Yon the Butcher

[Yon the Butcher]

"Not so fast, meat-bag."

Distorted by the comm relay build into Yon's mask, the voice echoed strangely around the dim and darkened room. Though diminutive in side, Yon Trill cut an imposing figure, wrapped in head to toe with an armour-plated pressure suit that bore scuffs, and scars, and stains of blood. A deck plate clanked as Yon advanced a step, hands poised and ready at his sides, pincered fingers clicking together in anticipation. All of Yon's years, all of his experience and training, all his skill and knowledge had converged upon this one moment. Lawman, Findsman, hunter of beasts and of bounties; Yon was many things, and had been many things. Now though, only one thing mattered. Yon the Butcher was his now, and he would not allow his quarry to escape.

Yon saw a shift of movement in the shadows, and pounced with starting speed. A set of insectoid claws reached out and wrapped around the worn and weary fabric of the canvas sack, a chorus of frantic squeaks and screeches erupting from within. Yon used his body to pin the sack of raw meat in place - extremely raw, as was the Cizerack preference - before the produce was hoisted over Yon's shoulder, and slung across Yon's back.

"Yon told you, meat-bag," the Gand spoke. Something about the vocal distortion gave Yon's voice more depth and gravitas than one might expect from the usually thin and click-plagued voice of a Gand, and despite the featureless faceplate and the featureless face that lay beneath, Yon still managed to look satisfied and smug. A bump of Yon's pressure suit nudging against the squirm-filled sack as Yon began to walk, trudging Yon's way out from the storage room to the rear of Yon's shop. "Dead or aliive, you're coming with me."

There was a jovial gate to Yon's steps as the Gand emerged into the shop proper: the finishing touches were still being put in place, but the most benevolent and generous Yon the Butcher wasn't about to allow such trivialities to stop Yon from delivering Yon's meat to those who deserved it. There was a rattle as Yon's exoskeletal shell sucked in the precious gases that Yon needed to survive, the environmental systems pumping a replacement for the small volume that the Gand had just consumed. There was a certain satisfaction in the way Yon stood for a moment, surveying the decorations that the Cizerack were expediently putting in place. It was not ostentatious, not complex: a simple shop for a simple Gand. Yon's mouthparts clicked as Yon's vision settled upon the signage that the Cizerack were carefully installing in place.


YON'S SHOP
Fine and Exotic Meats
Smell My Greatness!

This was it. This was the beginning of the next stage in Yon's great journey. With satisfaction and glee, Yon waddled over to the Cizerack workers, and dumped the meat-sack unceremoniously on the ground amongst them. "Yon promised sustenance for Yon's workers," Yon announced, waving a clawed hand towards the offering he had delivered, "And Yon is a Gand of Yon's word."

[Narssiska Vraska]

The shop was hardly impressive in itself, but it had no need to be. It was a butchery, a place to acquire meet. It served a function, and the function would attract clientele in itself. Her own business was built on the extravagant and flash, with the teasing of flesh, food, and a good time necessary to even get patrons to come inside the walls of a place they all considered, even the regulars, to be a pit of sin. Hardly a pit, she corrected herself. She went to great pains to make sure the Shatterstar was a shining beacon of culture and sophistication. Despite what the locals may think takes place inside the walls the operation takes place completely within the limits of the law. Hopefully Yon ran his shop within similar boundaries.

Stepping through the doorway and into the shop Narssiska regarded the Cizerack workers and the handiwork they were finishing up. Green, shiny scales covered by black silk and lace, she looked more a benevolent matron than the local flesh merchant. She was careful where she stepped, swishing the folds of her dress between and over the discarded tools and construction tools. Even without the Cizerack there to make the proprietor stand out, Narssiska was already well informed on the subject. She prided herself in being not just a smut peddler but also a peddler of information. The value of a gilded breast was small in comparison to the value of information. She heard that Yon was a Gand, and you simply had to look for the exosuit.

"Good day Masster Yon." She had to speak up to be heard over the squeaking of live rodents that the Cizerack workers were indulging themselves with. "I do apologize if you sshop iss not fully operational yet. I wisshed to ssee what manner of exotic meatss you have or will have for ssale."

[Yon the Butcher]

A customer!

Yon's shop was unready, but that did not mean that Yon was unready. Oh no. It would be cold and gasless day on Gand before anyone caught the great Yon the Butcher unawares. They did not call Yon as Yon the Unready, after all. Yon was Yon the Butcher, and if butchering was to be done, Yon would be prepared.

