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Post by Preacher on Oct 20, 2017 5:17:48 GMT -8
It was warmer inside. Silas removed his hat and set it on the bar top, and likewise his duster. Rolling up his bare shirtsleeves, he leaned against the bar, surveying the place. It was squalid, a rag-tag mixture of patched together, mis-matched furniture, bad lighting, and it smelled of sweat and desperation. He looked at Adrien, and fiddled with the earpiece he had been given. Placing it in his ear as he sees Isabelle do, he speaks in a soft voice, testing the device. At the bar. Checking in. Adrien has selected a table, and Silas looks from him, to Isabelle, to Neassa, and then turns to face the bar, nodding to the bar-keep. Something strong, please.
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Post by Preacher on Oct 19, 2017 6:40:13 GMT -8
In a motion which was more adult-child correction than aggression, Preacher lit his sword, and with a simple flick of the wrist, the wide, amber-yellow beam removed the blade of the Dantari's sword at the hilt, and quickly extinguished the blade again, as if to say 'tsk tsk tsk...' to the behemoth. The sound of speeder bikes is foreign to Silas, but he recognizes the sound as something approaching. Something with an engine. And so, having handily disarmed the Dantari of his primary weapon, he considers finishing the deed, but sees Neassa lining up her next shot, and so merely gives a small bow to the being in thanks before the report of the EE-3 puts a burn on the Dantari he won't soon forget. As the body crumples, Silas nods to the Warrior, both in thanks, and as appraisal -- are you alright? and then turns to ready himself against whatever is approaching next.
Soon enough, the sound becomes clear, and four speeders of varying sizes and makes shoot clear of the escarpment. Preacher counts six riders total -- two pillion, and four pilots. Two bikes angle directly toward him, while the rest steer a wide berth to flank. Igniting his sword, Silas readies himself. Blaster bolts tear toward him, even as the bike itself approaches with frightening speed. Preacher deflects the only blast near enough to worry about, and counters as the bike passes, close enough to smell the Gran pilot's breath, and strikes as the bike passes, slicing a nasty gash through the bike's hind quarter. It veers sharply to the left, and burys itself full-tilt into the mining facility's front wall, quite near the door. There is movement from the wreckage, but Silas has more to concern himself with...
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Post by Preacher on Oct 16, 2017 19:18:14 GMT -8
By the First of Firsts -- this place was cold. From the gates of hell to the frozen Steppes, was there no happy medium in the 'verse? Silas pulled his coat's collar up as the oddly insistent wind within the Skip whipped around them. He followed Adrien at a pace, not too close, not too far off. A quick burst of speed and he'd be at the man's side in a heartbeat, but as it was, the whole affair looked casual. That said, he had popped the clasp on his sidearm, as he had come to expect the worst. Stepping off the ship brought a wave of nausea, and the Preacher cursed silently at the asteroid field, and his unfamiliarity at the whole endeavour. The scene, viewed through the view-screen, had been like a train-wreck. He couldn't look away, but could barely bring himself to watch. There was no doubt Trent had amused himself with Silas' fears, and it ate at him.
The task at-hand was vague, and maddeningly so. There was no good reason Draykon should leave them all so obtusely in the dark, when it could mean their hides, but it was how the man operated, and Silas would follow, prepared for anything. If their current surroundings -- the veritable graveyard of badly damaged and scavenged ships, refuse, and sentient detritus -- were any indication, this place could be a little rough. Keeping pace with Adrien, and keeping a sharp eye, Silas moved deeper into the rock known as the 'Smugglers Run.'
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Post by Preacher on Oct 14, 2017 19:32:47 GMT -8
Silas scowled as he looked out the viewport at the expanse of ruined rock beyond.
Unsavory how? he paused as the ship started moving ...take us in? In where? In there? he pointed at the asteroid field This is just a way-point before another jump, right? looking at the assembled faces for affirmation ...right?
