RPlog:An Encounter on Tatooine

The lower of the two orbs which Tatooine orbits has just touched the horizon. The evening air is warm and dry, as usual. The streets of Mos Eisley are beginning to empty. A single figure is walking through the docking bay, robed in a camouflage poncho seemingly suited for sneaking around urban areas. As the figure walks he pulls the robe tighter around him self as if defending against rain or cold wind, neither of which are present here.

It has been more then a week since Wes had tread this sandy planet's surface. It was the last time, for the time being, that Wes would call tatooine home. Hired on as a pilot to make a quick get away for a wealthy bounty hunter the Corellian had earned enough money to travel for sometime. It was only because of a recent aquaintance that Wes returned here, afterwards, space would beckon him to travel on. As Wes passes by docking bay 94 he is set upon by a small group of Jawas, as usual they had something to sell. "No, I'm not interested in that." Wes repeated several times. "No I don't need one, excuse me." It was tough pushing by the agressive Jawa's but in short order they realize Wes was not buying and they scurry off to accost someone else.

Flaron looks over his shoulder at the crowed of Jawas pestering Wes and then directly at the man. His red eyes peer out from his dark brow but suddenly his thought is interrupted by one of the Jawas that tug on his sleeve. He turns his head and furrows a brow at the creature. The peddler blinks back, tilts his head and says something else. Flaron says something to the Jawa who walks away.

Well at least the pests were gone for the moment. Definitely not something Wes missed about Mos Eisley. Of course Tatooine was full of all manner of annoyances and it seems yet another has decided to mark Wes as a target. A young child, no more then seven or eight standard years of age brushes past, slipping a dexterous and naroow hand into Wes' credit pouch. The child was skilled but seemed to have mistaken the Corellian for an off worlder. the brush is almost immediately noticed. Reaching out politely to stop the child Wes takes back his creds shoos the pickpocket off. Had Wes ever been like that?

Flaron looks off at the north where he was heading originally but does not move that way yet. Instead he looks back at the man who seems to attract so much attention from the locals. The Elomin is careful to note how the human handles the child. He looks away again and begins to head north. His shadow slides across the floor behind him.

Did Wes have a sign on his back saying -SUCKER-? It seems everyone else thought so. Spotting an elom nearby he smiles. "Scuse me." Unlikely the stranger would talk to him but Wes gave it a chance anyway. "Scuse me, do I have anything stuck to the back of my coat?" Wes was sure something MUST be there. It was rare so many locals tried to take advantage of the man who had spent years here. "Like a sign that says "Rob me?" or something?" Wes chuckled, only half expecting an answer from the Elom. Flaron turns quickly causing the folds of his robe to ripple. Once he realizes the man is only making a joke he smiles politely and nods. "No," he states. "I don't believe so. Perhaps you are known for wealth in these parts." His accent is heavy on the s's and th's giving it an almost Coruscantii ring to it. "I have noticed that there are many on this planet would take advantage of such a person."

"Wealth?" Wes chuckled, perhaps that was it after all, now that he had a few credits to rub together the sandsharks sniffed him out. Many of Mos Eisley's locals had a knack for finding the right targets, but a seven year old? Wes was impressed. "Well, I suppose a couple credits count for that out here. A week away can do funny things to you. I'm Wes by the way. You from Elom?" In truth he hadn't seen any, not in many years. Flaron opens his mouth but pauses before he says, "Yes." The Elomin lases his fingers together. "I am Korr," he states simply. "Finds man." He tilts his head to one side and furrows a brow. "Well, unemployed at the moment. He glances at the Jawas. That's why they don't bother me much," the robed figure adds with a smile. "What, may I ask, do you do?"

Wes also watches as the Jawa's move on to find their next victim. "Nothing really. I've made a living by doing odd jobs here and there. I did a job a couple weeks ago, flying a bounty hunter with his bounties out to Kappa. Best job I've had in a while." Wes had spent most of his time in the Cantina's in Mos Eisley, drinking. "I've occasionally been a middle man for some of the traders out here, introducing them to other people, like a broker I guess. Mostly it's art dealers or liquor traders, the usual out here." Flaron looks impressed. "That is very interesting," he states. He tilts his head the opposite way from last time. "You don't happen to know of a dealer in 'colorful' equipment do you," the Elomin asks somewhat directly. "I had an unfortunate accident o Nar Shaddaa in which I lost all of my equipment." He drops his smile as he speaks. "I have been trying to secure some simple things with which to start business again."

Wes ponders the question for a moment and nods. "I'm not a salesman myself, just connect people really. I know a few people though, what sort of things are you looking for?" Wes was guessing that the Elomin was most likely looking for blackmarket weapons but perhaps it was something else. Wes did know several trustworthy individuals who would be willing to set up a deal with a new customer, Wes would likely be the middle man again, unless one of his friends wanted to meet the Elomin himself. Unlikely as that was. "Nothing much at all really," Flaron Korr starts. "I haven't got a lot of money, you see." He straightens his head and opens his hands palms up as if that proved it. "Only a basic weapon and perhaps a personal shield, things such as this." The light from the two suns begins to wane as the evening presses on. A shuffle from a shadow catches Flaron's attention but he returns it to the Human.

Wes was pretty sure his friend could come up with a weapon or some armor, even stuff that was regulation to the militaries but a personal shield was a tall order. "Well a weapon wouldn't be a problem, I don't know if anyone I know of has something like a personal shield device..." Wes scratches at his hairless chin in thought. "I'll ask for you though." Shoving a hand into one of the large coat pockets the Corellian withdraws a plain looking beat up white card and offers it to Korr. It appears to be a business card from a cantina called -The Blasted Stormie-. "This is where I can be reached, I can leave messages for you with the tender behind the barred window." The likely sounded strange, but if the Elomin had been to the Stormie before he'd understand what Wes was talking about. "I'll get in touch my guy today or tommorrow and we can set up a meet. I'll likely have a list for you to look over, delivery can be arranged later, if he's got something you're interested in. Actually I better be on my way, I have a meeting here in a few minutes. Korr, it's been a pleasure, check with the Stormie tommorrow or so..."