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Post by Shaman Odin Alfodr on Apr 9, 2013 7:26:46 GMT -8
*Foamwander City was one of the largest floating cities on the planet and a major centre for commerce and industry.*
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Syren
The Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Syren on Apr 29, 2013 5:48:52 GMT -8
Syren had wandered the ocean for days, before she came upon the floating city of Foamwander. They had been endless days of blue travel, the depths of the ocean pressing tight around her as she made her way alone across the vast desert. Luckily, she had encountered few of the large predators that called Mon Calamari hope, and only a couple of the mediocre predators found on most ocean planets.
She had hauled her body out of the ocean just as a fierce storm pounded it's fists against the wandering island city. Foam and spray had sent most of the citizens inside, all but those die hard fishermen who trolled the depths for krakana and all manner of tasty beasts. Syren was virtually alone when she came up onto the docks, rocking and tilting in the giant swells. The massive city did not seem to feel the rock and roll motion in the upper levels, but down here where the sea churned, even the hardened sea wanderer felt a little queasy.
Syren took a moment to collect herself as soon as she was in no danger of being swept over the side and into the depths once more. There was a lovely, tight, dark alley where she wedged herself to stop her head from spinning and tried to keep her stomach from flip-flopping. The tight space helped her to feel more stable and supported while the fluid in her ears tried to stabilze in the turmoil of the storm.
<<I swim over 200 klicks within a week with little incident only to be seasick when I reach land.>> she thought to herself. She had closed her eyes and braced her arms against the the building's opposing walls. Spray from the ocean would occasionally whip past her face. It helped to relieve the feverish feeling that assaulted her now that she could stand.
Through the duration of her trip here, Syren had very slowly come back to herself, at least to have a vague idea of who she was rather than just the instinctual beast she had awoken as aboard the fishing boat. Still, her memories were full of holes, a lifetime of jig saw puzzles all jumbled together with little hope of sorting out the pieces. She slid down the wall, sitting down hard on the deck of the city as wave after wave of nausea assaulted her with the pitch of the ship.
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Syren
The Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Syren on Apr 30, 2013 6:19:03 GMT -8
Syren came back to the world in the dark. There were buzzing and whirling machines surrounding her and the acrid smell of hospital hit her hard with consciousness. There was a drip attached to her arm and the soft glow of red lighting everywhere. <<To preserve night vision>> she thought.
She allowed herself to relax back into the bed and worry later about her position. She felt that she was in a relatively safe place, warm, regaining fluids, not lost at sea. Still she only had a vague recollection of who she was. It was very confusing. She was Eariel, a Calnennore from Gaeren III, but there was not much else that she knew about herself. Her knowledge of things was in tact, but what made Eariel, Eariel was gone, or at least locked away unable to be accessed.
<<They call this amnesia in Basic>> She picked at the blanket covering her in the darkness. Though relaxed, it was hard to fall back to sleep. She felt restless stuck here in this little cell.
A flicker of movement in the hall called her attention to the tiny window in the door. She saw a nurse walk by outside the door. <<Mon Calamari?>> She shifted onto her side in order to see better through the observation window. Could she be on Dac? Her mind shifted back to the fishing boat where she had awakened. <<They were Quarren.>>She smiled then to herself, Dac was a good place, though she hoped that she would not have to swim that great distance in their oceans once again.
Memories of Gaeren III drifted to her. There were vast oceans there as well, but her clan had lived on the sloping beaches and marshes of the massive continent. They swam off shore sparringly keeping to the inshore shoals, reefs and islands where the depths were not so deep and the fish were very sweet. But there had been others, some who nomadically wandered the oceanic desert, diving into the deep mysteries of the world to catch squid and all manner of strange looking creatures. Syren did not envy the strange looking nomads. They had stunted looking legs with long, wide torsos and noses that were far wider and seemed to migrate to the top of their heads, depending on the individual. Still, the nomads would come inshore to trade sometimes in the shallows. They often shunned land, many had never been out of the water...
Syren wondered why she could have so much detail come back about her home and people, but have retain no information about herself. She wrapped a long fingered and webbed hand around the drip post and slipped from the bed. She feet felt unstable beneath her, but she was determined to take steps away from the bed if she could not easily find sleep. She made her way to a mirror on the far wall and peered into the depths of it.
The moonlight from the shuttered window turned the silvery white of her face skin a blue that seemed to glow. The whites of her eyes were all but invisible in the gloom, the dual irises pushed to the corners. The green was the dominate color, but that extra silver band still ringed the pupil, far more prominent under the water. She followed the sharp lines and angle of her face: the high cheekbones, the long and sloped forehead, the protrusive and wide jaw. She reached a hand up to trace the bones in her face.
There in the darkness she whispered to the mirror, “Who are you, Eariel?”
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Syren
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Post by Syren on May 2, 2013 5:23:22 GMT -8
On any clear morning, the city was a awash with sunshine from the twin stars that gave life to the system. The swell bounced the structure up and down as it moved lethargically across the vast expanse of deep blue. Syren leaned against the railing staring out into the horizon. The hospital garden had an excellent view for their patients, and she had been encouraged to remain for study. Whether study about her condition or her particular species was still uncertain to her, but nevertheless she stood and watched sea birds dive in and out of the blue and then come wheeling back towards the floating city.
"Good morning," one of the Dac nurses had come up from behind with a new form of medicine. Syren turned slowly to take the cup, but had a wary sense of foreboding about ingesting this new pill. The nurse watched her so that she would take the pill. It was a habit that the staff made around their more mentally unstable patients. Syren found it irritating. Pills were not going to help her regain her memories. If anything, they were slowly eating away at her.
Nevertheless, she smiled at the nurse and held the cup to her lips, allowing the pill to fall into her palm rather than into her mouth. She made a great show of swallowing and handing back the cup, but as soon as the Mon Calamari was out of sight, the pill went over the side and into the churning sea below.
