Log:Down in the Underground

When an earthquake-like tremor shakes the Corellian District of Nar Shaddaa, rumors bring circulating that the cause was a Catalyst Core explosion far, far below. Daring treasure hunters brave the lawless and darkened streets of Ko Hentota following a lead that a man named Ol'Pickery may have more information. But the bowels of Nar Shaddaa is one of the most dangerous places in the galaxy and those seeking what doesn't want to be found may get more than they bargained for.

Next Log: Hard Rain's a-Gonna Fall

Down in the Underground

OOC Date: April 16, 2023
Location: Ko Hentota District, Nar Shaddaa
Participants: Maelstrom, Colo Nell, Kael Greystorm, Rieve Silkie, Amal Ja

{(X< The Night Market - Ko Hentota District, Nar Shaddaa >{(X)}-{(X)}-{(X)}-{(

The Night Market is somewhat misleadingly named as it i open all hours. When it was first established, it only operated under cover of darkness. The reason for this was to accommodate the illegal nature of its merchandise and the need for such dealings to be done in the shadows. That isn't to say such shady dealings do not still occur. They absolutely do. However, there is also a day market that leans towards less illegal, but no closer to legit, retail.

Held under a patchwork of mismatched tents hung with colorful fluttering flags and other bright, mismatched decor, this vast bazaar still serves as a reliable source of anything the various laws don't want you to buy. Some of its illegal wares are available semi-openly from shady characters with stalls that are quick to pack up and run. Other items require asking the right questions of the right people at the right time.

The Night Market sells food, weapons, clothing, tech, furnishings, entertainment, fortune-telling, accessories, and a thousand other options to part a buyer with their chits. Nothing is regulated here. Scammers and pickpockets roam free and retribution for those caught is as swift as a blaster shot, but that doesn't deter the ever-present crowds who come to participate in this unconventional commerce.

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-- Maelstrom --

Ko Hentota is not a place to take lightly. Of all the hovels of Nar Shaddaa, this district below all districts is the worst of them. The air is thick with a stench of smoke, sewage, and industrial run-off. The streets are always damp and slimy with residue of terrible living conditions and the buildings have a permanent coating of particulate. It is a truly lawless ecosystem where the big feast upon the small and, in turn, the heaving masses swarm to feast upon the big. Round and round it goes; the struggle for life and survival in this urban hell.

Nothing is safe, nothing is sacred. It is all up for grabs. Quite literally. So to come down here seeking someone or something can mean only one of two things: desperation or opportunity. And what better place to start than the infamous Night Market? This bazaar is a tangled mess of booths, stalls, and carts that is never in the same configuration twice. A maze of narrow walkways that zig and zag with no concept of form or function. The crowd here is dense; a throng of undesirables and opportunists alike who navigate this large, claustrophobic plaza with the unified movements of a swarm of rats.

Vendors call out, trying to draw attention to their wares and services, their voices often hoarse and broken from inhaling the toxic fumes that pass for air down here. There are displays of questionable meats so salted they are crystalized, a stall of clearly stolen technology some of which appears to be broken, mismatched clothing hanging on lop-sided racks that were looted off who-knows-what, and countless other sights and smells and horrible sounds.

Anything one is looking for, good or bad, can be found here with the right motivation and skills. Including information. That is what has brought this group together today. Rumors of a Catalyst Core explosion that rocked the upper districts and the search for one man who may have the lead. A gent by the name Ol'Pickery. It's all they have to go on.

-- Colo Nell --

Dressing down's the easiest way to fit in, but it still makes Colo feel icky, sticky, and a little thick-y about the lungs. Rather than his usual garb, he's chosen to go for slum-scraps from his half-collared jacket to the ratty shirt and natty trousers below. That he's not wearing a filter-breather and is, in fact, joining in on the cigarra plume-creation in the district just means he's doing his level best to fit in while avoiding losing all perks of creation.

The Corellian slithers in amongst his people. That is, the ones with a poor head for probability, but an addiction to seeing its results. For a good twenty minutes, the clicker-clack of chance cubes in all their glory sound off and through it all he makes idle conversation about the explosions, about Slippery Wicket, about Ol'Pickery. When he has his lead, he conveniently loses enough to pay for several nights' meals for the poor sentients and gets on his way before he 'loses' more.

-- Kael Greystorm --

Kael doesn't come down to the Night Market often but when he does... He's usually looking for somebody although this time it's not a normal guild hunt. A sigh escapes his lips as he just looks over the throngs of people. "I suppose the best start is to just start..." His gaze quickly sweeps across the the market again before he starts to ask some leading questions until... "Yeah that sounds about right." The older man sighs a bit as he mutters under his breath then he points towards Watcher's Alley, "Over there looks likely to be a good stepping stone for the search."

