An Tiarna Dubh
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Is minic a bhris beál duine a shrón ~ It is often that a person's mouth broke his nose
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Post by An Tiarna Dubh on Dec 30, 2015 20:03:10 GMT -8
*A woman in but a nurses shirt, panties & stilettos strolled over the table where An Tiarna was sitting. With a big smile she spoke*
-Scantly Clad Tart-
'Singing telegram'
*The scantly clad woman smiled & began move her body in a smooth seductive snake-like dance singing in a soft voice*
-Scantly Clad Tart-
'We hear that things have went to hell
& the Majestic dictator is not feeling well
Well I hope that you've still got some pluck
Cause I'm the nurse who likes to...
*Before the woman could finish An Tiarna cut her off with the wave of a giant hand & a bellowing yell*
-An Tiarna-
Enough!!
*The woman froze & the big man glared around him*
-An Tiarna-
Which one of you comedians was it this time?
*Shooting his glare back to the woman he spoke softly*
'Shotgun there looks desperate & inadequate. If you can shut that hole in his face you're doing us all a favor & I'll make you one rich prostitute.'
*The old man turned his gaze back to the young woman whom he was speaking to*
-An Tiarna-
'Pardon me dear; we were talking.'
*With a quick nod to the side he barked off an order before turning back*
'I want all things in order & operations underway immediately'
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An Tiarna Dubh
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Is minic a bhris beál duine a shrón ~ It is often that a person's mouth broke his nose
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Post by An Tiarna Dubh on Dec 31, 2015 16:42:00 GMT -8
*In the back drop the tale end of the Cowboy Junkies wicked version of Lou Reed's clasic Sweet Jane could be heard*
Some people like to go out dancing
And other people, (like us) they gotta work
And there's always some evil mothers
They'll tell you that life is just made out of dirt.
And the women never really faint,
Oh the villains always blink their eyes.
And the children are the only ones who blush.
And life is just to die.
But, anyone who has a heart
Wouldn't want to turn around and break it
And anyone who ever played the part
He wouldn't want to turn around and fake it
Sweet Jane, sweet Jane, sweet Jane
Sweet Jane, sweet Jane, sweet Jane
Aw now that's sweet Jane
Sweet Jane, sweet Jane, sweet Jane....
*With a stiff pull from the bottle An Tiarna muttered*
'Well gotta love the original but that bird from the Cowboy Junkies makes my hammer stand.'
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Post by Mirian Santiro on Dec 31, 2015 18:53:31 GMT -8
[ Mirian Santiro | Manaan | A Courtyard | Location: The Mortus ]
It was certainly intriguing how quickly they identified her armaments, and for a brief moment, Mirian entertained the notion of defying the instruction. Her S-5 Heavy blaster pistol was the only real working weapon between it and the lightsaber. The crystal hilt of the Jedi weapon was about as reliable as weather predictions on Corellia. Maybe that was why she was told she could keep it. They already knew how faulty that thing was? She stood a better chance using her bare hands than using it. In fact, if it came down to it, her best bet was to hand the lightsaber over to her opponent in the hopes that they'd try to use it, in which event it was highly likely to blow up in their hands, volatile as it was. In any case, the game was up on that front.
Casting a glance up at the fearsome Togorian, Mirian brushed back the hair covering the left side of her face, exposing the lightsaber scar on her cheek, then slowly peeled back the front of her trench coat, revealing her heavy blaster, in its holster strapped to her left thigh, and just as slowly unclipped the safety strap, then removed the weapon, and placed it on the ground. Straightening up, she cast a look around at all the individuals surrounding her: An Arkanian, with a lightsaber in his hand, who then made some kind of remark based on her age as opposed to An Tiarna's; A man with a strange bone helmet, and a shock of silvery hair, that she managed to catch a glimpse of before he hid himself entirely from view inside his armour. The armoured man watched her, wary, expectant, and tense. If her near-death at the hands of the Sith Warrior was anything to go by, she knew the tenseness of his posture, and bespoke of a readiness to fight. Mirian kept her hands where everyone could see them, and made her way to the offered chair before the one known as An Tiarna and settled down into it.
