Dianoga Den, a bar near the swamps.

The Dianoga Den is a ramshackle joint near the edge of the swamps on Atraken B. Due to its slightly out-of-the-way location, it tends to be a gathering spot for just about anyone of any race living on the planet. It also finds itself a meeting place for many of the unsavory types trying to hide out on Atraken B from elsewhere in the galaxy. Run by a Fambari (one of the Human clans of the Lost) named Zjan Cress, and a Selkath named Rash Krem, the Dianoga Den maintains a reputation for good, homemade booze and not-so-good food. Though the swamp eel stew is said to be 'to die for.' (Or is that to die if you eat it? That part keeps getting lost in translation.)

The important thing is that it is cheap, sometimes dangerous and smells bad during the summer months. But it is frequented enough to stay afloat. Even if the swamps floods, as it is actually build on a sort of raft on stilts thingy.

So, saddle up to the bar and have a drink. You'll enjoy the sunset over the swamps. Maybe if you're lucky, you will even see a red Fambaa. It might even eat your lunch for you. They do have cast iron stomachs, after all.

George landed his ship on the outskirts of Atraken B, a planet he knew little about. He knew a few people from the area and needed a place to shack up for the night as his ship was getting a little cramped, not because of the room, just the lack of design. Anyhow as George left his ship he wondered for a little while before coming up on an old pub named the Dianoga Den. Ahh just what I wanted... The Blue Nautolan thought to himself as the smell of booze wafted out the doors.

As George entered he saw something he had witnessed on almost every planet he had visited, a small bar with few people, lots of alcohol and, well less than desirable furniture. But in the end, people didn't come to a bar for the furniture. George walked up to the bar where a Selkath walked over to serve him. "What can I get you?" The bartender asked. "A Corellian Whiskey thanks." George replied looking around the bar. It was dark and there was no one about. Not yet, although it seemed early, but George didn't quite know the basics of the planet. But a drink was a drink and any time of the day was good for him.

((This is the city design. The Red Citadel, located at the center of the moon, is just south of the Northern Border. North of the city is a great expanse of swamp land, recently surveyed and disrupted by construction but will soon return to the wilds it once was. ))

http://www.swcombine.com/citydesigner/?code=28,0,1,v;20,3,1,v;20,4,1,v;81,5,1,v;93,8,1,v;49,13,1,v;75,0,5,v;20,5,5,v;4,6,5,v;3,7,5,v;88,9,7,v;78,12,9,h;5,5,10,v;5,9,10,v;20,0,11,h;20,0,12,h;36,0,14,v;29,5,14,v;30,8,14,v;31,11,14,v;35,14,14,v;|4|v


Fukara was in the Red Citadel to resolve a dispute between native traders and a group of disgruntled Selkath that were complaining of favoritism by local officials at the Commerce Centre. The issue was resolved in short time but it was obvious that tensions between the two groups were high, especially since the onset of construction on the small moon and the influx of offworlders arriving to the Star Port.

She decided to walk from the Commerce Centre to the Dianoga Den for a much needed drink. She made sure to cover her face with scarf and hood to avoid any local attention. She had become somewhat of a celebrity since her ascension to the throne. The attention from the populace was understandable but it made her feel uneasy.

She slipped in through the back door, wiped her boots on a nearby mat and flung her cloak on a waiting hook. Despite recent development in the city, the infiltration of the swamp into the main corridors was a daily battle and if the accumulated muck on her boots was any indication, it was a battle she was losing.

Rash Krem was tending the bar, busying himself in preparation for the wave of patrons that would be along shortly for their daily dose of swamp eel and ale. "I'll be with you in a moment." He shouted from behind a heap of wash cloths. Fukara sat herself on an old stool at the bar. The stool was made of a knotted wood and looked to be very old. Although the building was erected recently, the furnishings were a nod to the time before the rediscovery of the moon, a time many were beginning to forget..but not Rash.  

Rash seemed to be unimpressed with Fukara and treated her with indifference the few times she had visited the bar. She wasn't sure if it was contempt or just his way, regardless, it was something she appreciated and the main reason she came to the Dianoga Den. Zjan Cress on the other hand became a bumbling idiot whenever she was around. She found it difficult to understand his broken Basic, made even more difficult when trying to interpret it though his nervous stuttering.

Zjan popped out from the kitchen and immediately froze when he saw Fukara at the bar. His stare became uncomfortable so she broke his gaze with a smile and a wave. Zjan turned bright red and stumbled back into the kitchen without a word.

