That is just entirely too much work." To say nothing of how HORRIFYING a shaved Shistavanen would look. Like something out of a nightmare. Or possibly Karr'roga's food bowl. She can't help but smell the decay from the Bith leg around the Barabel's neck, but she has an excellent poker face and keeps a neutral expression. Instead, she gives a nod to the offer of a Deathstick and holds a hand out, "What's in it, Liz?"
Then there's spray bottles being spritzed and that has Gaz shifting stools to be on the OTHER side of Kaavenn, muttering, "There should be permit requirements for those things..."
Drawing on the tabac stick, she nods to Kaav and offers, "I never said you were -wrong-. I just didn't appreciate the context for the conversation." THen she's lifting her own drink and slamming it back to offer, "If its a prize or trophy, then you should put it in a case on display! Keep it preserved. What happens if someone shoots the leg when we're in a fight? You'll be out a leg!"
Liz purrs at Naia? Weird, but that's all she gets other than that skinny tongue flicking out and wiggling in the air from his mouth hole for a split second. Gaz is given another look. "Who said you had to shave... Actually, I'd prefer you furry... soft... hermm." He pauses, "ANYWAYS... Try it and find out!" He pulls out a whole load of the Deathsticks and rolls them out on the counter. "Perfection."
Two of the Mobsters take position at the entrance. Two others slither slowly through the bar. One slithers his way up towards the counter right near the Shadowporters. "You are thhhhhe ownerssssss?" It asks in that snek voice more like a hiss as forked tongue flicks out. The 'smell' from Roga is jarring and the Sluis Mobster looks to the Barabel a moment.
"YASSSS, INDEED. It is I, Liz'diot The Omniscient! Welcome to SERIOUS BITHNAAASSSS. HAHAHA."
"You must pay like the othersssssss before..."
"I must what?"
"You Musssttt PAY."
"Well you must suck my Jagon..."
The were a hiss from the Sluis and as if telepathically communicated the others drew their blaster pistols. "You don't understand putrid BITHhhhhhhh. You musssst payyyy."
She's turned enough to see what is coming now and she stares past Karr'roga as the door is blocked and they are joined by another. Weapons. Siiiiiiigh. "Naia, find cover," she remarks faintly before she gives the one addressing Liz a long look. A stare. Resting bitch face. "I suggest you leave..." bored and exasperated. "Seriously can we just not go anywhere. Even the base..on..yeah not sharing that info." She nearly spoke up about the Ord base but is getting to her feet, fingers fanned with several stars as she gives the mobster another look.
She's cute, beautiful and the resting bitch face is not enough but she's going with it. She's TIRED.
It's sweet that Eriu had thought of her, but the hapan needn't have bothered, because you don't need to tell Naia things like that. When she's healing patients she gets a little hyperfocused, but the nautolan has a /knack/ for finding cover, it turns out. She's got an instinct for not dying so that she can try and save some freakin' lives on down the line, and at the sound of the threat she's already moving. Thank Sea for the amount of cartilage she has, because her dive over the bar isn't particularly graceful (because it doesn't need to be). She avoids the bith at least, and doesn't land in his lap, or crush him on the way down, but the entire affair looks rather like someone throwing an octopus at a wall. All desperate limbs and ungodly bendiness. She practically /slithers/ over the bar top and takes cover like a champ.
Look, if you have to be good at only one thing in life, staying alive is /probably/ the thing you should invest in. She's made peace with the fact that she's going to be keeping the alcohol company. And possibly throwing molotovs if she feels frisky.
They tried it EJ's way and it didn't work. Now it was time for Yan's way.
As is tradition, the second the very idea of hostilites of any sort became a potential idea, Yan was up and shooting, He turned on his barstool in one smooth motion, right hand pulling out the Bryar, and the momentum revealed what the limpness in Yan's left side had been hinting at this entire time. The Jacket fell half away to reveal a crater where Yan's left shoulder normally lived, his GALACTI-STOK: A DIVISION OF TAGGECO sitting sadly in the gap. The One-Armed Bandit fired the Bryar wide, the momentum of the chair just going a bit too far. He compensated for the second shot, hitting the second one right in the gut. "Okay. Cover. Now!" And Yan dove for the floor.
