Gavin Roken
Crew of the Wayward Son
Posts: 14 
Affiliation: Credits
Traffic Light: Green
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Ravelin
Nov 12, 2015 13:03:13 GMT -8
Post by Gavin Roken on Nov 12, 2015 13:03:13 GMT -8
Gavin nodded as Smythe introduced himself, doing his best to put on a friendly face. The last thing he wanted right now was to push somebody the wrong way, especially a man who had him outmatched. He put away one of the glasses and filled the other. It wasn't often that a man turned down a drink. This is a man who means business, Roken thought. He took a swig of brandy as he contemplated the question. Though he didn't drink as often a he liked, one glass wouldn't have much effect on his faculties.
"At the moment, I repair ships and occasionally pilot a cargo ship on a run or two. It pays the bills and it keeps me in the know for when I get a job piloting a real mission. You'll find pilots all across the universe, but how many of them can repair their own ship? Or better yet, how many can keep maintenance on a small fleet? I've sent out some feelers to see if I can't land a more permanent piloting job though."
Roken finished off the glass of brandy and put the bottle away. Best save some for celebrating or wallowing, he thought, whichever comes first. He turned back to the ship and began to make his final checks while he waited to see how Smythe reacted.
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Ravelin
Nov 12, 2015 13:57:54 GMT -8
Post by Baylith Smythe on Nov 12, 2015 13:57:54 GMT -8
Baylith listened to Gavin as he spoke about his job. He nodded out of politeness. Gavin appeared devoted to his job, doing what he loved to get income. Baylith did something similar in order to get paid. But a job was a job; he didn't love it. It was something that had to be done.
"Well, it's only fair that I tell you what I do. Since you told me first," Smythe said, folding his hands behind his back. "I am a mercenary by trade. I'm very good at what I do but what I do isn't very nice." He watched Gavin make checks on his ship.
"I'm looking for a job. My income has been a little...lacking, if I may say so." He paused for a moment, "I need to flex my muscles. Know anywhere I can do that, Gavin?"
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Gavin Roken
Crew of the Wayward Son
Posts: 14
Affiliation: Credits
Traffic Light: Green
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Ravelin
Nov 12, 2015 15:15:54 GMT -8
Post by Gavin Roken on Nov 12, 2015 15:15:54 GMT -8
Gavin listened as Smythe spoke about his line of work. If he's more than just muscle, shouldn't be hard to find him something, he thought. The pilot understood what it was like to be short on credits. Depending on how good Baylith was at what he did, getting him a job wouldn't be overly difficult. His time spent as a pilot had not only put him in contact with a lot of people, but it also gave him a better knowledge of the less popular places in the universe.
"I can't guarantee much, but I know some people that should be able to get you hooked up with somthing. Worst case scenario, I can get you passage to wherever I'm flying next. How does that sound?"
Roken gathered up the glasses and his bottle of Corellian brandy. He placed them in his pack and slung it over his shoulder. The ship was as decent as he could get it. Better than what his boss had asked for too. He took a seat on a nearby crate and began looking through the posting on his datapad.
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Ravelin
Nov 12, 2015 15:44:48 GMT -8
Post by Baylith Smythe on Nov 12, 2015 15:44:48 GMT -8
Baylith nodded and listened to Gavin's suggestion. This kid knows what he's talking about, the merc thought to himself. He watched Gavin as he looked through his datapad. He seemed engrossed in whatever he was looking at on the screen. Baylith wondered how often Gavin did that.
"That sounds pretty good, Gavin. I could use a pilot. And while you can take care of yourself, you could use some muscle." Smythe rubbed the back of his neck again and took a seat across from Gavin. "When should we leave then?"
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Kyp
Crew of the Wayward Son
Posts: 10
Traffic Light: Blue
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Ravelin
Nov 12, 2015 21:03:30 GMT -8
Post by Kyp on Nov 12, 2015 21:03:30 GMT -8
'The Medical Emporium and Warehouse' was not even half as glamorous as the name suggested, it wasn't even much of a warehouse. However Kyp had taken it over with the name which was semi-established in the neighbourhood and in the business so he kept it. He also had ideas above this corner shop.
