Lord Sinistra
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Post by Lord Sinistra on Feb 8, 2014 16:11:15 GMT -8
"For starters, I already told you that your guns are useless. You could empty a clip at me right now and they will bounce off this perky blue bubble around me and lodge in the walls or worse, yet another person you care for. Second, if I was truly a threat, why did Eralam throw himself in between you and I rather than come over here and dispatch me himself? He knows how deadly you are, hell half the galaxy knows that information. You have recently dispatched a death squad sent to kill you both, and not once there did he rush to defend you from bullet fire, why would he start now? Unless he didn't want you to shoot at something. Or me to shoot at you. If he didn't want us to shoot at each other, then it means he knows who both of us are and considers neither of us a threat to him."
By now, the knee was healed as good as it was going to be. She sighed a very exasperating huff of breath and peeled her crimson stained hands away from her pants leg and shook her head. She did not draw any more concentration from the protection bubble as she hoisted herself up off the floor. The Major would recognize the rusty skinned togruta from the briefing on Dressel a few weeks back, her clothing more conservative at this meeting than their first one. She seemed irritated as she drew herself up to height and stepped cautiously around the desk, her hands in view but of course with a protection bubble around her, it immediately marked her as one of the gifted, one who could touch the Force and bend it to their will. Sinistra thought fondly of a nice quiet fishing trip and gritted her teeth as she put weight on the leg, testing to see if it would hold. So far so good.
She looked at the Major a moment and clicked her tongue against her cheek, easing herself on the edge of the desk. She was not going to act like a prisoner because as far as she was concerned, she wasn't. She was the kriffing Emperor and it didn't make a lick of difference how many sputtering insults and commands Major lobbed at her, she would not be cowed. Before Major could retort to the first 2 reasons, Sinistra held up a finger to indicate silence as she produced a flask from her coat pocket and took a long pull from it, the taste of the whiskey helping to ease the pained look that showed through in the expression of her projected mask. She set the flask down on the bloody surface, then curled her fingers around the edge of the desk and stared calmly at Major.
"Third, and most important, I shot him in the face because he asked me to in order to disarm a failsafe device that was somewhere in his brain. Now, I'll accept your apology for shooting me in the leg anytime. And by the way, you can call me Vera."
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The Major
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Post by The Major on Feb 9, 2014 11:02:49 GMT -8
!BANG!
Spews the pistol, its report reaching headache inducing levels thanks to the confined space this operating room offered. Shot placement would have found it hitting just upon the red skinned slut's left cheekbone, well within the tissue area that proves lethal if struck with such a ballistic device. Watching the barrier ripple as the 9mm round bounced off of its sphere of influence was a mighty thing -complete with a searing "PLANG" further illustrating the point that where the Fallanassi intends to mark, she meets. The shattering crack of a number of glasses, sample tubes, and beekers which were once upon a time neatly organized being destroyed by the rouge bullet provided ample amounts of atmospheric quality to this tense standoff. Of course, it did no real damage to anyone else in the room. "What a shame," she thought somewhat morosely.
"Achhhhhhhhssssssss." Exclaimed the Major, combining respect, malice, jealousy, and even a bit of mockery all in one expressive hiss -as was her charm. Overall, it was creepily reminiscent of Dragus and his reptilian rasp. "zYou're barrier ist das real deal."
Force Immersion for this, the Last Fallanassi, was something that she had attuned specifically for situations such as this; situations like this were most often attributed to be hostile. The subtle indicator was an absence of thought or intention from the markswoman. Whereas before there was so much anger and outright hatred for the alien that it could have smacked most combatants as a foul reek of cold inclination, now there was emptiness, nay, worse than emptiness. Whereas before you could detect traces of her aura or warped Force Signature, the was nothing but the rank air laced with Dresden's half absorbed last meal. In this pleasant medley and paradox of presentation yet not, the Major begins to pace her bloody form back and forth, like a tiger stalking about some abstract quantity that looked somewhat edible. To say this was some limp way of attempting to intimidate the non-human scum would be insulting the sniper's prowess. She did not detect her to be some threat, but approached it as a problem. A problem that caused much hunger -but a problem with a solution nonetheless.
