Shaman Chill
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Stay frosty, my friends!
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Post by Shaman Chill on Jun 13, 2015 20:14:35 GMT -8
Diner Port was a cantina on Serenno. It was located near the Serenno Spaceport, and was decorated with a red Aurebesh marquee.
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Sage
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Post by Sage on Jan 15, 2016 17:45:10 GMT -8
The Diner Port Cantina was full tonight. As the tall, slimly-built GE3 droid approached the dimly-list establishment, he slowed as his aural receptors detected the sounds of a riotous argument well in progress. He paused briefly, just long enough to dodge the humanoid being thrown out the front door, followed by a gang of snarling thugs yelling something about extra aces.
However, as unpleasant as this kind of greeting was, the droid continued on his chosen path. The Diner Port, after all, was the destination he had been given. He continued with a faint whirring sound, and was just about to enter the bar's front door when he was stopped by another thug--presumably the bouncer, judging by his girth and dimly slimy complexion.
"Hold it, bub," the alien said, holding up a hand to prevent the droid's entrance. "You can't go in there. Organics only."
As tall as the droid was, the alien had several inches on him. He craned his neck to look up at the frowning guard, his eyelights blinking as if confused. He did not move, however, from the doorway; seeing his persistance, the guard growled, and grabbed for the droid to push him away from the door.
"Didn't you hear me, you piece of tin? I said--"
"I heard what you said."
The guard started-- but not because of the GE3's words. The voice emanating from the droid was not a mechanical one. It blinked again, the smooth tenor rolling from his speaker an odd contrast to his expressionless face. "But I believe I have a reservation."
With the flick of a wrist more appropriate for a magician than a droid, the GE3 produced a small paper card between two fingers. The guard took it and read the contents; as his small eyes slid down the card, his face blanched, making the coating of mucus on his skin more evident by the second. The droid took no mind, lifting the guard's hands off his shoulder, ducking under his arm, and stepping into the chaos of the Diner Port Cantina.
"Good man," it said blandly, scanning the facility for an empty seat. "And clear out the rest, would you? This is a private party."
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Post by Gand on Jan 15, 2016 18:13:49 GMT -8
The bouncer had regained some amount of composure and the commanding presence his burliness created by the time the previous patrons had filed out and Gand began his approach. The ruddy brown alien wore nothing in the way of clothing, his species did not specifically require it for modesty, but he did have a pair of bandoliers slung over either shoulder and a belt fastened about his waist.
He was short if judged by the galactic standard, a mere 1.5 meters, but his build was disproportionately stocky. He carried an E-11 slung on his back beside a custom plasma caster, and while the belt and bandoliers did carry some spare ammunition, they were primarily filled with a variety of grenades and mines. When the bouncer saw this particular creature approaching, his conditioning kicked in and he stepped up and held out a hand to stop the intruder. To which Gand responded with a punch that shattered the obnoxiously tall bouncer's kneecap as he passed by and into the cantina.
Now inside, he took a seat and waited.
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charlie
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Post by charlie on Jan 15, 2016 20:38:06 GMT -8
The boy was young. Small for his age. Dirty hands, clothes. One of several street urchins known to most anyone around the port-lands, mostly interested in relieving a traveller's purse of a few credits, or maybe a hot meal. He approached in the same manner that he always came at the world, moving quickly, silently, entirely forgettable if seen at all. Just a tiny blight on the landscape. Omnipresent in every city on every world in the 'verse. There was always time to beg a credit from passerby, performing simple slight-of-hand or card tricks to make someone smile, mostly ignored, occasionally appeased. It is not unusual that the boy passes by the Diner Port. He does so a handful of times every day.
On this particular day, he is in luck: the bouncer is otherwise occupied, and even if he hadn't been doubled over in pain, the boy would barely have registered as he slips through the door, into the cantina. It is the first time he has entered... by the front door (sometimes the short-order cook would let him into the kitchen for table scraps... but he knows all-too well the front door is for patrons.)