Her expression remained neutral, impassive, though she herself was wary, her eyes and peripherals watching everything. Crossing her legs, she leaned back, looking for all the world like she was used to all this, as a scantily dressed woman arrived and began to dance and sing, before being rudely halted (though much to Mirian's relief), when he stated that they were talking before the interruption, to which the young woman rubbed the back of her head wonderingly.
"We've hardly started," said Mirian, "but you said operations, which I take to mean you have some form of work going on. My name is Mirian Santiro, intergalactic transporter of goods and personnel. Would you happen to have a need for services such as mine?"
She studied the men, and even that scantily clad schutta, which caused her to take something else into consideration. Thinking it best, she quickly added some information she thought might be handy, "I'm not a smuggler, so you should be aware that I do not accept or move anything remotely illegal, contrabands, and certainly not slaves. Now do not take this to mean I'm insinuating anything about anybody here; I'm merely stating where I stand, and providing you an assurance that I can get things through in a timely manner, since I never have to evade the law or lie."
She folded her arms and leaned back again, feeling a little bit better having stated her "terms" as they were. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all, and she could get a good pay out of the job.
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An Tiarna Dubh
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Is minic a bhris beál duine a shrón ~ It is often that a person's mouth broke his nose
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Post by An Tiarna Dubh on Dec 31, 2015 19:54:22 GMT -8
*An Tiarna looked the girl up & down mind fixed for a moment on what exactly she was wearing underneath the trenchcoat yet catching the subtle unspoken words in each & every movement around him, as was now second nature. The girl clearly did not wish to be disarmed & that made sense but disarming her made sense too. He had being waiting, not knowing for what but indeed had been rattling to thin air in anticipation. She certainly looked worth the wait... well worth a bite in his crude way of thinking. All that thought passing by in but the blink of an eye he listened closely. At last he barked off a comment*
-An Tiarna-
'You're intergalactic transporter of goods & personnel but not a smuggler.... Could you please tell me what exactly is the difference between the two?
*Brows raised with head cocked to the left a sly grin on his face he awaited a reply.The old man sat comfortably yet body & mind set to react at the drop of a dime. The Beach was as always under constant surveillance & alive with activity, both in the light & the shadows*
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Post by Mirian Santiro on Dec 31, 2015 22:27:43 GMT -8
[ Mirian Santiro | Manaan | A Courtyard | Location: The Mortus ]
She didn't like that she was being asked to clarify. She knew this man wasn't stupid. Surely it couldn't be hard to tell the difference, and yet he was forcing her to explain where she stood as far as intergalactic transport law was concerned. She was also leery of the fact he was studying her continuously, when the first two, or even three rounds of visual inspection should have satisfied any curiosity as to whether she was far more heavily armed than she appeared to be. Why continue to keep studying her? She wasn't wearing anything particularly provocative or immodest, as far as she knew. Then again, she knew of a culture where wearing excess or more clothing than thin, virtually non-existent underwear was considered akin to strutting around naked in a crowded city. Funnily enough, that was exactly what those people were doing, and why she never visited their planet again. She only hoped An Tiarna wasn't from such a culture, but judging by his attire, she doubted he was.
Pursing her lips, Mirian straightened up in her seat and looked the man squarely in the eyes, "Unlike smugglers, I don't have to hide or run away from inspections to my ship," said Mirian, "and as I said, I don't transport illegal contraband, like spice, outlawed weapons, slaves, that sort of stuff."
She wanted a job, but she wasn't quite so desperate yet, and she was getting a little edgy, even though this was only his first question, in reality. Nevertheless, she didn't feel like dancing around him with words all day long, with all these less-than-friendly folk around her, and her with only a faulty lightsaber to speak of, so she gestured gently whilst leaning back again, "Now I don't mean to be crass, but do you have a transport job you're looking to get done?"