The buzzer sounded, someone had come into the shop, maybe even a customer! Kyp was busy reading a dusty tome of some sort, he loved to collect ancient “books” from before the invention of data pads. He was one of a very few people in the galaxy that could read the ancient form of basic that was written on this archaic form of media. He was proud of his small collection and even though it was small, his collection was worth more than the rest of the shop, including the building itself. It was this fact that caused him to stir from his reading and move from the back of the shop to somewhere near the credit register in the front. Best to prevent a disaster than recover from one.
The diminutive being hobbled over to the counter with his stick and then hopped up on the stool, somewhat strangely for someone who had to use a walking stick. There was a human male browsing some of the more “specialist” items in the shop, he didn't seem interested in small talk. So instead Kyp observed the man. He was thin, quite tall by galactic standards but he clearly had sub-standard oral hygiene. His skin was also slightly discoloured and his hair was cut very short, all of which pointed Kyp to one conclusion.
“Your spice would crystallise better if you used the five hundred instead of that three fifty.”
He said in such a matter of fact tone, though his voice was an annoying tone already. Kyp had developed quite a high pitched, raspy tone over the years that grated some species of ears the wrong way. However he quite liked the sound and has never bothered to change it.
“You what mate!?”
“You're clearly looking at the three fifty conical flask but the five hundred will allow the spice to crystallise with increased purity!”
Kyp stated again with barely more explanation and this seemed to enrage his customer more, though Kyp had no idea why!
“Nah, you must be having a laugh, I'm not looking at this for spice!”
The man had stopped looking at the flasks and taken two steps closer to the counter and Kyp. His stance had become aggressive along with his tone of voice and his body language, Kyp disliked this. It increased the likelihood of violence and decreased the likelihood of a sale! Suddenly there was what, to most, would have sounded like an explosion. It was actually the sound of a slug-thrower rifle firing though that technology was considered obsolete by most and not taught in schools.
The 'customers' leg had been blown clear off from the middle of his thigh and his now useless appendage had moved further towards the door before falling, useless, to the ground. The customer himself began to scream as he grabbed the edge of the counter to prevent himself from falling completely to the floor. This failed and he fell anyway, with him grasped desperately to the cash register. The panic on the man's face was priceless and Kyp gazed upon him in wonder, what chemical reaction would cause this kind of response? The answer was clear but his morbid curiosity took over.
“What does it feel like?”
“Urgh, what? Arrrrrrgh!”
The subject's response was less than he hoped for. Kyp turned his head slightly in order to do two things, cut out the noise his victim was making and to align his rifle once again. This time his barrel was aligned with the victims head and once the explosion sounded again it was accompanied by a very thorough explosion of red and pink. The man's head had exploded all over the shop floor along with his skull and brain, the smell of iron was real.
“No retort? I'm surprised!”
Kyp said as he wiped down the barrel of his slug-thrower. He then sighed, he'd need to clean the place up before anyone else came in, so he had a couple of hours at least!
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Gavin Roken
Crew of the Wayward Son
Posts: 14
Affiliation: Credits
Traffic Light: Green
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Ravelin
Nov 12, 2015 21:50:51 GMT -8
Post by Gavin Roken on Nov 12, 2015 21:50:51 GMT -8
Gavin put away his datapad and glanced around the hangar. None of the ships were quite up to what he preferred. What they really need was to find a crew that needed a pilot and some extra muscle. Whether or not they could find that on Bastion remained to be seen. Roken went through a checklist in his head, making sure they he wasn't low on any supplies.
"We could really use a better ship, but that isn't a deal breaker. My first aid kit is in need of some replenishing. You mind if we stop by the Medical Emporium and Warehouse to pick up a few things? It isn't more than a block away. We can work on a plan from there."
Roken stood up and gathered his things while he waited for a reply from Smythe. He grabbed his first aid kit so that he knew what he needed to refill it.