"Goodbye sense stifling drugs." The drugs had started several weeks ago, when she had agreed to further study. It had taken her a couple of days though to realize that the drugs made her foggy, at least in a sense. In a normal state she could feel things in a broader spectrum, look at other creatures and know their feelings, possibly impressions of thoughts. She even felt that her reaction time to certain things was increased beyond that of others. But with the drugs, she had felt as if she had blinders put around those parts of her brain that interpreted those particular, unique signals. So she had stopped taking the medicine, sure that it was not helping her feel better at all.
She had brought up the feelings with her doctor before the drugs had been administered. The following day after their chat, she started taking the little green pill. She had a vague feeling that she was missing some crucial information and that maybe deciding to stay at the hospital was not the best of ideas. She began to toy with the idea of leaving, but where would she go? Would they let her leave? She stared back out into the water and tried to capture the feelings she did not quite understand, but felt swirling about in her mind.
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Jago
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Post by Jago on May 2, 2013 14:32:31 GMT -8
In Another Part of The Hospital ~ " My sympathies for your loss, Governor Chalina."
Next to a hospital bed sat a somewhat short man, clothed in what paced for spacer's garb. A light jacket of dark green, a white shirt underneath, trousers of grey, and even holsters at his sides gave the appearance of a starship captain or smuggler, especially when combined with his wild, untamed hair, snowy in its hue. Most likely dyed, most passer-by assumed, especially when taken into account with the man's icy eyes: cold, yet somehow inviting. Friendly even.
He leaned back in his chair, hands folded in his lap as he looked over the woman who had invited him. A Mon Calamari, a native of this world of Dac. Her skin was paler than most of her kind, almost salmon pink in its hue rather than the normal light orange that most were familiar with when it came to the species. Her large, oval eyes were dour, but maintained a bit of light to them in firm defiance of recent events. She rested a hand on the man's knee, the suction cups of her palms careful not to cling to the fabric of her pants. An IV was hooked up to her opposite arm, providing a steady drip of fluid, and the constant beeping of machinery provided a soft metronome to their conversation.
" Your condolences are appreciated, Master Jedi. This sort of travesty is something we have grown accustomed to for the majority of our lives: we persevere, as always."
" Please, Governor: It's just Jago."
" In response, it is just Tial."
She smiled softly, and he replied in kind. Jago Pulastra wondered just what kind of fortitude it took to lose a son in a terrorist bombing and carry on with this sense of ... Stability. Even for a Jedi Master, he couldn't imagine the world of hurt Tial Chalina could be in. Force techniques to sense emotion and all, she was doing an impossible job of keeping her feelings suppressed to focus her mind on the matters at hand. Jago had to admire her.
" I can postpone this if you'd like, Tial. It's not a proble-"
" And in doing so you would prove how weak the leaders of The Republic are. You'll forgive me for being sad, Jago, but that doesn't mean I'm about to abandon my duty. When you leave, I'll have time to rest."
" As you wish," he relented, figuring that if she could continue, then so could he.
" I'm here on behalf of the Senate and the Jedi Order to requisition materials and ships. The New Republic is undergoing a structural reorganization, as is the military, an-"
" And while we're in the middle of a crisis concerning Quarran Seditious Rebels, you come asking me to give up what military resources I have at my disposal."
Jago could only scratch the back of his neck in embarrassment.
" Well, when you put it like that."
" I do put it like that. I understand this world's commitment to The Republic, but until I'm confident that my people are safe and protected from Teuthus' Vengeance, I simply can't just hand over weapons and warships we may need."
Teuthus' Vengeance. What a sad story. A Quarren by the name of Teuthus had been protesting Dac's involvement in the New Republic: typical accusations of corruption, power games, and leaving Dac to fend for itself in times of crisis. Unfounded, but he still drew enough support to get a movement behind him. When a protest of his grew too large in Coral City, it resulted in a riot that the Mon Calamari Guard had to put down. Some screams, blood, and blaster bolts later, Teuthus was dead and an entire movement had formed around him to destabilize the "biased" Mon Calamari community and install a Free State on Dac.
Needless to say, it was a good thing a Jedi was on the planet at the moment.
" And what if I get to the bottom of this? Try and sort things out with the rebels?"
" I don't mean to downplay you, but you are but one person."
" I am but one Jedi, ma'am. Give me a chance. If I can't fix things, you're right where you started anyway."
It was a bold move, perhaps, but Jago knew that the Republic desperately needed those supplies, and Dac needed to not be threatened by fanatical terrorists thrown into a frenzy over a misguided idealist dying. It was a win-win, really.
The entirety of Jago's purpose for traveling, actually, had been just this sort of thing. Spread goodwill among the Galaxy in the name of The Republic and The Order, and show that Jedi were going to take an active role in helping out wherever they could. Now that he had an actual opportunity to do so, with Dac only being his very first stop, Jago was committed to following through on his words with deeds befitting a member of The New Jedi Order.
" I won't let you down. Let me get in touch with the Mon Calamari Guard, see what intelligence they have, and I'll do my work from there. I'll get them to agree to some sort of peace. You have my word."
He was resolute in his tone, in his eyes. This was not the boasting of an idealistic young warrior, but the solemn promise of an experienced traveler, who made no expectations he couldn't fulfill.
Tial sighed.
" If you can help, then do so. I wish you luck, Mast- Jago."
" It's really no problem. Get some rest, Governor: I'll let you know of my progress when I've made some."
They bid one another farewell, Jago rising and leaving the small recovery room and making his way through the hallways of the medical facility. It was as he did so, though, that something strange caught his senses, causing him to pause. A presence: weakened, dulled, but still very much there.
A Force Signature. It brushed along the edges of his perception, teasing his ability to perceive the inner mysteries of The Force with scarce details and fleeting whispers. It seemed ... Familiar, in a way, but distinctly different. Deciding that it would at least be worth the brief walk to see where this call in The Force would lead him, Jago set off at a relaxed pace, following the trail.~
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Syren
The Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Syren on May 2, 2013 15:46:07 GMT -8
"Here you are, my dear," The Mon Calamari nurse handed Syren a deep green and cream set of homespun leggings and tunic. "I'm afraid that was all I could rustle up from my niece's closet. They should fit you well enough. But oh I do wish you would stay. Where will you go?"