The lad stays to the edge of the room, spotting what he's looking for after a few moments. As ever, he moves quickly through the sparsely populated bar, under tables and around chairs, arriving at the opposite side of the table Gand is seated at. His eye level is scarcely above the level of the table-top. A dirty hand appears, gingerly placing a holo-projector on Gand's table, and is retracted as fast as it appeared. As the boy beats a hasty retreat, he looks back at the alien and smiles a crooked-toothed smile. He slides out the front door, the fifty credits he just earned burning a hole in his pocket.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Jan 15, 2016 20:48:41 GMT -8
One would think that after such a traumatic injury, the bouncer would have abandoned his post as a lost, suicidal cause. And yet, there he sat, leaning against the dirty doorjamb, his injured leg crumpled beneath him, sweating buckets and grimacing as he dreaded the next assault. Whomever had hired him for this pathetic job, he apparently feared their enduring wrath even more than he feared a long night of abuse and injury at the hands of the cantina's secretive and violent guests.
The next arrival's gender and species would have set the bouncer at ease, if it had not been for her secretive appearance. Clothed all in black and with a black shawl thrown over her head, the large-boned human woman's face was almost indistinguishable in the dingy red light outside the Diner Port Cantina. The slimy thug held out a hand to stop the 1.7 meter tall woman, his eyes tracing the outline of her slightly overweight female form. He opened his mouth to make a demand, but the woman was quicker, almost stabbing his tear-rimmed eye out of its socket as she thrust a square of paper toward his face impatiently.
Groaning as he recognized the card, the bouncer nodded, and allowed her to pass.
Once inside the cantina, Jenne took a long, cautious look around the establishment, using her shawl to conceal her interest in the other guests. Satisfied, she made her way to a far end of the bar.
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Post by Brother Van Paal on Jan 15, 2016 21:16:28 GMT -8
A roving band of business casual nothings, sore and weary from sitting in their tiny cubicles all day rounded the corner in no real hurry. Everyone was either staring at their datapads or torpidly following the person in front of them; a few seemed mildly less numb to the stimulus of the nightlife around them, poking their heads out from the pack every once in a while, attempting to chat amongst themselves, but most just wanted to get home. It was not a weekend, all of them knew they didn't have the luxury to unwind after a long day because there were seven hours until they had to get up and do the whole dance all over again. Besides, there were bills to pay, and by the tired, worn look of their suits and the scuffed state of their cheap shoe knock-offs, there were better places to drop coin. The ensemble shifted a little, heading for the walkway opposite the cantina. Well, that wouldn't do. Jash Gord, deep in the middle of the bunch, tugged the lackluster, threadbare coat around his shoulders and slumped down a bit as he stepped towards the front, angling himself in preparation. A few well-placed nudges, and the group changed their heading slightly. No one bothered to look at them, the 'common rabble', as they crossed the streetway and ambled past the door to the Diner Port. Sinking to the back once more, Gord pushed his thick-rimmed glasses up his nose, scrunched up his face in distaste at the bright Aurebesh lettering above, and shuffled towards the entrance. The bodyguard was on the floor, clutching at his knee and trying his best not to wail in anguish. Well, he was definitely in the right place. Not that he'd needed confirmation, of course. He'd memorized every possible inch of this corner of the sector weeks ago. The guard stood as Gord approached, then fell, then tried to stand again and failed painfully. Gord didn't even look at him. He plucked a paper card from within his briefcase, let it float through the air to land on the man's crumpled body, and stepped over the threshold without blinking an eye. Something changed. Visually, the slouch left Gord's posture, his small, brown eyes lost their dull, uninterested wander, and the look of a jaded, compliant man ground daily under the heel of the high-powered business world vanished. Jash Gord hung by the door, frowning his beaten frown. It was Revere who entered the cantina. Revere was something else entirely. He wasted no time. Briefcase in hand, he moved with purpose towards a booth just to the right of the entrance, near the little electronic box that monitored the bar's security systems, and took a seat quietly. Revere kept his gaze to himself, carefully wiping down the table in front of him with a cloth from his briefcase. He knew they were all here for the same reason, and if they weren't capable enough in their skill sets, they wouldn't be here, but their presence was inconsequential to him and his purpose. Revere opened his briefcase, took out a datapad, slipped something into his sleeve, and logged into the K-610 mainframe. As he usually did when passing the time, he hacked into the nearest security grids undetected and scrolled through mountains of data. |
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Sage
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Post by Sage on Jan 16, 2016 6:02:27 GMT -8
The GE3 had eventually sat at the bar, watching the other patrons file out without saying another word in its strange, sonorous voice. Other patrons filed in soon after, patrons markedly quieter than the Diner Port's usual clientele, many of them bearing a similar paper card to the one that had so scared the door guard. It watched them all without movement or expression--a short, surly Gand, a pair of human adults, a young boy darting in only to leave a small electronic on one of the cantina's grubby tables. It was only when the latest of the guests arrived--a middle-aged gentleman in an even older jacket--that the droid moved again.
