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Post by Chel Garderly on Aug 1, 2013 12:32:29 GMT -8
He chuckles at her salute and then as she begins to gather her belongings, he went to do his own. He began to get the cloaks and things she made for him and folded them in a stack and turned, when he did she was in front of him holding his faceIts not something the appears often so make sure you cherish it He went to his room and began to get dressed, finding a small bag he began to pack the clothes she had made for him and then once packed he walked around the room collecting all his weapos, clipping them into place, making sure not a single one was missing and where it should be. The last thing he had was the giant sabercane which he held in hand for now as he walked back to her room Perhaps so... Chel waited in the living room for him, her belongings at her feet in bags ready to go. An excited chill ran down her spine as she watched him, taking a look around her less than perfect living situation.
But I still like it... |
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Post by Lord Phantom Armageddon on Aug 1, 2013 21:17:53 GMT -8
He only had two changes of robes she had made for him and then the pare he was wearing. His eyes scaned the room looking for anything left behind, though he knew every single weapon was in it's place. After wearing it the way he had, it would be almost like missing a limb if he had something amiss. He walked out into the living room, bag held in hand and nodded
Alright, well lead the way, I have no idea what this planet is like as a commoner, I have only seen it when I was here amongst the shadows making sennators and other people of note bleed and choke on their own fluid
His tone was simple, no emotion, because what he did was fact, and it would need to be a reality she would need to understand. His lust for blood, for his fight was just as high, no even higher than his lust for any female. This is who he was and it was not going to change
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Aysá
Kumauri Industries
Posts: 77 
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Aysá on Aug 2, 2013 6:10:23 GMT -8
The beat of Coruscant’s distant music pulsed through her, throbbing every second like a heartbeat. Aysá looked up at the barely visible neon lights that flashed in the city above with disgust. She considered the rich to be vermin; vermin that were blind to their own flaws. They partied above her in exclusive clubs, in gowns made from imported silk, sipping sickly champagne, while the poor struggled to survive. Their self-obsessed, manipulative ways only made her hate them more. They were living a lie and they were too stupid to even notice.
She turned away, ignoring the swell of rising anger, and made her way through the dim streets. She walked along the winding pathways that were stained with the tears of hope, until she found herself at a scratched and dented metal door. She clenched her fist and banged against it, two quick raps. There was silence for a few seconds, then footsteps that came closer. Aysá waited patiently. A sharp scraping sound rattled the air then two eyes peered at her from the darkness. They studied her for a few seconds. She stared back at them, unnerved and unblinking. There was a muffled grunt of acceptance from behind the door. Aysá remained silent. The door was unbolted and swung open.
Aysá made her way down the barely lit corridor that lead away from the streets. Overhead, a red light flickered and hummed. The colour ran down the walls like blood. Every few meters, people stood with their backs against the wall, some with their eyes closed, encased in the vapours of a half smoked death stick, others with scantily clad women draped provocatively across them. Occasionally one of them would glance at her as she passed, but Aysá ignored them and made her way into the heart of the club.
The bar was no more well lit than the corridor outside, with the only difference being that the red had been replaced with hues of blue and purple. Music played on low in the background, barely noticeable over sounds of the hushed and whispered chatter. The room was tiny in comparison to the other bars in the area, and it held no more than 40 people despite being split over two levels.
A dozen or so footsteps brought her from the threshold of the room to one of the empty booths that lined the far wall, though before she sat, the barman looked across to her. He recognised her immediately. With a small nod he set about preparing her drink, a tall shot glass and a bottle of bourbon. He brought it over moments later and placed both the glass and bottle down in front of her. She tossed a credit onto the table, not for the drink but as a tip. The barman nodded and went back to cleaning glasses.
The company in the bar was limited; maybe 10-15 other patrons. Few frequented this place, and fewer knew of its existence. Her master had brought her here in the early stages of her path to the dark side. He wanted to teach her that no matter how troubled she believed her own life to be, and how tormented she thought her soul was; there was always someone fighting bigger demons than she was. Aysá looked around, watching as a man sat hunched over his beer at the bar. She had seen him three or four times in the past, and he was always sat in the same place. She often wondered if he had taken root. There were other faces she recognised but she was clueless to the names. There was no need for them in times of such malevolence.
