Bladeseeker [Complete]

[Atretes Rhoujen]

The glass hit the small table like a ton of bricks. He poured some more, and took another gulp. He watched from the lounge directly to the cockpit where he watched the vortex of blue like some drunk stoner trip. Why was he acting so miserable? Did he lose a loved one? Was he a wanted man? No. No, that wasn't it. The entire time he'd been journeying through space, he'd made it a point to avoid Nar Shadaa at all costs... but now he was out of options. The navicomputer was set for Nar Shadaa, and he was making the best of it.

The alarm began to sound, so Artamis put the bottle back in the little fridge along with the glass and stood up shakily. He'd been drinking the entire two-or-three-hour long voyage, so it was only natural for him to be... stumbly. He got to the cockpit and sat in his seat, flicking switches and preparing to leave hyperspace. He'd been piloting long enough that the procedure was routine and didn't require him to think too hard.

As soon as he was out of hyperspace, a voice in some language came blaring through the speakers. Artamis' sensitive ears might have bled then, and he looked at the screen that translated whatever moon-speak that was into Basic. It roughly translated into "Halt. What is intention. State immediately." Artamis lofted a brow at the basic grammar, even after being translated by a computer.

"Uhm ere fu-" he cut himself off, shook the alcohol out of his tongue, and tried again, "I'm 'ere fer bus'nis." not as bad... less slurry. He reminded himself of Luna, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. There was a long moment of silence, before the ear-bleeding voice came back and the translated text read, "Checks out. Land Docking Bay 78-C. Follow route." Artamis nodded though the person could not see and closed the channel. He followed the approach vector and safely landed at DB78-C. He took the remote to the ship with him and tucked it inside his jacket, in a pocket for his armour. Between the padding and the fabric, and then sealed back up, it was well hidden. He exited the ship and remotely locked it up, which synchronised any further commands to the remote unless an extensive manual override was engaged. If any basic ship-thief tried it, they'd give up in a heartbeat.

Artamis shot glances around, still a bit gimpy from the alcohol, and noted there was no port authority or similar figurehead. He shrugged and walked along the catwalk from the landing pad to the terminal. "So far, so good..." he thought to himself, his mind becoming less fuzzy in light of almost certain danger. If not no other reason, he avoided Nar Shadaa because of the underground wars of thieves, bounty hunters, Hutts... he didn't want to get involved. Being on Nar Shadaa was one of the best ways to get yourself involved.

He walked past a map holoterminal, but shot it a glance to find out where a local cantina or similar hive was located. To stop and stare was one of the best ways to mark yourself as a fresh outsider, so he avoided such a slip. He felt constantly watched though the area appeared devoid of suspicious activity. Just people going about their usual business, whatever that was. Eventually he saw an animated holosign of a stripper (oh sorry, Female Entertainer or some other silliness), and headed that way. He slipped in behind another patron, and halted just inside, and to the side of the door, to get his bearings.

The cantina was half strip club and half pub. The strip club area had the speakers and thus the louder music. It had half- and completely-naked women of various races, and the lighting was dimmer and of primary colours. It was for the carnally stimulating scene, and a lot of really young and really old men (and a few women) were over on that side. It was more of a club, where people go to forget or enjoy themselves. On the other side of the bar, the seating was less naked and more open. The tables were arranged like almost every other cantina he'd ever been in, and the drinks served were the whiskeys and ales he was used to, not the liquors and cocktails on the strip club side.

Part of him knew that going to the strip club side would make him appear common, but wouldn't further his advances toward getting his sword. The other side would make a twenty-three-year-old stand out, but would definitely net him the information he needed. In the end, necessity won out over concealment and he grabbed a corner table in the pub side of the corner club.

[Atretes Rhoujen]

"I see, so it won't be as easy as I'd hoped..." Artamis sighed. He'd just finished a lengthy conversation with a helpful Rodian... at a price, of course. Everything on Nar Shadaa had a price, even a simple "Where can I buy a custom vibrosword?". That raised a few more questions than answers, but after assuring people that he wasn't an assassin, the Rodian at least was willing to help. After a few more exchanges of words, Artamis tossed the Rodian a couple more credits to keep his mouth shut and took his leave.