Karr'roga is for the most part stationary. He's just, standing there, yet again at a bar, when people decide to start trying to do a murder on something that is his. Maybe it's this newfound thing...is it love? Is it the power of Love that motivates the Barabel to turn - just as Yan decides to turn the snake into a Holey Snake? It is. It's the power of love...no. No it's not. The Barabel is overcome by a terrible and sudden need to do violence. A territorial aggression that rises high when Zhu Yan dives for cover because the nearest Sluis suddenly just explodes into a collection of mangled bodyparts and viscera; and the last swipe of those terrible talons takes off the Snake's head. Karr'roga's voice rises into a deep rumbling, a crocodillian bellow and cacophony of hisses; the other hand reaching to grab the twitching thing and heave it -- and it goes hurtling back behind the bar to crash into the droids, and land at the floor where everyone is hiding. Still twitching, and missing all the important parts.
There stands the Barabel, hissing, violent, tail lashing at the nearest table to crack it - still holding the blinking Sluisi head.
Suddenly Kaavenn is used for cover, against spritzing in the air drifting their way. "Wait." He blinks at her, and turns his attention towards Gaz. "But the context was-" Kaavenn stops because that conversation has gone very poorly for him. Suddenly Mobsters! He's just rolling over the bar, hes getting good at it. Another night for Shadowport, someone wants their credits! Once he hits the foor on the other side, he's drawing his pistol, sniper in tight cover. There's a frown on his face.
Gaz, being what she is, tries to pull a trick as Kaavenn rolls over the bar. Her pistol is still technically holstered as she starts to turn, her hand gripping it as she bends forward like she's about to stand...
PEW! PEW! PEW!
Firing wildly, blindly, she's now on the move as she heads away from the bar to try and move towards the cover of tables that can be overturned.
Liz screams as Naia flies behind the bar, flying out of his chair and right ontop of Naia's back like some creepy little parasite. He holds on tight for protection. "FLARNA, protect me with your THICCCNESSSSS!" He turns his head left to right. "DROID KILL!"
"Roger Roger!" The maid outfit droids reach for their rifles as blaster bolts start flying... yet they are halted and thrown to thr ground by Karr'roga's rage toss of one sneky snek. "Noooo! FOOL!"
Their Leuitenant Eviserated via Bryar by Yan, and another torn apart by a very angry and primal Barabell caused the remaining three to move towards cover. Gaz'e bolts streak past close, but hitting the walls of the Cantina instead. Bith, sluit, and Human cry out in fright and utter terror as a gun fight erupts in Cantina that never had such a horrible atmosphere before. Welcome to the new normal, SLAVES <3
Naia is slither sliding over the bartop and she nearly giggles at the sight. "DRESS!" Its a helpful warning for her before the others engage and Yan just flops to the floor like a fish out of water. Huh. She stares at him a moment and then just turns to look at those that face off with them. As two go down she arches a brow and shakes her head. "Tsk tsk.." she rumbles and the two stars she has out are thrown, both hit but that first one is like some miracle and the snake like creature sports a throwing star. She huffs out a breath and cackles.
"Looks better that way!" she declares and rolls her shoulders back with a smile on her lips. "Oh sorry, that hurt!" she can not help but look pleased as she has yet to take cover. In fact she's sorta scooting behind a stool...well. Girl could climb the bartop but that takes time and she is dispensing with the thrown pointy metal.
Sea's BLOOD. Naia skitters to the side as a body crashes down upon them from above, and droids go tumbling like empty cans. Kaavenn follows soon after, and she has to scoot even farther to the side, toward the Bith, but the corpse has most of her attention. The thing in front of her is a mangled mess---she makes a cursory check to see that it's dead, and when it twitches she even snatches up a bottle and bonks it in the neck area, but that's mostly reflexive because the damn thing doesn't have a /head/, and that's sort of an integral part of the whole living thing. Head tendrils flex in a manner that is probably meant to convey some sort of irritation, and those dark eyes narrow as she kicks the corpse away with one heel, ignoring the smear of blood and viscera and thicker things that it leaves behind on the floor. Not important. We are in action mode.
