RPlog:Jairen Stops a Thief

Fountain Square - Plaxton City

The huge buildings in the background threaten to take over this small patch of green that is the center of Plaxton City. A stone fountain -still in place from another time- sits in the center of the square. It depicts a young woman looking into the sky. water flares around her and bursts into a star pattern ten feet above her head. The inscription at the base of the fountain is written in the aging language of a more romantic time. 'Farewell, for all journeyers that leave this place shall always return to call it home.' Wandering the square throughout the day are Caspar Marines; some off- duty and enjoying their downtime while on-duty commandos in full armor and uniform keep watch over the area. Despite the commandos' aggresive appearance, they are viewed with admiration and respect from most of the citizens, some of them even joking and talking with families. The night sky above is full of clouds with light rain coming down.

-=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => IGNews Terminal - Caspar => Mail Terminal: Caspar -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- SAndbar leads to The Sandbar. South leads to South Mergansar Ave. - Plaxton City. East leads to East Blake St. - Plaxton City. North leads to North Mergansar Ave. - Plaxton City. West leads to West Blake St. - Plaxton City.

Raj enters the square from the south. Raj has arrived.

Folemb enters the square from the north. Folemb has arrived.

Folemb walks to the south. Folemb has left.

Tarlin enters the square from the north. Tarlin has arrived.

Raj comes from the area of the base. The light rain drizzles against his BDU as he walks towards the IGNews terminal. He reaches the terminal and starts scrolling around stories and adds.

Tarlin This young man is both avg in both hgt and wgt having jet black hair worn high and tight with bright blue eyes. Tarlin is wearing a fullbody, slate green flightsuit with blackish splotches on it. Strapped around the front of this suit is a small square pack that holds oxygen for the pilot, should there be a need for it. The suit regulates temperature to ensure comfort. The suit appears to be armor reinforced from beneath, and has numerous pockets to allow the pilot to store items. A flight helmet is a standard part of the flightsuit, and can be attached to create an environmentally-secured atmosphere for the pilot. Running down the center of the helmet is a small tab which is used to slide the blast shield up or down. Across his upper left-chest area is a dull-gray namepatch with the name Tarlin Lathis imprinted on it. Adorning his collar is his rank insignia. Two cason hawks, one gold and one silver, indicate his rank to be Sub-Lieutenant.. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Kylan-3 Heavy Blaster Pistol => Knife => Protective Vest

Tarlin walks toward the Sandbar

Joir enters the square from the east, minus the usual aides. He appears not to notice the light rain - obviously either lost in thought or desensitised to the weather.

SPEEDER: SoroSuub X-35 Courier enters the square from the south. SPEEDER: SoroSuub X-35 Courier has arrived.

Joir watches the Lieutenant who threatened him yesterday enter the Sandbar, and after standing indecisively for a second he follows him, obviously intending to talk with the military man.l speeder

You enter the Sandbar.

The Sandbar

A large circular room creates the main part of Caspar's infamous SandBar. Dark wood paneled walls adorned with all sorts of paraphanalia set the relaxed athmosphere of the bar. Photographs and holovids are pinned randomly around, seemingly with no order at all. Posters from years past hang proudly, displaying obscure bits of Plaxton's recent history. Several windows made from a deep blue glass allow light in from outside, while still keeping the appearance of the bar rather dark. Along one curved wall a marble bar stands proudly, where Ariani busies herself making drinks and cleaning occational spots of the bar. There is an abundant amount of seating in here. You notice quite a few booths and tables, as well as a loft which protrudes out over the bar. A popular local band plays smooth jazz in the background.

For help with tables, type "PLACE HELP" For help with drinks, type "BAR HELP"

-=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Ariani

-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- OUT leads to Fountain Square - Plaxton City.

Ariani says, "Welcome to the SandBar, what can I get ya?"

Tarlin enters the Sandbar. Tarlin has arrived.

Tarlin walks over to the bar. Taking a seat he orders coffee.

Joir stands a moment at the doorway, letting the wetness from the outside rain drip slowly to the floor. Wiping his impassive face with a slender hand, he moves to the bar, and sits also - although a diplomatic distance from the uniformed man.

Joir raises his hand to order a coffee, and takes it with a grim nod. He brings the cup to his mouth and then takes a long sip, obviously relishing the warm liquid after being in the cold Casparian rain. p azya=go ahead

Tarlin sits at the bar sipping a cup of coffee.