Syren gave the woman a kind smile. She like Nurse Glina very much, but she could not shake the feeling she had about the hospital. "The holonet feed says there a couple of hostels around the hospital. I'll see if I can work in their kitchens for a couple of nights in exchange for room and board. That way, I'll still be close and I can come back for a follow up like Dr. Remzil wanted when we discussed my leaving." she gave the Mon Calamari a wider smile and a shake of her shaggy green head, "Besides, who is paying me to stay here for study aside from the good people of Foamwander City? I am passable for a cooperative and capable citizen, I just can't remember some things."
Glina fidgeted with worry. Syren placed a cool hand on top of the nurse's, careful not to catch her chitionous skin with a nail. "I will be fine, Glina. I can't stay here forever, especially if I want to pursue other methods for regaining my memory. I've done a lot of reading through the holonet and I think this might be for the best. You should really worry more about those Duros twins in rooms 3013 and 3014. Their dementia makes for some pretty exciting game hours." The nurse snorted a quiet laugh, and Syren took the opportunity to slip past her so that she could dress behind a curtain. In just that short span of minutes, her cautious feeling had begun to grow into a more insistent naggle that something bad, or at the least not good, was about to happen.
She tossed back her hair in a quick pony tail that bobbed atop her head and exposed her neck. For a moment her gills flapped in the moist air of the hospital, but quickly shut tight along the side of her neck. They appeared like five slender scars cut into the sides of her neck, forming a staggered line of march up to a point behind her ears. She wriggled her jaw slightly to try and alleviate an itch in the back of her gill plate that she had come to correspond with her "bad feeling."
Glina watched her go without another word, and a silent wave of her flippered hand. Syren slung a loosely packed bag over her shoulder and bulled out the door with only a quick glance to either side of the hall. Her unease grew so as she walked down the hall, that by the time she made it to the turbolift, she felt the need to skip it all together and go running down the stairs just to get out of the building. She pressed the button to summed the turbolift, trying to wait patiently. Another nurse walked by with a look that questioned if she should be leaving the psyche ward. Syren tapped her foot against the floor trying to will the car to come faster.
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Jago
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Post by Jago on May 3, 2013 7:59:26 GMT -8
~ " Bee-Wan, you read me?"
A soft whistle came back over Jago's comlink as the Jedi strode through the hallways of the hospital with haste, his eyes darting left and right into each room to try and locate the strange presence he had felt in The Force. It was not like anything he had ever experienced before, it felt ... Diluted, somehow. A muffled trumpet that did not want to be heard, and Jago was only picking up the echo as it reverberated off the walls.
Curious.
He went back to speaking to his astromech back on his ship, R2-B1.
" I need you to feed some data to me on a group known as 'Teuthus's Vengeance.'. HoloNet reports, local files, request a feed from the authorities on Dac, too. Priority code Arr-Seven-Jay-Three-Three to get access to those. Who's the local Watchman of this sector?"
There was a pause on the line as Jago felt the Force Signature leaving. No matter how quickly he pursued it, it kept gaining distance.
Are they trying to leave?
The Jedi wasted no time in finding a directory and hunting down the nearest turbolift. Because of the diminished presence, he was having an incredibly hard time of following the small tugs of the strands in The Force towards the source. Was it a Jedi trying to remain undetected? Someone here undercover? Perhaps one of the Shadows was already working against the terrorist cell here, and Jago strongly wondered if he might be blowing someone's cover. Still undaunted, he pursued at a comfortable walking pace.
R2-B1 finally got back to him with a series of beeps and chirps, a bit of happiness in his tone. For the astromech that flew alongside Jago in the cockpit of his starfighter, the droid certainly seemed most content when he was able to sit back in relative safety, rather than being on the front lines of battle. Jago could only chuckle.
" Will Son'Tir, eh ..? I wonder if he's around locally. Get in touch with him, have him meet me in Foamwander City if he can. Track my comlink and give him the trace signal so he can find me. I'm on the move."
The droid squawked at him inquisitively, leaving the man laughing.
" Jedi Business, never you mind, Bee-Wan. We're going to be staying on Dac for a bit, and I'm going to need you to stay in the Presage: keep me informed and up-to-date on what's going on with that group I had you look up, okay?"
R2-B1 let out a long, low tone, the equivalent of a sigh of relief. The ship, the droid knew, was safe. The white-haired human had an unusual relationship with the various starships he used, and B1 was definitely assured that there was probably no safer place on all of Dac than inside a vessel Jago had lovingly modified.
With that taken care of, Jago at least knew he'd have some back up in dealing with the Quarrens. He wasn't all too familiar with Dac, to be honest, and was glad that there was a fellow Jedi around that he could trust and was probably incredibly well-versed in the local culture and customs. It'd be handy.
Now where are you ...
Passing by another directory, the Jedi Master spied that he was approaching the lifts closest to the Psyche Ward. The closer he got, the stronger the touch in The Force became. Encouraged, he hastened his steps, trying to reach the turbolifts as quickly as possible without running.
Running would have been impolite in a hospital, after all.
As he did so, though, he couldn't help but pick up a new sensation: unease. Something felt ... Off. He wasn't quite sure what, but the hairs standing up on the back of his neck gave him the distinct impression to be careful, to be wary.
Strange.
Unburdened by his inner thoughts, Jago rounded the corner at the end of the hallway, approaching the turbolifts.~
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Syren
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Post by Syren on May 3, 2013 13:03:42 GMT -8
A deep sigh escaped from Syren as the turbolift door opened at last. Before she could step onto the platform though, a salmon hand reached out and grasped her firmly by the shoulder. The Calnennore reacted before she could really think about what she was doing in her close panic: She crouched low and thrust her hands out ward into the mid-section of the person grasping her shoulder. There was a tickle of thought and what felt like a slight electric charge running through her arms and out into an explosive force that drove the Mon Calamari away from her.
The psyche ward attending was thrown backwards into the wall, and with a thud and a squishing sound slid down the wall in a semi-conscious heap. Syren let out a muffled gasp and could only really look at her hands in disbelief. <<What just happened?>>
She took a very cautious step towards the man trying to see if he was badly injured, but wide eyed and afraid she might hurt him again. "Help! Help!" She shouted down each direction of the hallyway. Her head turned wildly looked around for any other staff that might be able to check the man or if anyone had seen what she had done. A flicker of thought told her to run, but she didn't want to leave the man if he was hurt, especially if she had hurt him.