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Adi
Crew of the Wayward Son
Posts: 1,108
Affiliation: Crew of the Wayward Son
Traffic Light: Green
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Ravelin
Nov 13, 2015 18:45:03 GMT -8
Post by Adi on Nov 13, 2015 18:45:03 GMT -8
The ship hit the atmosphere as Raxxie made it to the cockpit, and before she was tossed around like a ragdoll, she strapped herself into the co-pilot's seat. An alarm started blaring, angle too shallow...And FAR too fast...
"Juumi...Slow it down a little bit, and pull the nose up."
Juumi just stared straight out the front window, bobbing his head. Crap, he had his earbuds in...listening to that Gahd's awful screeching he called music. The alert began to get louder, and more urgent. A little louder this time, she again told him to slow down. Again...he was either ignoring her, or totally oblivious to the fact they were about to burn up in the atmosphere. One last time, and this time screaming for him to slow down, the Gungan jumped, and, laughing, he pulled the ship up, and throttled back...just as Raxana was about to jump on the controls herself.
Damn hotshots. It was maneuvering like that which would surely get them killed someday.
About five minutes after breaking through into atmo, the Wayward Son began its docking procedures.
"You do that again, and I will personally neuter you, Juumi. Now, once we get the Son docked, we need to go get the medkit supplies refilled. We used up a lot trying to save the Cap'n, and that blonde guy back there. It might get a little rough on the job, so we need to make sure we have plenty of everything. Kinda wish we had a medic on board. The newbies seem to be rather...accident prone. I don't want to be here more than one solar cycle....so that gives us about 24 hours to be in and out. Maybe we can even find someone to get us where we are going, seeing as none of us even know where it is.
I'll go and get the hatch opened up. Meet me back there once we are all shut down."
The Zabrak exited the cockpit, and made her way to the rear of the ship.
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juuma
Member
Posts: 11
Traffic Light: Green
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Ravelin
Nov 14, 2015 14:54:42 GMT -8
Post by juuma on Nov 14, 2015 14:54:42 GMT -8
Juuma set to work flipping switches and shutting the ship's systems down. "Raxxie yousa say dat like it'sa all yousa wanna do to me" was his response as she left. When Juuma was done shutting the systems down he walked to the back of the ship and began to gather his gear. Throwing the strap of his DT-19 over his shoulder Juuma positioned it once or twice then got into a firing stance and repeated the process warming up. Throwing his two pistols in his back holsters Jumma cracked his neck and turned to the rest of the crew grinning. "So whosa coming witha da Juuma, weesa needa get some medicine for hesa" Juuma said pointing to Adi's unconscious figure. Walking up to the now open hatch Juuma stopped for a second before turning and picking up his Thumper grenade launcher and throwing it over his back on its sling. "thissa may be usefull"
As they walked down the streets most people both stared and stayed clear of the Juuma. He was used to it most people had never seen a gungan before, much less one that was covered in weapons and armor. All in all Juuma enjoyed the stigma, it made dealing with people easier, they didn't know what to expect. Then again, the DT-19 was an extremely effective negotiation tool as well. As they walked Juuma was silent and remained in the back letting Raxxie lead their little group, it wasn't that Juuma wasn't intelligent, he just found most people thought he was because of the amount of weapons he was carrying and because of his race. He didn't really mind, it meant most people underestimated him. Every few seconds Juuma's eyes scanned the crowds around them looking for potential threats, he kept his blaster close but not in a firing position. Eventually, they came upon a building for medical supplies and Raxxie and the others entered Juuma lingering outside for a second before following them in.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Ravelin
Nov 14, 2015 15:53:42 GMT -8
Post by Deleted on Nov 14, 2015 15:53:42 GMT -8
Trynna didn't so much as move an inch from her seat as the Gungun left. Good riddance. She wondered what he was overcompensating for with the large, unwieldy arsenal he was toting around. Maybe since his species were rightfully seen as idiots, he felt he needed to try to look impressive as possible. Trynna mentally shrugged. It was none of her affair, thankfully. As far as the Zabrak's little speech was concerned, Tryn did her best to stifle a laugh. The way she saw it, they all owed her...things would have gone down a lot worse had she not been there. She gazed down at the Adieumus man.