-- Rieve Selki --

Rieve once made the mistake of coming down here without a mask, and now? Well he's clad in scout armour, fully sealed helm, nightvision making up for his disastrously bad ability to cope in anything but bright sunlight. And sealed? Oh that's some sweet fresh air he's huffing right there, five hours of fresh sweet purified air. None of that Night Market miasma is entering his sweet Hapan lungs! Oh no. Slung over his shoulder is a slugthrower rifle, he at least seems sure of himself, and the sword and dagger sheathed at either hip sure give the appearance of an adventurer on the hunt. Swaggering about with a certain rakish and oh so noble step, there's a confidence for sure. If only people could see his magnificent hair. But alas, the helmet is sealed and the dregs of society must go without noting this Hapan's glory. Drifting through the throng, Rieve grins to himself as he catches sight of Colo, he hopes the air isn't too bad for his dear friend.

Rieve pauses by a nearby vendor, leaning in a most graceful and nonchalant manner. His voice cuts through his helm, that flowing accent as warm as the roasted mystery meats a vendor over. "Bonjeu!" That bright and breezy greeting ringing out. "I am after ol' Pickery? Perrr'aps you know of him?" Oh that accent is perhaps accentuated a little, even clad in his armour, Rieve's movements are easy and fluid. "Ah 'ave a message for the man, it is how you say? Important?"

-- Amal Ja --

For her part, Amal did rather enjoy salty, nearly crystallized meat. Perhaps many, many years of eating when one could, and settling for whatever was necessary to keep you going had brought a sense of 'live and let live'. And in the Night Market, the pale-haired, pale skilled woman was not an unfamiliar sight. Though she did not work for the Hutt Lords of Nar Shaddaa, she had contracted with them often enough that her face was known. As was her reputation. A consummate killer yes, but never a profligate one. So, she made a few purchases, she chewed on a piece of salty meat, she spoke softly, and tried to gather what information she could. The greasing of palms certainly helped there. No one was above taking a bit of extra credits. And Amal, having gained a bit of information, began to make her way down further into the night market, heading for one of the more disreputable places. One little slice of heaven known as Watcher's Alley. Dressed as she always was in white on white...she was not hard to spot, for those who might be interested.

-- Maelstrom --

The vendor Rieve has chosen is a carpet salesman who sits atop a stack of his wares blowing smoke rings from a bent pipe. An old man with one eye, which he's not taking very good care of, squints at Rieve in all of his pristine armor that makes him look every bit like bait to piranha. It's distrust at first, but to the words offered, a glint hits his singular peeper. "Is that right, eh? A message for the man Ol'Pickery?" His laugh is like the dust-filled gasps of a corpse. "Well, well. Can't keep him waitin', eh? Maybe join yer friends. Ha ha ha ha!"

Word travels quickly in Ko Hentota where information is almost as valuable as that there nice armor the fancy-talkers is wearing. It's not long at all before the outsiders looking for Pickery are starting to get glances and watchful eyes. The group start to consolidate from their various points of entry, all funneled towards this one place off the well-beaten path. Even the carpet salesman points towards the unassuming opening in between two structures.

Watcher's Alley is quite literally that: an alley. Even tighter quarters than the streets of the Night Market, it's stuffed on either side by more stalls, more carts, and the occasionsal door leading into darkened buildings. The crowds are thinner here yet even more crowded together and it's not immediately clear where their destination is.

-- Colo Nell --

'Crusty Dave'? Whoever heard of such bizarre titles. Half the sentients -in- the district are Crusty Daves, Daffyds, Davies, or Dayevus. Colo processes the little lead he's been given and then heads deeper into the district with little to piece together save for the 'over the water' bit. It's only the siren's song of a Hapan's accent that keeps him from meandering too far. Yet his look around spots only the bizarrely-suited Rieve rather than the princeling he's so accustomed to. A glint of white-white-white from Amal's own shift and sway draws him in, but it's towards the Hapan the rags-coated Corellian drifts.

The cackling glee from the carpet salesman is enough to make him keep his distance for the time being. Colo, fair Colo, with his artisinal rags and hand-rolled cigarra, feels the inevitable tingle on the back of his neck all the same. Out of sheer habit, his fingers float near to where his blaster's smuggled amidst the outfit.