The Fallanassi holds up her blood drenched hands and essentially mirrors "Vera's" mannerisms while listing a series of counter arguments. They are spoken evenly, calmly -perhaps a soothing effect when one was engaged in the current of irrelevancy. "Ein: zyour bubble, vwhile admittedly pretty, ist not sumdink zyou can keep up forever. I doubt zyou can manage it fuer more dan ein few minutes. Unt I am patient.
"Zwei: I could not care less about Eralam's club of super friends. Dey are completely expendable, like imaginary numbers, unt as easily replaceable as scribblingk notes on ein paper. In zyour shhhpecial case, do not fret -I'm sure he vwill einodehr combat tramp to satisfy his curiosities.
"Drei: control chip? Failsafe? He hast mentioned no such dink before. His interest ist mein safety, unt of such ein device vouldt require appraisingk. If you're goingk to lie in order to get me to drop mein guardt -ut least do it realistically.
"Take ein moment. Take ein drink. Dink it over. Because, I tell zyou truthfully, even the empress herself couldt not save zyou from dehr shhhit zyou haf shtepped in."
And somewhere in this realm, Diva was probably laughing her manifested eyes out of her head.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 9, 2014 12:17:55 GMT -8
The reformation process was slow at first. Bits of blood, bone and brain slowly began to converge on a point in the center of the room. But, like a mudslide building momentum as it made its way down a hillside, the process picked up speed with alarming rapidity.
First, the skeleton. It probably shouldn't have been freestanding without muscle and ligaments, but then again, it shouldn't have assembled itself out of broken and scorched splinters. Once the bones were fused, musculature, ligaments, and tendons flowed over the framework like waves on a beach. The slight lapping motion as the built upwards from the floor, gently receding and advancing as they bent upwards and pieced into place furthered the analogy. Internal organs came next. Eyes formed in their sockets. The tongue could be seen behind lipless teeth. It was hard to tell without the skin, but an astute observer would note that the face was locked in a rictus of pain. Once the internal organs were in place, the skin began to form, this time from the top down. Hair popped up in all the appropriate spots, though it didn't advance past the level of stubble.
The last of the skin slid into place over the soles of the feet with a soft rustling noise, probably inaudible to the gunshot-deafened occupants of the room. For a few seconds, the body was perfectly still, like a corpse held in a stasis field. And then, finally, it breathed. Dresden was alive once more, stark naked and livid.
"That. Hurt."
He turned towards the Major, body trembling with barely controlled rage.
"Stand down, please," the former Shard said softly, almost lovingly. "This has gone on long enough."
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Lord Sinistra
Retired High Councilor
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Post by Lord Sinistra on Feb 9, 2014 12:46:03 GMT -8
Sinistra was not expecting rational thought to penetrate the bubble around her and wash over the room to infect its inhabitants, but it would have been nice. Instead, almost predictably, the Major emptied a clip at her face, a face for a face must be the order of the day. Her display reminded Sinistra of herself at a younger age; emotions boiling over, loathe to listen to anyone who might be contrary to what her own impassioned heart screamed for. It was endearing in a way and even if the Fallanassi was trying desperately to end her existence, she commended her for the effort of seeking revenge for a wronged loved one. She did not bother to argue back with the woman, instead picking up the flask and drinking again.
About that time, the slicks of bone and blood began to ooze for themselves across the floor and walls, back to a point where they started to remake once more into the fallen Whill. Watching Eralam reform his human shell, Dresden, was akin to watching one of her torture sessions in reverse and she enjoyed the spectacle with a perverse pleasure, sipping on her whiskey and barely able to suppress the grin behind the flask. That is until she realized he had no clothes. She sat silently amid the occupants of the room, having said all she intended to say until Eralam and the Major had come to an understanding. In the meantime, she kicked her feet asbsentmindedly while she sipped whiskey and checked her messages on her comlink, deliberately not looking at her very nude best friend.