"Hello, Revere," it said. "Stryfe. It is good to see you again."
Then the droid whirred slightly, cocking a head at the alien at the table. "Gand, you've been left a package. Turn it on, will you?"
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Adder
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Post by Adder on Jan 16, 2016 6:14:04 GMT -8
<<You think he is capable of such things?>>
The new arrival, a Rodian of considerable size, laughed as he stepped over the alien still squirming in the door. He pulled a card out of his leather jacket, momentarily flashing a bulky blaster pistol holstered just under his ribs. He flipped the card in the Gand's face as he headed for the bar, where a number of half-finished open drinks still sat from the previous occupants. His narrow mouth was just the right size for one of the larger bottles; he grabbed it roughly and took a swift pull,
<<His kind aren't known for their brilliance, you know. They're navigators, not brains.>>
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charlie
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Post by charlie on Jan 16, 2016 7:30:16 GMT -8
evidently, Gand is fully capable of activating the simple, small electronic device, reaching out and clicking a claw on the 2" round button atop the device, as if it were meant for Gand activation all along.The holo-device immediately projects a life-size, live image of a hooded figure. The effect is that this figure (obviously female, but features entirely obscured by the hooded garment she wears) appears to sit, cross-legged, at an empty chair at the table adjacent to Gand. It is a strong connection, the image unwavering and detailed. The hooded figure looks about the room, taking in all she sees, and nods almost imperceptibly at Sage.
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Sage
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Post by Sage on Jan 16, 2016 9:28:37 GMT -8
The droid chuckled. It then leaned forward off its chosen stool, its eyelights blinking at the tiny projected figure at Gand's fingertips. "Jade, dear. Thank you for joining us. I regret that neither of us could attend this first meeting in person, but..." It shrugged lightly, an attempt at a charming gesture that did not translate quite well when done by a protocol droid. "One does as one must."
It winked at the woman, then the GE3 unit settled back on its heels with a clunk, scanning the entire group again.
"Well, then," it continued. "Our party is incomplete, but I recognize that our time is short, so I shall be brief."
The eyes clicked shut, the droid suddenly immobile. Whatever being or force was behind its movements had suddenly ceased, no longer bothering with the attempt to make the clumsy protocol unit seem human. Instead, all the power the droid had seemed to be momentarily focused on projecting the words rolling out of it with utmost care.
"Some of you have met me," it said slowly. "Others...will, and soon. For the time being, you may call me the Librarian. Whatever you call me, I'd like to thank you for coming. But I would like to be clear. If you stay tonight, you will be committing yourself to a dangerous gamble--one that may see us all dead within the year, and some of you much sooner than that. If you stay, it is because you believe that your reason for coming here is worth your life--worth being used, manipulated, endangered, sacrificed however we see fit. Our cause--and you know our cause--is paramount. We will see it through, whatever it takes.
Some of you will not be going back home tonight. Many of you will never be going home again.