After a few minutes, Rash set his cloths under the bar and waddled over to Fukara to take her order. "What can I get for you?" He asked. "Blue Milk?" She responded. It was a favorite of hers as it always brought back memories of her father on Tattooine. Rash shook his head. "None of that here. We had a few barrels of it last week but it ran dry pretty quick. I've got our local ale and brandy, some Corellian Whiskey and that's about it." He said. "A bit of Ale will be fine then." She replied. Her gaze turned to the dianoga eye set on a slab of wood that was hanging above the bar. Rash noticed her gaze as he was readying her drink. "Is that where the bar got its name?" She asked. Rash set her drink down in a ceramic mug and shook his head in response. "Nay, the original bar was built atop of the lair of a dianoga, or so they say. Long before my time I guess. Old Zjan seems to think one still lives beneath the bar in an underground stream. Then again, he also believes in old prophecy's that sound like nonsense to me." He said.

Fukara felt the animosity in his tone but respected him even more for it. She said nothing and turned her attention to the Nautolan who had been sipping his Whiskey quietly. She thought she recognized him but couldn't decide from where. She caught his gaze and raised her glass to him in acknowledgment.

As George quietly sat drinking his Corellian Whiskey he was soon joined by a female, a somewhat local around these parts by the look of it. She spoke to the barkeep as if they had known each other for years. But George didn't really get a good look at her so he continued to drink his whiskey and avoid any potential conflict.

Soon after the woman sat down to what seemed to be an ale she turned around looked at George, as he peeked up he saw a face he recognized, not one of recent but one he knew non the less. She raised her glass to him, he returned the favour with a large smile. He took another sip of whiskey as he looked around the bar. He also took this time to think back and try to remember where he had seen that face before... It wasn't unusual for George to see a face he recognized, he saw so many that he occasionally got them confused, but not this one. She was no senator or diplomatic envoy. No she was much more, but where from...

The blue nautolan returned her gesture as she took a big gulp of ale. Dark amber in color, she looked at her glass curiously wondering how the locals brewed it. It had a faint floral fragrance to it and was quite sweet as far as ales go.

"Rash!" She said, raising her voice so the Selkath could hear. "What do you call this ale?" She asked. Rash never bothered to take his eyes off his task but replied sharply. "Ale! What do you call it?" He barked. Fukara returned his comment with a scowl and turned her attention back to the familiar nautoloan, still sipping his whiskey at the bar.

She had met very few nautolan in her travels and had never been anywhere close to their homeworld in Glee Anselm system which was far from Rolion. She thought about it for a few moments when memories started to flood her mind.

"I've got it!" She exclaimed, catching the attention of the nautolan. "Wylly Grim! Of course! We were introduced at the Combat Dome! Heh, looks like you made it out of there no worse for ware! What was your name again? And what, pray tell are you doing all the way out here?" She asked.

"By the million gods, will you look at this place, Bob?" Wylly muttered as he brought the Delta-7 around in a slow sleepy sweep through the misty air of the warm, swamp laden city slab upon which sat the hastily constructed town sat below.

Bob swiveled his head up to stare at Wylly. "Bleek," he said. The sad beeping sound was the usual answer to rhetorical statements from the K-4 security droid Wylly had reprogrammed as a general service droid.

"Yeah, bleak is right. She wasn't kidding when she said her 'subjects' needed uplifting.Huh, buddy?" Wylly spied what looked like a tavern or some such near the northern edge of the developing town and decided to have a look. Law of life in the galaxy dictated that if you wanted to find out what was what in a new area, find a cheap bar. If you were lucky, the alcohol would kill the taint in the bad food, and you could gt a feel for the lay of the land. He brought the small craft down on a sturdy enough looking piece of road near the ramshackle building and headed to the hatch. "You stay here and do your thing, Bob" Wylly told the droid.

"Whirrl, bleek." Bob replied.
"Not too talkative today are ya?"
"Nope," said the droid and turned to head toward the back of the ship to do whatever he thought needed to be done.
"Hey, get over it will ya?" Wylly yelled after him. "Its not the first time I called you a rolling box of rusty bolts, now, is it?" Wylly grabbed his old ironwood staff and stepped out of the Delta-7, muttering to himself about temperamental droids and fervently wishing smacking one upside the back of the head would do something other than break something. Most likely Wylly's own offending hand.