She looked down at her hands, they were trembling. She reached a hand out to the Mon Calamari, but drew it back quickly. She could not check his pulse if she was shaking so much, she could accidentally poison him and then he really would be hurt. Should she run to the nurse's station she passed along the way? She could not leave him alone. This was a hospital, surely there were people here!
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Jago
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Post by Jago on May 4, 2013 7:17:06 GMT -8
~ Just as he was turning down the hallway towards the turbolifts, Jago saw the form of a Mon Calamari dressed in a nurse's garb be catapulted away from a woman of a race he had never encountered before. The spike in The Force was immeasurable: without a shadow of a doubt, the Jedi knew he had found what his senses had already told him was there. The woman, the strange woman with the cyan skin and verdant hair: she was the one with the dulled Force Signature.
However, for one who could feel it strongly, her panicked cries gave the distinct impression that she didn't know exactly what she had just done. Open to the emotions of others from his strange, unique connection to the energy that bound the Universe together, Jago could feel her state. Confused. Afraid. As if having the ability to throw someone away with but a thought was an alien and terrifying idea to her. He rushed forward without any hesitation, dropping to his knees when he was close enough and sliding over to the injured Mon Cal against the wall, breezing right by Syren in the process, but not ignoring her.
" Easy, easy," he asked of her, his voice focused and calm. Through his own posture and tone, exuding serenity with his ability to adapt to the unexpected, he hoped the blue-skinned woman would pick up on the fact that he was not alarmed, and by virtue would allow herself to relax. He hoped.
" Help is here."
Jago didn't know much about medicine, but had been on enough battlefields to at least understand the working concepts of triage. He was banking on the fact that Mon Calamari physiology was similar to that of most humanoids: if not, he was screwed. Assuming that they at least had a similar respiratory system (the ability to breathe underwater notwithstanding), Jago laid a gentle hand against the man's neck, pressing in a bit to find the soft, rhythmic beating. The large, sad-looking eyes of the attendant were shut. His other fingers worked to at least open his eyelids to check if the Mon Calamari could focus.
It didn't appear so. His eyes were completely unresponsive to stimulus. Jago only breathed a sigh of relief when he felt a pulse, recognizing that the nurse was unconscious but not badly harmed. Exterior-wise, that was. Internally, he could not say with any veracity. Footsteps were already making their way down the hall: some other members of the staff were on their way, responding to the woman's cry for help. Good: they'd be able to do a lot better than he could. Healing through The Force was beyond him, let alone healing with just the hands and tools.
" He's knocked out," he affirmed to Syren after a moment, standing and stepping back from the man, " But it doesn't look too bad. He should be okay."
The responders from the hospital itself swept past Jago and Syren, immediately moving to their injured comrade.
" What happened?"
" Accident. He hit the back of his head hard. Appears out of it, but breathing."
One of the attendants shot him a look, clearly unimpressed with such a vague description as to how one of their coworkers wound up unresponsive and on the floor.
" What kind of accident?"
The Jedi shook his head in response, lightly tapping the peculiar, brass cylinder that rested in the holster on his left thigh. The Mon Calamari's eyes were drawn to the hilt, then back to Jago's face, nodding in understanding.
" I'm handling it. Just look out for your friend, okay? He may have internal trauma: I can't tell."
The attendants took Jago's words to heart as one wheeled up a stretcher. After a quick diagnostic and making sure they could lift the injured man, the trio of medical professionals lifted the unconscious form onto the mobile bed and took him away to be inspected and treated. Jago could still sense the man's mark on life through The Force: it was dazed, but didn't seem overtly stressed. He would be fine, the Jedi told himself.
With the immediate danger taken care of, Jago afforded himself a sigh of relief before turning towards the woman that had drawn him to this point in the first place. What a queer sensation: The Force was there inside her, that was simple enough to tell, but it almost felt like it ... had faded. A candle that didn't want to hold the flame.
Odd, he mused to himself, noting that for such an application of telekinesis, she had to have been quite potent in The Force. There was little other explanation to the matter: it wasn't as if she had repulsors in her palms. He stepped forward to her, but maintained a comfortable distance: she had already been frightened once. He didn't want to be another cause of that. His eyebrows drooped and came together slightly, conveying concern. Compassion.
" Are you okay?"~
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Will Sontir
The Jedi Order
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Post by Will Sontir on May 4, 2013 20:26:01 GMT -8
Outside the hospital, and hovertaxi makes it way to the front of the building, the bubble like canopy pops open to reveal a Mon Cal pilot and a human male; the human male pays the pilot and hops out skillfully onto the durasteel payment and began to walk up the stairs with purposeful confidence. His leather knee high boots clapped with purpose on every step he climbed. The blood stripes on his trousers indicated a distinguished military career. The sash around his midsection indicated a place of honor in an exotic culture clearly not Mon Calamari. His tasteful neglect on his chiseled features indicated age and personality not indicative of a jedi master. Yet the lightsabers that dangled on each hip were a dead give away.
His eyes usually much more light hearted as the piercing blue eyes served as a stark contrast to his jet black hair, gazed the large medical facility. The Watchman that was Will Son'tir entered the building.
Son'tir wasted no time going up to the nondescript and attractive (in native standards of Mon Calamari) receptionist dropped what she was doing and stood in recognition and respect for the man of status that is before her now. With a stern militaristic tone, Will spoke; "I am looking for another jedi, a Master Pulastra? I was informed he was dealing with a . . . situation that arose in the open sea."
The receptionist frantically looked through her holofiles on her desktop read out to found any indication of where the wayward jedi might be. The receptionist gave Master Son'tir the name of the patient Pulastra came to visit. Will thanked them and walked with purpose to the lift that would take him to the proper level.