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An Tiarna Dubh
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Is minic a bhris beál duine a shrón ~ It is often that a person's mouth broke his nose
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Post by An Tiarna Dubh on Jan 1, 2016 2:26:59 GMT -8
*The old man was now smiling*
Alright.... Given you're resume this might not be the place to do business. Hell I gotta ask how you do even do business.
*Throwing his arms up he went on*
Why not take public transit?
*Clasping both hands with head to side eyes wide*
More on line why fly to Manaan? A bit... suicidal for a taxi driver.
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Post by Mirian Santiro on Jan 1, 2016 2:55:14 GMT -8
[ Mirian Santiro | Manaan | A Courtyard | Location: The Mortus ]
"Probably," said Mirian, her face turning pale, making the discolouration of her scar more prominent, "you're probably right. Maybe I have no business here. As for the why..."
She shrugged and gestured helplessly with her arms, "Coruscant Spacelines had an ad, along with a finder's fee if there was a legitimate find of new job prospects out here. While I don't actually work for CS, I do freelance and the finder's fee is pretty generous."
Mirian was a bit worried now. An Tiarna was being dodgy. He was more interested in questioning rather than making any kinds of offer. If he was legitimate, he would have put it on the table right away. The young woman wanted to kick herself now. And to make things worse, she was all alone. With nothing but her late apprentice's lightsaber (stored away on her ship), and her own personal holocrons, which maybe someday might find its way into the hands of the Jedi, or even the Sith, for whatever reasons. but the point was that her survival rates were starting to lower, and she didn't like that. Now, her former master had tried to teach her to remove fear from herself, because it led to the Dark Side and all that sort of thing. Mirian was of the opinion however, that fear was a good thing. Sometimes, fear kept you alive. So Mirian never learnt to suppress or remove fear. She didn't embrace or manipulate it either. Instead, she just accepted that it was there, and chose to ignore it, or to let it temper her more reckless nature, like right now. Right now, she wanted to bolt from her seat and embrace the Force, and use whatever means she had to get to her ship and make good on her escape. But she instead closed her eyes, and considered her options, and when she reopened them...she was still afraid, but not desperately stupid...just yet, anyhow.
"Look, you have a job that I can do in good conscience? If not, I'll take my leave of you and yours, and I can send word to CS that it's a no-go on jobs availability out here."
There was one good thing. Coruscant Spacelines, while they didn't officially employ her, recognized her as a good finder, and she had given a time frame in which she was to report in what she had found on job prospects. If she didn't, or failed to report in a timely manner, there was a chance they'd send a scout to see if she had even made it to Manaan. Of course, by that time, she could be dead. Well, there was always and upside and downside. "Personally, I think everyone can use good business deals. But whatever, you know? It's your call, sir."
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An Tiarna Dubh
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Is minic a bhris beál duine a shrón ~ It is often that a person's mouth broke his nose
Posts: 841
Affiliation: Are you joking? the IF
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Post by An Tiarna Dubh on Jan 1, 2016 3:24:32 GMT -8
'Personally I wonder why people think it a 'good deal' to have somebody do something for a fee when I can get it done for free. & why would a somebody trying to sell their abilities as a business person come to a place like Manaan then try to hold so fast to the moral high-ground? That makes no sense....
*Bottomless eyes fixed on the production he shrugged the whole business off. Hand shot out as he verbally laid his what was wanted*
It's kid's stuff gents.... I want 10,000 forty gallon drums... undamaged & sealable,as much high nitrogen fertilizer, fuel with a high cetane number & mothballs as you can get. Do the math off the number of drums & you'll understand how much I am talking about. & unlike talking to some businessman - I want this done ASAP'
*Then with a sharp bark*
'Make sure that woman is comfortable while she's here."