Action mode sucks.
There's a bith on her back. How is she just noticing this? Her tendrils flex around the shriveled baby shoulders that he's rocking, but eventually settle back down as they seem to realize that he is not a threat. Well. He's sort of a patient anyway, so she can't even be angry about it. She's going to need so many drinks though. So many. Karr'roga is going to have to /carry/ her home after this.
See, here's the problem. When you've got one arm and you're stuck crawling for cover, shooting isn't exactly the easiest thing to do. So for all two shots Yan took, he took them whilst faceplanting. His beautiful mug! It held tea and everything! "Sithspit, frackin..." he hissed, crawling under and then TIPPING OVER a table for further cover. "Liz, why are we in ANOTHER fight in ANOTHER bar?! There's a TREND here and it's all YOUR fault!"
The head in Karr'roga's hand still blinks, and the tongue wiggles to try and wrap around his wrist. Maybe that's why, when the giant Barabel lunges forward into the throng of bodies (to chase them out of cover) he misses. One swipe is so terrible it kicks the table to the side, the other so off-target some bystander finds their belly slashed open...and staring at their own innards as they fall to the floor with a PLOP.
In a rage, Karr'roga throws that torn off head at the bar to smash some bottles above the cowering crew. The third swipe? The blades on his gauntlets shave the air around the Sluis' head.
"Y'ok Gaz?" It only occurs to Kaavenn now he's just left her behind without throwing her to cover this time. Too long he's been working alone, though currently it's many different approaches to this going on. Kaav bounces up to make for the entrance. "Kriff this, I'm getting the rifle!" He announces this to the world, and Gaz in general. He fires off two quick shots in his unarmored retreat and slips on out to run for the Vulture. A few moments he is out of sight, there is more blaster shots, either he found more unhappy gangsters or his own issues.
Gaz huddles from behind a table as shots are fired, calling back, "Still alive!" She waits for the air to clear and pops up from over the edge of the table to fire off another trio of wild shots. Dropping back down, she hunkers in to wait out the coming storm of return fire.
Now Liz is using Naia's tenticals and reins like she were a horse. "Yeeeeehaww! Woah there Thiccccneess. Stay down, stay down!" To his droids, "Now get up your filthy machinations!" THe droids are starting to get up now, readying for an attack. THey'll be one more round. THe Sluis remaining continue to open fire on the SHadowportians.
Still not in cover, Eriu just stands there as she is ignored and starts to look miffed and indiginant. "WHAT AM I!? Chopped bantha?!" She declares this with a sudden rush of her breath. She pulls two more stars and whips them, both hitting the same star icorn from earlier but this time he's going down and she AH HAs! very loudly. "I GOT YOU!" A brilliant grin with perfect teeth paints her lips and dimples her cheeks as the corners of her mouth draw upwards.
Thats right. ITS HAPANING IN HERE! She is really trying to get to cover as she moves around the stools
Liz needn't have said anything at all to Naia, because she's not poking her head up until things get quiet. Even if there starts to be a lot of screaming, she's going to play roulette and throw bottles without looking because that's basically last-straw material right there. That's the act of a desperate woman, and she's not yet desperate. Except to have this situation wrapped up so that she can drink a whole bottle to herself. Needless to say, she's not about to pop up over the top of the bar like a freaking gopher, but she does scuttle to the edge to take a peek around because she can /hear/ Yan complaining and there's definitely something wrong with him. You know, even if it's only mentally. It still counts.
Finally behind a table and without having to shoot while moving, Yan was able to do something. He popped up, planted his wrist on the edge for support, aimed at the biggest guy he could and fired. Then he fired again. The two bolts from the Bryar slammed into the snekmen's torso, creating a crater bigger than the hole that was his shoulder and arm socket. "Seriously, WHO did you piss off this time?!"
