Dark Moon Cadence

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Nar Shaddaa

Rimmer's Rest was a bust and Van-Derveld was stewing on her swoop bike while traversing the thick traffic of Corellian Sector on the Smuggler's Moon. The rain had come without warning, and now her black cloak was heavy with water, making her entire body cold and tired from steering the vehicle.

Artak'sil, her Twi'lek contact here on Nar Shaddaa, had been more then happy to work with the Rebel until Dasquian's name was mentioned. He was scared drenless with all the heat directed at the captured Rebel Spy. Due to all of the publicity that Minister Tagge had created, beings were scared of possible capture based upon trumped up charges of helping that terrorist. Tagge was favored of the new Empress and what Tarkin favored, loyal citizens favored and they would be more prone to turning in inquisitive ears.

Being disappointed was an understatement. Grace was on the edge of another breakdown, but she had to keep it together, especially here. This place was crawling with scoundrels and Bounty Hunters. One slip up and she could be sharing a cell next to Dasquian ...

She couldn't tell if the water running down her cheeks were due to the rain or tears. Perhaps it was better that way, but the stinging in her eyes made her wonder as she pulled the swoop into a parking pad next to the Orange Lady. Thanks to Madame Longstar of the Advisory Council, she was to meet a more receptive member of Corellia that may provide some Intel as to Dasquian's whereabouts. The Corellian representative felt terrible for denying the Operative a sanctioned mission to free her captured partner, but she was willing to do all she could off the record to see that the new Director of Rebel Intel would succeed in bringing Belargic back.

Dismounting her bike, she pulled at the tips of her piloting gloves and made her way up the stairs and into the bar ...

[Arya Ravenwing]

The Orange Lady was bright blue on the inside and liberally sprinkled with blue and white Twi'lek dancing girls. Arya was comfortably warm and dry despite the weather outside, and was engaging one of the dancers in a spirited conversation in Twi'leki.

Her hands flew in a complicated sign language - the closest beings without lekku could get to Twi'lek tchun-tchin signs. The dancer laughed uproariously, but meekly went back to dancing when her owner barked at her from across the room. Arya signed something rude, and the dancer giggled.

The owner shouted at her over the music, and she flipped him off, then pointedly put money down on the bar and bought another drink. He growled something she couldn't hear, and the smuggler proceeded to ignore him. The Orange Lady was in the Corellian sector, and the Corellian ale it served was genuine - not the watered down stuff you might find in other dives along the Rim.

Leaning back against the bar, she was putting her glass to her lips when someone passing by jiggled her arm. Arya spluttered as the frothy ale splashed down her front, and she shoved back without thinking, knocking the other person back. "Watch it!"

The being who'd run into her had long brown hair, and as Arya's nostrils flared with her surge of adrenaline she caught a familiar - but strange - scent. She stared at the other woman, her warm buzz fading a little at the expression on her face. "You owe me a drink," Arya stuck her chin out.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Grace caught herself upright by bringing an arm up to regain her balance. Otherwise she would have done a swan dive into the table behind her, causing more of a ruckus. She sloshed forward, not in the mindset to offer a retort. Arguing with one of the rabble here would only make her more conspicuous. The Spy needed to avoid that.

Steely eyes glared down at the unruly woman and slowly a hand went inside the damp inner pocket of her jacket. It had avoided much of the rain because of the cloak, but some of the weather had seeped through. She produced enough bills for two drinks and let them feather fall into the woman's lap.

[Arya Ravenwing]

Paper credits. Arya picked them up like they were diseased, but no matter how rare they were they would spend here. Nar Shaddaa took all sorts of currency, although the rates of exchange were sometimes ludicrous.

"Yeah, well, just watch where you're walking." The smuggler sniffed, and paused. She frowned and tried to get a closer look at the woman, but she was already turning away and pushing through the tables. Arya absently put the paper bills on the bar and ordered another drink - a double.

With drink in hand she snaked her way between tables and patrons and the raised platforms that held the dancers, trying to follow in the woman's footsteps but she'd disappeared in the crowd. Pausing in the middle of the room, Arya looked around, a frown on her face. Loklorien s'Ilancy had been the only other person she'd ever met with such a distinctive musky odor... a smell that seemed to have a color to her Lupine nose.

Where the frell did you go?

[Grace Van-Derveld]

The musky odor suddenly filled the Smuggler's nose once more but before she could react ...

"Why are you following me?" came the question directly behind Arya. Her voice was crisp and to the point.