Azya enters the room, for once hurrying. She stops just inside of the door, smoothing her wet hair from her forehead, wringing as much water as she can from it. Giving her head a final shake, she lets it fall down her back as she walks at her normal, slow pace to the bar.

Joir shifts slightly closer to the uniformed man, his cold grey eyes flick downward to take in his rank and name. The glance back up and refocus on his face, when he speaks his voice is low, but carries the authority of one used to command "Hard day Lieutenant?"

Azya Sparkling emerald green eyes gaze unsettlingly at you from under a thick curtain of black lashes. Her full red lips curve easily and often into a smile. Wild hair, an unusual shade of bright purple fading to a black at it's tips, cascades down to her lower back, framing her face. It's colour is striking, making her creamy complexion seem almost pale. Her slim figure is covered by a low-cut, form-fitting black cat-suit. She wears a loose black jacket over that, undone. It reaches to just above the bottom of her rib-cage. Around her waist she wears a loose black belt, which rests on her hips, its silver buckle well polished. Knee-high boots hug her calfs, completing her outfit, their heels a respectable 2".

Tarlin nods as he sips his coffee "Same idiots defrent day"

Joir looks across as Azya enters, and recognises her immeadiately (Which, considering her dress is not surprising). He gives her a curt nod in greeting, he lifts his arm to indicate a seat near him and Tarlin "Miss Azya - would you like a seat?"

Tarlin seeing the woman stands and motions toward the seat.

Azya smiles as she reaches the bar, murmuring her order quietly to Ariani. As she waits for her order, she turns, leaning against the bar with her elbows. Noticing Joir for the first time, she smiles, and taking the steaming cup which Ariani had brought her, she heads to the table. 'Sure...thanks. Joir...right?"

Joir turns back to Tarlin, and his grey eyes dull for a moment as if he is lost in some nostalgic memory, his impassive face breaking into a grim, slightly amused smile "I do know the problem Lieutenant" he continues with a slightly different voice - colder, as if regurgitating a statement from some form of indoctrination "A lack of discipline leads inevitably to chaos"

Tarlin pauses for a moment as if he is taking his time to think. When he does speak it is simply "Agreed."

Azya arches an eyebrow at the conversation, obviously not sure what is being talked about. Shrugging at the lack of response to her inquiry, she sits, setting her steaming cup on the table. Unconciously, she pulls at a stand of hair that has fallen in front of her face, twerling around her finger

Joir nods to acknowledge Azya, he states simply "Yes, Tsaran Joir" although it is apparent that he bears more titles than a simple 'Mr'. He turns back to Tarlin, curious despite himself "What is a Naval Officer doing acting as ground based security?"

Jairen enters the Sandbar. Jairen has arrived.

Jairen Jairen stands about 5'7" tall and has long, sliverish colored hair that comes down to about the middle of his back and is usually worn in a pony tail with a silver clasp. His body, though small, is obviously almost completely muscle. He moves gracefully, almost seeming to glide over the ground, leaving hardly any trace at all as he steps. His eyes are a piercing blue color. They are more almond shaped than perfectly round and seem to have a slight slant to them. The tips of his ears also seem to have a slight point to them, but that could be just a trick of the light.

He wears rather simple fair, a dark green tunic with a brown leather vest designed to stop knives and such. His brown trousers are made of some sort of leather-ish material, and he wears soft black leather kneeboots that fold down at the top.

On his left hip is an intracate blade in a scabbard suspended in a baldric. The rapier-like weapon has a swept basket hilt that is ornately carved with scences from what seem to be some sort of story or fairy tale. The blade, when seen, also has ornate engravings in some odd language. On his other hip is strapped a sharp vibro-dagger, perhaps about eight inches long. It is rather plain and unadorned.

Taking his seat Tarlin motions for a refill and point up to the broken railing above their heads. "Just another fight. Same 2 as last night" Sipping his coffee "In the Marines evry man is a rifleman. If something needs to be done we do it with out question"

Azya nods vaguely to Joir, turning to eye Tarlin subtly. With a small smile, she listens to his last comment. She reaches for her cup, blowing gently on it's surface for a moment before taking a sip.

Jairen steps through the door, hands resting lightly on the sword hilt at his side. Stopping just inside the doorway, he looks around the room for a moment, as if assessing everyone in the room for something.

Shenner enters the Sandbar. Shenner has arrived.

