#olivaw

Her Father’s Lightsaber

I’ve always tried to include some little “spice of life” moments in my hooks, and Whispers from the Shadows is no exception. I feel these little scenes are not only great at giving the reader a brief moment of levity in an otherwise tense storyline, but they also present a chance to provide those crucial character development moments that give a better understanding to the personalities of these fictional people.

Because I like to listen to music as I write, lately I have been listening to Sharm, Gigi, and other singers/artists who are familiar to many in the WoW community. For the bar fight scene for Olivaw and Cheyuun, I decided to include them and their colleagues of the Val’kyr Battle Maidens into this scene.

The Bar Fight at Fizzle and Pozzik's

Olivaw sat at the bar in Fizzle and Pozzik's tavern staring at his sixth mug of ale. His black duster hung over the back of his wooden chair, and across the table Cheyuun drained his own drink which was some concoction that the smuggler tried only once and almost lost his lunch. How the tauren could enjoy it he doubted he would ever understand. Their table sat along the side wall near the entrance to the tavern. Tonight's patrons varied from elves, orcs, trolls, humans, and of course a large number of both goblins and gnomes.  Near the back a group of six women performed on stage, the Val'kyr Battle Maidens. Four of them sang vocals while two worked the machines that created the background music. To Olivaw their performance reminded him of his most treasured times on Nar Shaddaa between smuggling runs when a cantina provided the best entertainment and opportunities to unwind after a stressful job.  He could never return to that world since that day in Desolace , but Olivaw never regretted his decision to remain on Azeroth.  True that he would never fly the hyperspace lanes again or skirt Imperial and Republic patrols as he smuggled medical supplies and food rations to war torn worlds, but his new role amongst the jedi order on this world gave him solace that he worked for a great cause and could achieve his same goals of helping those caught in the middle of two warring governments. The only thing he truly missed was his ship. He slid his fingers through the handle of his mug and lifted it to his mouth. That was the worst feeling when he first arrived knowing the anomaly had destroyed his home for the past twenty years, and when the news from Grogg that pirates had found the wreckage on an island his heart skipped a beat. He never thought he would ever see his baby again. The ale slid down his throat as he tried to drown his sorrow. Daneel forbade him from joining the recovery team. The Grand Master claimed that Olivaw was too emotionally connected to the wreckage that the jedi needed to secure. Damn right he was emotionally connected. How dare the miraluka keep him from his ship!

"I know I warned you that Demira wouldn't like us convincing the mages to open a portal here just so we could get drunk," Cheyuun said as he lowered his mug to the table and hiccupped. "But right now I don't really care if she does get mad."

Since their battle with the Burning Legion, Olivaw could think of no other man he would rather fight alongside than the tauren sharing drinks with him now. Their friendship had grown close since then. Cheyuun had moved his wife and three kids from Mulgore to the jedi compound in Northrend, and the young ones took to calling the zabrak uncle. 

"But what if she's waiting with your wife when we get back?" the smuggler said after draining his mug and slamming it on the table. "I'm glad you're here with me because I needed a drink and of course stuffed shirt would never allow anyone to open a tavern in the valley, but I don't want to get you in trouble with your spouse."

"I can handle her," the tauren said with a wave of his hand. A smile crossed his muzzle. "I'll just blame it all on you."

"You're drunk."

Cheyuun looked up at the ceiling as he licked his lips. After a moment he looked back at the zabrak. "Maybe a little. But you..." he pointed his finger at the smuggler. "You're lucky Illiana is off in the Alteracs because I think you are more drunk than I."

"You mean more drunk than me," Olivaw corrected.

"Huh?"

"You said 'I' and it should've been 'me.'"

"Are you sure?" Cheyuun asked.

Olivaw's eyes searched the table for a moment before he responded. "Pretty sure...yeah...me instead of I...yeah."

"Well...whichever it is...you're just lucky Illiana isn't home when we get back." The zabrak waved at the bartender for two more drinks. "She doesn't love me anymore...at least not like before her memories were restored."

"She still loves you, my friend," the tauren said as he gently gripped Olivaw's shoulder.

"I'm not so sure..." the smuggler started to reply when he felt a tap on his other shoulder. Both he and Cheyuun looked up at the newcomer just as the women on stage began another song. An orc with graying hair and shaggy goatee looked down at him with red beady eyes. He wore simple workman's clothing. "Can I help you?" Olivaw asked.

The orc leaned on the table with his right hand. ""You have to be the ugliest human I have ever seen," he said in a gruff voice. "All those horns on your head...did your mother sleep with a demon? I'm surprised she didn't kill you at birth as ugly as you are."