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The Major
Member
Also known as Sailor Titan
Posts: 5,959
Affiliation: Fallanassi
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by The Major on Aug 13, 2013 9:29:36 GMT -8
Indeed, there were always people struggling with even bigger demons, and sometimes, those demons were literal: forces of nature so twisted they only wanted to do little things like snuff out every living being that inhabited the galaxy. There were these demons, and then there were the people who used these demons because that was the essence of controlling the dark side: turning all that negativity into something more than uselessness and universal ice death.
The door to the woman's restroom creaks slowly and then flourishes open. Out comes a ridiculously tall and bespectacled woman, standing like some nightmarish spider at 6'4". She is lithe, spindle limbed, and more like something out of a bad fairy tale, complete with a smile that spread just a little too widely, a perfectly tailored and richly androgynous black wool suit, and even a yellow parasol which she kept tucked underneath her left arm.
And while most people could read intentions and thoughts through the Force, and it was a common trick with light and dark siders, this woman offered no traceable aspect to herself besides being visible. There was nothing cruel, nothing compassionate; you couldn't even detect a negative space where she is standing. You could tell that most people did not care for this, as some of the patrons in the bar began to stare and sneer at the newcomer, who they could not even remember entering the bar in the first place.
Regardless of the off putting traits, she seems to be interested in the same thing anyone else here is interested in: a drink. And so she sits on the edge of the bar, rests the parasol between her legs, and raps on the bar twice with her knuckle. With chagrin, the barkeep strides over, and prepares to ask the question he really didn't want ask to this. . . woman.
". . . . .*smirk*"
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Aysá
Kumauri Industries
Posts: 77
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Aysá on Aug 15, 2013 0:09:47 GMT -8
Indeed, there were always people struggling with even bigger demons, and sometimes, those demons were literal: forces of nature so twisted they only wanted to do little things like snuff out every living being that inhabited the galaxy. There were these demons, and then there were the people who used these demons because that was the essence of controlling the dark side: turning all that negativity into something more than uselessness and universal ice death.The door to the woman's restroom creaks slowly and then flourishes open. Out comes a ridiculously tall and bespectacled woman, standing like some nightmarish spider at 6'4". She is lithe, spindle limbed, and more like something out of a bad fairy tale, complete with a smile that spread just a little too widely, a perfectly tailored and richly androgynous black wool suit, and even a yellow parasol which she kept tucked underneath her left arm.And while most people could read intentions and thoughts through the Force, and it was a common trick with light and dark siders, this woman offered no traceable aspect to herself besides being visible. There was nothing cruel, nothing compassionate; you couldn't even detect a negative space where she is standing. You could tell that most people did not care for this, as some of the patrons in the bar began to stare and sneer at the newcomer, who they could not even remember entering the bar in the first place. Regardless of the off putting traits, she seems to be interested in the same thing anyone else here is interested in: a drink. And so she sits on the edge of the bar, rests the parasol between her legs, and raps on the bar twice with her knuckle. With chagrin, the barkeep strides over, and prepares to ask the question he really didn't want ask to this. . . woman.". . . . .*smirk*"
Aysá looked up at the woman knocking on the bar with a raised eyebrow. She was there in appearance but not much else; not many people had the ability to convincingly shroud themselves in the depths of the Force. It made Aysá weary. She studied the back of her, her fine clothes and the yellow parasol she carried. Something seemed very off. She caught the eye of the bartender that seemed to look past the woman seated at the bar, and towards her. She gave a short nod and the barman looked back towards the woman that had appeared from nowhere. “What can I get you?” OOC: Sorry, I've had no net access for the past 2 days. Back up and running again now though 
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The Major
Member
Also known as Sailor Titan
Posts: 5,959
Affiliation: Fallanassi
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by The Major on Aug 16, 2013 20:28:41 GMT -8
If only the man knew the half of it. Being a Fallanassi makes the mind run along some rather dramatic and atypical paths. For instance, it would be quite choice if this man, this exemplar of the common rabble, could prove a simple truth: that less than .01 percent of the living population that inhabited the galaxy were indeed worthwhile and worthy of the air they sucked in with selfish, obese bound breaths. Gasping like mentally challenged children, these unidentifiable other masses that made up the vast remainder were not even up to chalk to being a pawn. Half this entire block, this sector, this entire 50 cubic kilometer could suddenly explode -and not single one of them would be missed. Why? Because they were so vile, so full of uselessness, that the galaxy could not be forced to care even if you attempted to grasp it by the collar and drag its face to witness it all. Like bacteria, they spawned and bubbled, and then asked exceptional people: the people behind the people who raised the people who trained the people who pulled the strings, questions like:Indeed, abstract cur, you who are so tiny that even all your effort would not result in a ripple in the scheme of things; you, unknown and despised because you cannot nor want to be great, to live like a lion, or more aptly, a tigress. What, insect so diminutive that you are overshadowed by the ticks and even fleas, worse than a parasite, worse than a walking abortion. What, good sir, can you offer?"Bier, please; unt make it ein pint of der black shtuff."Yes, the accent was like a shotgun blast mincing Basic. Yes, she felt like her progress with the language was going swimmingly. Yes, it would be lovely if this man stopped gawking and simply poured the bloody drink. After all, it wasn't often that the exceptional creatures met. How exceptional remained to be seen.