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The Major
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Breehara
Feb 9, 2014 20:11:09 GMT -8
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Post by The Major on Feb 9, 2014 20:11:09 GMT -8
"How dare zyou. To kommt ut me vwith, vwot ist dis, rage? Anger? After I attempt to defendt unt avenge zyou, zyou haf dee audacity to treat me as ein vwayward childt? I do dee best vwith dehr little intel I hafe, but it proves yet einoder exercise in futility. Next time dehr mighty Eralam lays dead, I vwill blindly accept vwhatever I am told like ein gut Schütz, vwithout challengingk or searching für proof.
"I shall mull over such lessons privately. Go unt drink. Be mirthful. Celebrate immortality. Koko! Get ein janitor, vwe needt to clean this mess, especially if it ist vone we make. . ."
The thoughts of this woman remained hidden under a veil of irrelevancy. At least this made her utterances come across as flat and dull, as if spoken without any of her usual theatrical flair. Perhaps she meant it honestly. Perhaps it was entirely sarcasm. Regardless of the intent, it was blatantly devoid of any further hostility. So the macabre scientist sits on nearby office chair -which is close enough to listen or speak to or from, but obviously removed from either Eralam or Vera in such a way that there was far less physical distance between the ex-Shard and his alien companion compared to both their distances to the Major. From here she sits hunched over elbows on knees plus head in hands -alternating that ocean blue gaze down at the floor tiles and up at some random laboratory equipment.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 9, 2014 20:29:46 GMT -8
Dresden didn't say a word. There was no need. He simply rummaged around in the closet until he found some pants and a shirt that fit, put them on, and walked out. He was tired in every sense of the word. Physically exhausted from the strain of the agonizing reassembly of his body. Mentally exhausted from the effort of holding his spirit together without a body to bind it all together. Emotionally exhausted from the events of the past few weeks.
In short, he needed a drink. If Sin wished to find him later, she knew the magic words. In the mean time, the former Shard just wanted to be left alone. He knew his temper was on the ragged edge, and the next person to say or do something stupid was likely to get punched in a manner best described as "conclusive."
The gritty feel of the sidewalk against his bare feet gave the former Shard something to think about other than the current situation, and that in itself was almost as comforting as a drink or ten. So instead of popping back to the shop for clothes that were less ill fitting and maybe some shoes, Dresden settled for wandering aimlessly around the city.
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Lord Sinistra
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Post by Lord Sinistra on Feb 9, 2014 22:54:49 GMT -8
She stayed quiet inside the blue bubble, as there was no place for her in their exchange. The silence stretched out as he dressed without a word and eventually walked out. He never looked her way, did not speak to her and she felt distinctly like she had stepped in it pretty good butting in where she was not invited to be. The Major sat across the room, her face turned away. She couldn't say she didn't feel a little bad for her, and perhaps that is what moved Sinistra to drop the protection bubble, the flask still in her hand although almost empty by this point. She pushed off the desk, and stepped over to the Major, offering it to her. She paced away from the Major, looking out the window as the lights of Breehara lit up her face, bathing her in a wash of yellow that was rather unflattering. Her voice was soft, and the expression on her rusty skinned face wistful.
"It is hard to be his friend sometimes, but were I in your shoes, I would find this situation infinitely more difficult. He's trying the best he can, he's kinda rotten at this human thing, something I love to rub his face in. We both know that normal women are hard enough to figure out but women like us? We're impossible."
Walking back over to the Major, she pulled the old silver flask out of her hand. It was scratched and dented, the edges worn down from years of use keeping Sinistra liquored up. She capped it off, tucking it back on her belt. Her fingers brushed across the holoprojector and as much as she wanted to keep this quiet, if Major was important to him, then Sin would respect her as he did. No more secrets.
