The planet of Balmorra, the Republic's number one planet for weapons and combat droid manufacturing. Chace Hadred, a trooper who'd been stuck on this dull guard assignment for over three years and almost entirely for the duration of the war, sat in a bar in Sobrik with a bunch of his buddies who were also off duty and watched the news while they all laughed and joked around. One of them, James Mitchell, elbowed Chace. "Come on, man. We're all off duty, try and enjoy yourself." Chace looks at James and shakes his head. "Oh sure, laugh it up on an easy posting while our brothers and sisters in arms are out there dying fighting off the Sith invasion." James rolled his eyes and turned back to the others, while Chace flipped him off to his back. "Feel free to keep doing that, I'll keep track of the war." With a grunt of disgust, he turns his attention back to the news. "-_Spire_ was shot down over Taris today and the Sith armada have blockaded and occupied the planet, presumably in search of any survivors. We'll bring you more as we learn." From there, it became the weekly weather report for the local area and Chace sighed. He didn't know of any ships with Spire in their name out there, and none of his buddies off-world would share their assignments anymore, not with the war going to poorly. Looking at the others, he sighs and sits at the table they were playing cards at. "Deal me in." With a nod, the person who's turn it is to deal gives Chace his hand and the group of troopers go to their game.

Jan sat alone, having ditched the other troops and gone off to a secluded Balmorra garden, he had spent his morning meditating as most force user's did. He thought of the others he could have saved at the Sith academy or how he should have at least done something other than running. He finished his meditations and drew his lightsaber, he normally buried it at the bottom of his ammo pack to keep it hidden, but he needs to practice. He was by no means a having only mastered Shii-Cho. He began the movements, he was attempting to teach himself more advanced forms of combat, so far the results looked good but he couldn't be sure. His force powers had seen some use, mostly moving boxes or stealing extra rations from the asshole's in his squad. He finished his training and hid the lightsaber once more, before exiting the garden. He made his way towards the Cantina deciding to go see the others, perhaps play a game of cards. The force often gave him a advantage letting him make some extra credits on the side.

Golden anklets clinked and chimed, slipping about slender ankles of lilac hue as she danced. Dainty bare feet slipped between cups and bottles littering the bar with uncanny dexterity. She danced to the music of a holographic band, their silver blue, translucent images standing in the corner of the establishment. Her hips gyrated, tassels bounced and while she was both beautiful and talented, drawing the eyes of many but at the same time her and her performance was considered by many seasoned patrons to be nothing more than a piece of furniture. Still she danced on for her master would not countenance any shirking. As his slave she was allowed to rest only when he stated. Pressing her body against a plasteel pole she twined her lekku, the long tentacles affixed to the base of her skull, about the cool metal and gazed out over the patrons of the establishment. Most were soldiers and naval officers, most local folk having more sense than to enter this seedy establishment, and were playing sabacc or were exchanging stories from their various deployments. One or two she recognized as having paid for the privilege of her company. The vidscreen was reporting on the latest events in the war between the Sith and the Republic. It was getting close to their world. A fact that had her master worried. While he would likely survive and prosper no matter who ruled his world he didn't know what sort of taxes or changes the Sith might bring. The local authorities he at least knew and while business could always be better it was stable and prosperous. Then there was a small buzzing at the base of her skull, an electrical current that reminded her against remaining idle. A quick glance out of the corner of her eye caught sight of her master, the owner of the cantina, with his remote. Without any preamble she tore her eyes from the vidscreen and moved away from the pole, swaying to the music from the holographic band in the corner.

If there was one thing Dorian missed the most about his beloved Corellia, was the brandy. He'd do anything to get his hands on a bottle of Corellian Reserve. But the import charges were exorbitant, and if you wanted it imported by 'other' means then it would cost you tens times as much. Instead he made do with a local brand, which tried it's very best to imitate. But it wasn't even close to the real stuff, to the unaware observer, it tasted exactly the same. Since for the most part the ingredients were the same. But the Corellian label, just had that 'homey' feeling to it, and this Balmorra crap didn't come close to replicating that feeling. He ran his finger across the edge of the now empty glass, almost hoping that it would spontaneously refill itself. The service in this Cantina left something to be desired, there was a distinct lack thereof of pretty women for a start. Which was yet another thing he missed about Corellia. He lifted the glass, and gently tapped it against the bench twice, getting the bar keeps attention. "Another." he said. In the few moments that it tuck for the experienced barkeep to get a clean glass, and fill it with some cheap shite, Dorian turned his attention to the Holonet, which had seemingly drawn the attention of many other patrons. The report detailed the loss of a Republic warship, and the resulting blockading of the city-planet, Taris. Considering the track record of these so-called 'Sith', he was glad he was thousands of lightyears away from Taris. The Sith were nothing, if not 'efficient', when it come to subjugating a planet. The barkeep placed his newly poured beverage in front of him, he quickly took the glass, then held it up a little, giving a silent salute for those lost on the ship. He knew what it was like to lose men you never even knew the names of, someone needed to remember them, Even if that someone was a drunken old man.