The first thing Wylly noticed as he stepped onto the newly laid duracrete road was the humidity. It hit him half a step before the smell. Not a bad smell, really. But certainly different from the scents he was used to in the fields and forests of Saarn. Musty decay and algae mixed with the clean aroma of fresh, moving water. Wylly reminded himself that wetlands the size of a moon had to be vibrant to reach the kind of balance that made it viable as a total planetary ecology. He thought he even smelled the sweet fragrance of flowers.

Looking around, Wylly could see people bustling about. A scant few dressed in the usual galactic styles that marked them as builders of one kind or another. Most were dressed in more rustic fashion. Trousers and tunics of rough cloth, or long mantles approaching primitive looking robes, also rough spun, with drab colors looking hand sown. The buildings were in various states of completion, with a number getting final facade fixtures or paint. To the east, Wylly spied a newish looking starport, its towers glittering above the swirling mist that was just beginning to form in the late afternoon air. Well, she hasn't been idle. I gotta give her that.

Wylly crossed the short distance to what he hope was a tavern. The shingle read Dianoga Den in large, hand painted letters that belied a certain artistic flair. Wylly entered, realizing he was hungry as much as thirsty. As he scanned the worn down interior of the place he regretted the rumble in his belly. The room was dark, smelling of the swamp. Furnishings were meager, made of rough wood and old plastics. He was heartened to see people at the bar. If the place had patrons, then maybe it wasn't so bad after all. Of course, that depends on the patrons, doesn't it?

Wylly strode to the end of the bar and ordered a brandy from the Selkath tending bar. The last Selkath Wylly had encountered was in the belated Combat Dome. The fish had taken a while to wear down, but Wylly had eventually landed the knockout blow with the same staff he carried now. He decided not to mention that to the bar man. As he looked over to the other drinkers, his jaw nearly hit the floor. It couldn't be! "Georgie?" he half yelled. "Georgie, is that really you?"

The other customer turned to face Wylly. Wylly's heart slid into his gut. He had wanted to sneak into town, get a look around, and get back to Saarn without wasting any time. Just a quick scouting mission, of sorts. Oh well...

"By the million god's, what are you doing here? I would have thought you would be hanging at your new palace or something, Yo Majesty." Wylly was pretty sure he was never going to get used to thinking of Fukara as a queen. He fervently hoped his life wasn't going to have to bank on it.
He would know in a moment.

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear!" Fukara shouted as she sprung from her chair. She thought Wylly looked rather stunned to see her. "Yo Majesty? Well you can stop with the formalities Cat Man. But if you insist, leave out the Yo next time, ok?" Fukara flashed a smile as she knocked him on the shoulder. "How ya doing old buddy? You seem surprised to see me in a joint like this. This is where the excitement is! The selkath barkeep thinks I'm a despot and the other one thinks a dianoga lives under the bar!" Fukara cringed when she realized how loud she was speaking. The bartender gave her a sour look of disapproval and returned to his duties. It was a little too early in the day and she hadn't had quite enough to drink to warrant boisterous outbursts like those. Either way she would be accommodated in any bar on the planet, not only for her reputation as a generous tipper but also because, well.. she is the Queen.

George continued to think and drink, not particularly in equal portions, but close enough. He every so often glanced around looking at the other woman at the bar, still trying to remember who she was and where he had seen her from. However just as it sprung into his head she spoke again, talking to the Nautolan this time. "George is the name, yes I remember now, the combat dome. That was a tricky little place." He replied reminiscing the hard fought escape of the combat dome, with the help of Bel and Wylly.

For the moment that George had though about the Combat Dome he almost thought it had came true, as the door swung open a man walked in, a cat looking one. "It can't be... Really?" He said quietly to himself as the cat man walked over and begin to speak. "Well yes it is my old friend. Its been a while, what have you been up to?" He replied as he took another sip of his whiskey. It was all of a sudden becoming a sort of party.

Wylly was surprised to see Fukara in this dive. Not because it was a dive, but because of the remote odds of seeing her in these few square meters of all the millions of square meters on the large moon. "Yo, Yo Majesty, as Yo wish" Geez dude, is that the best you've got? He knew it wasn't his best work in the smart-ass remarks department. He quickly grabbed the brandy offered by the Selkath, realized he had forgotten the Bosph pear when ordering, shrugged and took a gulp.  He let out a sigh as the brandy burned it's way down his throat. It was surprisingly good stuff. He took a quick glance around the place with a new respect. If they could make good brandy out here, he could probably get along just fine.