As the lift rose, the outside wall with familiar ovalical transparent viewoport architecture that was very apparent to be the thematic designs of most Mon Calamari engineering, viewed the medical facility and it's various research levels; until he reached the recovery level of the facility. The bubble like doors seemed to swiftly roll out of the way to make a doorway for Will to walk out of and as he turned up the hallway; Will felt two strong convergences in the Force coming from the opposite direction of the supposed patient that Master Pulastra had came to visit; Will cocked an eyebrow and corrected his path to meet those convergences.
As he got closer to the psych ward where he felt the two distinct presences in the Force, he could hear the medical emergency alarms going off and then fade out, an indication that there was complications with a patient in that wing, but the competent and galactically renown medical technicians had the situation under control. He saw a handful of medical personnel help another Mon Cal onto a gurney and into a room for reports and observation, which cleared his then obstructed view of a young human with white hair and lightsaber, and another female; green skin, clearly aquatic and beautiful specimen to anyone's standards. Will continued with purpose to the pair he was clearly here to see; Will bowed with respect to the male with the lightsaber. "High Councilor Pulastra, I presume? I am Master Will Son'tir, Watchmen for this sector. I got a relayed message from a rather enthusiastic astromech that told me I should come meet you here. Sorry it took a minute, the traffic from Coral City was horrendous." A small joke to break the ice; the Corellian was usually much more jovial, but when duty was called-- it comes first; the jedi did have an image to uphold and as a representative of the Council in several different capacities. And Will had only heard stories about this High Councilor, never worked directly with him; until now. . .
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Syren
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Post by Syren on May 5, 2013 6:34:00 GMT -8
Eyes peeked around from the corner, the psyche ward's occupants intrigued by the goings on, while nurses and orderlies corralled their attention back to their games or their medications. Syren had crawled away from the human and crouched against the wall. There was something familiar about him, and he felt different from the other humans she had sparsely encountered in the hospital. But still... the calm and the serenity wafting out of him was damnably disturbing.
"Stay away! I don't want to hurt you either," Her voice cracked as she whispered to him. Her eyes traced a line from her hands to the gurney rolling away, then to another human approaching, and back to Jago's blue stare.
A Mon Calamari doctor working the floor, her previous doctor Doctor Muarak, began to approach them from the opposite direction. His eyes swept over the scene, taking in the two Jedi and the cowering woman. A nurse who had run to get him had given him the Cliffnotes version of the incident. He looked towards the white haired human. "I understand that there has been some incident that has caused some alarm in my patient here." His right flipper turned gently to indicate Syren.
"I do hope that you are not the cause of this, Master Jedi." The emphasis might lead one to believe that the doctor was not impressed by such titles and clearly gave signs that he believed that Jago was the cause of all the trouble.
He turned towards Master Sontir, whom he knew by both sight and reputation but by little else. "Ah, Master Sontir. Have you come to aid in disrupting the delicate nature of my ward as well, today?" Clipped and deliberate, like any Mon Calamari in any position of power.
How they had found out about Syren was puzzling, but he kept his cold disapproval forefront in his thoughts. The ixetal sinomana was supposed to hinder the Jedi powers. Either the unknown physiology of Syren did not work in conjunction with the drugs intended effects, or she was not taking her medicine. Maurak frowned then crouched down to Syren's level. "I feared it was too early to release you," he spoke softly and gently to her, no need for another display of that horrible magic they used. "Paranoia and derangement can arise from a loss of memory such that you have suffered, I believe I mentioned this in our last meeting." He gave her a stern look and reached out a hand so that he might give her a quick examination to determine her mental awareness at the moment.
Syren moved away from him though. There was something she did not trust about Muarak.
Maurak however glared at the two Jedi. "I would like to ask you both to leave my floor immediately so that I can tend to my patient. Clearly she is in no state to leave today as her discharge was planned."
Instead of waiting for either Jedi to reply or doctor to make more comment, Syren made a move for the open turbolift and slammed the button for the ground floor. Flight seemed better than fight right now.
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Jago
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Post by Jago on May 5, 2013 8:12:09 GMT -8
~ A new presence. A bright presence. Jago smiled softly, knowing a fellow member of The Order when he felt one reverberate against the strands that tied them all together. It didn't take much long after that sensation of familiarity for Master Son'Tir to reveal himself, making Jago quite impressed at two things: One, how quickly R2-B1 had jumped on bringing help to his friend, and Two, the fact that Will had responded immediately to the call for aid. Jago hadn't expected to see him for at least another half day, let alone about a half hour.
He nodded in respect to the fellow Master, recognizing that this was a Jedi who played no games with his position or responsibilities. The signal had gone out for the Watchman of this star system, and one had appeared faster than light. Jago grinned inwardly at that fact, glad to see the system in action. He had actually never gotten the chance before. He had never even had the chance to honestly meet Will before, besides in passing while on Corellia or at larger meetings. This would be good for both of them, he assumed.
" Aye, I'm Jago," he confirmed, characteristically eschewing his title and offering his hand to the Corellian hero, " Glad to be working with you, Master Son'Tir. This is ..."
Jago turned back to the blue-skinned woman, only for her to practically recoil from him, her quiet voice filled with fear. He tilted his head at her words and took a step back from her: crowding and pressing for answers would do no good.
" Woah, woah," he held up his hands, palms towards her to display an offer of peace and understanding.
" You're not going to hurt me: Will and I are Jedi, we're here to help. Do you know what a Jedi is ..?"
It seemed like the strangest question to ask, but yet there were still some people out in the Galaxy that either had never truly heard of just what a Jedi Knight was, or had completely wrong conceptions of what they stood for and did. He chuckled to himself at recalling the time Dav recounted to him that he had met a young woman who was under the strict impression that Jedi could breathe fire from their mouths and turn into shadows to frighten little children. Still: such preconceptions did exist, and part of Jago traveling was to put such superstitious and unfounded nonsense to rest.
Before she could answer, though, a Mon Calamari doctor came blustering towards the trio, slinging insults at the two members of The Order and trying to whisk the confused woman away from them.
Now that just won't do.
" I do hope that you are not the cause of this, Master Jedi."
" Hold on a second here, who are yo-"
" Ah, Master Son'Tir. Have you come to aid in disrupting the delicate nature of my ward as well, today?"