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Post by Preacher on Oct 14, 2017 16:08:53 GMT -8
Primary Authors: Preacher, Neassa Or'Dinii Those allowed to post here: Preacher, Neassa Or'Dinii Critical Responses: I have no problem with that. In Universe Rules Applicable? Yes. Timeframe: Future event.
Scenario: There they were, in the belly of Neassa's ship. Were they enjoying a meal? Discussing the future? Planning a visit to their next port of call? Going over a bounty or a contract? Or something else? You decide. In any case, it was as it often was. Two people comfortable in each-other's presence, doing what people do when there are specific jobs and roles they fill to be useful to each other. You plan. You decide. You prepare and execute. There are calculated risks, sure. There is the possibility of failure -- but dim, its presence really only spurring the pair on to achieve and overcome. And then, despite best laid plans and decisions, sometimes a hyperspace communication crosses your path, and changes everything. Sometimes, even when it almost certainly means burning bridges or losing a contract, you turn tail and burn hard in the opposite direction. Because it's the decent thing to do. Or something like that.
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Post by Preacher on Oct 14, 2017 10:18:18 GMT -8
Silas' reply was immediate, and devoid of extraneous emotion. Matter-of-fact, to-the-point.
No, Captain.
It would serve as response to either or both of the questions Adrien had asked. A heavy silence descended on the flight deck of the ship, the silence only broken by the occasional chirp of the navacomp and sensor relays on the bridge, doing minute course corrections to account for anomalies. Status indicators and progress readouts flickered, bathing the scene in a soft green glow from certain angles. After a few long moments of determined consternation from several on the bridge, Silas spoke again, in hopes that he'd shed some much-needed light on their current course.
So -- Mustafar. What are we headed there for? What's it like?
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Post by Preacher on Oct 12, 2017 13:45:39 GMT -8
Banned for not acknowledging that many reasons is better than one.
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Post by Preacher on Oct 12, 2017 13:37:11 GMT -8
Trent's response was unexpected, and more than a little strange, since Silas was certain the pilot knew what was transpiring. He observed the man's reaction, noting the tension and concern in his facial features, and wondered if they were genuine. He thought briefly, trying his best to understand, in case the Pilot was using some form of subterfuge, or was secretly hoping Silas was part of some inside information, which he wasn't. No doubt, Silas' face betrayed his confusion. Was I in some way unclear? He crossed his arms. The Midnight Shadow is only so big. I have had opportunity to traverse this ship, top to bottom, and unless I am mistaken, or Ms. Ryzer has locked herself into one of the cargo containers in the forward hold, she is not here. Meaning she didn't depart Naboo with us.
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Post by Preacher on Oct 12, 2017 6:51:04 GMT -8
Silas looks from Adrien, to Trent. He chooses not to offer up any commentary on the Captain's exchange with the red-haired woman as firstly, he knows all too well how slippery she can be, having been in almost the same situation mere moments before, and secondly, because it is not his place. He likewise chooses not to offer up opinion on Mustafar, having only heard of the place a few minutes earlier. He knows literally nothing about the planet, their business there, or the reasoning behind Draykon's instruction that should be their heading. His assumption is, all will be made clear when the Captain is good and ready to do so. To the last -- Adrien's question about his first mate -- The Preacher is surprised how little the pilot can say, while using so many words.
To the best of my knowledge, Captain, Ms. Ryzer is not aboard.
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Post by Preacher on Oct 12, 2017 6:40:44 GMT -8
Silas watched patiently, following Neassa's progress. She is skilled, and he feels certain that remaining in her company, he will continue to learn much in the ways of this galaxy, and truthfully, the ways of war. He spies the cover she is heading for, and notes both its proximity to their earth-bound target, and its relative protection. When it all goes wrong, with little in the way of notice or warning, Silas does not hesitate. Neassa has been struck, and he fears the worst. Breaking cover, Silas strides directly toward Kuba, and, five yards above him, Huyana. He had felt unease, pity, and a great deal of moral indecision over what was the most obvious a course of action. Feelings which had dogged him since their arrival on this scorched and fearsome planetoid. But now, with his friend and partner -- maybe the only friend he'd ever had -- potentially injured or lying dead, all hesitation vanished, and Silas of Biul acted, swiftly and surely.