"I'm good, Georgie," Wylly turned to his old buddy. "How is it we run into each other at all the same low-life dives in the galaxy? No offense, but what the hell brings you all the way out here? And don't tell me you had a taste for swamp food!" Wylly turned toward Fukara, asked "You trying to recruit him, boss?"

Wylly really wished he had a Bosph pear in his brandy. He would have to do something about that when he moved over here more permanently.

"I am here for the swamp food." George replied with a laugh. "No, no I was passing by heading off for some diplomatic missions and well my ship is big, but after a few weeks it gets a little boring. This was the first place I found. Plus my alcohol stash on my ship was getting a little low, needed to keep some for emergencies. Then I found this place." He finished as he took another sip of his whiskey. The burning sensation told him he was in the right place. "Plus don't we just love the low life dives, it adds a new thrill of not knowing whats within." He finished up.

Fukara took another gulp of the sweet tasting ale when she heard Georgie's comment about the bar being a low life dive, as he put it.

"Hey! It's good enough for a Queen, isn't it?" She chuckled as she took another mouthful from the wooden mug. She finished her drink and motioned to the barkeep to bring her another. The selkath grumbled something under his breath and took his time fulfilling her request. Seeing Wylly and Georgie interact brought a smile to her face. They seemed to be good friends and she wondered if she would ever spark up a friendship like the one they had. Relationships were difficult for her to maintain at times. Fukara stared at the dianoga eye that hung on the wall as an old memory took her mind elsewhere.

"Hey! It's good enough for a Queen, isn't it?" Fukara said with a chuckle.

"It is indeed, isn't it." Wylly responded, turning to look at his friend and boss. He just caught the look of melancholy in her eyes as she ordered another drink. The Selkath mumbled something as he poured another. Wylly knew the tone. There was a deep tension lurking below the surface of his movements and regard for his new queen. Wylly made a mental note to work on the cause of that when he got here permanently. For now...

"Bartender...what's your name, mon?" Wylly asked. "I like knowing the man pouring my drinks. I'm Wylly, by the way. Wylly Grim."
The Slekath eyed him warily for a moment. "Krem," he said finally. "Rash Krem. You ready for another brandy?"
"Sure." Wylly emptied his glass and put it on the bar. "With a slice of Bosph pear, if you have it, Rash."
"No Bosph pear," Rash stated, a bit defensively. "All we've been able to get around here is local swamp pear."
"Swamp pear, huh." Wylly considered that a moment. He wanted to warm the guy up a bit, but the fish wasn't helping any. "Sure. Okay. Swamp pear it is."

Rash went to the end of the bar and returned with a purple fruit the size of his fist. He carefully cut a deep slice into the side of the fruit which produced a sweet smelling sludge of thick red liquid that he caught in a medium sized can kept under the bar well. Having emptied the thing to his satisfaction, he then cut a thin sliver of the rind, keeping the thin bit of pulpy fruit flesh intact. After a quick rinse, he dipped it into the ice bin for a moment, dropped it into a glass and poured a healthy shot of brandy on top. Wylly couldn't help notice the expert manner in which the Selkath's fingers manipulated the purple fruit, cutting and twisting like a man that had handled them for a lifetime.

"Thanks, mate." Wylly took the drink, which now looked like decaying blood, and downed a healthy swallow. "Yeaghh!" He couldn't help it. The stuff was foul. Searching for the right way to say it, he blurted out "This stuff is foul!"
"Its an acquired taste," relied Rash, a lopsided grin on his face, sharp teeth showing. He rolled the flesh of a slice of rind with the precision of a practiced surgeon, and popped it into his mouth. The red fruit colored his teeth like blood.
"You better pour me a straight brandy." Wylly got out through his gagging. "I gotta wash this down with something."
"Um hmmm" Rash set out a fresh glass and began pouring.

Wylly took a long gulp of the fresh booze, swishing it about like mouth wash before swallowing. Tears stung his eyes. He didn't need to look at Fukara or Georgie. He could sense their bemusement at his plight readily enough.

"Hey, Rash, why did you keep the juice stuff when you opened that bloody thing up?" Wylly inquired.
"We use it to clean the... the stuff around here that needs cleaning." Rash said absently, taking another mouthful of fruit of the edge of his knife. "The juice is highly acidic. Not exactly sterile, but it does have antiseptic power. At least, until the algae finally gets to it. Then it goes to shit."