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Post by Mirian Santiro on Jan 1, 2016 4:55:13 GMT -8
[ Mirian Santiro | Manaan | A Courtyard | Location: The Mortus ]
Mirian's expression remained neutral, but her eyes widened as she listened to him go on. She didn't mind him mocking her stance, or her holding on to her moral high ground as he called it. Plus she believed him when he said he'd been doing business since she was a child. Guessing by his looks, maybe even before she was born! So she wasn't going to argue with him on that point. Then her eyes narrowed as he mentioned nitrogen fertilizer. This was...if she was not mistaken, and she was by no means an explosives expert, but she had a good idea what one could do with chemicals as volatile as that, and he expected her to bring that on board her ship?!? He was right.
"Getting past the inspections, sure, as long as I obtained the materials from all the right channels," said Mirian, "but I'm sorry, sir..."
She sighed audibly. Mirian was more disappointed than scared or upset, "...I guess I'm holding on to my "moral high-ground" as it were, and this is probably my cue to take a leave from this line of business. The material you want transported is far more dangerous than I'm willing to deal with. I'm sorry for wasting your time, but I thank you for having me here such as it was."
She rose from her seat, bowed lightly to An Tiarna, and left, picking up her blaster and reholstering it on her way back to her cruiser.
[ Mirian Santiro | Consular-class Charger c70 retrofit cruiser, Serene Moondancer | Cockpit | Manaan | Location: The Mortus ]
She supposed things could have been a lot worse, as she settled into the pilot's chair and began her preflight checks. At the very least, she still had enough to head for a nearby system with known job availabilities. She wouldn't get a Finder's Fee, but at least she'd get supplies, food, fuel and a little change to spare, hopefully. An Tiarna had a few things right in the sense that maybe Mirian wasn't cut out for this sort of thing. Most of her life she'd tried to be a Jedi, but that didn't work out, and now she was trying to be a businesswoman, but what did she know about being a trader? Keeping herself afloat was a lot more costly than she realized. And since she wouldn't touch the Galina family funds ever...
Sighing, the young woman, powered her vessel and lifted off, heading into orbit.
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An Tiarna Dubh
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Is minic a bhris beál duine a shrón ~ It is often that a person's mouth broke his nose
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Post by An Tiarna Dubh on Jan 1, 2016 8:02:21 GMT -8
*The old man raised a brow scratching his head as he muttered"
'Empty barrels, fertilizer, fuel & mothballs... to dangerous to transport. Ok... we need this done ourselves. Anybody brave enough to take this daunting task on?
*An Tiarna was not asking but put the order out in a polite fashion*
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An Tiarna Dubh
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Is minic a bhris beál duine a shrón ~ It is often that a person's mouth broke his nose
Posts: 841
Affiliation: Are you joking? the IF
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Post by An Tiarna Dubh on Jan 1, 2016 13:30:25 GMT -8
*An Tiarna sat becoming more & more agitated by the moment. He finally asked himself:* 'self what is wrong?' *Self replied:* Ye, not me hath become the Mighty Lardass Dude, hence having tea & crumpets with Jedi swine sitting on that sorry behind, whilst the Uni is no longer awaiting you in mortal fear lest you drop by & paste a boot on their rear.... That's the problem way it looks from this end.' *An Tiarna knew that Self was right & decided it was now or never; time to go & start picking fights. He remained at his sitting though writing all things out to be set in order first. silently he handed commands out to officers of the highest order, who n turn passed their own down the line. A bustle of activity began to stir with troops seeming to move blindly in all directions but their was a method to the madness; the mighty mammoth was being awakened.*
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An Tiarna Dubh
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Is minic a bhris beál duine a shrón ~ It is often that a person's mouth broke his nose
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Post by An Tiarna Dubh on Jan 1, 2016 17:00:42 GMT -8
*The old man sat back drinking. sighing to himself he muttered*
My ohhh my, this is exciting.... The Uni has so improved in my absence....
*An Tiarna belched loudly & Force farted so hard that he was momentarily lifted from his seat. A nearby dog dropped to the ground, asphyxiated by the gas. The old man drank some more.*
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An Tiarna Dubh
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Is minic a bhris beál duine a shrón ~ It is often that a person's mouth broke his nose
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Post by An Tiarna Dubh on Jan 1, 2016 17:47:09 GMT -8
*Several Togorian officers, Sergeants Iphukfrequently & Litterboxfresh squabble over a piece of decaying fish, hair going up on the back of their necks. Another noncommissioned officer chases a massive ball of yarn on the Manaan beach. Major Labscrewup hisses out*
-Major Labscrewup-
"That's enough men or there'll be no catnip for you tonight!!"