Stopping twenty-five feet away, and below Huyana's position, completely in the open, Preacher concentrated. Huyana raised her weapon, taking aim, and uttered an impressively ugly string of a language Silas did not understand. Silas reached out with his outstretched hand, and saw within her. Saw her alien physiology. He heard the report of the weapon firing, and felt the impact of the blaster bolt as it tore through the fabric of his duster, missing him by a scant inch to the left of his chest. He could feel her breathing, quicker now on the exhale as she quickly re-sighted. One more breath, and then another, deeper inhale, which she held, readying herself to fire.
And then Silas took hold of the beating orb inside her chest, and squeezed. On her perch, Huyana screamed, a dark, barking sound, loosing her grip on the weapon, and dropped to her knees. He could have let her go right then, and she may even have lived. But he continued to squeeze until life left her, and she lay still. Only then did Silas realize that the large, broad-chested, solidly-built humanoid was bearing down on him with a nearly-three-foot-long blade which reflected the bubbling lava in its mirror-smoothness. Preacher only had time to react, diving under the first strike, which would have neatly separated his head from his shoulders, and rolled to stand and turn once more the face the lumbering giant. He withdrew his laser sword, but did not ignite the blade yet, preferring to await the other's action.
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Post by Preacher on Oct 12, 2017 5:03:04 GMT -8
Really? When Ade asked 'where's Erly?' In my mind, Preacher's head literally swivelled to look directly at you. Aside from Ade, who asked the question, you are maybe the only person aboard who knows her. You learned some inside information about her before boarding at Kessel. You shared character-building dialogue.
I imagined there was nobody BUT you who was better-suited to answer that question!
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Post by Preacher on Oct 8, 2017 9:53:46 GMT -8
YOU smell bad.
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Post by Preacher on Oct 7, 2017 9:19:39 GMT -8
Banned for smelling bad. (I assume those are flies buzzing around you in your ava.)
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Post by Preacher on Oct 5, 2017 6:50:03 GMT -8
Crouched behind their cover -- an oddly horizontal series of thin, crumbly stalactites -- Silas peers out into the gloom to assess and offer his perspective on their situation. Just a momentary glance, that's all it takes. His inner sight has shown him the framework of what he needs to know. His eyes merely confirm, and add scenery to the mental image. It is as he pictured, though it is interesting to note the features of the Dantari & Weequay. Patting his hand-blaster, he speaks in a low voice. This will most certainly be heard. pause The one on the ground, on our level -- he is not what I imagined. Nor is he as ill-prepared as he might appear. I think taking one alive might be the best course of action. a pause, where it is apparent Preacher is deeply considering his words I can silence one of them from here, or with a minimum of movement. I imagine the guard on the upper floor poses the most serious issues as far as 'getting close.' I'll deal with that one. Can you take the one on the ground quietly, and alive?
He closes his eyes, brow deeply furrowed. What is this, this course? Why am I so bent on it's unraveling? Am I so loose-moralled, so willing to turn my back on the Teachings? Is this how it is done? I seek your wisdom, Crayden, the First. Guide me here where my frailties are in control. Show me the path, and I will not hesitate to walk it.
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Post by Preacher on Oct 1, 2017 15:07:28 GMT -8
Catch us up, folks. Where are we at?
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Post by Preacher on Oct 1, 2017 15:06:57 GMT -8
It is interesting, notes the Preacher to himself, how easily he listens to, and follows this woman. All is new. At home, there was no one he looked to for say-so or approval, nothing in the world that would have convinced him he need another to help him on his way. Their ancient way of living would also have looked askance at him for following a woman. Out here, though, one of the first terms he picked up, and filed under 'apt' was the notion that "no two identical paths in the 'Verse." The galaxy was a big place, and oftentimes, he felt very small in it. There was no shame in asking for aid, especially from one such as Neassa. Fact was, he'd follow her to the hot place and back. He'd never had a partner before, but of all those he'd met, she was the only one he trusted to walk side-by-side with.