No, she would leave at her leisure...which would be after she figured out why this man had Matango's Force signature. And if it was him, she would have to decide whether or not she wanted to kill him. Tryn tipped her head. If it was Aideumus why did he look completely different? Plastic surgery? She rolled her eyes and knelt beside the man, deciding to check him more in-depth for herself. She carefully undid the restraints that had been holding him in place during the crap piloting job they had all just suffered through.
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Ravelin
Nov 14, 2015 19:08:31 GMT -8
Post by Diamonte Tuhlute on Nov 14, 2015 19:08:31 GMT -8
Returning to my place at my particular instrument Console, i punched in the last few lines of code of a bare-bones program i had been writing the hours that the ship had been in warp. the coding language wasn’t entirely complicated, but it was a hybrid of the programming language favored by CEC for refits of ships, with spliced lines that allowed access through starnet. I set an express limiting function that capped the program at 5% processing. sure it would limit what i could write, but this program was written to give me a moment of breathing room when i needed to “disappear” without going AWOL.
of course, speaking of AWOL, the zabrak assumed that i owed a debt to the crew… to Her. that notion seemed frustrating beyond belief. yes i had just been awol from yavin academy, but i spent a year as the “interim” headmaster, and no permanent replacement had yet been to be named. I shook my head, but remained in my seat until i was the last one in the room… well me and Jedi-18 that is. shaking my head i took a knee by the man, who was still unconscious, lowered the mask below my face, and for the first time since climbing on the ship i spoke in my natural voice
“ They really think that I would go AWOL? You know me, I am not like that…” With that I climbed up through the ship to find the width of 3 twin beds and the length of 2 twin beds. after finding such a room, I tagged it as ‘mine’ effectively putting the last piece in the coding. when I ran the program, the door would seal shut, and no sensor sweep would detect what is going on in the inside. and the best thing, the only thing that could beat this program was an enthusiastic manual override of the door mechanism.
When I was inside and the program was deployed I connected my starnet comm to the Toolbox and began to pull down the figures from my head. comparing them against files I could access via back door was of little help because the measurements I was using was a combination of beliefs about the force… how it was a biological presence and a mystical binding. few others had a viewpoint like that in this dimension, so… I had to measure the readings against anything I could.
And finally, when I could not any longer sustain my level of focus despite my frustration, I packaged the datapoints into a into a concise report and attached it to a message bound on open coms to Honoghr. To one of the two people who might have access to these files sealed from me, Ice Matango
after finishing the letter I flopped back on the mattress provided, lowered the programmed shield, and caught a few hours of sleep.
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Adi
Crew of the Wayward Son
Posts: 1,108
Affiliation: Crew of the Wayward Son
Traffic Light: Green
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Ravelin
Nov 14, 2015 19:12:32 GMT -8
Post by Adi on Nov 14, 2015 19:12:32 GMT -8
He had been unconscious since he collapsed on Dantooine, but the blonde stranger's mind had been extremely active. He kept seeing the fireballs consuming the troopers on Carida as they made their last stand against insurmountable odds. He heard their screams as the flames cooked them alive in their battlesuits. He watched the explosions tear them to pieces. He watched them with the same helpless eyes now as he had then....
He watched their deaths, and he was powerless to stop it from happening. He should have died with them. Much to his chagrin, he had not. It had been only by some miracle of fate that he had escaped the exploding world, and managed to live, when almost fourteen hundred others did not. Seeing their lifeless forms wasn't bad enough, but then he hadn't even been able to recover their bodies. Each one of those men had served with honor for many years with the Stranger, and he had mourned their deaths...each and every one...He still continued to do so.
Their screams would forever haunt his every nightmare.
Even the rough flight down had not been enough to wake him up. It was not until everyone else had left the room, and he felt his harness being undone, that his mind started to come awake. Still thinking he was in the middle of the burning battlefield, the stranger moved to free himself from the seat. The harness had just come undone, and he shot forward....right smack into someone else. Most notably, his -lips- ran smack into a soft pair of female lips.
Only now did his eyes come open, and he realized who he was now engaged in a liplock with. The aura was unmistakable. Stunned, and unable to move for a moment, the Stranger could not pull away, even though he wanted to with every fiber of his being. He realized just how much danger they were all in at this very moment....He may as well have been kissing Death herself...