Wylly thought about that a moment. La Queena de Mista had mentioned political problems with the Selkath. The inkling of a plan was taking purchase in his mind. He would have to work it through.

"Bartender Krem, a round for the house, sir. And pour one for yourself, too." Wylly was feeling better about prospects for this new enterprise. He looked at Fukara with a Cheshire smile.

As Fukara replied George was surprised by her words. A Queen? He thought as he looked back at her. "Oh my, lady Queen." George replied as he gave a gentle bow. Surprised somewhat by this development as he had no known prior of her royal position. However it was all said with small smirk and little laughter, not being entirely sure she was being truthful about her position.

As George sipped on his Whiskey Wylly caught his attention, as he made some god awful sounds after drinking what looked like blood. However it was quite funny and George laughed at the poor fellow. "You alright Wylly, almost look like you got shocked." George spoke with more laughter. However as the barkeep continued the story of what the juice was used for his turned into one of disgust, thinking the worst. George took the last of his Whiskey only moments prior to Wylly round of buying. "Cheers mate." He said with a gleaming smile, the Nautolan always loved free alcohol and respected those who splashed out, it made him feel apart of something, no matter what it is.

The Ōtsuchi had touched down at the landing pad at The Red Citadel on the moon of Atraken B a day earlier. The Longprobe had looked grimy as he had been on a long journey hyper jumping to several systems as part of his duties as an Ambassador for the Arkanian Engineers.

Georgie his boss has mentioned something about maybe coming past Atraken B to recharge the batteries, and he had heard that his friend Wylly was heading down this way as well to work for the new Queen. He had decided to spend a week on the moon in the hope of maybe crossing paths with his two great friends and to re-stock his ship before heading off again.

The night before he had found a nice little dive called the The Dianoga Den and that is where he was headed again. Walking through the city the heat and smell of the swamp assaulted him at first but he quickly became used to it. He knew at the end of his walk a large stein of the locally brewed beer was in the offing and he had found that he really enjoyed it the night before - or at least he remembered enjoying it. He had perhaps drank one drink too many.

Reaching the front entrance, Belwarmec ducked under the doorway as he stepped in and took in the scene before him.

"Yo Majesty," Wylly said to Fukara in a whisper, "there may be an opportunity here. This stuff could probably be turned into cleaning fluid or something. We could set these guys up, make the stuff, and let them keep most of the profits. If you make sure a Selkath is on the directing board, it may go a long way toward easing them into the fold."

Wylly took a long drink of his brandy, without the so called pear, continuing to rinse the foul taste out of his throat. He turned toward a sound near the door. A large armored figure stood there, taking in the scene. Wylly eased his sleeve free with an exaggerated, long drink of brandy, stepping toward Fukara so that his body was between her and the door. His wrist caster ready. Figures. The one time I don't have Renee or the droids. He continued his idea about a business to help tensions with the Selkath while eyeing the mechanical figure at the door, hoping Georgie caught the movement.

As George sat drinking his whiskey as Wylly and Fukara discussed new business strategies a shady character came to the door. However George at this stage had his back to it. He was watching Wylly, Fukara and having a look around the rest of the bar. Little strange, but he zoned out, surprising seeing he wasn't at home in either Nulan or on his ship. But non the less, being stuck in a freighter for long periods of time can do that to the mind.

Eventually he returned his attention to Wylly, since last glance he had made a slight shift in seat and looked quite menacing.  His arm caster seemed slightly revealed, at least enough to be used if necessary. But George still don't know the threat. Wylly looked at the door, not taking his eyes off the subject for a second as he used himself as a meat shield for his dear queen. It was at this time George slowly got off his seat and reached into his jacked clutching a ELG-3a, but not yet completely removing it. He too stood in front of the queen in case of attack.

However as he turned he was surprised to see the clad armour of his dear friend Belwarmec. It was odd to see him on this side of the galaxy, and quite a coincidence. Well George though so. He released his ELG and walked towards the door, his face changing from aggressive to passive as he went to greet his friend. "Bel, what a surprise to see you here. And what a coincidence." He said as he walked over and embraced Bel in a friendly hug. "Wylly, its Bel. Remember him? Changed a bit since last time you seen him eh?" George spoke to the defensive Wylly who was still protecting his queen.