If you are not ready to shoulder such a burden..."
The droid's arm abruptly activated, raising to point towards the still-open entrance to the Diner Port.
"Well, there's the door. No one will judge you for leaving now."
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Jan 16, 2016 14:56:40 GMT -8
Jenne nodded to the droid mouthpiece of their leader, a slight smile crossing her lips. "Thank you for the invitation. It is good to be here." She replied. One by one, she had marked the arrivals as they entered, assessing their demeanor and physical strengths and weaknesses. She knew that she would soon be working closely with at least one other member of the gathering, and she wanted a head start on building that team. Aside from the Gand, they looked like a pretty average group of Carannia residents. Their ordinariness would give them access, and with access would come power.
"Your best Gizer ale. My innards need to be greased." She informed the bartender, a nervous, mousy young Duros, as he rotated around the bar. He brought her a pint of foul-smelling blue liquid, then, sensing that the private part of this gathering was about to begin, and how dangerous it would be to his continued existence to intrude, disappeared like the professional he was pretending to be. Jenne took it without a word, and resumed studying the GE3 between sips.
Presently, her interest in the droid was rewarded, as the unit spoke again, addressing the invitees. As it gestured toward the door, punctuating the Sage's pointed opening remarks, she leaned forward on her rickety wooded stool, eyes flicking from side to side, alert for any movements toward the door. Sage could speak for himself, but inwardly, she would absolutely judge anyone who departed on the cusp of their great adventure. They were far too close now to walk away.
A moment passed, and no one had moved -- yet.
"If I were to desert you now, and to go home to a life of misery and regret, it would be no kind of life at all. It would be a fate worse than death."
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Post by Yor'vith on Jan 16, 2016 16:10:56 GMT -8
"....and why would I leave now? This is when things get interesting." From the doorway came a rough-looking six foot tall male Zabrak, stepping over the crumpled form of the bouncer whilst dropping the scrap of paper on the floor beside him. His outfit consisted of a light-brown combat jacket and pants, with a DE-10 sitting on his right thigh. If one looked closely enough they would notice the thin and relatively low-grade blast vest that resided under his jacket.
His eyes scanned over the gathering for a moment, coming up with the conclusion that this was indeed the right meeting. Walking past the gathering he made his way to the bar, stepping behind it and scanning the shelves for a moment while he contemplated what to drink. Deciding to indulge himself with a cognac, he pulled the Abrax variety from the shelf and poured himself a drink. Turning to rest an arm and his drink on the bar counter, Yor'vith watched over the meeting quietly. He awaited patiently for his next assignment.
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Sage
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Post by Sage on Jan 16, 2016 16:45:12 GMT -8
The droid's eyes blinked back on at the sentiments, flashing across the faces of its guests. Seeing agreement even among the silent members of the group, its stiff body relaxed again.
"I am glad to hear so," it said, its transmitted voice all but a sigh. "My friends. In that case, let us call this the first official meeting of the Sanbra Library Association, and get right to business."
It flourished its wrist again, producing the card that had gained them each entry. On it was a limited amount of information--a name, a blurred face in profile. Printed along the bottom of the card, in a thick blocky script, were the words "Sanbra Library".
Next to the words was symbol--an oval and triangle, stacked to approximate the shape of a teardrop.
A teardrop...or depending on the observer, a flame.
"In which case, I will start with the basics," the droid continued, twisting its fingers to make the card dance across them. He sat back on the barstool, returning back to its strange, almost human fluidness. "Those of you who are here each have a very specialized assignment as of tonight. These assignments are based on your skills, predilections...and I won't lie, in some cases it's based on your looks. For example, our lovely Stryfe."
Its mechanical head cocked upwards, taking in the voluptuous woman with what could have been called a probing look. "My dear, what do you know of Umgul's government?"
Before she could respond, it shifted gears abruptly. And literally--the gears in the GE3 unit's neck protested as he turned to the cantina's newest arrival. "And Yor'vith," he said, pronouncing the apostrophe with a hint of an accent. "How familiar with you are the Jedi of Felucia?"