" You're speaking to your Watchman, show some resp-"
Jago's words fell on deaf ears as Doctor Maurak immediately addressed Syren and ignored the pair of Jedi altogether.
What in Chaos is this guy's problem ..?
The white-haired Master couldn't get a read on the gruff and dismissive Mon Calamari. He was clearly perturbed for the Jedi to even be around, and seemed even more upset that they had interacted with who was apparently his patient. But why? Most citizens of Dac remembered that Jedi were the protectors of the Republic, champions of the innocent, healers and guardians all. If his patient was truly in such poor condition and unable to be released, why was she outside of her room in the first place, by the turbolifts of all things?
It was as Maurak reached for Syren and she pulled back that Jago began to form another theory: something wrong was going on here. It might have just been the fact that Syren was already in a confused and wary state, but from Maurak's words, the Councilor could somewhat infer that the doctor had been treating her for at least some time. Patients tended to build up trust and respect for their caretakers, but here Syren was trying to avoid him like he was a hungry kath hound. That didn't make sense, did it?
" I would like to ask you both to leave my floor immediately so that I can tend to my patient," the doctor demanded of Will and Jago, turning on them after being unable to get through to Syren. Jago, politely, returned Maurak's stare with one of unyielding ice. Like Hell this man was going to get him to leave someone who clearly was frightened and disoriented.
" Clearly she is in no state to leave today as her discharge was planned."
So she was in the process of being released, before all this happened. If the hospital had cleared her, then obviously Syren had to be in some right state of mind. In regards to that fact, she had just had a jarring and overwhelming experience, both physically and through The Force. It would have shaken anybody up: Jago recalled his first experiences with the power, noting them as being perplexing and scarring. To do things that broke every law of science that existed across a thousand systems ... It did things to the mind, until the mind was finally ready to accept and understand it.
Before Jago could interject, though, Syren had bolted into the lift, slammed the panel, and shut the doors, escaping from the situation entirely.
Why can it never be easy?? Why!?
Jago ignored Maurak: he was not the priority. If anything, the Jedi knew where to find him, and he could be dealt with later. For now, they had a scared and lost Force User on the loose in a hospital, an event that had the potential to be incredibly dangerous.
" This is your neck of the stars," Jago turned to Will, deferring to his experience and wisdom, " Can you get that lift shut down? We've got to find her, I'll explain on the way."~
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Will Sontir
The Jedi Order
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Post by Will Sontir on May 5, 2013 18:05:02 GMT -8
"As you wish, Master." Will winked as his younger, but superior, colleague scurried to try to impede the path of the escaping patient; Will did not bother to move towards the lift. He simply sent a comlink click out and turned his attention to the pretentious doctor who gave the condescending remark. Will can understand the slight hostility towards the jedi in this case, or even towards the authorities as a whole-- taking in recent events for consideration, a little innocent animosity was the least of the Watchman's worries today. Seemingly unworried about the escaping patient, he addresses the doctor.
"Doctor. . ." looks at the name tag "Maurak." Now putting a little bit of a soothing feeling through the Force. "We are perfectly willing to leave your ward after we get just a little bit of information from you in order to serve you and your patient more efficiently. Like it or not, your patient is leaving and we would like her to leave on the best of circumstances." Will pauses and allowings the calming feelings and techniques to settle into the doctor; a form of influence to be sure, but nothing near true persuasion. "Dr. Maurak," in a calm and professional tone. "What is your prognosis of that patient that is leaving?" pointing towards the lift, the level reader rapidly descending in numbers; indicating that it will not talk long for the unknown patient to reach ground floor. "And doctor: if you could please limit your responses to pertinent information."
Meanwhile, downstairs.
The comlink that receives Master Son'tir's click signal softly beeps just outside the medical facility's front door; five aquatic beings walked in wearing aqua uniforms bearing the insignia of Dac Defense (2 Quarren, 2 Mon Cals and a Nautolan, the commanding officer apparent. The pair of Quarren guard the front entrance as the Nautolan takes the pair of Mon Cal to confront the patient as she departs the lift-- all carrying stun rifles charged and loaded. . .
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Syren
The Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Syren on May 6, 2013 6:32:24 GMT -8
“Damn it!”Dr. Muarak muttered exasperated. He glared once more before issuing instructions to the staff around the ward. “I need security notified that a potentially dangerous patient is on the loose, and that the turbolifts for this section need to be shut down.” An orderly was on the phone and getting the orders across to the proper technicians and security forces around the hospitals.
Maurak turned to the nurse. “Let me know when this is settled, I have a therapy session with another patient that started,” he took a look at a chrono on his wrist, “well five minutes ago by the time I get there.” The nurse nodded to him, then turned back to her charts.
Maurak whirled back towards Master Sontir. Maurak could feel the Jedi trying to manipulate him, he might not be able to use the Force, but he had enough sense about him to realize when someone was trying to take control of a situation. The frown on Maurak's face deepened. "Please stop assuming that every individual that you come into contact with is as weak minded as a common Gundark, Master Jedi. I would appreciate it if you would stop using your magic to induce whatever idea it is that you are trying to plant. I cannot give you the information you want, as we have laws on Mon Calamari that protect our patients from inquiries. I'm afraid you will have to do what the proper authorities on our planet do, and get a warrant to retrieve her records. We have the situation under control. These turbolifts have protocols and our staff are trained for such emergencies. I believe your efforts will be wasted, and we really have no need for you. Now if you will excuse me." Maurak turned back down the hall for his appointment with the insane.
Within the Turbolift
Syren slipped out of the turbo lift once it stopped a couple of floors down. She had that naggling feeling again that something was wrong. Two Mon Calamari attendings passed her by talking about some game called golf as they got onto the lift. She gazed around for a directory. She was not on the ground floor, several floors away from it in fact. But she wanted to find the stairs. The alternate route was less likely to be guarded. She puzzled for just a moment why she would think that.
Soon enough she saw the directory and quickly located the stairs. She was in intensive care, and hoped that she would not meet too many people. There was a good deal of loud weeping however coming from the direction of the main part of the ward. There was a sense of overwhelming grief from that area, like she could feel all the pain and sorrow wafting in that direction. She wanted to get away from that feeling more than she wanted to get away from Maurak.