Joir nods at Tarlin's explanation, sharing his military background he understands what he is saying. His face loses some aspect of being an impassive mask, replaced by a knowing grin, when he speaks his voice is still low, but missing much of its usual arrogance "Indeed, indeed"

Morrison enters the Sandbar. Morrison has arrived.

Shenner can, further, be seen to give Jairen a slight half-smile; glancing over her shoulder, though, she gets swiftly out of the way of others coming into the bar. The girl's apparently interested in two things: a) a seat, and b) something hot to drink, and for the acquiring of the latter, she starts scanning the bar for the former, waving to Ariani.

Jairen nods slightly to Shenner. "That is quite alright . It was my fault." his his reply in an oddly and melodically accented voice. Tarlin glances over his shoulder as the door opens. Turning back to the people he is with. "It seems you have been if the service." Looking toward the woman "Im sorry I am Tarlin"

Morrison approaches the bar and takes up a seat near it's end. He appears intent on darkness and sinks into the deep shadows there.

Jairen decides to finally get out of the doorway and also head for the bar, ordering his usual chilled wine.

Joir turns to examine the newcomers, subjecting each of them to an intense examination. Recognising Morrison, he gives him a polite nod to acknowledge his presence, before turning back to Azya and Tarlin. Azya shakes her head. "Quite alright...I understand. I"m Azya Portus." She sets her cup down, extending her hand. "Nice to meet you..." She smiles warmly.

Shenner flicks a grin in Jairen's direction as she settles down on a stool; Ariani, in the meantime, presents her a big steaming mug of something that smells like both chocolate and brandy, along with a steady, "So have you heard from the others, kiddo?"

From the shadows at the end of the bar dark forms can be seen moving. At the very end a flicker of orange flame illuminates Morrison's face for an instant and receads into the bright dot of buring tobac.

Tarlin gently taking Azia's hand "It's a pleasure to meet you. I am sorry to you both if I seem a bit upset"

"Vacationing and havin' the time of their lives," Shenner proclaims sagely, taking up her mug of shakla gratefully. "They sent me a holo."

Joir gives Tarlin a half salute acknowledging his supposition. Some pride is evident in his voice when he speaks, "Not just any service Lieutenant, I was a true groundpounder - Didn't get to play with toys in space"

Azya grips Tarlin's hand firmly, her eyes twinkling. As she withdraws it, she again takes up her cup, drinking a small amount. Leaning back in her chair, she glances from Joir to Tarlin, content to just listen.

Jairen smiles and nods at Shenner again as he notes her grin. He slips onto his own stool as he sips his wine, and looks around the room again.

Tarlin grins a bit "What service was you in if I may ask?

Shenner and Ariani fall into light chatting, then. The young redhead slings her big leather bag off her shoulder, settling it very carefully down on the floor beside her stool, in towards her feet so that the feet of passersby can't tread upon it. Shenner, it would seem, is in fairly high spirits, though her clothes might seem as though she's slept in them. Every so often she fidgets with the necklace hanging about her neck, while she converses with the bartender -- about the Sandbar's regular musicians, or current lack thereof. About music, and about college.

Joir stares Tarlin fully in the eyes, obviously deciding what he should tell this Marine, who is after all a Casparian and not Imperial. However, the pride in his past takes over and he reaches down and rolls up the left side of his jet-black jacket to reveal a deep purple tatoo portraying an Imperial Insignia with crossed forcepikes and the letters I.R.G. he says quietly, and simply "The best"

Azya eyes the tatoo on Joir's arm, her eyes surprised for a moment before she smiles. "Wow...I was always sure to avoid them when I was in training." She rolls her eyes, taking a sip of her coffee.

Jairen sips his wine slightly, watching the trio's conversation from a few seats away. Seeing the shape of the tatoo his brows go up just a tad, but he doesn't move or likewise react any other way.

Tarlin nods with a grin "Perhaps."Glancing over his shoulder as if the whole world was starring at the back of his head like a targett. Out of the Corner of his eye Joir sees various people straining to see that tatoo, and covers it up quickly, flashing them a slight smile. He is about to turn to gauge Tarlins reaction when he hears Azya's comment. He asks her quietly, "What training was that?"