"There is a very small number of people in the galaxy that I trust to be myself with. Eralam, or Dresden or whatever he calls himself, is one of the few. I know his time is limited. I don't know why. I know he cares for you deeply. He's my drinking buddy. He's like a brother to me. I saw a vision of him here incapacitated. I came to help him. After I injected him with a dose of something to wake him up, he told me about the failsafe and that I had to shoot him right then. So I did. With the gun he gave me, no less."
She pulled the holoprojector off her belt and switched it off, the tall togruta dissolved to reveal a short, older human woman with dark brown eyes. Her long, chocolate and silver streaked hair was pulled up in a bun, wearing the baggy clothes of the doctor she had been impersonating. She pushed the holoprojector into Major's hand, her imperial accent very clear now.
"Let's start over, shall we? I wear a disguise if there is a chance I'll be seen by anyone other than him. Vera is just an alias, but most of the universe calls me Sinistra."
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The Major
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Post by The Major on Feb 10, 2014 8:50:30 GMT -8
There could be waves upon waves of description bestowed as multiple treatises to flesh every detail of this reaction. As time drew short, a summary would be more than up to the task. Upon the revelation, our resident Fallanassi nearly topples over on her seat -that being the fault of it being one of those office chairs with the tiny wheels on the bottom -combined with her sudden motion as her loafers dug their nondescript heels into the light tile and pushed backwards -away from the person who was supposed to be distracted with a huge battle at her doorstep. Fucking Hell, Intel dropped the ball once again, and this was far worse.
"Yack. Ughk. Er."
Imagine, if you will, a trapezoid with its ends as sharp as a polished blade. Such was the Major's countenance.
"I. . . Oh. Dis means zyou saw mein speech at dehr bunker."
The frown somehow stretches further.
"Dere ist sumdink I can say dat vwouldt make dis situation better, dere simply hast to be."
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Lord Sinistra
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Post by Lord Sinistra on Feb 10, 2014 9:27:01 GMT -8
"Yeah. Let's just put that behind us."
She looked down at her leg and huffed as she tried to figure out what to do about her injury next. Force healing did all it could for the time being, but it was still tender. This called for more whiskey and probably a bacta patch or two but definitely whiskey. She had lost about a pint of blood from the gunshot wound and She motioned for the door, and the hallway where Eralam's foot prints tracked her blood across the white tiles.
"You have not escaped my notice. I like the cut of your jib, you remind me of me. Just taller. And with a fascination for guns. Your regimes are efficient and after your outburst at the meeting on Dressel, I checked into your figures. That's an impressive resume of accomplishments you have achieved."
She had almost reached the door with her slightly limping gait when she turned around to scoop up her pistol off the floor and carry it limply in her left hand. She walked back to the door, being careful not to slip on the blood spilled on the slick floor. A little up the hall, she grabbed a couple patches off a supply shelf and hiked up her pants leg to slap the patches on, leaving the sterile packaging rumpled on the floor. That was better. It tingled and the blood loss was making her woozy. She needed to replace her fluids. Water first, and something to eat. Then Eralam's whiskey collection.
"I need to eat and you need to buy me a round for shooting me in the leg. I don't blame you, I would have eviscerated someone who hurt my beloved but that's neither here nor there."
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The Major
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Post by The Major on Feb 11, 2014 12:02:16 GMT -8
"Eat? Drink? vWhere ist ein local restaurant?"
This particular casting of Force Immersion still managed to fraw a shadow of complete obfuscation over the Fallanassi's thoughts. Its lingering nature was perhaps a testament to the protracted battle the woman was expecting. And while the threat of violence had passed, such conjurations and defenses did not fade easily.
"Dis ist not unexpected. It vwas mein intention to meet vwith zyou -eventually- but certainly not like dis. In anycase, eine talk vwill do vwonders, but no vone vwill believe I vwouldt be talkingk to ein alien. Hier."
The woman stands, leers at the Sith woman momentarily, then makes ready to leave the room. Guards waste no time in pouring into the room, asking hundreds of questions to the Fallanassi, but mysteriously ignoring the leader of the Galactic Empire.