She immediately made for the stairs, but slammed into a pair of hospital security guards stationed at service desk for the floor. The two big Mon Calamari looked down at Syren as if questioning her intelligence. "Easy now," The guard on the right steadied her. "Where might you be going in such a hurry? This is the ICU, we can't have people running around unless they are staff, ok?" The guard on her left spied the wrist bracelet on her wrist: name, date of admittance, ward... he indicated to his partner to look at her wrist. "Well, now. You seem to be lost my friend, lets get you back upstairs, shall we?" Each guard gently, but firmly, grasped her around the biceps and began to move back towards the turbolift. Lefty radioed up to the psyche ward that they had found a lost patient.
<<What do I do?>> Syren glanced around the floor for ideas, when her brain seemed to act only on instinct. She regained some footing between the Mon Calamari, and pushed hard to her left. She body checked the left hand guard against the wall, hard enough that she heard a faint and sickening crunch. The other guard only had time to look surprised as her newly freed hand slammed into his windpipe.
She ran in the direction of the stairs without any other incident. Past rooms that contained the dying and the severely injured that might soon be that way. And the loved ones. She tried to shut out that sense of hopelessness that kept coming from the rooms as she pelted down the hall. She gave a silent ululation as she approached the door of the stairwell. Only a few more feet![/i][/font]
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Will Sontir
The Jedi Order
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Post by Will Sontir on May 8, 2013 16:08:58 GMT -8
Will allowed an eyebrow to surf upward on his brow as he reached into his back pocket and produced the warrant that he came with from the Ministry of Justice in Coral City before making the trip over here. The astromech droid gave him an overview about unknown entities that could pose a threat to the citizens of Foamwanderer City; Will looked at Jago with the produced warrant in hand and shrugged to him. It wasn't like he fully influenced the learned doctor. Part of Will suspects that the doctor could be a "Quarren Sympathetic" and is not one who appreciates the Republic's involvement with local politics; and, furthermore, resentful of the jedi's assistance here. But with the reoccurring terrorist cells ebbing and flowing like the undercurrents of the Great Sea of Dac as is, it is imperative for the Jedi to remain in system to peace keep and investigate any growing threats the deep oceans might be hiding from the peaceful beings of Mon Calamari and the greater Galactic Republic.
Will threw a calculating glance at the elevator that indicated what floor that the lift stopped at, the Corellian Jedi master silently cursed to himself that the doctor ordered the immediate stop of the lift. Will clicks the comlink again and opens the chanel to the security detachment on the ground floor ::The escaping patient has vacated the turbolifts, please reorientate towards the stairs, keep rifle settings on stun; we don't need anymore incidents tonight::
Will closes the comlink and looks towards the scurrying security personnel around him and put a firm hand out to stop him by the chest. "Excuse me, officer." Will used a free hand to wave a Force Persuasion into his thoughts. "You will cooperate with the Jedi; they are peacekeepers and here to assist our efforts; we will restart the turbolifts." Will let the lowly security guard go from his stopping hand
==Security Guard==
The pesky jedi were still here even though they were asked to leave. No matter, the guard has its own duty to do. He just plans on hurrying by to deal with any protocol duties this floor would have; mainly, to prepare a room for the returning patient. As the Security Guard was scurrying past the jedi, the darker haired jedi stopped him and talked to me for a few moments; and the guard had to admit, the jedi had a point. The jedi are peacekeepers and a here to help. "Thank you for your assistance, Master Jedi; I will restart the turbolifts for you." The Guard went to the access for the turbolifts and keyed in his security code to unlock the turbolift and called it to the current floor.
With a satisfied nod, Will thanks the security guard for his assistance and asked that he goes about his duties in peace; Will eyes Jago and shrugs. "We no longer have time to debate this with opinionate locals." The turbolift doors open and Will puts hand out to hold the door. "After you, High Councilor."
Assuming Jago takes the invitation, Will allows the turbolift doors to close behind the two jedi and keys the lift's destination to the ground floor; knowing full well the escaped patient is not on the ground floor. . .yet. It is the end goal. One way, or the other. . . .
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Jago
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Post by Jago on May 9, 2013 7:46:05 GMT -8
~ Jago stepped into the lift with a frown, eyebrows furrowing a bit at Will. That was twice now he had tried to subtly assert his influence over another through The Force. It was a technique Jago had never really been able to grasp, nor did he want to. Minds were fragile things, his included, and it was to his embarrassment and frustration that he had so little aptitude for keeping another out of his thoughts when he, himself, could not and would not bring himself to invade someone's privacy and undermine their free will in such a way.
Different strokes for different folks, he mused. There were times, as Will had correctly surmised, when niceties and patience just wouldn't do it and a Jedi needed to get to work right that second. This was one of those times.
" I've no clue who that woman is," Jago admitted once they were within the security of the turbolift, his eyes watching the numbers race downwards.
" But you felt it too, yeah? There was something ... odd, about her, in The Force. Like ... Like she was hearing it with her ears closed. Muffled. I came around the corner just to see her throw an attendant away from her. Like one of us would. But she seems confused, lost, like she didn't know what she had just done or even how it was possible to do."
He mused on this a bit longer, wondering just what it all meant. Her hesitation of The Doctor, her fear of hurting him when he reached out to her. Much confusion in that one.
" Her running around in a hospital like that is just a breeding ground for trouble," Jago observed aloud, " I know we've got more pressing matters to attend, but we can't just leave her like this. She may hurt others, or herself. Badly."
That was the thing with The Force, wasn't it? Infinite cosmic power ... Provided you could control it. Gods help you if you could not.
Jago looked over at the Watchman of Dac, finally cracking a smile since the events of this morning.