"So the Xenomusicology department at the University, they took my application anyway," Shenner might be heard remarking to Ariani. Either the bartender knows what the young musician is talking about, or else is doing a fine job of pretending. She listens knowingly as the younger woman satisfiedly proclaims that she's got a contact in at the university; all the while, Ariani briskly puts together drinks, handing them off to their intended recipients, taking their crdits in return.

Shenner This is a young human female, of about 5'6" in height, but of a delicate enough build that there barely seems to be any substance to her. Her skin is moon-pale, her already fine-boned features made pronounced by an utter lack of extraneous flesh anywhere on her face. In stark contrast with her white complexion, her hair blazes a dark red; her green eyes, large, luminous, and darkly limned by red-brown brows and lashes, look out at everything she encounters with a intelligent, haunted intensity. Those eyes, incongruous with her ethereal frame, and taken along with a walk, stance, accent, and mannerisms seemingly more suited for a brash young street tough, exemplify the contradiction that anyone who observes this girl long enough can soon discover: that for all her fragile appearance, this is no delicate flower. Rather, this young human is one that burns.

Her hair is currently bound up to sweep back from her face in a braid that drops to just below her shoulders, interwoven and tied off with strips of green suede; from one of these strips dangles three clear glass beads and a small brown feather. She is clad in an overlarge gray-green shirt, tied off at the waist, and open at her collar and throat to reveal a water-blue, lighter silken shirt beneath, along with the glint of a silver pendant on a chain. Her pants are a utilitarian brown, old, but of a still thick and sturdy cloth, tucked into equally utilitarian scuffed beige boots.

Azya shakes her head. "The training I dropped out of when they tried to screw me over..." she mutters. With a sigh, she looks up at Joir. "I was training to be a TIE pilot

Joir raises his eyebrows as if to indicate surprise. Then narrows his eyes, turning to gaze at Azya intently, obviously wondering why someone who trained to fly TIEs is now working in a Swoop shop, instead of, well, flying TIEs. When he speaks his voice is somewhat strained "What happened?"

Jairen turns his attention back to the young woman at the bar and the bartender, also a few seats away, listening to that conversation for a while and smiling to himself, almost paternally, as he continues to drink in silence.

Ozzle enters the Sandbar. Ozzle has arrived.

Tarlin sits drinking coffee with Joir and Azya.

Ozzle strides confidantly through the enterance to the establishment, his steps sounding of unquestioned self-importance. His crimson eyes sweep across the room, quickly taking in the patrons and their activities. With no sound save for the harsh clicking of his polished boots against the floor, he makes his way inside, approaching the bar.

Shen keeps lightly nursing that shakla, and as Ariani goes off to check on new customers, the girl glances down with a brief glimmer of pleased pride in her green eyes at the bag at her feet. She's got her left hand twined round in her necklace chain, the mug in her right hand's fingers.

Joir turns to look at Ozzle, examining intensely with his cold grey eyes. Although his face remains impassive his eyes suggest that he dislikes people who bask in self-importance, ironic from a man who can be as arrogant as himself. He leans closer to Tarlin and asks with a muted voice "Who is that?"

Tarlin leans over and mutters "Dark Jedi"

There is suddenly a sharp cry of pain and and loud THUMP from Jairen's general direction. As eyes flick over to that section of the bar, the Swordsman is seen with one hand still around his wine glass, the other holding a young human's hand in a vicious wrist lock that's efficiently imobilized him. "That was unwise, young one...." Tarlin glances over his shoulder toward the yell

Azya turns sharply to face Jairen's direction. Her eyes narrow slightly, her hands closing into fists in her lap.

Shenner's green gaze snaps around in Jairen's direction. Astonished at the blur of his movements -- and then at the human he's caught -- Shenner blinks. There's a sudden flash of sympathy in her gaze, though whether for the captor or the captee is anybody's guess.

Ozzle steps up to the bar, motioning vaguely for the barkeep's attention. He seems to pay no attention to the ruckus nearby, though his pupiless eyes quickly dart in that direction to assess the situation. "A fixer. Heavy of the gheft." He remains standing, leaning stiffly against the wooden bartop.

Joir nods to Tarlin as he hears what he has to say, turning his head back to examine Ozzle once again - more carefully this time. He ignores the noise behind him, it is obviously inconsequential compared to his interest in Ozzle.

A burly young man has also turned his attention in the direction of Jairen and the apparent... pickpocket? Not overly tall, this human doesn't look overly bright, either -- or perhaps that's just because he's clearly had a few. He glowers, in a slightly muzzy sort of glower, off in the direction of Jairen and his captive, and then hauls himself to his feet.