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Jan 16, 2016 17:30:37 GMT -8
Jenne, known to the association only as Stryfe, straightened her posture as the meeting was called to order, and for the first time, she loosened her black shawl, letting it drop to her shoulders. Underneath, sharp black eyes stared out from a slightly pudgy face, studying the room from above her long nose. Her long, flowing black hair was pulled back behind her ears to run down her neck, where it merged with the shawl and her black cloak. She smiled at the word 'lovely,' a dimple forming on her left cheek.
"I only know what is freely available on the Holonet: they are an independent, neutral system, governed by a democracy, with few, if any, known allies." She finished the last drops of her Gizer ale, and shot a wistful glance toward the business side of the bar, but maintained her seat for the moment. There would be plenty of time for drinking after official business had concluded. "I believe they have been independent ever since the second Republic fell. They never aligned with the third Republic."
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Post by Yor'vith on Jan 16, 2016 20:31:46 GMT -8
Yor'vith took a swig of the cognac, placing it back on the counter with a solid 'thud'. While he appreciated the proper pronunciation of his code name, he didn't show it. Instead, he reached into his vest and pulled out a Shento cigar. He looked to those in the room around him while he began to unwrap it. "Not too much. They got a base there of some sort, they're good fighters, and they've been there awhile as well." Taking a jet lighter from his pocket he proceeded to torch the end of the cigar, smoke pouring from the side of his mouth as he breathed in the vapors. With the end smoldering on it's own he placed the lighter back in his jacket.
He stopped for a moment as he thought about the planet. "Now as for Felucia, that is a mess in itself. Heavily inundated with hostile jungles and creatures looking for an easy meal. The fauna there is ruthless, as the jungle itself is either poisonous or looking to digest you in one of their many traps. A long-term deployment in anything other that Jedi base they've got there would spell certain death. Even a landing followed by a direct assault through the jungle would result in a casualty before you reached their walls." He finished with taking a long drag from his cigar, letting the smoke slowly pass his lips.
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Sage
Member
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Post by Sage on Jan 17, 2016 13:50:29 GMT -8
Yor'vith took a swig of the cognac, placing it back on the counter with a solid 'thud'. While he appreciated the proper pronunciation of his code name, he didn't show it. Instead, he reached into his vest and pulled out a Shento cigar. He looked to those in the room around him while he began to unwrap it. "Not too much. They got a base there of some sort, they're good fighters, and they've been there awhile as well." Taking a jet lighter from his pocket he proceeded to torch the end of the cigar, smoke pouring from the side of his mouth as he breathed in the vapors. With the end smoldering on it's own he placed the lighter back in his jacket.He stopped for a moment as he thought about the planet. "Now as for Felucia, that is a mess in itself. Heavily inundated with hostile jungles and creatures looking for an easy meal. The fauna there is ruthless, as the jungle itself is either poisonous or looking to digest you in one of their many traps. A long-term deployment in anything other that Jedi base they've got there would spell certain death. Even a landing followed by a direct assault through the jungle would result in a casualty before you reached their walls." He finished with taking a long drag from his cigar, letting the smoke slowly pass his lips.
The droid's voice whirred slightly, clicking into a quieter key; its chassis leaned forwards, elbows on the closest thing it had to knees."Your mission requires you and your partner to be able to gain access to the Jedi Base without being stopped--especially your partner. The Felucian Enclave of Jedi are unique amongst their kind. I would like to to gain access to their computer systems, to download information about Jedi -- and Sith, known to them.
"Yor'vith...and Revere," it continued. "I want access to that data--however you can get it--and I want them to know we have it. Revere, I have left a package for you in the usual place to help you get the job done. Yor'vith, you are cleared to use force if it's necessary to get Revere to a main terminal, but use your discretion as to whether it IS necessary. It's why I'm choosing you for this job, rather than Adder or Gand."It cocked it's head to the side. "And yes, Revere. This means you are finally free to quit your day job."