Cheyuun released the zabrak's shoulder. Olivaw looked around the orc to a table not far where two more orcs and a troll sat intently watching the exchange. Apparently this one's companions. At another table two humans, a man and a woman, lowered their drinks also hearing the orc. He sighed as he looked back at the red eyes.

"What'd you say about my mother?" he asked as he stood from the table. The orc turned to face him and stood half a head taller. Olivaw's eyes looked left and then right at the breadth of the offender's shoulders and then back into the red eyes. "I'll have you know my mother was a saint."

"She was no saint," the orc replied standing straighter adding to his height. "Especially if she sired a demon spawn like you."

"Don't do it," Cheyuun warned as Olivaw looked over to him.

He smiled as he drew his arm back and then punched the orc's jaw as hard as he could. Pain shot up his arm as he pulled it back and grimaced as he looked at the red knuckles. "Damn he's got a hard jaw," he said to the tauren.

"I told you not to do it."

Olivaw backed up a step and prepared for the orc's response, but the other man simply furrowed his brow and then his eyes rolled back. He fell to the floor with a loud thump causing everyone in the tavern to stop what they were doing and turn their attention to the zabrak standing over the unconscious orc. Even the Val'kyr Battle Maidens stopped singing because of the ruckus. The orc's companions stood up from their chairs as did the human couple.

"This isn't good," the smuggler said to the tauren.

Then he heard a loud whistle and turned his head to see the blonde elf singer pull her fingers from her mouth. "Frostbite!" she yelled just as the troll came up and punched Olivaw square in the nose. His eyes watered instantly as black spots formed in his vision. He fell back and saw a blur of brown just before the blackness overtook him.  He wasn't sure how long he was out before he opened his eyes to a giant blur and his head pounding. Above the ringing in his ears he could hear shouting and things crashing around him. Something wet was on his face and he shook his head to return his vision. Opening his eyes again, he saw clearly a very large saber toothed cat standing before him. He pushed himself back and then brought up his hands before him trying to ward off the cat.

"Nice kitty," he said now with his back against a wall. He stood up against it while still warding off the saber tooth. "Pretty kitty." It crouched and growled at him. "Oh shit...Cheyuun...I could use a some help here!"

"I'm a little busy," came the reply. He turned his head slightly to see the tauren standing some feet to his left. He held a human in a headlock in his left arm and an orc in his right. The dark haired elf singer had climbed onto his back and was pulling on his mane. "You're on your own."

                                                          ******

When the fight broke out, one of the gnomes ran from the tavern to find the Brute Squad. They returned about fifteen minutes later to find all of the patrons intermingled and singing with the Val'kyr Battle Maidens. The enforcers looked at each other and then the singing crowd. Everyone had bruises, bloody lips, or black eyes. Several tables and chairs lie in ruin and one of the ceiling lamps looked close ato falling to the floor. Amongst the crowd, Olivaw sat in front of the stage in a shoulder hug with the gray haired orc as they raised their mugs and sang along. The Brute Squad left since the fight was apparently over and they doubted anyone would admit who or what started it. After the song ended, the zabrak and orc smiled to each other with a salute and walked their separate ways. Olivaw stepped up to the stage and shook hands with the blonde haired elf.

"Thanks for that back there," he said smiling. "If you hadn't called him off..."

"Any time," she giggled. 'Frostbite wouldn't have done anything permanent."

"All the same...I owe you one," he said with a final shake of her hand before turning to meet Cheyuun near the entrance where he was talking to the human he had held in a headlock.

The singer turned to her human companion when to their surprise the orc stood up to the stage with his arms behind his back. He smiled to the human and then closed his eyes and pursed his lips. She looked to her friend.

"I did it one time and now every orc thinks I will give them a kiss," she said.

I like imagining Daneel and Dors as having a sibling-like relationship.  I mean, considering they’re probably the only humaniforms hanging around, they’ve gotta have some bond. Brief explanations as to what is going on, from top left to bottom right:

1. The telepathic arguments I imagine were going on during Prelude to Foundation.  Daneel doesn’t understand how hard it is to babysit a human who keeps running off...oh wait.

2. Thrift shop run!  Robots gotta get their clothes somewhere, keep their closets up to date.  Trantorian fashion becomes Daneel.

3. The sad picture.  I imagine, years into the future, that the two of them keep photos of all the people they cared about, and look back at them from time to time. </3

5.  The continuation of the mental argument, except now it’s from Hari’s point of view (and it looks weird because no one’s saying anything, they’re just having a glare contest).