" I'm glad you're here," he admitted sincerely, " Force Knows I need the help on this planet."~
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Syren
The Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Syren on May 9, 2013 18:32:08 GMT -8
*The nurse stared at the security officer while the Jedi disembarked.* "What are you doing? The building is supposed to go on lock down whenever there is an escaped patient from the psyche ward! No one in or out of the building and the turbolifts stopped!" *Her eyes rolled toward the closing turbolift doors and the very generic looking warrant the Jedi had handed to her since Maurak had left them. She tittered,* "He must be new. You need a very specific court order to retrieve a patient's confidential records. This doesn't even have her name on them!" *The nurse still went about locating the proper files. If the Jedi or the police came back with the appropriate paperwork, signed in triplicate from the judges in Foamwander City, then there would be less hassle to send the encrypted files to them. She sighed deep in her chest at the guard who seemed to have a glazed look on his face.* "Silur!" *She snapped her fingers trying to call him back.*
Meanwhile... *Syren opened the stairwell door to find a nautolan staring at her with great crimson eyes. She took in his uniform immediately.* <<Not hospital security.>> *She blinked at him and the two Mon Calamari behind him.* "You're a little far from home." *She observed.* "Glee Anselm is in the Mid Rim. On holiday?" *She held her patient band behind her back just in case they might be trouble.* "Suppose it is not much of a holiday if you are visiting the ICU." *None of them had moved, they just stared at her. She supposed she might have that effect on people with the whole looking mostly human, with the wild green hair loose from the ponytail and the blue and white skin, nearly soaked in sweat. She smiled really big at them, though it probably appeared more like a snarl given that her canines were much longer than what seemed proper and her mouth very wide to accommodate for them. But Nautolans smiled, right? Something in the back of her head was telling her to smile, just in the same spot that seemed to be tuned into every room listening to the sadness of the ICU.
She fanned her self with the hand holding the door, letting it prop itself open with her foot.* "Well, I must say, it is quite warm up here for a hospital. I was just on my way down to the Cafeteria for a drink, but the turbolifts are down." *She made a move to try to push gently past the trio blocking the stairs.
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Will Sontir
The Jedi Order
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Post by Will Sontir on May 11, 2013 15:37:41 GMT -8
In the turbolift....
Jedi Master Will Son'tir takes in Pulastra's appreciation with a more then distracted, yet courteous, nod as Will's piercing blue eyes search the the high corners of the ceiling; not precisely investigating the lift itself-- but what is. . . beyond. . . "Don't mention in it, Councilor. It is what I am here for. . . .but I get the feeling that there is something. . . more than this Force-patient that is escaping. I know it has something to do with this latest reincarnation of Quarren sympathetic terrorist cells; but I feel like this time it is something. . . more." Will's eyes continued to explore the depths of the currents of the Living Force, until the turbolift reaches the ground floor and the doors roll open to reveal a near empty lobby with the receptionist replaced with a medical security guard and the pair of Quarren who were left at the door. Will refocuses back into the task at hand. Will checks in with the Quarren stationed at the door for an update on the situation.
On the nearby floor where Syren and company have met. . .
The Nautolan immediately puts a beat on the admittedly strange looking near human with his military grade rifle set to stun. The pair of Mon Calamari only a split second behind him, bringing both their rifles to bear. The Nautolan steps in front of the what is apparently the escaping patient as she can be the only one that matches the description provided by the security that Dec Def has been collaborating with. "Freeze, Patient. We need you to relax and relinquish yourself into custody for your safety and the safety of the citizens of this population." The Nautolan instructed, an aire of finality is in his tone-- a 'one and only chance' stance is provided to the escaping patient.
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Syren
The Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Syren on May 14, 2013 5:17:39 GMT -8
"Freeze, Patient. We need you to relax and relinquish yourself into custody for your safety and the safety of the citizens of this population." *As previous action and dialogue could not take place, Syren takes in the scene of rifles. She saw two immediate options: pain and a return to captivity upon consciousness, depending on setting level possibly death; or cooperation and captivity that would probably result in pain, or at the very least discomfort. Choices, choices.
Security from the hospital were approaching from behind her, so it seemed as if her options were dwindling."Nautolan," *She murmured. The hospital security guards approached and she raised her hands in surrender,* "As long as it is you and not them," *she gave a little shrug of her arms,* "I'll pretend that you're the safer option."
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Diva, from Aeons Torn
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If blood is the currency of life, then what's its tax collection service?
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Post by Diva, from Aeons Torn on May 14, 2013 8:40:14 GMT -8
. . .Meanwhile, in a dirtier part of a city. . .
Near the wharfs, the ocean-spewed traveler, or drunk, it seemed, wandered in aimless circles around similar looking streets, stinking like seaweed and the hull of a sea vessel, her boots making obnoxious squishing noises that reminded one of jungle rot. The girl's body would list and lean off center as she strolled, and occasionally she would crash into a wall, stumble over sidewalks and manholes, and collapse into both trash receptacle and errant doorway alike. But then she saw him, a lone civilian cleaning his speeder. Her bright blue eyes lit up with a fiery passion that resembled twin supernovas, and with a grin, she reaches from an unknown, unseen pocket, and pulls out a huge handgun, her handgun, her precious instrument, initialed Desert Eagle .50. That wretched expression spreads and spreads -now the gun is leveled for the unaware man's head. Diva pulls the trigger. . .
. . .
A stream of water pours out from the tip of the pistol. It has been completely water logged.
". . . WOT?"
Always the little trooper, she pulls on the trigger again and again, which only results in happy clicking noises. Crestfallen. The embodiment of all that is evil then hits the magazine release, which leads to more water pour out from the bottom of the feed.
"$@#&. Bloody gun is still good for smac... smack.... Smack *cough cough* ughh.. umm... UGH.. UGHH! GULP!" She doubles over, pale white hands pressed on stomach, and much like the Deagle before, she also begins to vomit up seawater with quite the gusto. Now the man fixing his speeder is aware of her presence, due her loud gags and retching - to which he thinks, "Freaking teenagers with their underage drinking", before then proceeding inside, disgusted with the amount of vomit this girl can spew. Another lean with another spray of puke, and yes, her boot connects with the pile of her own discharge, and can't you guess, she trips, dropping her pistol, slipping backwards into a ground level window, crashing through it, and falling down into an empty basement. She probably would've cursed, except she landed head first on the bottom with a nice, audible, CRACK! Right before nap time, the girl manages to raise up an arm feebly, just in time to miss blocking the heavy, empty pistol, which thudded against her forehead, knocking her out cold.
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