By the sound of the voice, if the droid had a real mouth it would be grinning. |
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Post by Brother Van Paal on Jan 17, 2016 14:56:11 GMT -8
Only after hearing his name did Revere shift his attention towards the familiar voice emanating from the GE3 unit. Straight backed in his chair, he slowly closed his datapad in his briefcase, laced his fingers and folded his hands on the table in front of him, and gave the droid a look that was at once vaguely disapproving and slightly teasing all at once.
"I work better alone, you know this, Librarian." It was true. All K-610 agents were trained to adapt to the situation and utilize group strengths for a successful mission, but often the harsh training to become an agent left them with deeply rooted trust issues and damaged 'souls', and after years of solitary assignments, it worked better in theory than it did in the field.
He couldn't help the twitch of amusement on his thin, hardline mouth at the Librarian's day job quip. Revere gave the Zabrak called Yor'vith a quick once over, eyes narrowed shrewdly behind his thick glasses. "But, I suppose given the importance of our collective missions and the dangers on Felucia, two is better than one."
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Adder
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Post by Adder on Jan 17, 2016 15:15:54 GMT -8
Others in the bar, however, were less accepting. The Rodian had been feigning ignorance, draining the bottle as he sized up the other people in the room. By his estimation, few of them looked to be worth anything in a fight--frail human women, the pudgy man in the corner Sage had called Revere, and a Gand of all things. The Zabrak looked like he could hold his own, but all Zabrak looked like that, it didn't mean anything. It wasn't hard to look menacing when your entire species was covered with horns.
Adder finished the bottle leaned forward, his bulbous eyes rolling with distaste at the rest of the group.
<<Discretion? Really? If it's so dangerous, Librarian, I should be going to Felucia. You're wasting me making me sit here and wait when you KNOW I'd burn through the place like a bunch of spice-addled waistoids.>>
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Post by Gand on Jan 17, 2016 15:42:42 GMT -8
Gand raised his hand slightly as he began to speak, both to draw attention and to indicate a form of agreement.
"This Gand agrees with the boastful Rodian. It would like to know why the frail human male is being sent on such a dangerous mission." The mechanized voice drifted out of Gand's breather mask/translator, and was clearly not in the language he was actually using. "This Gand would also like to know if this means the other missions will have a greater degree of difficulty and danger. If that is the case, This Gand will be pleased, though it would recommend giving the boastful rodian and the fat human female a less dangerous assignment. It has observed that their species' can be quite frail when subjected to physical stress."
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Sage
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Post by Sage on Jan 17, 2016 17:23:04 GMT -8
"There is no need to be rude, gentlemen."
The sonorous voice took on a sharp edge; almost immediately the air in the room seemed to tighten momentarily, as if to back up the Librarian's words with immutable authority. When no one responded--indeed, in that second no one seemed to even breathe--the edge faded, back to the pleasant tenor of before.
"Adder, I do not reward impatience, but I have need of your...personality...on Coruscant. Senator Standash Thul of Alderaan is beginning to show her fangs. She's young, but ambitious and aiming to rise quickly in the new Republic. As such, I'd like to meet her before she...gets too far ahead of herself. I will be sending you and Jade directions separately. You are to meet in the Capital and coordinate to bring Senator Thul to me. Bring her alive, and do not let yourself be followed under any circumstance.
"Gand, your mission is on Corellia. It's a distraction of sorts, but if you are as skilled as you claim to be you'll accomplish more than just that. The planet is heavily armed and well-defended, particularly the military base in Coronet City. I want you to access their weapons cache around the time your compatriots begin their own operation. Steal what you can, and blow up the rest. I want their ground defenses crippled as much as you are able. If you have need of supplies, send your list to the usual frequency before it closes tonight. Your partner will meet you on the ground with whatever we can provide--refer to Chameleon when you request your landing clearance."
And gentlemen...do try not to get in each other's way."
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