D'Qar


The sign above the heavy double doors read Ordnance Bay AA4 (Ordnance Bay AA4). It was structurally identical to the five other Ordnance magazine facilities within the subterranean warrens of Resistance Base Cresh. Each magazine was separated from the other by ten meters of earth, and a half meter of durasteel reinforcement for good measure. Each contained an isolated fire suppression system and extra-robust blast doors, designed to contain the worst should it ever come to that. In the event of an enemy attack or even something as small as negligence, the bay could be sealed to prevent an explosive cascade from doing serious harm to the rest of the base.

The thing that made Ordnance Bay AA4 different from the rest was that, presently, the Resistance didn't have enough bombs and missiles lying about to warrant filling up all six of the cavernous magazines. That led to AA4 remaining empty and idle. And just as all schoolchildren know well and good, an idle ordnance bay becomes the devil's warehouse.

Of course, with such ludicrous levels of armor surrounding the magazine, AA4 swallowed even the loudest of sounds from within it's cavernous space. The only hint of it's true nature was the strand of Life Day lights hung around the perimeter of the blast door - a signal that something different was going on within.


Ham Warchenzbellsig was presently in some kind of state of being. His full cheeks had the flush of merriment where they weren't shrouded by his beard. He glanced to his left and right, nodding his head to the rhythmic pounding of fists against a table made of a reclaimed wooden barn door. There was something almost religious about this sacrament, like he'd stumbled on one of those Wookiee Good News shindigs where everyone sang nonsense and danced with a snake. At least that's what he'd heard once. A hazy patina of stim smoke hung overhead, not staying long before being sucked up into the high vents.

bang bang

"HOO!"

bang bang

"HAA!"

The table shook from the fist pounding, and it would have proved to be a real impediment to having a beverage rest peacefully. Fortunately, none of the dozen or so lads and ladies used the table for it's obvious purpose. It was a gavel for their strange tribal music. Each in attendance knew the rules. One hand for the cadence...

...the other hand for keeping one's pint of ale firmly affixed to the top of their heads. If any shameful soul were to spill a drop onto their person or elsewhere, then they had to down everything that remained in their glass in one go.

bang bang

"HOO!"

bang bang

"HAA!"

Ham's face buoyed up with a jester's grin. It was time for a new round.

"I've been to Coruscant!
I've been to Jakku!
I can name every race
That I would take a shag to!"

bang bang

"Twi'leks!"

The boasting circle passed to Ham's left, to Cadet Hoiyen.

bang bang

"Togruta!"

bang bang

All eyes went to the left of Hoiyen, to the next participant in the baudy charade.