Tarlin looks toward the noise more closy "If youl excuse me Ill be right back"

Jairen pushes the young man away from him by his wrist. "Next time you wish to aquire funds through dishonest means, young one, choose a different target in a different setting."

Ariani, in the meantime, nods evenly to Ozzle, even as she casts a sharp glance in Jairen and the young human's direction. The bartender hasn't interfered, not yet, though from the look in her eye, she may well do so if she has to. Ozzle takes a tall glass of viscous green liguid from the distracted barkeep. As he lifts it to his lips to enjoy a pull, his attention seems to drift off... not truly settling anywhere in particular. His expression remains stoic and regal.

Joir nods absently to Tarlin, obviously still engrossed by the other figure at the bar. His face remains impassive as he continues to size him up, however his eyes lose some of their sharpness, now knowing Ozzles identity he appears to be thinking deeply about something.

The burly young man, glowering rather more deeply, lumbers nearer to Jairen, and pipes up in a voice that rather matches his muzzy eyes, "Hey, you. Pal. What're you doing shoving my friend around? He messin' with you, Wil?"

Tarlin walks to where Ozzle stands and tosses some coins on the bar to pay for his drink. He then turns and returns to his seat.

Jairen sighs slightly as he notes the other man and stands up only slightly from his stool. He still holds his wine glass in his left hand.

"Messin' wit' me?" Comes the smaller man's reply. "You kiddin'? The chummer near broke me hand!"

Shenner peers briefly, with a narrow-eyed interest, at the... aye, that'd be a pickpocket. The redhead slides her silver-and-brass necklace down underneath her shirt, her expression going studiously neutral. And in the meantime, Ariani, straightening up behind the bar, bellows out at the burly newcomer, "Oh, no, Tegger, don't _even_ think about it...!"

Not thinking about things is apparently Tegger's speciality. He swaggers toward Jairen, the glower turning into a slightly intoxicated scowl, and declares belligerently, "Whaddya mean messin' around with my pal Wil anyway?" And he appends a curse word in a particularly pungent-sounding language. Jairen arches a brow at the larger human. "He tried to relieve me of a pouch on my belt through illicite means and I simply arrested his attempts. I did not 'mess with him' as you so elequently put it."

Joir turns to Azya, letting his emotionless mask slip into a vague expression of scorn. When he speaks it is again with quiet arrogance, an indication that he believes he is above the chaos "As I said, illdisicpline leads to chaos" His voice grows more cutting "Something you _shoud_ know about it"

Even Ozzle's attention is captured by the entertaining scuffle ensuing down the bar. His lips curl slightly into an almost imperceptable grin as he watches, though he's alert enough to acknowledge the marine who silently pays for his fixer. -Interesting evening. Things are looking up indeed.- As he thinks to himself, his grin lifts another notch.

Azya looks quickly towards Joir, furrowing her brow. "What? I'm sorry...I'm not sure I understand -exactly- what you mean..." She levels a cool gaze at him, crossing her arms across her chest.

Tegger can be seen to lurch a bit, even as he breathes alcohol-laden fumes in Jairen's direction as well as that of anyone within the immediate vicinity. "Well, I just don't think I believe ya," he growls. Oblivious to Ariani's pointed yell of warning -- the bartender is reaching, swiftly, down under the bar -- the man jabs a hand down to the holster at his side, and the blaster that's riding there.

Tarlin looks toward Joir as he takes his seat.

Jairen's other brow goes up as he sees the Tegger's hand go down, but he doesn't move. He doesn't even put down his wine. "Yeah... yeah... you get 'em..." Comes the crack from Wil.

"Ah, karkin' _hells_," Shenner mutters, rolling her eyes.

Ozzle chuckles softly to himself as he swallows another sip of his drink. - Blasters pulled and aimed at someone other than me... What a strange development.- Regardless, his tallon-like hand drifts slowly towards his waist, dissapearing under the folds of his cloak.

Joir meets Azya's gaze evenly, gracing her with a small smile, his reply is laden with scorn "I think perhaps you do, but that really is no longer of any consequence" Obviously he does not want to completely alienate her, and the last comment is some form of compensation for his tone.

Tarlin stands up quockly and moves away from the table as he draws his side arm "DROP THE BLASTER NOW!!"