Wylly was confused. He had never seen Belwarmec in armor before. For all he knew the walking tin can was anyone. But Georgie didn't hesitate, and he was usually pretty cautious himself. "Bel?" Wylly queried the stranger. "Bel, is that really you inside there? By the million gods, why are you wearing all that in a freaking swamp?"

After catching a local transport to Atraken B, Mathias decided the best place to chat with the locals is the local tavern. First step off the ship gave way to a menacing sneeze. The swampy air is wreaking havoc on Mathias's senses. Trying to fight off the urge to sneeze again, he notices in the distance some relatively new structures along with a dinge hole of a tavern, called the Dianoga Den.

Den, Mathias thought. More like a hovel. Giving into his thirst, Mathias heads over to the front of the building and walks in.

Holy tarnation, I thought the outside had a scent. There are more individuals here than he thought. A rather interesting looking woman sipping a large mug of ale catches his attention. Although. Another Cathar! I haven't seen another one of my kind in ages. I think I will introduce myself to him and see if there is anything interesting happening on this rock, after he is done choking on what looks like a bloody martini.

Hopefully the fruit makes that drink taste better. I'm guessing no by the look of my kin.

"Barkeep, may I have a round of whatever this nice lady is having?"

The barkeep looks at him with derision. With a mild groan, he grabs a polyfoam container (guessing he ran out of the wooden ones) and pours him an ale. After receiving his drink, he shoots the barkeep some credits and an extra one for good luck. The barkeep looks at him with a lurid grin. "I'm guessing that's the happiest face he will have for a while," says under his breath.

Looking over at his other Cathar compatriot, he decides to take a walk over to his table.
"Umm, could I buy you a round of something that doesn't make you choke like an X-34 Landspeeder with no juice?"

Bel removed his helmet, a wry smile on his face.

"Heya Georgie, you said you may be stopping so I decided to take a few days break in the chance I may catch you, and Wylly had said he was working for a queen down here so I thought 2 birds one stone if I managed to catch either of you, otherwise I needed the break".

Turning to Wylly "Sorry mate, I'm clanking around in this because of all the choices in clothing I had this was the the most suited to being in a swamp - it was either this, my flight suit or my formal cloths for diplomatic use. I figured out of the three this was the easiest to get clean"

Another Cathar who had also entered the bar had walked up to Wylly as well "Umm, could I buy you a round of something that doesn't make you choke like an X-34 Landspeeder with no juice?"

Bel turned to the newcomer "Beat me to it but that's okay I will get the next one. The name is Belwarmec but everyone calls me Bel, how you be?" he asked the Cathar.

As Bel removed his helmet the Duros face shun through and the room seemed to be able to rest easy now knowing the masked figure was a friendly now a foe. "Ahh fair enough, seems you've hit the jackpot then. Both of us, here with the..." George went to continue on, but by the attire on the Queen George was unsure of weather or not it was common knowledge that the Queen visited such an 'interesting' tavern. George looked at Wylly for guidance, or the introduction. Either would work in this situation. "But its good to see you here Bel, works had me all over the place. Nice to just kick back with a whiskey or two." George finished as he began walking back to the bar, drink in hand.

Wylly felt like a washrag being dragged by a pack of hounds. He noticed Georgie's look of... what? Something caught in the thoughts of his normally fluid mind. The ragged looking new Cathar that shoved his way through the door was mumbling something or other. And Bel was trying to convince him that his armour was easier to clean than a flight suit.

Eschewing the lesser options, Wylly threw his arms around Belwarmec in a Cat hug, which he knew would throw the Duros off a bit. 'Good to see you, man," Wylly said warmly. "Been awhile, to be sure. Come in and see the new Queen of Atraken B. Bet you haven't seen Fukara since, what? The slaver raid on the Dome?"

Wylly stepped back, waved an arm toward Fukara, letting Bel and Georgie move toward the bar. "Hey, O Queen of the Mist," he shouted, "Look who's here! You remember Bel from the Dome, right?" Wylly caught Bel's look of amusement at the irreverent use of the new monarch's title. "Yeah, I know," he whispered as Bel passed, "She's gonna kill me one day. Or worse, make make me fly right. I'll be over in a second. Let me see what this Cat's about. He seems to be trying to get my attention or something."

Wylly watched the backs of his friends recede toward the bar and his newly adopted queen. He then turned, kicked a synthwood chair out from the table with his heavily booted foot and sat heavily onto it. He eyed the dark haired Cathar across the table from him. His emotions were torn as he studied the man for a moment, Emerald eyes taking in the confident exterior. Or at least, what he projected as a confident exterior.