The route he'd been given was more treacherous than he'd have liked. He had to get through the thief-ridden commerce district, then he had to pass a security check because of some kind of proximity to a local crime lord. After that, he had to be careful not to step on anyone's toes or enter any restricted sections, and finally he'd be in the more upper-class market where the bounty hunters and assassins get their custom gear made. Sometimes military even show up there, so to his understanding it was a relatively secure place. It would make for more of a journey than he'd have liked and he'd be spending the better part of a day on Nar Shadaa. Certainly not his idea of fun. More like FUN!...

So the journey began. He slipped out of the corner club and glanced both ways before entering the street. His guard was up, and he had to keep from facing any noise that skittered within his audible range. He walked alone, and the few people on the same path as him were all minding their own business. He found this rather pleasant - or at least as pleasant as one could find Nar Shadaa. As he passed the terminal that divided this traveler quarter from the lower class market, he felt a chill crawl over his skin. It was like some kind of warning, but he just attributed it to a draft.

As he entered the market, he was pinned by some nasty-looking brutes. They were of mixed race, and there were about five of them. Their breath reeked but their physiques demanded obedience. At least, they would have for most people. Artamis felt a familiar itch in his mind and a tensing in his core at the unwarranted, violent physical contact. His deep violet eyes gained a lighter glimmer.

"Give us your valuables, pretty boy, or we'll have to strip you down." the apparent leader said, his crooked teeth showing just behind his thin lips. Artamis was silent, and raised a brow at the man who spoke.

"A strong, silent type eh? They're always the most fun. Loot 'im, boys." the man said. The next flurry was quick, but clumsy. Artamis twisted his way out of their collective grasp and kneed one square in the scrotum. The opening left allowed the writhing man to be ignored and gave Artamis the chance to redirect his focus. He blocked a jab but failed to block a hook that knocked the breath out of him. He wheezed, but the flame in his eyes grew brighter. He regained his breath in time for the thugs to realise an opening, and the grabbing hands found purchase on air. Artamis kicked one square in the back, who tumbled over a couple of others. He looked from them to their supposed leader.

"I don't have time for this." he muttered, drawing both blasters and aiming for the leader.

"W-wait, now let's not be hasty!" the man said, reaching for a blaster tucked in the back of his pants.

"I don't have time to waste," Artamis said before loosing two blaster bolts into the man -- one through the chest and one that missed the head and whizzed into the distance before losing integrity and fizzling away, "I have to be hasty." he finished and reholstered his blasters. Most of the thugs left with the head of the snake chopped off, another went to see if the leader was dead, and a third attacked. Artamis stepped to the side of the large human's lunging punch, and the man crashed into a market stall. All eyes were on the fight, and Artamis glanced across the area before continuing on his path. Those idiots had wasted enough time, and Artamis was in a hurry to be off-world.

Still, his first kill... he didn't dwell on it. If he focused on the taking of a life, he wouldn't hear the end of it from his conscience. His step faltered as bile rose in his throat. He choked it down and continued his brisk pace. He could be sick later.

[Atretes Rhoujen]

As he progressed through the market, Artamis noted that people kept a fair distance from him after he defeated the five brutes and killed the leader of the quintet. He wondered if they were of higher profile than he'd anticipated, since their defeat made others avoid him. He hoped this wouldn't cause any further complications, as he was still in a bit of a hurry to be off-world.

He finally got to the other end of the plaza, and pressed a button on the door. It opened and revealed brightly-lit, narrow corridors with a door reading "RESTRICTED ACCESS" at almost every junction. It was irritating, but he followed the winding, unrestricted path. Then came a door with a notice.

"CHECKPOINT AHEAD. PREPARE FOR SEARCH." it said.

He wasn't sure what that meant, but he pressed on. Through the door was a wider corridor with defense turrets and a small gang of Gran and Trandoshans. They watched Artamis carefully as he approached, then one spoke loudly at him in an alien tongue. He looked up at a monitor that translated into different languages, one being basic.