Having returned to dancing Oona considered the patrons. Her eyes, routinely were drawn to the dark garbed man who say defiantly in the corner, taking up an entire booth to himself and scorning those that approached in search of camaraderie and a good story. A simple scowl from that one was enough to set all but the most adamant or possibly foolish on their way. Another, who very nearly sat at her feet at the bar upon which she danced also interested her. The very antithesis of the other. He had a kindly visage though it was difficult to tell with the beard. Twi'lekki were inherently hairless, Oona's own eyebrows being tattooed in order to make humans more comfortable; That made it harder to read the facial features of those that possesses beards and long hair. Wookies and their ilk were practically a mystery to her own kind. She did discern some sort of loneliness or loss of some sort. Perhaps it was a lost lover, such things could prove most useful. Oona slid down on of the poles, gyrating her hips as she crouched, putting her firm buttocks directly in line with Dorian's gaze. The other was too far away to easily draw his attention so this bearded human would do. It was a carefully selected distance to attract attention but not close enough to warrant an out thrust arm pushing her away. Slender curves were only loosely obscured by a short curtain of beads. Hugging the pole against her she gazed over her shoulder, lekku sliding down her back as she tried to discern how he was being affected. They were but two of several candidates. Attaining her freedom, like most slaves, was always on her mind and it would take a person of means to accomplish that. That person would be possessed of either great compassion for others or possess a significant amount of lust to bother themselves with a mere slave won in a sabacc game and slaves such as herself were half the cost of a light freighter.

Jan slowly entered the bar slowly looking over at the troops playing cards and then at the figure sitting alone at the bar, he could sense that this man was a Jedi, the had a aura about them, one of grace and understanding. He walked over taking the seat beside the man, getting a few dirty looks from the other troopers. He noticed the Twi'Lek dancing in front, he would have loved to march over to the bars owner and demand the release of the slave, yet sadly slavery was legal in the Republic only Jedi could really fight back against it. He simply let out a exasperated sigh then ordered a drink. After the shot he turned and looked at the man beside him. "I'm assuming your a Jedi? Glad to have you here then Master Jedi, I hope you will be staying awhile it would help to raise moral around here." he spoke calmly, he wondered if the Jedi could sense his force powers as well? Regardless he needed to make a good impression if he wanted to get the man to trust him. This Jedi could help him hone his talents, the right way unlike the Sith he had formerly served, he unknowing reached into his pocket and grasped his lightsaber, a comfort mechanism he had devolved.

Kai scrambled into the rundown cantina, watching out the door fr a few seconds to ensure he wasn't followed. Once he was certain that he was clear he turned to the room full of patrons and gave his eyes some time to adjust before searching for his contact. Tucked in a back corner booth was a pale Zabrak. Kai moved to him smoothly, taking the seat opposite him. Kai nonchalantly glanced around the cantina. He wanted to be sure no prying eyes or ears were nearby. It was just good business. Certain there were no eaves being dropped he placed a hand inside his coat, feeling the coarse parcel beneath his touch. "So, mind telling me why I almost became bantha fodder for these schematics? I mean this is probably for some big weapon or something, huh? I think my payment should reflect the risks that were involved. I mean a Bothan nearly died getting you this intel." The Zabrak listened patiently, but the scorn on his face only grew as Kai continued to talk. "Your payment is perfectly adequate," he finally spoke, sliding a credit chip across the table. "Now, give me the data. My employer will be most pleased to learn of your success. Perhaps you might even become his sole contractor, assuming you can keep that big mouth of yours shut." Kai kept both paws tucked beneath his coat. One was over the parcel. The other was wrapped around his blaster. Whether you're a smuggler, bounty hunter, or a simple thief one must always be prepared to shoot first. "Well that's excellent, assuming there's a huge pay increase." He tossed the package across the table. It was a small envelope with a holodisk inside filled with data from one of the largest weapons manufacturers on Balmorra. He didn't look at the data. That's how one gets themselves offed. However, he didn't need to be a genius to know it was big and dangerous. And he didn't need to be a spy to know this man was an envoy of the Sith Empire. That was not his business, nor his politics, however. Instead, he grabbed the credstick and thanked the puppet for his time and money. With a scoff the Zabrak stood from the booth and headed for the door. "Goodbye to you too, you pointy headed nerfherder," he muttered under his breath before waving over a server. A young boy with dirty finger nails and unkempt hair sauntered over to him. "Let me get a drink little man. Don't much care what it is, so long as it's from the top shelf." He thought for a second before stopping the boy. "Eh, middle shelf." As the boy walked away Kai couldn't help but feel for the kid. He knew he was a slave and he would place good money on the fact that serving drinks wasn't this boy's only duties. The galaxy was a big place with many tastes and preferences. Any slave owner would do well to cater to the needs of all his customers, assuming he was a loathsome scumbag.