"zYour Lordt Eralam has vanquished dehr assassin. Don't ask me for traces, he probably cast her into exile in some other plane, or in ein shhhtar."
The Major then beckons for Sinistra to follow her out of the room, and once they clear of the waves of personnel -including the gwakers- she once again speaks directly to the SIth Lord.
"It ist not ein complete lie: I hafe effectively erasedt zyou from dis universe. Naturally, dehr are advantages to such blissful exile, as zyou vwill see."
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Lord Sinistra
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Post by Lord Sinistra on Feb 11, 2014 13:15:17 GMT -8
"Now that's a handy power to have. And it explains why you are hidden from me when I look through his past and future. You change the threads, everything is clouded where you are concerned. It took some serious digging to figure out where he was and I could not see you at all. I could see Eralam ambushed at a cabin, and from his talking figured out you were there, but whatever you are is masked from me. How deliciously curious."
Sinistra tucked the pistol away, following the Major out of the facility to find someplace to grab something to eat and drink, maybe they would find Dresden wandering the streets. She didn't hold her breath. Her eyes were searching the faces of those who breezed passed her for looks of recognition but she was a ghost among the living, their preoccupied minds unable to grasp her form and presence. She held out her palm, blood dried into the cracks and lines of her skin, crimson wrinkles across the pale plain of her flesh.
"As fun as not existing is, it isn't practical for running the government. Hand me the holoshroud back, I'll set it for human. There seems to be an appalling amount of xenophobia among those who fall afoul of the Jedi and Republic. My, aren't we a tolerant bunch?"
There was a throaty chuckle as she switched the holoshroud on to mimic the look of average looking brunette woman in her mid 30's. Nothing spectacular about her, her clothes were simple and nondescript, her face forgettable. But she definitely didn't look like herself. Up ahead, there was a neon lit wasteland of booze and questionable morals that called to Sinistra's adventurous side. It looked like someplace to get some terribly greasy food, some watered down booze and a grifter running a table, looking to part a rube from his coin. She tugged on the Major's arm to get her attention as she headed through the sliding doors.
"Come on, let's duck in here. I've got a hunch."
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The Major
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Post by The Major on Feb 11, 2014 14:52:00 GMT -8
Timing was critical when it came to illusions that completely changed the nature of reality. It was a meticulous process, taking years of training in a single aspect of the Force to manipulate this power with such control that it could fool even gods, forces of nature, and sectors in other dimensions. Luckily enough, the woman often called "the Major" had that complete control. Granted, there was absolutely no way this or any Fallanassi could grasp unto objects with telekinesis or absorb energy or use any of the bells or whistles of the Force. Such was the manner of this power. Mastery of one eviscerated any grasping of another school of thought, and in that way, mastering the use of the White Current was a devil's bargain.
But really, who cared? What would anyone, could anyone do in the face of shifting truth? The implications were infinite, the applications myriad, and all it took was its effective use. Truly, only her mind and willpower to survive were the limits of her abilities; from this, her confidence sprung less like a meager spring, and more like a supernova.
Yet all was vainglory and fleeting. The stronger and better she became, the emptier her insides became. No matter: she had no use for the traumas of her life -she only needed the thirst it left behind.
"vWot dehr Hell: dis suit ist ruined in anycase." Back to the issue of timing. Doing it wrong means Sinistra pops up like a badly animated holovid. That would draw attention. Attention was not the point of this. All that could be said is that one woman opened the door to the dingy dive, and two women entered past the threshold. Nobody noticed, nobody could notice, and nobody that cared to notice was present to take note of this.