Tegger's hand pulls his gun out. The fact that he does this is testament to the fact that he's either a better gunman than he looks, or else he's not as drunk as he looks. As he draws, so does Ariani, who is expressively rolling her eyes, producing a slender little gun of her own out from under the bar, set on stun. But Tegger is, it would seem, oblivious to both her and Tarlin's weapons, as he takes aim at Jairen, at practically point-blank range.

Although pretending to ignore the scuffle, Joir has clearly been watching it out of the corner of his eye. When the blaster is drawn he stiffens, obviously an unconscious byproduct of his training, he reaches for the top button of his jacket, but then stops - obviously remembering some prior event. Instead he turns to look at Tarlin, watching him intently - weaponless but still ready for action.

Azya shakes her head slightly, still not getting Joir's point. "I'm sorry...you lost me. What are you talking about?" She glances momentarily at the group in the corner, than back to Joir.

A rasping sound is heard as well as a quick, sharp pinging sound. As the ringing dies, Jairen is holding his sword that somehow got into his hand, pointing out towards his right. It seems he drew it AND crossed the man in front of him in that short time frame. "To pursue this..." come his quiet voice as he retracts his sword and taps the front and top half of the Human's blaster. It falls with a neat thunk to the floor, leaving him holding the powercell and the handle. "... Would be most unwise."

Tegger gapes as his gun falls apart. So does Ariani. And so does Shenner, who breathes out an awed oath. For good measure, she breathes out a couple more in other languages.

Jairen's bright blue eyes have gone cold and focused as the watch the man in front of him, the ornate but obviously functional sword held at a half-ready position between them.

Ozzle cocks an eybrow at the swordsman's speed and wit. Impressive. Dangerous. But not to him. Still, this could prove to be even more interesting than he thought... he'd have given the advantage to the blaster over the average melee weapon on the average day.

Tarlin doesnot seem impressed. He Simply speaks into his com unit as he walks back to his seat.

Joir notes the swordsman's skill also, his grey eyes showing some respect. In his day he used a weapon similar to that - and the skill displayed was on a parr with many of the best. However now he is far more pragmatic, the blaster offering a more versatile - if much cruder method of imposing violence. As Tarlin sits once again he nods and speaks with a slightly ammused tone as he indicates the swordsman "Pretty..."

Aggression drains out of Tegger's face like water down a slanted rooftop. He peers down at what's left of his gun. Then he peers at Jairen's blade. Then he peers at Jairen. And finally, he mumbles something whimpering-sounding along the lines of "Mother...", turns, and bolts out of the bar as fast as his significantly now more wobbly legs can carry him.

Tarlin nods to joir. Then he turns to Azia "So How much did you learn about fighters?"

Shenner, in the meantime, can be heard to make a strangled little noise that suggests she's choking on laughter. Ariani stifles a few coughs of her own, then slips her blaster back down to its hiding place. Then the bartender calls to Jairen, "Neatly done. Your next one's on the house."

Tegger only gets as far as the door... running smack dab into the small group of Marines Tarlin called that were coming in at the moment. "Oh, hello there Tegger..." the Sergent says. "Long time no see..." and then promptly arrests him. Wil is nowhere to be seen.

Joir sees that Azya is still sitting with her arms crossed, obviously waiting for him to answer her question on what he meant by his comments. Shaking his head he turns to her, and speaks slowly, voice chilled but absent of malice "Dont let it concern you Azya" obviously she does not understand what his earlier comments implied, and he does not think it would be productive to spell it out to her.

Cornered by Tarlin, Tegger gapes and babbles, but, sad to say, the poor boy must have been badly frightened. Perhaps he's pretty drunk after all.

Jairen smiles at Tegger's reaction, flips the sword around in one hand, and slides it silently back into it's scabbard. Turning around and finishing the last few swallows of the wine in the glass which he never bothered to put down, his normal, happy expression has returned. "Thank you m'lady." He says to Ari, offering his glass. "I am simply pleased that it could end in another way than unnecissary bloodshed."

A touch of dissapointment sttles through the dark Sarian at the bar... far too peaceful an ending. Unfortunate. His glass, no empty, is placed on the bar as Ozzle directs his attention to the general atmosphere of the establishment and the aftermath of the short lived tiff.

Azya shrugs to Joir. 'If you say so..." Turning towards Tarlin, she smiles. "I was in advanced training when I broke my arm in a crash..." She sighs.