The other Cat's familiarity in asking to by Wylly a drink was a bit over the top. But he guessed the guy meant well. At least he wasn't looking for a fight, anyway. And, truth be told, Wylly was intrigued by seeing one of his own kind. Apart from Renee, it had been a long time since he had truly talked to another Cathar. He found that other Cats brought back too many memories, too much pain. There was always that disconnect. The distance created by four thousand years of history. He had seen what every one of his kind only knew of as some distant fairy tale of an ancient time. Not even real to them. Just a story. For Wylly it still felt like just a handful of summers ago, a handful of sand through the fingers. For other Cats in this time it was but a single grain of sand on the other end of a long beach.

Wylly regretted sitting down. He could feel the dark thing stirring inside him. Renee was not here. His only real support when the shadows came. She was always there to lean on, her touch throwing light on those shadows, sending them back to the depths from whence they came. But not here. Not now.

Wylly looked at the stranger. He was not a kinsmen. He was another stranger out of Wylly's sense of time. He just happened to be Cathar. He would probably be as beaten down and washed out of Cathar Pride as all the others Wylly had come across since his awakening. Not that there were that many. They still won in the end, didn't they? They turned us into a vagabond race of listless gypsies.

Wylly regretted sitting down. It brought the darkness.

"So, who are you and what can I do for you?" he asked.

Before the new Cat could answer, Wylly heard noises behind. Turning, he saw Bel and Georgie, the bartender, but not Fukara. He scanned around the back of the bar, but she was not to be seen. He shrugged. "Hmpf." It wasn't like she hadn't disappeared before. In fact, Wylly knew, she rather enjoyed doing the disappearing act. Well, he thought to himself, she'll turn up. She always does.

He turned back to the Cather at the table, some recognition dawning. The man suddenly seemed familiar somehow, but Wylly couldn't place it. "Have we met before?"

The table of interesting gentlemen looked at me a little half-cocked wondering who this person was talking to them as if they know them. He found that sometimes in life, you can get the best information from the most random of people. Not having seen his kin in a while, he found a strange connection to the one he offered the drink to. Almost like deja vu.

Not wanting to be rude, he extends his hand to the man behind the mask named Bel and the other man, he believed was named George. "The name is Mathias. Mathias Cole. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I will actually buy you all another round. Consider it a token of friendship."

Turning his head toward the other Cat, he says,  

"Actually, you do know me. You forget already? You helped introduce me to your faction."
He lifts us his sleeve to reveal a rather large red pawprint on the side of his shoulder.

"I heard a rumor about a new queen in town..? Is that you or is there a male dancer around here who goes by that name," Mathias said hoping to break the ice with a comical joke..

Well hopefully it was comical otherwise this might end poorly.

"Question for you fellas...Why is it called Dianoga Den?"

Bel clasped Mathias's forearm in a friendly greeting, a smile crossing his face as he heard the words "Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I will actually buy you all another round. Consider it a token of friendship".
"Well met Mathias, the pleasure is mine since your buying the first round".

Mathias then turned to Wylly and started talking to his big cat friend so Bel turned to Georgie "Well mate, when did you arrived? I arrived yesterday and I have decided to stick around for a couple of days before heading back to Arbran, unless you need me back a few days quicker? I was getting a little lonely in my Longprobe and wanted to restock on whiske ... food."

As the pleasantries continued he heard some of his favourite words. 'I will... buy you all another round.' Yess, the thought of more whiskey ran through his head. However as Bel finished with the unknown Cathar, which his name was apparently Mathias he turned to Wylly and they had their own conversation... Probably about cat things, as they do.

Bel at this time turned to his boss and friend and asked how he ended up in such a place. "Only got here this afternoon, wasn't going to be a long stop. Was dropping off to... Resupply. Yeah." George laughed as he continued. "Then I saw Wylly, it had been a while, then somehow in the land of the gods you rocked up." George felt like something above them created this moment as he took in Bel's second question, did he need Bel in Arbran any sooner. "Nar, you're alright mate. Seems everything is tied up at the moment. Take you're time, when you get back take a breather, its been a busy month. Well that is if your other boss doesn't have work for you." George laughed some more, knowing that Bel was a very busy man, trying to keep not one boss, but two happy. But he was doing a hell of a job at that.