Oddly, when she spells out the wizardry her tech allows her to see, Silas' first inclination is to head for the central approach. If that's where the sec guards are, then a head-on approach is best. None of them will walk out of here, so why deceive? Not being spotted has never been Preacher's MO. But her reasoning is sound, and he again has much to learn about the ways of the 'Verse. As all of this transpires, Silas' biggest worry is where to 'hold onto her.' There's her shoulders, or around the waist, but all of that seems so familiar. Face to face? But that would mean they'd be touching... no, it couldn't be permitted. And besides the Code, he didn't want to take the chance of presenting an inferior tactical presence.
Ultimately, he mimicked her posture, grasping her outstretched forearm, and holding on around her shoulder, entwining his leg with hers, to prevent them from spinning, and making their mass as even a load as possible. It was a useless gesture, but he swallowed as they ascended, a lump in his throat.
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Post by Preacher on Sept 27, 2017 12:13:02 GMT -8
Silas ponders everything that Neassa says, weighing her words carefully. Likewise, he takes in the words of the older woman, yet can muster barely a smile as she bestows upon him the natural armour. Bless us both. Blessings. He was unworthy of such words. Especially when it came to the Man. Silas had rarely done anything that could have been considered self-serving, but if he knew the Man's motives, then their actions would be both blessing and curse. He could tell himself there were puritanical reasons for his actions, but if the ugly truth were known, he wanted this. Wanted to track the Man down. Wanted him to pay for his sins. And would be more than happy to be the instrument of the Man's penance.
They left in silence, and he simply could not bring himself to make mention of their "good deed." Gods go with us? Whose Gods? And if they be for us, who be against us? These and other, less pleasant thoughts occupied Preacher's mind as they moved across the hellish landscape, making good time, but existing in parallel. As the duo approached forty-five minutes of uninterrupted travel, he spoke. The cliffs lay ahead. Maybe seventy feet tall, the jagged, young volcanic rock would be easy enough to ascend, but not without dangers.
Crouching behind a grouping of boulders, Silas reached out with his Inner Strength, seeking answers to the unasked question, and found the reply less than clear. I can't tell how many. Not from here. Maybe closer... He was calm, his breathing even. Clear-eyed and composed, though that same look lingered in his eye. Even so... ten, or twenty... they will not get the better of us. Not this day.
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Post by Preacher on Sept 26, 2017 18:05:29 GMT -8
Banned for not actually, you know, playing the game.
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Post by Preacher on Sept 25, 2017 11:25:04 GMT -8
Banned for confusing smuggling with piracy.
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Post by Preacher on Sept 23, 2017 12:58:20 GMT -8
Preacher had to look away. Despite himself, despite his training, despite his knowing somewhere deep that it was the right thing, he had to look away when the knife moved in, snuffing the ruined creature's life. ...East lava river. North branch where it diverges. Bowl-shaped cliffs. Cave on top of the cliffs. He couldn't un-know what he now knew. And he couldn't turn his back any more than he could have killed Chev. It was more about the evil that these locals needed deliverance from. Less about his own thirst for knowledge. And he knew well the price. With every step he took, knew it would one day catch up with him.
When he looked back at Neassa, it was all over. There was a hardness in his eye that stayed a moment, but was then swallowed away. She had done in an instant what he would never be able to do. Bound by his book. He didn't know what to say. What of their little excursion? What would it come to define between them? And maybe more horrifying, what would it cauterize between them? What of Draykon? What would their Captain think of their little jaunt? If he recalled them, would he ever return to this place, or would the trail be lost to him forever? What of Chev? What are his peoples' customs regarding burial and death? What of... Oh, hell.
wearily, and maybe a little warily ...Lead on, Warrior.
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