The Fallanassi sniffs the air with a certain wolfish quality."Dis table by dehr vwindow does not smell as much like piss like dehr others." And then she sits on the grimy chair. After all, standing or sitting at a bar just wasn't her style.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 11, 2014 15:33:02 GMT -8
Sin's hunches were better than most people's facts. The dive bar the women entered was the sort that sprang up in the seedier parts of cities the galaxy over. The lighting was dim, the air reeked of a hundred different varieties of recreational intoxicants, bad food, and the body odor of the lowest common denominator of the population that always inhabited these sorts of places. The furniture was cheap, sturdy, and bolted to the floor to keep it from being used in bar fights. Not that the two beings fighting in the center of the room gave a damn about a few measly inches of durasteel.
The first was obviously Dresden. He was wearing the same bloodstained clothes from the hospital, but had somehow managed to find boots to fit his massive feet. The other being appeared to be a human male, roughly six feet tall and powerfully muscled. He had the sort of dark tan common to folks who spent a great deal of time working outdoors, shaggy brown hair that had been bleached to a dirty blond by the sun, and the sort of face that holovid casting agents always looked for in disposable goons.
On the surface at least, it looked like two skilled fighters having a simple bar brawl, but closer examination revealed that to be a bald faced lie. Even if you didn't know Dresden could punch a heavy duty blast door into oblivion, you'd be able to tell something was off. Their movements were just a little too crisp, a little too precise, and just a hair too fast to belong to normal humans. And if one were to open themselves up to the Force, it would be obvious that there were more layers to the exchange of blows than could easily be seen. Both fighters were skillfully using Absorb to both lace their blows with additional kinetic energy and to bleed off energy from the occasional strike that broke through. As the shorter man landed a quick jab to Dresden's jaw, a corresponding flair of energy could be felt by those sensitive as the energy was dispersed into the room. The blow looked fairly normal, but if the bouncers lying in motionless heaps at the edge of the room were any indication, it probably could have knocked a parked TIE fighter onto its side.
From the looks of things, it was hard to tell who was winning. Dresden had a busted lip and a cut over his right eye, and the other man's nose was quite obviously broken, but neither seemed overly impaired. The shorter man actually appeared to be the better technical fighter, bobbing and weaving around and favorite lightning fast punches that struck in even the smallest opening, whereas Dresden preferred to remain somewhat stationary, relying on his longer reach and devastating physical strength to keep the smaller man at bay.
If one listened carefully, one could just make out the verbal battle taking place at the same time over the sounds of hands whistling through the air, the sharp slaps of blows being slapped aside, and the occasional meaty thwack as one landed.
"I told you what would happen if I ever caught you back on Dressel, you psychotic little shit," Dresden snarled.
"And I told you to go fuck yourself, you geriatric son of a bitch," the other man retorted. "I'm not working for you or the goddamned Network." He ducked under a left hook, only to catch an uppercut to the chin that physically lifted him off the ground.
"I'm not asking you to work for it, Starkiller," grunted Dresden as he pushed his momentary advantage by firing a roundhouse kick towards his opponent's head, "I'm asking you to run it."
Starkiller managed to recover enough to lean back, the speeding foot missing his nose by inches. "Why can't you do it? Surely the goddamn Robot Space Pussy can handle something like that." He fired off a kick of his own towards Dresden's planted leg, targeting the knee. Dresden in turn pivoted slightly, so that the blow struck the back instead of the side. The leg folded, but didn't shatter, and now he had Starkiller's leg trapped.
"I'm not going to be around much longer," he said, the fire gone out of his voice. "Our people need someone to lead them if they're going to stay ahead of the turmoil to come."
The blond man gave up his fruitless struggle to free his foot. "You really mean it, don't you." It wasn't a question.
Dresden nodded. "Shit's getting crazy out there. Our folks need a leg up if they're going to survive, and I've only got about a year left. In case you didn't notice, this ain't an HRD."
"Holy fuck,"said Goran Starkiller, rogue Shard, former co-ruler of Onderon, part-time Mando and full time troublemaker. "That'll do it. Uh, you mind if I get my leg back? There are two human females at the door, and judging by the fact that one seems to be amused and the other is apparently brain dead but somehow looks pissed, you've got bigger problems than dying."
"Is one about my height, rail thin, freckled, with supervillainy glowing glasses?"