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Post by Chel Garderly on Aug 17, 2013 8:59:59 GMT -8
He only had two changes of robes she had made for him and then the pare he was wearing. His eyes scaned the room looking for anything left behind, though he knew every single weapon was in it's place. After wearing it the way he had, it would be almost like missing a limb if he had something amiss. He walked out into the living room, bag held in hand and noddedAlright, well lead the way, I have no idea what this planet is like as a commoner, I have only seen it when I was here amongst the shadows making sennators and other people of note bleed and choke on their own fluid His tone was simple, no emotion, because what he did was fact, and it would need to be a reality she would need to understand. His lust for blood, for his fight was just as high, no even higher than his lust for any female. This is who he was and it was not going to change Where is your ship? We can just take a shuttle. |
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Post by Lord Phantom Armageddon on Aug 20, 2013 7:17:06 GMT -8
He rode the elevator down and walked out on the street, the wide stature of the male giving the pair of them a wide berth in the throngs of the passers by
I can have the ship transported to us. Shuttles seem fine but the stench from them....such pathetic beings
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Essence
Member
Posts: 7 
Affiliation: The highest bidder
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Essence on Aug 23, 2013 10:00:59 GMT -8
Essence casually strolled down the back alley, his trademark umbrella in hand as a walking stick, cutting a shortcut to his intended destination – a shady dealer that was supposed to acquire for him an anti-grav belt. several chairs, a table, an elevated balcony with a stairwell leading up to it. About three-quarters of the way through, he was ambushed by several thugs that surrounded him. Six in total: a Nikto, a Falleen, two Weequays, and two Duros. The Falleen leader spoke out.
Seems like we've got ourselves our next catch, boys.
To which Essence responded:
I'd be careful about the next few decisions in the next few minutes of your lives.
The gang laughed to themselves and drew vibro-shivs, vibroknives, and donned vibro-knucklers.
Wrong choice.
Essence leapt straight up as the Nikto charged him. He kicked out and struck the Falleen in the chest with his foot. Essence whirled his umbrella back to parry the blow from the Nikto as he switched planted feet and simultaneously kicked the first Duro back into the two Weequays; the lateral position dodging the swipe from the second Duro. Essence spun the umbrella and struck that Duro with the hooked handle. Essence sidestepped as he parried the next blows from both Weequays who had recovered. He flipped the umbrella, and let its momentum strike the first Weequay in the face, and caught it back before sidestepping again to avoid his counterpart's followup attack and spinning around to strike him in reply at the back. He spun around again to block the Falleen's attack as he leapt on the table for the high ground, then used the hook part of his umbrella to trip the Falleen. Spinning himself once more, Essence landed on the Falleen's arm and sat on the thug, temporarily disabling him as he swatted away the next few attacks; when the Nikto attacked again, he swept down to counter the sideswipe and smashed the umbrella down to pin the toe; using it as his plant, he butterfly kicked into the Nikto and knocked him out. Following up, he jump-kicked into one Duros and used it as a spring to kick into one Weequay, before wall-jumping left to right, and culminating in a backflip straight down that pummeled the Falleen through the table, unconscious. He stepped straight into a Rancor Rising feint, and when the first Weequay came near, he delievered an Aryx Slash with his umbrella, that struck with enough force, that the thug hit the wall, broke the bricks, and stayed there, body limp.