Grace had been making her way towards the back of the bar when she caught the raven haired drunk in her peripherals. Leeandra had mentioned she'd be meeting a woman here at the bar. There wasn't much description to go by either, since this was one of Corellian's deep cover Agents who was between jobs. Leeandra couldn't go into details as to why her contact's face had been altered, and Grace certainly wasn't going to press the issue, so it was possible that this woman's inebriation was all an act. The other possibility wasn't as favorable; a random woman gaining an interest in her. She would have to ditch her quickly if that were the case ...

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya turned around slowly, her blue eyes half-lidded. "If I was following you, wouldn't I be behind you?" She swayed slightly. Was it possible that this woman was another Lupine? How to tell?

How to ask?

The smuggler concentrated for a moment, causing her eyes to change to a golden yellow but holding back the rest of the Change. Surely the woman would do something, say something in recognition.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

There were many things in this galaxy that were of the bizarre and beautiful, and having flown from one edge of it to the next, not many things could catch the Spy by surprise. Not even this shift of events ...

This patron was near human, but an alien of some kind by the change of color in her iris. Nothing came to mind as to which race could alter their eye color based upon their mood, which was her best guess as to what was occurring right now. She was clearly agitated.

Grace responded to the question coldly. "You were and now you're not. What do you want?"

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya squinched her face, one eye narrowing while the other remained open wide. "What do you want?" She was, perhaps, a little too drunk for witty verbal repartee.

Shaking her head lightly, she added, "I mean, you jus' looked familiar. Sorry, my ...mistake."

[Grace Van-Derveld]

She pursed her lips and wasn't sure what to think. Grace smelled the alcohol, but that didn't necessarily mean this woman was drunk. The smell alone made for a wonderful cover story.

Or it was just simply random bad luck that the Rebel spilled this woman's drink. Still, she couldn't shake an odd sense of urgency from her.

"I get that a lot," Grace said softly. "No harm done."

The Spy lifted her head and looked back at the empty seat the woman had vacated. No one had claimed it and no one around there seemed to care she had gone missing. "Were you looking for someone?"

[Arya Ravenwing]

"Yes," she said, before she could clamp her mouth shut. Arya smiled, too brightly. "Everyone's always looking for someone," she added as an afterthought. Not looking for trouble - what the frell had she been thinking following this human around?

Despite her soft words, the woman smelled tense, and her energy was making Arya feel tense as well. She turned her head a little to the side, her neck exposed a little more in a more submissive stance. No trouble, don't want no trouble.

Just want to meet my contact and pick up my cargo. Frelling smells. Ever since meeting another of her kind, she'd been keeping an eye open for others. And now she'd found one and she was drunk and mucking it up badly.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Perhaps she was, just, drunk. The woman was beaming her pearly whites and there was just enough sway to her stance to make Grace think that. And that answer! It almost sounded like a bad pick up line.

"Well, true," she said, offering a small curl to her lips that she was not offended. "Enjoy the rest of the night."

There wasn't much room to move past the woman without brushing shoulders. The bar had filled up even more in such a short time.

[Arya Ravenwing]

The woman brushed past her, and Arya turned slowly to watch her walk away. She made no move to follow her.

After a moment she turned back and headed towards the bar, only to find that her stool had been taken and there was a line for drinks. Frustrated, Arya stalked off towards the refreshers in the back of the bar.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Grace found a free booth at the back of the bar and took pause. With how quickly this place had filled up, this scenario was unlikely. That meant her contact was here for this was too coincidental.

She slid into the booth and kept her mind alert and eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. However, it didn't take too long for a dishwater blonde smuggler to plopped down across from her with two ales in hand.

"So I've heard you've got a problem I might be able ta help ya with?" she said before diving into her ale. Grace couldn't place the face for obvious reasons, but the voice was familiar.

"Did you happen to hear what the problem is?" If this Rebel was going to flake on her like the others when Dasquian's name was mentioned, this was a pointless conversation.

She smacked her lips and set down her frosted mug. "Yeah, the Boss Lady did. I'm just not sure how we can really pull this off ..."

[Arya Ravenwing]

There was a line for the refreshers too. Arya growled and managed not to stomp her foot in frustration. Turning her head to the side she caught sight of Smelly in a booth. She was deep in conversation with a dirty blonde (that's what he said, haha) smuggler that Arya had seen around a few times in the Corellian Sector. No name to put to the face, though.

The Lupine burped, and turned away back to the bar, and ran straight into the chest of a very large and very drunk Corellian pilot. He pushed her away, and she punched him in the gut before she had a chance to think about it.