-- Kael Greystorm --

Kael almost nonchalantly enters the Alley... Almost as if he doesn't have a care in the world. He glances around as he does with a bit of under his breath, "HiBall woulda been handy keeping a watchful eye on the watchful alley." His hands are hooked onto his belt as he walks though not threatening in any way but still close enough to the tools of the trade that he can easily become BatKael if needed.

-- Rieve Selki --

"Ah, into the ol' ariag'nee eh?" Rieve grins, though for all intents and purposes, that grin might well be mostly hidden, but it's easily heard amidst the flowing tones of that Hapan accent. A nod, a tip of a salute bouncing off that scout's helm and Rieve pushes away and saunters, catching up slowly with Colo, as he drifts about the various patrons. Oh there's fancy footwork that is grace beyond compare, a slide-to-the-right, a sliiiiiiide-to-the-left, a drift and turn about one vendor who finds her hand gracefully cradled within Rieve's own as he avoids collision by simply drifting and dancing about her. "Ah Madelle, thank you..." A bow as he drifts back and onwards he moves. Such ease. Why the 'Madelle' can likely feel the rakish wink from here as Rieve drifts towards that particular alley. Finally, a tap against Colo's shoulder, a smirk within that helm, and Rieve's light-footwork carries him to flank the delightful gambler somewhat protectively. And onwards he moves... a delightful little bounce in his step.

-- Amal Ja --

Amal, still nibbling on her salted meat (it broke off so nicely into shards certain to cut the inside of your mouth), nevertheless kept a weather eye on the horizon. Or the lowrison, as it were, paying no more attention to one of the alley's denizens than another, but remaining alert as they talked and gathered, gathered and talked. It was clear there was no stealth in this operation. So, it would simply have to be an act of getting before they themselves were gotten.

-- Maelstrom --

Watcher's Alley lives up to its name and does not disappoint. Nor does it try to hide its intent. There are dozens upon dozens upon dozens of eyes on the group as they make their way through the crowd. Especially to the shiniest of them doing what seems to be a two-step. It is that dance, in particular, that seems to put the denizens on edge. A group of Aboveworlders coming down here acting all tense and wary? That makes sense. But the dancin'? Some start to think the guy is contagious and actually give him a wide berth. Hey, makes traversal all the easier!

The information of this groups presence moves like a visible ripple in the crowd of the alleyway until one figure in particular steps directly into their path. He is a large man in an even larger coat that drapes all the way to the wet ground. His hands are hidden in his sleeves, or so it seems, as he stares the group down with an aged squint.

"Well. Quite an entrance, huh? Knew it were only a matter of time before some sniffers from up top found their way down here. You're the third group today looking for Ol'Picekry. I might know somethin' about that. So." He spreads his arms out from his body, the motion pulling his sleeves back to reveal a pair of nasty-looking blades. "Let's talk business. You're looking for information, I'm looking for trade. What cha got?"

-- Colo Nell --

Rieve's direct presence is -almost- enough to throw Colo off his game. He's supposed to be fitting in! A harsh whisper-hiss from the Corellian ensues. "Are you -trying- to get guillotined?" He warn-questions, and then breezes along. Alas, the strut-dancer will have to do the trick. Colo sighs and follows along after his favorite Hapan with steadily-building dread, all sense of avoiding being watched smashed clean by dancers and all-white-wearers. A puff of his cigarra stifles his nerves at least.

But not for long. Discovery is just a matter of time here, it seems, but at least it's also something that leads to beggaring himself to get the info. Win-draw! Colo spreads his tatter-covered hands wide, shows no weaponry, and rustles up the finest bottle of liquor he h's the big man's ever seen. "Sunfruit Liquor, from above. Even the Hapan," He begins, with a glancer to the dancer, "Enjoy a quaff or two of this with care over its price."

-- Kael Greystorm --

Kael shrugs a bit as he reaches into a pouch on his belt to pull out a small credit pouch and tossing it over to the man, "There's a chunk of credits for ya. I'm all about talkin business that should cover the information." He nods towards the knives, "But I don't suppose we could be doin business without the weapons out? Makin me a bit paranoid. I'd rather this go with everybody goin home happy and unbloodied ya know what I mean?"

-- Rieve Selki --

One such dance along the way, before he fell into step had Rieve drifting and waltzing with a very willing patron of the Night Market, a sultry bachata that the two seemed to slip into all too easily. Why that dance alone covered several paces before Rieve and the patron parted ways, with Rieve waving to the slinky Rodian and falling into step a short moment after. Of course, it was a few paces more before Rieve grinned as his hand drifted to a pocket. Why a bundle of nerf n' noodle had indeed been pilfered, and Rieve had been saving those for some time! Such was the price to pay for the chance to slink and slide. A small price! Though Rieve's stomach rumbled at the prospect of missing out on such a nutritious bounty of nood n' nerf. Colo's chiding warrants a grin, one can imagine that gap-toothed grin, bright and merry. "We'll never fit in, we are as different as ewoks to these wookiees."