He rounded-off and backflipped, landing on both Duros' heads at the same time. By now, the second Weequay had drawn a DC-17 blaster pistol. Essence opened his umbrella and twirled it to block the shots; as the umbrella's material was shell-spider silk, bolts bounced off into the walls. As Essence advanced till he came within striking range, he struck out as he furled the umbrella, striking the Weequay into the chair. The thug kicked the umbrella, but Essence transferred the momentum into a side hit at the back of his neck, causing the Weequay to topple into the chair. Using the chair, he swung at Essence, who dodged back and struck down at the chair the Weequay used to dodge. Essence followed up by planting his foot on the chair, leaping to switch positions and catch the thug by the handle, and throw him off.
Subconsciously predicting the next move, Essence unfurled the umbrella once more at a specific position as the thug fired a power shot at the umbrella, which reflected back straight into the Weequay, killing him off.
Thinking that the shot drew too much attention, Essence lifted himself off the ground telekinetically and fled the scene in flight as CSF droids swarmed the area with public bystanders who happened to notice the five unconscious and one dead gang member. Essence surveyed the right landing spot where his dealer awaited him and landed in front of him.
Have you procured the package?
The dealer took out an oblong flexiplast container and handed it to Essence.
And the rest of my payment?
When I open it.
Essence took no chances with shady dealers. He used the Force to telekinetically pry the lid open, bypassing the short-circuit mechanism that would've electrocuted him if he manually opened it. The anti-grav belt was fully operational and functioning with no hidden tricks, unlike its container.
Too bad that trick didn't work. Here's the rest of your payment.
Essence focused a powerful telepathic psionic spike and drove it into the skull of the dealer, overloading him with psychic trauma and rendering him a husky vegetable; psychological recovery would take about six months. Serves him right for trying to double-cross Essence.
Putting on the belt and turning on the repulsorlift, Essence combined his innate telekinesis with the hovering tech to fly straight up to the upper levels of the Galactic City, away from the darkness of the underworld, physically and criminally speaking.
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Post by Jggidorrry Lim-Fao on Sept 10, 2013 20:19:43 GMT -8
"Jggidorrry. Odd name, really. No idea where my parents came up with it." Jiggy put his foot on his knee and leaned back against he wall. The movement coaxed a moan of pain from the bound and gagged twi'lek man beneath him. His latest target had been a little too easy and he really just wanted to unwind and have a little fun.
"They were never really parents though. Turned out they were both spies for different factions. Man, that was a bloody argument they had." The Jig shifted his weight, getting a little more comfortable on his makeshift seat. The man tried to struggle against the nanofiber ropes, and Jiggy responded by removing a knife from his belt and stabbing it deep into his arm. The gag prevented most of his scream, but it was still rather audible.
"Hey, I'm telling a story here. The nice people at home would appreciate it if you waited your turn."
The man stopped struggling, and Jiggy smiled under his buyce. "Good."
"Now where was I?"
Things fade out. You have no idea what's going on. Your blink a few times, and suddenly a new image punches you in the occipital lobe.
An eight year old sat in the kitchen, looking at you. It feels a little eerie. In front of him, a whetstone and several knives; all razor sharp and deadly as they looked. You get the feeling he knows of your presence; his slowly growing grin confirms your suspicion.
A voice shudders through the room, "Think fast!"
The obviously masculine voice does nothing to phase our young hero, who tilts his head back and dodges the blade whirling towards him. It embeds itself in the wall not far away, and a man enters the room.
"C'mon kiddo, I taught you better than that. You've got to counter attack. Now put your knives away before your mother gets home, we can't let her find out what I do at work now can we?"
The little boy shakes his head, packing up his favorite toys. The man, who seems to be his father, pulls the knife out of the wall and starts repairing the wall with some paint and spackle. The little boy waves goodbye as the scene starts to fade again, offering a knowing wink. His father looks at him strangely, wondering what's gotten into him.