The last Sluisi is unfortunate enough to be close to a Barabel in the middle of a killing-frenzy. This is a new thing for this particular Barabel, mind, and Karr'roga in this moment is not speaking; but releasing a cacophony of hisses and deep, guttural growls that rise and fall with each footstep to bring the killer closer to the would-be. To the mobster.
Before the Sluisi can get away after seeing his team obliterated, Karr'roga slams one foot down on that elongated tail and the large sickle-like talon stabs into the flesh - to keep The Prey from getting away. Before the creature can really emit any sort of pain, the Barabel grabs it from behind. Talons slide easily into the throat, like trying to grab warm butter, and with a wrenching twist that snake-like head pops off to roll over the floor leaving a trail of blood. The throat of the creature spurts a small fountain upwards and in his barbaric displeasure: Karr'roga heaves the corpse up, and then AT the bar. Because that is where Liz'diot is.
The ladies like their clothes and bodies covered in blood, right?
"I DON'T KNOW!" Liz shouts as he rides on Naia's back, peeking around as she does to see Yan behind his cover. As things calm down, the smoke lingures but the shooting stops, Liz crawls off the Nautolan and back to his chair, that one leg he's got left dragging behind him uselessly. "Well you killed them all... so we'll never know!" The droids are just getting back up now. Liz hovers over to his Namana Liquor and chugs it before throwing it at one of the B1 units. It smashes across he droid. "FETID machinations! Useless and clumbsy FOOLS!"
So they'll never know why these mobsters came to attack Liz in the middle of the day and a bar he just bought... or maybe that's a tale for another Day. "TURN THE MUSIC BACK ON!" The music started once more as a neon sign fell to the ground. There would be cleaning up to do... lots of cleaning up.
He has to /fight/ a little to get away from those tendrils, because they aren't in Naia's conscious control and they view him as part of the anatomy now. He signed up for this, after all. Eventually they relax though, and the little bith escapes from a tentacly embrace. Naia has a different problem now---she's seen that arm, and the little spots that she has in place of brows are furrowed in what can only be described as 'the face of a doctor who is about to embarrass you in front of your family'. Or something like it. "When exactly did /that/ happen?" Asks the nautolan, managing to salvage some of her dignity from where she'd dropped it on the floor. She stands and brushes off her skirt, and then proceeds around the bar like a woman who will not be prevented from examining a terrible crater of a wound. In a shoulder. Yan's shoulder. How dare he get injured and not make a call? The /audacity/.
With it all over, Yan slumped down against the back of the table, sweating from the fact that he had to exert himself. The Jacket was half off and pooled at one side while he fidgeted with holstering the Bryar. And then, there was EJ. Phew. There was a sight for sore eyes. He grasped his hand around wrist (more support) and pulled himself to his feet. "I swear, if I get into any more firefights whenever I try and get a drink I'm gonna think the universe is out to get me." Yes, you, Yan. Not everyone else. Did it have anything to do with his missing arm? Maybe, he got a bit smarter when he was missing it. But, it came with it's own downsides. "The pain's back," he mused, face frowning in annoyance. He glanced over to the Purp and asked, "When did what happen?" THE ARM, YOU IDIOT.
Karr'roga stares around as the fighting stops. The wriggling stops. Corpses are still oozing out fecal matter and blood, but the Barabel is slowly moving between those killed by blaster-fire; because ironically there's more there than what he had encountered. The mangled remains left.
Leaning down, the Sluisi that EJ killed is inspected, a taloned finger looking over the face, the body...and there's a growl - a violent smack of that large tail against a chair that sends it skittering away. "Nothing." Pockets searched, even the guns are looked over; before being hucked over one shoulder as useless. Because they are.
Slowly, Karr'roga turns himself around and moves to the bar. Thud. Thud. Thud. The footsteps grow closer, and the Barabel's rumbling can be felt in the eardrums more than properly heard. "They had no markersss. No contractssss. Just..." A dismissive wave, "...wannabessss."
The slitted pupils turn down to look at the doctor, watching her in that black dress flecked with gore. "You look nice." Sss-sss-sss.