Before long, Rieve's contagious dance has ceased, and he stands before the blade-wielding male, his helmeted gaze admiring those blades for a few brief moments. "Ah! I do love a good blade, and you 'ave two? Me too! Always good to 'ave a spare oui?" With Colo's offer of fine liquor, the Hapan nods approvingly. "Oh a good choice, a fine liquor from nia'n cor. There is none better!" And that said, he slings a medpac from his back, and offers it up when it comes to his turn. "I have often provided treatment to those in dire need, this has served me well through many years..." Many years? He's too young for many years surely! "Perr'apps it will serve you and yours just as well mon brat."

-- Amal Ja --

Amal, who offered no handouts, no saleable goods or usable credits only tilted her head, as the man made a show of a display of weaponry, "Was that an invitation to the dance?" She most likely meant it in the echani sense and not the take a girl on a date sense, "Now that is interesting." Especially as Amal appeared to be in the front of the group, "If it is your prowess you would like to test, I would even allow you the opportunity to strike first. I imagine there are more than a few in this alley that would pay well for the show." Who could pass up the opportunity to collect a few more credits?

-- Maelstrom --

The tip of his blade gestures towards the group with a little tick of movement. From behind a stall, a stunted old woman hobbles up to Colo first to take the bottle. Pulling the cork with some effort, she takes a swig, swishes it around in her mouth, then spits it out on Colo's shoes. Her wrinkled face looks up at him, and een with clouded, blind eyes, she is able to stare into him. Then grin a toothless grin. "Ah haha ha! The fancy piss, that is!" Apparently this is a good thing as the bottle is taken back behind the stall and never seen again.

Next comes the cold, hard cedits. Nothing says 'Let's be friends' like currency. It lands at the man's feet with a clank of metal on metal, ringing his ears as if he can count exactly how much is in there just from the sound of it. His booted foot slips from the cover of his long coat to drag that pouch out of sight. "Agreed but precautions must be made. As I said, you are the third group today. One of them opted to try to strongarm." He smirks. "You've only got one group of treasure-hunters to contend with for that. You're welcome."

Dark eyes shift to Rieve, eyeing every bit of the man's armor. Oh, he's a walking bank with that kind of kit on. The EVA capabilities alone would fetch several beautiful pennies. The medkit, however, is a compariable compromise. Especially with the drugs it offers and the precious bacta injections which could be sold for ludicous amounts each. A waif runs out to snatch it from Rieve's hands, slipping into the crowd behind them like a little ghost. Another acceptance.

To the last comes an offer, not of trade, but of reputation. The man's smirk blooms into a full smile--he has all his teeth--and with a rumble in his chest, laughs heartily. "Pay well they would, yes. But hardly the place to do it. Tell you want. If that offer is still good down the line, I may have a fighter or three to face you in the pits. But for now?"

His hands disappear into his sleeves and when they re-emerge, they are empty. "Ol'Pickery ain't a man, it's a place." Turning slightly to the side, he points down to the other end of Watcher's Alley. "To the end, take a left. After the third door, go right until the end. You'll find the stairs to the Undercity. Ol'Pickery is at the docks. But I wouldn't go there without some kind of..." His eyes scan over the group "Better protection."

-- Colo Nell --

"Aren't Ewoks just baby Wookiees?" Colo questions, briefly confused on his xenobiology. He chooses not to pursue that line of thought any further in favor of slinking along and making his offer while giving the Hapan and the others more room to maneuver. Hopes that it's enough soon surge and sink in equal measure. The crone's given her swill and spill and Colo looks positively aghast at the waste of good booze. Yet further deliberations come and deliver them all...mostly.

"A...-place-? Oh, of course, one of those..." Colo trails off rather than let his wit get him into trouble this far down the line. Eyes track, follow, and sweep along to the trader's directions which he soon commits to memory before peering back the knives' way. "Right. Protection. Proper re-breathers, then?" He jokes with a ghost of a smile before pressing further: "Does our bouquet of gifts buy us a bit of an idea of what -type- of protection might suit best down there?"

-- Kael Greystorm --

Kael nods, "Precautions are always necessary." At the mention of better protection he frowns a bit nodding in Colo's direction with the question, "That's the million credit question right there. What type of protection will we be needing?" He drums his fingers on his belt as he thinks for a moment, "And shoulda seen the it's a place not a person comin. Makes a lot more sense now. So only one other group besides ours lookin for this now? I mean strongarming is great when you're in neutral territory..." He glances around the Alley, "This for sure isn't that. So that was a rookie mistake."