"Remove your weapons and place them in the bin." the Gran said. A bin rose from the floor, with an opening on the top. With little other option, he placed his blasters, stun baton, and six boot shivs into the bin. The contents were sent down pneumatic tubes and were dispensed on the other side of the checkpoint. The bin lowered back into the floor. They inspected the equipment and the Gran spoke again.

"You are cleared to enter. Proceed through the gate and your weapons will be returned. Do not use them." was what the monitor said. Artamis complied. He passed through the gate, retrieved his gear and put it all back in its place, and moved on. The guards watched him go then returned to their watchful duty.

"That was tense..." Artamis mused. It went well, certainly, but he could have been shot at any moment. With that trial behind him, he made his way through the next complex of twisting halls to the high-class, heavily guarded marketplace.

[Atretes Rhoujen]

The continued voyage was uneventful. More restricted corridors, more winding paths, and a quick scan to make sure his weapons were scanned at the checkpoint before he was allowed into the private markets. The atmosphere here jostled Artamis' guard.

Where the normally bustling and dirty environment that was Nar Shadaa ended, this area began. it was cleaner, guarded, and didn't reek of sex, drugs, and gods know what else. In fact, the background hum of the area suggested the local air was filtered. He noted that Hutts take care of their clients at least more than the rest of Nar Shadaa, then set out to find the arms dealer he sought. He wandered through the market, the merchants watching him walk past but not saying a word. Anyone here was quickly doing business then being on their way. they knew what they wanted and from where, so there was no shouting competition or jostling attention. Strict, clean business.

No thieves, either. A shifty-looking Twi'Lek got thrown off the footpath balcony into the abyss as soon as he entered the market. Strict security, alright.

Artamis found what he was looking for. An established building called "Poorma's Arms", with a sign depicting an impoverished fellow holding his severed arm in his hand. A joke of bad taste, but admiring sign art wasn't Artamis' purpose here. He entered the building and immediately set off an alarm. It ceased and a scraggly looking Jawa came around the corner, along with  droid. The Jawa stared at Artamis, who stared in kind, until the Jawa babbled something.

"Please excuse the alarm, I make it a point to make sure I'm not being hunted." the droid translated. Then the Jawa went back into the building, followed by the droid. Artamis blinked, then followed as well. Business as usual, right? Artamis pulled out his drawing and slipped it to the Jawa.

[IMAGE REDACTED. Reason: Katana now shown in sig.]

"I need this blade made. I also want to know what kind of special modifications you can do." he said. The Jawa looked at the design, then to Artamis, and blathered something else in rapid-fire Jawa-speak.

"A custom vibro? Expensive. custom upgrades... cortosis blade most popular, but I have a long list. Look at wall." the droid says, before the Jawa looks at it like it's broken and starts tinkering with the vocabulator and its broken grammar.

Artamis did so while the Jawa was busy at work, and was amazed at the list of things that could be done to the vibroblade. He wrote a list and attached it to the drawing. The Jawa nodded wordlessly and got to work.

The cortosis was the most expensive, but Artamis got the feeling it would be useful. He also got an energy projector to add more versatility to the blade, and a stronger vibration cell. There was also an "edge fibre upgrade" that made the blade never need sharpening. It was a bit excessive, but the young man felt that the blade would more than pay for itself with time. It wasted away almost all of his funds, however.

A few hours pass, and the Jawa squeaks a call out to get Artamis out of his daydreaming. The young man snaps to and see the shiny sheathed vibroblade set out nearby atop a cloth. There's a cleaning and maintenance kit right next to it, which Artamis pockets in one of his many cargo pockets. He thanks the Jawa, who nods while tinkering, and then sets off on his way back to the Morvak.

[Atretes Rhoujen]

As Artamis made his way back through Nar Shadaa, he encountered little to no excitement. H made it back through the checkpoint, where nobody cared that he was leaving Hutt-sanctioned areas, and let him go on his way. Back through the markets, nobody bothered him after his display and his new sword slung to his hip, and through the docking facility there was no hitch.

He re-entered the Morvak and got in the cockpit, closed everything up, and flew away. His business on Nar Shadaa was done, and he was happy for that.

[Sponsored content]