Preacher
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Post by Preacher on Oct 15, 2014 7:34:06 GMT -8
If your cargo is slaves... Preacher will have an issue with it. Jus' sayin. It'll be fun to hash out.
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Post by Preacher on Oct 13, 2014 16:59:00 GMT -8
Who's turn is it? Let's go!
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Preacher
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Post by Preacher on Oct 8, 2014 8:42:14 GMT -8
Post up.
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Post by Preacher on Oct 8, 2014 8:38:31 GMT -8
It all got very busy, very quickly. He had been admiring the design and the purposeful lines of the Wayfarer-class vessel, wondering if there might be off-world passage available, when suddenly the crowd in the starport began acting as a mob: startled, frightened yelling; shoving and barely-controlled stampeding toward cover. All vestiges of pleasant, civilized behavior disappeared as several hundred individuals worried about their own necks first.
A woman ran headlong into Preacher, falling splayed on the duralumin floor grating beside him in a frenzied attempt to escape the as-yet unseen menace. With the throng of people moving in herd-mentality, she was in danger of being trampled, and Preacher fought against the tide of people to reach her, and help the woman to her feet. Immediately, he was in danger of being swept along with the crowd, and he calmed himself, opening his arms wide and calling upon the Inner Strength to protect and guide those around him. Several beings slammed into him, trying to escape, and he parried their bodies to move against the current of sentients. It was only a matter of seconds before the fleeing masses spread out around him, answering the will of his Inner Strength, parting as if unseen barriers created space on all sides of him. He moved toward the threat, now becoming audible over the crowd.
Gunfire and shouting were headed this way, and then the air rushed past him and grew warm, the after-effects of a nearby explosion. The wind blew his duster back, exposing the pistol on his thigh, and Preacher gripped the handle, fingers resting easy on the two triggers. He sought deep within his Inner Strength once more, and cast his glance toward the commotion, where he saw several beings fleeing a group of armed men. Pirates. Several of the group were injured, and scores of innocent passerby were being shot and trampled. He placed his left hand inside the shoulder satchel that contained the Law, ran fingers over the aged leather of the book, and closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, he was filled with glorious purpose. Drawing his pistol, he aimed and fired once, twice. A pause. Three times.
The first shot caught one of the Pirates that was pursuing an armored man, leveling a rifle at his back and making ready to fire. The .55 caliber round tore through his throat, and his head disappeared in a spray of fine, red mist. The second round caught another pursuer in the stomach. This pirate was less interested in the fleeing crew, and more intent on killing and looting on the run. Scum. He doubled over and fell as the bullet passed through him, severing his spine, and cried out in pain and shock. The final round was meant for another Pirate closing on a trio of beings: a man, clearly wounded, being helped along by another, fierce looking man and a woman with blonde hair. The bullet passed over her head and caved in the Pirate's skull as he raised a massive vibro-knife to sink into her back.
Two shots left.
The crowd was now insane with trying every means to escape, as both the fleeing crew, and their pursuers closed to within thirty feet, moving at breathtaking speed, seemingly headed straight for him. Though his Inner Strength kept space around him, and forced the fleeing masses to move fluidly past him in a teardrop shape, Preacher was torn between the threat, and helping these beings to safety. Another Pirate brought a vibro-blade down, deep into the meat of an Iridonian's shoulder, nearly severing the limb, and his focus was certain once more.
Calling again on his Inner Strength, he reached out with a tendril of the mystic energy, and crushed the Pirate's esophagus, lifting him several feet off the ground, and sending him flying back, against the fore bulkhead of a neighboring vessel, where the lifeless corpse crumpled to the ground. It was too late to help the mortally-wounded Iridonian, who lay bleeding out on the deck, and so Preacher killed him as well to end his suffering, forcing the life from his lungs and ending him painlessly.
He turned his attention back to the approaching crew to aid them once more, but time had run out and they were upon him, the blonde woman running headlong into him at the foot of the Wayfarer's ramp. Not ten feet behind her, three more Pirates bore down on them, one armed with a fearsome chainsaw-like appendage, another brandished a hand-blaster, and the last a short and bloody sword, dripping with the blood of innocents. He was about to fire at the closest Pirate, the one with the chainsaw -- but she had thrown him off balance...
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Preacher
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Post by Preacher on Oct 6, 2014 14:51:56 GMT -8
Hah! That's awesome! Neighbor crew-mates. If I can log some computer time tonight I can get a few posts up for all of my alts (Preacher included!) sorry, I know I said last night, but my little girl was NOT interested in sleeping, so Dad had to be on baby-duty.
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Post by Preacher on Oct 6, 2014 5:02:34 GMT -8
Just get to the point of contact with Preacher (if you post first) and let me react. No IC controlling of other PC's please.