-- Rieve Selki --

"I... they could be. They grow up fast." Rieve murmurs thoughtfully, he'd never really pondered it. Next wookiee he finds, he's going to ask! With his own offering snatched away by a waif, and Colo's own swigged and spat upon the gamber's shoes, well Rieve is thankful he offered something that didn't require swilling, swirling, and spitting. A rather formal bow is offered the factotum of this particular alleyway, Rieve's noble heritage shining through as he barely makes an effort to blend in. He is what he is. And at the moment, he's a glorious treasure-hunter. Given enough time, he could easily be some rags shrouded bum nestled amidst a pile of garbage, but here and now. There's not a chance of blending in, so why bother. "If I can ever be of assistance..." He gestures after the kit he gave away, likely now needing to find another to replace it. "...well, I can be found aboard the Endara."

-- Amal Ja --

Amal, "Now, I do enjoy a bit of a challenge." And the pits were not an unfamiliar locale to the echani, "I will meet your fighters, though, I would hope that you were counted as one of them." Else where would be the challenge? "My name is well known here. When you have made ready, leave word at the cartel's chambers and we will make an arrangement between us. With the invitation accepted and the terms settled, Amal stepped back. The lack of weapons? A good thing.

-- Maelstrom --

"One they won't be making again, I assure you," the dark-skinned man all but purrs out to Kael. Somewhere in the mess of the Night Market, a lot of new items have just been put out for sale. Weapons, armor, datapads, ammo... everything that a group of brash, short-sighted hunters would have brought down with them. Watcher's Alley isn't just a choke point, it is a fortified strip of Ko Hentota. And this man has a clear grasp of it and the surrounding neighborhoods.

Amal gets another once over from the strangely jovial man who is likely carrying a small arsenal under his coat. Or maybe he just really, really believes in layers. "As is mine. Everyone calls me Konig." Implying that's not his name but definitely the one he is happy to answer to. "When this matter is settled, it's possible such a feat can be arranged. You seem one that thrives on battle. I can appreciate that. But I'm all about business first and leisure second. Should you make it out of the Undercity alive, I will accept that as a worthy invitation. Perhaps your Lord Hutt would appreciate the show."

To the questions posed at him, the man spreads his arms out again; empty-palmed this time, at least. "The Undercity isn't as safe and secure as you will find my streets, my Sun-Loving friends. Especially where you are going. I would suggest if you opt to secure whatever treasure you are looking for, you are properly armed and armored. That other group looked quite determined to beat all to the punch by any means necessary. Might not even hurt to bring back-up, mm? But nothing too... explosive. We've had enough of that already."

-- Colo Nell --

Colo doesn't need to be told twice. With a conferring look to 'Konig' and an acknowleding nod of Kael's words, he seems content with the information he gets. "Rest assured, then, ah, Konig, we'll be a bit more cautious," He assures. Though a look to the dancing-prince that is Rieve makes him amend that: "Most of us." Ahem.

Colo wastes little time in slinking off from there, albeit with a brief pause to ensure his fellows are not caught in a last minute rat-ambush or thieved too terribly hard from the locals. But the sooner? The better. The rags he wears aren't going to clean themselves and he could probably go for a lung-cleansing.

-- Kael Greystorm --

Kael gives a bit of a nod, "Good to know. Thank you and good luck with your future endeavors." He also gives a few random directions a nod of his head as if he 'knows' that there's somebody watching him from those points. Of course it's completely random but if he can keep 'em guessing then great! Then he makes his way back out of the Alley and into the Night Market again to try and vanish back into the land of there'd be sun if it wasn't always raining.

-- Rieve Selki --

Rieve likewise bows once more. "You're too kind, thank you.", with that said, the Hapan turns to drift away, keeping a watchful eye on his surroundings, and Colo, and the others. There's little more to be said, and Rieve saunters away from this very area that demands his EVA. Fresh air. Sweet air. Oh this suit will need topping off for sure. And away the Hapan slinks, gracefully, slinkily, effortlessly.

-- Amal Ja -- Amal lifted a hand. She held no weapons. Instead, she placed that hand against her chest, offering Konig the same stylized half bow she would offer any echani opponent before they entered the ring. It was respect, in the echani way, "You have given me something to look forward to." For what echani did not look forward to the heat of battle. "Should I make it back to these streets and to the world above, I will look forward to meeting you and your fighters."