The Cizerack fitters and mechanics occupied with their leporine work-snacks, Yon turned himself away from the satisfyingly bloody scene - nothing pleased Yon more than watching sentients relishing his fine meats with gusto - and waddled in the direction of the new arrival. Behind Yon's mask, Yon's compound eyes studied the woman who had entered: the wavelengths from her flesh coverings matched with what many sentients called green, and the scales led Yon to suspect that some sort of reptiloid had attracted Yon's attention. While the specific variety of reptilian was not immediately apparent to Yon, in this situation it seemed to matter little: barring some unfortunate circumstance, Yon would not need to carve the arrival into her constituent parts and distribute them to Yon's customers, and so Yon would have no need to ever say to anyone what kind of meat Yon was selling.

"Yon has many!" Yon replied enthusiastically. There was something about the mouthpiece and the glow from the ocular receptors on Yon's exosuit that, orientated a particular way, Yon appeared to be the most jolly and jovial being to have ever graced the galaxy. Yon's clawed hands found a place to rest in the nook between the exosuit chest and exosuit legs, further amplifying the happy appearance. There was an enthusiastic slurp of gas absorption that snuck out through the suit's vocabulator, before the Gand spoke again.

"Yon is aware that many species are make home on this station, so Yon is preparing for many tastings! Yon is having all the normal flesh, from nerf and bantha and nuna and such, but Yon is also having has amphibian flesh from the swamps of Naboo, fish flesh from the seas of the Calamari sector, lizard flesh from the Dune Sea of Tatooine - even fungus flesh from Xagobah! Yon knows that not all sentients like blood meats, so Yon tries Yon's hardest to cater for all."

A furtive glance was quickly cast in each direction, Yon's voice reducing in volume to the level of a conspiratorial whisper. "Yon also knows many hunters. If Yon's customers are asking of Yon for special meats, Yon is -"

The Gand hesitated, trying to recall the specific phrasing that Yon had heard many of the denizens of the broader galaxy use. "Yon is knowing a guy, yes?"

Yon's voice returned to normal, the Butcher's posture returning to a typical constantly pleased state. "In truth, Yon is knowing many guys. Yon is having many friends, in many, many places."

[Narssiska Vraska]

"I will bare that in mind." Vraska replied minimally. To acknowledge his whispered statement more would be to recognize him as competitor of, as he put it, knowing a guy. A part of the information trade that she was heavily invested into. She liked to think she had carved out a niche in the information market here on Jovan, and the idea of a Gand posing competition was a dark thought indeed. They had a reputation for efficient brutality; although it was hard to imagine looking at this one. Between his cumbersome exosuit and wheezing it was difficult to picture the likes of Yon posing a threat to anything not made of pasty and wrapped in chocolate.

"What of live meat? Will you be carrying anything different than the sstandard Cizerack variety? I am alsso looking for inssect meat. Preferably live but fresshly dead will do."

[Yon the Butcher]

"Hmm."

Yon was not aware of the meaning of that particular word, but it was one that Yon had heard humans and other races utter with much frequency, when they were attempting to demonstrate that thoughts were occurring. Yon did not need such a delay, because Yon knew from memory all of the meats that Yon had available for purchase and for special order; but Yon had learned that other beings preferred it when Yon seemed fallible instead of possessing a perfect recall.

As a Gand, some might have expected Yon to be uncomfortable at the prospect of insect meats. After all, such creatures did have considerable similarities with Gand. If anyone ever suggested as much, Yon always explained that the Gand were as much insects as other species were mammals. The Cizerack were not squeamish about consuming rodent creatures, and so Yon was not squeamish about providing the flesh of six-legged invertebrates to his customers. Indeed, insects were an abundant source of protein, and many of the nutritional pastes that Yon consumed through Yon's suit were based on such creatures.

"Yon is having many suppliers," the Gand offered sagely, "And many customers. Yon is providing for the tastes and needs of all of them. Yon is easily obtaining small living creatures from many worlds in Alliance space, and Yon is buying steaks and prime cuts from large creatures from both sides of the border. Yon is recently buying kimogila flesh from Yon's contact on Lok, and Yon is knowing a hunter who supplies kretch, acklay, and many other insect meats."

Yon cocked his head to the side thoughtfully.

"What kind of meats is Vraska seeking? If Vraska is asking, Yon will find."