"Now what's this one called?" A motherly figure held up a vial filled with a greenish solution. The same boy from before points to a picture from a book, correctly identifying it as the liquid form of Dioxins poison gas.
"Very good my little assassin! Someday you'll join me, taking out dissenters of the empire for a living. It'll be fun!" The sound of the front door sliding open, accompanied by a dropped backpack signified someone was home.
"Oh, that sounds like daddy! Remember dear, don't tell him what I do, and I'll make sure your birthday is extra special!" She turned to the next page of the book as the father from before stepped into the room.
"And the evil man was never heard from again!" She read, as if finishing a story.
You notice the little boy's gaze once more, almost creepier than before. His eyes had changed, his hair grown out some. The innocent light coming from him before had twisted into something special. Something delightful and terrifying all at the same time. As if a clown had become possessed. He waved hello to you, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm home dear. Putting the boy to bed?" The man said, kindness into the words. The scene began to grow dim once more, the audio losing some fidelity now.
"Oh you know how he loves his bedtime stories." Said the mother, standing up and putting the book on the shelf.
The scene goes black again, and stayed that way a little longer than expected. You start to grow uncomfortable, wondering if you've finally gone both insane and blind. You hear the slick sound of blood and pierced flesh, and the light fades back in.
The first image you see is of a cake. "Happy birthday, Jggidorrry!" Is written in blue ink. You find the handwriting precise and beautiful, and the message tasteful. You see a banner marked with a 14, indicating our young protagonist is turning fourteen today. 'It isn't a difficult guess', you think to yourself.
Jiggy the Young sits at the table. Suddenly, you hear a shout. The smile on his face is wild and toothy. He knows what gifts he'd gotten today. You'll be surprised to know he was happy.
"You work for them! I've been working for the Mand'alor for fifteen years to stop this kind of shit, and you'even been the one destroying all my work!?" The shrill female voice belongs to a motherly woman. The sound of a knife coming loose of its sheath can be heard.
"Are you kidding me!? That ass is the reason half our people are stuck in mines as working class slaves!" This time, a very booming, masculine voice echoed through the walls. A blaster is heard charging, pulled from off a nightstand.
A shot rings out, and then the sound of a knife breaking its way through a ribcage. A moment of silence creates permeable tension as the child's eyes grow wide. He begins to bounce in his seat. The sound of clapping follows the collapsing of bodies and weapons. Jiggy the Young stands up, blowing out his candles. He walks to the scene of previous chaos, now perfect harmony. Arm in arm, the aging couple die together, looking into each other's eyes. You remark to yourself that the scene is tragic and beautiful, a truly touching end to the epic you've been witness to.
Jiggy stops over them, at their feet. Their eyes adjust slowly, clouded with pain, to view their only son. In anger, they had forgotten him. His smile reassured them of his future well-being, and it assures you as well. Her picks up each of their gifts to him, secret from their respective partner. One, a mask of comedy, the jester not content with the status quo, and ready to turn things upon their head. The tag reads, "Kill whom you must."
The other gift, a mask much the same, holding its fave the opposite. A depressing frown, the form tragedy, embracing its role as executioner with a heavy heart, but not stupid enough to disobey the orders. Its tag reads, "Kill because you must."
Our hero's smile grows solemn, happy for the gifts. "Thank you mother, thank you father. Goodbye now."
These words echo in your mind, feeding back and back and faster and faster. You somehow recognize them as the first words the boy had ever spoken, and the last his tragic parents would ever hear. The scene fades again, and you recognize this as the final act. Credits do not roll, and reality becomes apparent again.
"And yea, that's how my parents died. Real funny stuff!"
Jiggy laughed then, wondering what had gotten him in such a delightful mood. "Ah, well, time to finish up. Seeya in hell buddy!" With a final stroke, Lim-Fao stuck his third blade so far into the twi'lek slave runner, cutting through the aortic artery.
He looks at you, and you can sense his grin under his mask, a sick combination of both his parents' gifts, and he speaks one last line. "Hey, the contract was dead or alive, and he knew too much. Now, I mean, he doesn't know anything at all. But, you know what I mean. Hope you had fun, kid."