*The playful Togorians settle down, lick their wounds & take up watch again. An Tiarna watching the scene holds his head & weeps for several minutes. Looking to the high heavens he mutters*
-An Tiarna-
'I hope somebody is getting a laugh outta this tragic comedy.....'
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An Tiarna Dubh
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Is minic a bhris beál duine a shrón ~ It is often that a person's mouth broke his nose
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Post by An Tiarna Dubh on Jan 1, 2016 21:41:49 GMT -8
*Slamming back doubleshot number losttrackwayback An Tiarna slams his fist on the table screaming*
An Tiarna
'I so need to grease something soon.....'
*At that moment one of the wastes of space from down at the social science labs waltzed over with a big pearly white smile & stack of papers*
-Waste of Space Scientist-
'Statistically speaking your Hideousness should be happy to hear that you just passed Pizza the Hutt on the all time Ugly list.'
*An Tiarna glared at the soon to be dead waste of space a long second before springing from his chair, grabbing the nearest blunt instrument & beating the poor fool about the head & face. As what was left of sorry now no longer in pain waste of space lay in a heap of blood & gore near the Mortus door the old man hurled the pipe carelessly over his shoulder - smashing the head of a native passing by. Togorians devoured the Fish-person scarcely before it hit the ground. An Tiarna sitting casually back down barked out*
-An Tiarna-
'Another round!! I want war!!!'
*And the twisted scene rode on*
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Lord Nexus
The Vegemite Enclave
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Affiliation: Chaos
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Post by Lord Nexus on Jan 2, 2016 9:18:03 GMT -8
The Dark Lord stood in silence, watching the catastrophy that was a relic being brought into the current times- that relic being An Tiarna. Nexus himself was mostly a relic himself, yet he saw the shifting tides and rolled with the times...for the most part. An Tiarna, however, was a man wrought of Iron and Stone, who did not weather, yet nor did he change very much.
The High King's antics were clearly off putting to those who did not know him. The girl was the case and point. Nexus smirked behind his mask as she claimed to hold a moral high ground- Manaan was not the place for that mind set. He looked at the old man, then at the bickering Togorians.
"Grab my private stock. The old man is going to need harder stuff to put up with the galaxy today."
Nexus set his eyes on the old man- whilst his expression was hidden by the helmet, his stance suggested some perverse combination of amusement and pity.
"Old man, times have changed. The best way to start a war these days is to poke the biggest, baddest, Rancor in the eye, and remind them that they are a cub compared to us."
Nexus was always the baby of the group, being one of the last to join and remain loyal. When An Tiarna met him in his youth, he was brash and violent- that made them fast enemies and faster friends. Yet now, the Dark Lord had the temperance of beskar; strong and unwavering. He was ready to help, and wasn't scared of the old man's temper.
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An Tiarna Dubh
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Is minic a bhris beál duine a shrón ~ It is often that a person's mouth broke his nose
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Post by An Tiarna Dubh on Jan 2, 2016 10:34:12 GMT -8
*An Tiarna listened to Nexus speak. Nexus' words struck a cord indeed & in many respects the old man was pleased. The ancient warrior snapped off a reply*
'So Nexus you learned something between here & there but I say that things seem very much the same as they always were; we gain nothing slapping some wimp around but pounding the greatest into the ground. That I see as obvious. Yet we must be wise... tall order that....'
*Arms stretched out & eyes wide*
'We need be calculated here... think of Feral & the lot... the Yuuzhan Vong... & so forth & so on down the line.... How exactly I survived that seems a mystery to some. Others like to stand & take credit for what I if not orchestrated from start to finish at the very least set the seed & allowed to grow freely.'