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Post by Preacher on Oct 5, 2014 18:42:12 GMT -8
Preacher I think Dice was meaning that they are running at you (in a hurry to get out.) and the only options you have is either run with them, or get trampled...Kinda like an anime scene where the person gets swept up with the crowd. Also get in there let it all be sorted out when the ships in the air I hope it isn't me. After reading and re-reading, I assumed the 'man in all black' was Leon. Because I'm nowhere near the cantina, I'm standing outside Adrien's ship! And I assumed the ship wasn't parked right outside the newly-destroyed wall of the cantina, but in a docking bay!!
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Preacher
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Post by Preacher on Oct 5, 2014 18:31:49 GMT -8
Atia: I don't have a ship. In my lone IC post, I am walking the starport, looking for passage on a freighter, when I come to a stop in front of the Draykon crew's ship, a Wayfarer class.
I will be posting shortly.
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Preacher
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Post by Preacher on Oct 4, 2014 13:49:40 GMT -8
I'll have one up tomorrow night. I'm at a cottage on an island with next to no cell service right now. Gotta catch up on the new posts!! Sunday night: post from me.
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Post by Preacher on Oct 3, 2014 8:24:53 GMT -8
...waiting too, but enjoying the carnage.
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Post by Preacher on Oct 1, 2014 12:41:05 GMT -8
Sure, that sounds good. I guess I was worried about the unlikelihood of a stranger being swept up and into the ship, rather than just keeping low-key. But we'll see how that plays out when it happens!
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Post by Preacher on Oct 1, 2014 11:57:27 GMT -8
So, Preacher is standing outside the 'Shadow,' and now, with the rush y'all will be in to get offworld, I'm wondering how I'll factor into your plans. Ideas?
P
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Post by Preacher on Sept 29, 2014 15:29:29 GMT -8
Holy crap!!! Connie!!! I thought you were gone forever! Guys, just look back to page 1 of the Draykon Crew thread, from the days when 2.0 was just getting started, and you'll see lots of Connie's presence.
What brings you back this way, m'dear?
GF
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Post by Preacher on Sept 29, 2014 9:27:16 GMT -8
~~Elsewhere. Juvex City Starport.~~
Preacher was one of a hundred. Maybe one of a thousand. Goran's knees -- maybe ten thousand. The wide passageways were choked with sentients as far as he could see. Some were working the docks. Loading and unloading. Some were crewing the various ships that came and went, ships of every size and shape, from the bulk transports that were so large he couldn't crane his neck far enough back to make out the top, to the starfighters that raced the length of the starport in barely a heartbeat. There were droids and beings he'd never laid eyes on before, and those outweighed the lifeforms he did recognize by 20-1. There seemed to be only one rule of law here: credits. Some great heavy quadruped being offloaded from a nearby transport dropped a pile of nasty-smelling excrement in the dead centre of the passageway, and though Preacher gave it a wide berth, hundreds of others took no notice, so long as the beasts' handler had the credits to pay for the inconvenience.
He was most certainly a fish out of water here. A purple-skinned woman, lost and calling out in a language he didn't know, grabbed his arm as he passed, and Preacher doffed his hat, stating politely that he had no idea what she needed, but that if he could be of help... and then her brother, or her husband, or her pimp -- he didn't know which -- grabbed her roughly away, shoving Preacher in the chest, making an obvious statement of protection, or ownership. The traveler carried on his way. It had been like this for over an hour. Sensory overload.
He was looking for passage off this Maker-forsaken rock. He didn't rightly know where he would head next. There was a list in his pocket, a list of planets he'd never been to, places he'd never heard of. Maybe there would be a ship going to one of those planets. But really, anywhere would do. Any place would be better than Juvex. The only thing this trip had done was allow him to cross one more name off the list. He frowned, and set his mind back to the task of finding a ship. You'd think such a task would be a simple affair. But if you don't know where you're going, nor which routes would get you there, it became more about how you got there, not when.
He had downloaded a book on ships, and had spent much of his free time reading up on them. Fascinating. This dockyard seemed to have every model under the five suns. Corellian models, old bulk freighters of every description, carriers and cruisers as old as his grand-daddy's grand-daddy. He paused occasionally to refer to his data pad and confirm a variant or type, much like a birder would check to see what type of wren had just been spotted. With the hustle and bustle of the dockyard, and the passengers moving to and fro with a purpose, he must certainly have appeared a tourist.
Eight or ten bays further and the traveler paused once more to consult his datapad. Hmph. Wayfarer-class...
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Preacher
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Post by Preacher on Sept 28, 2014 19:08:02 GMT -8
Preacher here.
So, next I'll be checking out this Juvex thread, see whee I fit in. Y'all feel like having a look at my bio, go 'head. There's more backstory on the way.
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