"Yup."
"I'm in trouble."
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The Major
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Breehara
Feb 11, 2014 16:33:22 GMT -8
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Post by The Major on Feb 11, 2014 16:33:22 GMT -8
"Gottverdammen. I swear dere ist more dan twenty of him. Maybe sixty dree dousand eight hundredt ninety four."
An eye roll accompanies a slight sigh, but this time the Fallanassi keeps her head bloody good and down. She was not about to get into another hyper tension argument. Now was the time for a drink.
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Lord Sinistra
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Post by Lord Sinistra on Feb 11, 2014 16:38:31 GMT -8
Sinistra stopped just outside the reach of the gangly fighters, a less odorous table forgotten as she crossed her arms. Apparently the pair knew each other and from the verbal exchange, closely. She, of course, didn't look like herself but the voice was unmistakable as she called to Dresden.
"Are you quite finished? You owe me a drink, she owes me a drink and I ain't getting any younger."
She smiled charmingly at the blond man, his leg locked up with Dresden's, her voice purring with curiosity. There was a devious glint in her brown eyes, like a tigress watching a meal. "What's your story?"
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Post by Deleted on Feb 11, 2014 16:50:44 GMT -8
Starkiller stood up and offered a theatrical bow to the shorter of the two women.
"Goran Starkiller, at your service. My story is long and varied, but it looks to have gotten a lot more interesting. And who might you be?"
If Dresden was the awkward duck, Goran was the duck that got laid on occasion. His social graces might be a bit on the antique side, but some ladies went in for that sort of thing.
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The Major
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Feb 11, 2014 17:17:58 GMT -8
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Post by The Major on Feb 11, 2014 17:17:58 GMT -8
"Are zyou goingk to keep up dat gawk, Eralam? Or perhaps zyou are preventingk dee detonation of yet einoder failsafe device dat zyou hafe not told me about -oh, excuse me, I forgot dat I promised myself to not become angry. I findt it challengingk, since zyou SHHTIL haf not gotten me ein drink."
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Lord Sinistra
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Post by Lord Sinistra on Feb 11, 2014 17:19:07 GMT -8
She smiled a roguish grin, something predatory as she looked Dresden and he gave a slight nod. Pretty boy was safe. She walked past the pair of them, slipping in behind the bar as the aged and gruff looking bartender started to raise some gruff. She exchanged some words with the man, his expression getting much more relaxed and finally he seemed to agree with her request before he personally approached all the tables and kicked out all the patrons, much to their drunken chagrins. He handed Sin the keys and she handed him a couple credit chips before he too followed the drunks out and Sin locked the doors behind them all, leaving the foursome inside a fully stocked bar, with no interruptions.
She beckoned them to the bar as she pulled out some decent whiskey and poured them all three fingers each in a highball glass. Drinks poured, the holoshroud was switched off, and the mid-30's nondescript brunette disappeared to reveal Sinistra. She raised a glass to Goran with a wink. "Why, I'm the Emperor, of course."
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The Major
Member
Also known as Sailor Titan
Posts: 5,959
Affiliation: Fallanassi
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Breehara
Feb 11, 2014 17:31:49 GMT -8
via mobile
Post by The Major on Feb 11, 2014 17:31:49 GMT -8
"Naturally, dee only odehr Frau hast uny sense für propriety. She beats zyou to dis; I vwonder vwot else she can beat zyou at."
The Major shrugs, smirks, and pushes past the ex-Shard, literally. She actually shoves him so as to not alter her course to her allotted shot.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
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Post by Deleted on Feb 11, 2014 17:43:07 GMT -8
Dresden sighed and joined them at the bar. It wasn't a bad drink, all things considered. Scotch, 10-12 years old, slightly sweeter than he liked and a bit on the astringent side. Better than what he had expected. Also behind the bar was a humidor. He pulled out a cigar, a Churchill-style maduro from a local shop and lit it up. It did a lot to offset the sweetness.
"Well hello to you too."
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