*Now pointing as he spoke but the words he accented stood as understanding as opposed to accusation*
'You want war? So do I but we should do this right. It is the small things Nexus. Like knowing just what is going on behind you as much as in front.'
*Chin dropping he asked*
'You want to pick a fight? Then you best do it right.'
*Brows dropping & eyes going thin he laid out a simple question.*
Understand?
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An Tiarna Dubh
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Is minic a bhris beál duine a shrón ~ It is often that a person's mouth broke his nose
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Post by An Tiarna Dubh on Jan 2, 2016 11:41:35 GMT -8
*Leaving the question hanging in the air An Tiarna went on*
'People really miss the point.... this one did that - oh they did this - he did that. & on & on & on. When everybody comes to terms with the fact that they are just pawns in your game then they can claim knowledge.'
'Now I need an order filled & simple things done.... Can anyone do this or do I once again need do it myself?'
*Brows raising he waited.*
ORDER:
*10,000 forty gallon drums
*8,000 gallons high cetane fuel
* 2,000kg ammonium based nitrogen fertilizer
*1000kg mothballs
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Mórrígan Dubh
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Post by Mórrígan Dubh on Jan 3, 2016 7:50:26 GMT -8
*Mórrígan Dubh, granddaughter of An Tiarna & heir apparent to the Iron Fists, sat quietly watching the funeral of her Great Uncle, Iniquitous. She was truly grief-struck, as Iniquitous was among the few allowed into her heart . He had held her as a baby, fed her when she was hungry, tended to her needs as a child, all with tenderness & warmth one would not expect of Iniquitous. He had watched over her for years, putting more than one man into a deep freeze for so much as breathing on Mórrígan. For this she remained unmoved observing the solemn ceremony. Yet she could feel the tension around her and this was more than the usual irritation of knowing that lustful eyes were always on you. Plans and preparation for another ritual sacred to the IF were unfolded: the art of War. Amidst all this another figure drew Mórrígan's attention for a moment; Nexus had returned. Nexus too was important to Mórrígan. In an odd way she was very comfortable knowing that all three men were present, alibi one now only in Spirit*
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Lord Nexus
The Vegemite Enclave
Posts: 174
Affiliation: Chaos
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Post by Lord Nexus on Jan 3, 2016 9:14:20 GMT -8
Nexus watched An Tiarna, nodding in conjunction with his word. He knew the old man's thoughts, and knew his plan. It was just a matter of getting things lined up. He looked to the skies, wondering if any of their other brothers would return to them. to assist, but he did not depend on it. While they were kin and kith, and Nexus cared for them as family- he never put faith in another. If you want it done right, as they say...
From the corner of his eye, Nexus caught a glimpse of Morrigan, now a woman grown, and well grown at that. Nexus remembered when she was but a glimmer in her father's eye. Now she was heir apparent, and every bit as dangerous as one would expect the offspring of the Dubh family to be. She had always been an enigmatic child- a font of dark, forbidden power- Nexus respected that, and even offered to teach the child, yet never insistant enough to be obnoxious. She was, after all, a child of war; she learned naturally.
Seeing the child made Nexus look back to the older, simpler days; the traitor Isis, the defector, Danson, and the swift and merciless justice that they received- at his own hand. The smell of ozone and charred skin would occasionally wake him, a reminder of the cost of treachery.
He gave Morrigan a nod of acknowledgement, then looked back to An Tiarna.
"I may know someone for the job, unless you would rather keep it close to the chest."
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Mórrígan Dubh
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Post by Mórrígan Dubh on Jan 3, 2016 10:23:17 GMT -8
*Mórrígan smiled and nodded back to Nexus. She giggled, hand covering her mouth as a flickering thought crossed her mind. 'My big brother's back & you're gonna be in trouble' Oh how she pitied the Universe. She tried to keep the thoughts of Nexus out of her minds eye but the bitter memory of Isis and Danson could not be denied. Regrets and sorry from the sorted family story that was the Iron Fists. Mórrígan patiently watched saying not a word*
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