And then, it was on. His friend reached over the doubled up pilot, grabbing Arya's hair and yanking her to the side. She grabbed his arm, relieving the pain in her scalp, and used it to pull her body up, kicking Goon Two in the chest. He released her abruptly, suddenly gasping for air.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

"The only information I have to go on are the markings on that transport. Something so innocent usually," she said and then took a sip of ale to calm her nerves. Normally Grace protrayed herself as someone with skin as thick as a rancor's, but it was obvious that her partner's captured had shaken her cool exterior.

The Agent across from her grew visibly sympathetic, but managed a sly grin. "I'll check it out and see what I can dig up on big D."

Grace's lip fell into an appreciative smile and rolled her eyes at that horrible code used for Dasquian. "Thank you." It was obvious that she was exhausted from one failure after another, there were two pairs of baggage under her eyes from the lack of sleep, but now she was finally getting somewhere.

"Well, I owe Lee a favor so ...Huh ..." Her attention waffled back and forth until she couldn't ignore the scuffle that had broke out near them. Grace soon joined in watching and shook her head when she recognized the woman who was part of it.

The Agent stole a glance at the brunette and motioned to the fight with a causal shift of her neck. "Know them?"

"No, not really," she answered over the rim of her ale. "Just the woman thought she knew me but was, is, drunk."

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya chopped a drunk Corellian in the neck, on the side so as not to permanently disable him. She might be drunk, but this was just a bar fight - no need to kill anyone.

Not yet, anyway. She ducked under a wild punch, letting the guy behind her take it on the chin, and barreled into the puncher, slamming him into some tables behind him. "Ha!" Arya shouted, and then her eyes widened as another pilot swung at her.

His fist landed square on her nose and there was a loud crunch that reverberated in her head as she stumbled backwards and right into someone's booth. Arya grabbed at her bleeding nose, fumbling for traction and accidentally shoving the drinks off the table and onto the floor.

"Arrrgh!" She put both feet up, leaning against the person in the booth behind her as she kicked another attacker off of her.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

And Grace just happened to be that person and was shoved hard into the booth. Arya's reappearance had taken the Rebel by surprise. Ribs brushed against the edge of the table and it hurt. It hurt a lot.

"What what the frack you're doing!" She shouldered Arya in the back with enough force to move her off the cushion. Unfortunately, a bad move since the fist that had been coming for the scoundrel found its mark between Grace's eyes.

Stars exploded and she fell back in the booth, while her Corellian friend grabbed a half finished ale bottle to crack over the pilot's head.

[Arya Ravenwing]

Blood was gushing down her face, and Arya spluttered as the occupant of the booth she'd found herself in elbowed her in the back or something. Lurching forward and onto the floor, she felt a modicum of satisfaction as the guy she'd kicked away came back with his fists flying and punched the person in the booth.

Frack, it was that woman! Arya wiped at the blood dripping off her chin, wiping her hands on someone else who was on the ground, unconscious. A moment of peace was bought when the musky woman's companion knocked the guy out with a bottle, and the smuggler used it to painfully realign the cartilage of her nose. Then she jumped to her feet and grabbed a chair, slamming it into another brawler who was nearby, crushing the big man to the ground with surprising strength.

He moaned and wiggled, but she was already moving on, ducking another punch and kneeing a drunk human in the groin.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Scenery around the Rebel had exploded into a brilliant white light. Eventually small stars blinked in and out of sight, filling in the blank slate with the ceiling above. Her head and neck tingled, like a limb waking up from a sound sleep. Then realization came.

Some mother frelling drenhole had punched her in the face!

Grace was not a person that was quick to anger. She was normally a quiet storm, brooding, and willing to lash out with a serpentine tongue then allowing her primal urges to get the best of her. It had happened once recently, with Kazaar - but the smug jerk had pushed all the right buttons, namely Belargic, to get a rile out of her.

With Dasquian gone, her partner, her rock, her ... Well, it didn't matter. He was captured and there wasn't a bloody damn thing she could do about it until this bar fight was over!

"Hey!!" The Corellian contact had just cracked a Bith in the face with her boot. The Spy didn't remember how her ally had gotten on top of the table. "'Bout time you woke up! You're missing all the fun!!"

Grace watched her dive off the table and tackle some poor human slob into the ground. Corellians. Can't take them anywhere.

While her contact was off wrestling, Grace had removed herself from the booth with a scowl, waiting for the first opportunity to come her way. And it did, in the form of a wild swinging Rodian that was taking pot shots at patrons. A punch there, a kick there, a glass smashed against someone's head ... He had gone unnoticed, until now.

She grabbed the Rodian so roughly by collar that he gasped audibly. He was swung around to face the Rebel and one crack across the face with her left hook said hello, which was followed by a headbutt. Grace then snatched his arm and perfectly executed an arm bar take down, forcing his scrawny head to crash into the table booth.