He walks off, slinging the corpse over his shoulder. The contractor would pay good for this one, about a hundred grand. Tonight was a good night.
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Nikolai Bazarov
Member
Posts: 43
Affiliation: People's Liberation Front
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Nikolai Bazarov on Sept 12, 2013 17:56:09 GMT -8
A single Grek-class shuttle sets down at a nondescript public landing pad. Two well dressed men, one carrying a briefcase, descend the ramp and hail a taxi.
Where to?
Republic Plaza.
The cab takes off and the two men are in route to their target in no time.
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Nikolai Bazarov
Member
Posts: 43
Affiliation: People's Liberation Front
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Nikolai Bazarov on Sept 12, 2013 19:03:31 GMT -8
A cab pulls up and the two mysterious men exit and return to the shuttle. The shuttle lifts off and heads into orbit.
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Post by Chel Garderly on Sept 30, 2013 15:10:59 GMT -8
He rode the elevator down and walked out on the street, the wide stature of the male giving the pair of them a wide berth in the throngs of the passers byI can have the ship transported to us. Shuttles seem fine but the stench from them....such pathetic beings I forgot you were a germaphobe. Alright, call your ship, I'd like a smoke before we leave anyways. She set her bag down, pulling one from her cloak pocket and setting it between her lips
Care to light it? |
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Post by Lord Phantom Armageddon on Sept 30, 2013 18:37:04 GMT -8
He laughed deeply, it was not the germs, no not that at all. He had sat in the muck and grime for days before slaughtering his enemies and having their blood spattered along himself. No that was not it, it was the fact that these were useless mouthbreathers, wastes of space and they were better off being broken down into either materials or nutrients for the use of millatary might
I could use a smoke as well
He pressed his thumb and forefinger against the end of her's lighting it and then did the same to his and inhaled deeply, the sweet tobacco filling his lungs and he exhaled through his nostrils obscuring his face and sighed loving the taste
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Post by Chel Garderly on Sept 30, 2013 19:07:18 GMT -8
Chel took a couple of drags before stomping it out under her boot, exhaling with a sigh as they waited
So... how long of a trip are we looking at? I didn't bring my puzzle book
Her eyes sparkled with sarcasm as she looked up at him
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Post by Lord Phantom Armageddon on Sept 30, 2013 20:11:39 GMT -8
He chuckles and took a deep drag, the spice relaxing him and he smiles
I don't really know honestly, I just sit back and enjoy the ride to where I am going
He took one last drag and flicked the butt against a wall, the cherry sparked against the wall before it slowly died
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Post by Chel Garderly on Oct 1, 2013 20:01:42 GMT -8
Chel laughed at that, more of a chuckle really, as she shook her head
That is because you have all those miniscule beings on your ship to play with. How many men have you killed on board for your own amusement?
Smiling darkly at the thought, Chel put her hand on his arm for him to escort her
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Post by Lord Phantom Armageddon on Oct 2, 2013 9:25:34 GMT -8
He took her arm and lead the way, his massive being cutting a swath through the throngs of useless beings around him
I honestly have lost count,
there were some I was trying new weapons on, others for medical testing, some was interrogation while others still were just because I was bored
Needless to say, if my ship ran on blood, I could cover entire sectors without needing to stop
They neared the hanger docking area and he tapped a switch on his wrist module sending the beacon for his ship to come to that location
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Kashk
Member
Posts: 46
Affiliation: Whoever pays the most
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Kashk on Oct 8, 2013 13:16:53 GMT -8
The Byager descended from orbit. It landed in a public hangar, as Kashk really didn't want too much attention. Kashk let the ship and headed toward the Senate building...
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Post by Chel Garderly on Oct 13, 2013 12:43:10 GMT -8
He took her arm and lead the way, his massive being cutting a swath through the throngs of useless beings around himI honestly have lost count, there were some I was trying new weapons on, others for medical testing, some was interrogation while others still were just because I was bored Needless to say, if my ship ran on blood, I could cover entire sectors without needing to stop They neared the hanger docking area and he tapped a switch on his wrist module sending the beacon for his ship to come to that location Not to mention the few that your little friend has killed, the one who wears my corsets? What was her name again? |
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