Hello, Trynna Vox...
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Ravelin
Nov 17, 2015 15:53:34 GMT -8
Post by Deleted on Nov 17, 2015 15:53:34 GMT -8
After a few short, stunned heartbeats, realization as to what was occurring hit her. Tryn instinctively blasted the man with a Force Push, 'her' lightsaber immediately finding her hand while a scowl crossed her face. "What the fuck!" she growled out angrily, her eyes drilling into him. "Who are you? she continued, roughly swiping backhanded across her lips with her free hand. Her eyes didn't leave the man's form the entire time. After she pushed him away, she realized that the 'kiss' hadn't been intentional. The man looked just as shocked as she felt. His signature...it was definitely Mantango's. Her scowl turned into a sneer. "I don't think you have to answer that, actually...do you, Adieumus? Her voice was an angry purr while her eyes smoldered. "Did you actually pay to get a face-job? You're uglier than before." The lightsaber suddenly shot out of it's hilt. "Remember this?" she taunted. "Tell me, why shouldn't I kill you now?" He was wounded, this was her chance. Trynna knew she should have already attacked, but still felt indecisive about what route to take. That was bad. Indecision could kill you.
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Adi
Crew of the Wayward Son
Posts: 1,108
Affiliation: Crew of the Wayward Son
Traffic Light: Green
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Ravelin
Nov 17, 2015 17:34:16 GMT -8
Post by Adi on Nov 17, 2015 17:34:16 GMT -8
Did this bitch SERIOUSLY just force push him back down into the seat?!?! She must be off her medication if she actually thought for one minute that she could survive a fight with him. Yet, here he was, his butt back in the seat as if he had never tried to get up...and it had been done with much prejudice...
...He wasn't THAT bad of a kisser, was he??
The force push had knocked him back down into the seat, kinda hard. Luckily, it was padded, but still...It kinda hurt, especially considering that she hid him center mass with the attack, and it hit the wound suffered earlier on from the blaster. Anger surged through the man, and he popped back out of the seat, staring the woman down. She was far from intimidating, even now.
Then, she -really- went off her rocker. She uttered a name that the man had been trying to escape since he had left the RDMC ship over Kuat. As the familiar blue shot from the hilt of the weapon, she asked one of the most ridiculous questions anyone had asked him in his entire life...sending the Arkanian into a full-bore rage.
His movements were simplistic in nature, requiring only closing his hands into a very loosely-held fist. It sent the energies of the force out, and by his will, wrapping around Trynna's wrists. Flinging his hands upward about chest height, he attempted to push her hands above her head with the force, and pin them together. As he flung his hands upward, he moved into a massive burst of speed, dashing forward, and shoved her against the wall, her hands pinned above her. He had his face quite literally an inch and a half from hers, holding her wrists physically, tightly enough to prevent escape, against the wall with his right hand. He stood very close to her, to keep leverage on the woman, and also to keep her from breaking free from the grip. His pale, icy blue eyes reflected the anger inside.
"You wont kill me, because you -can't-. Haven't you figured that out by now...Trynna Vox?" There was a very distinct snarl in Adi's voice as he spoke. Reaching up to his face with his left hand, he gripped his face, and pulled the synthetic duraskin mask from where it had been carefully placed to hide his identity from the rest of the universe. This revealed the face underneath that she would most certainly remember. "You could -never- beat me. You aren't strong enough, you don't have a good enough mastery of the force. You don't have enough heart, woman. Besides, you've done so much more damage to me by letting me live, believe me. You've done me no favors by letting me live...or rather, not becoming powerful enough to do the job you so desperately wish to accomplish.
I wish there WERE someone out there that COULD. It would make the galaxy so much better for it."
He stared at her for another long moment, then disengaged from the hold. He knew she wasn't going to kill him, not yet. If she were going to do it, she would have already done so when he was unconscious. He stepped away from her, and sat back down. She had no clue what he had gone through since last they had crossed paths, and blades...Few did. It was better that way for everyone.
"And, as a note, I don't use that name anymore. Adieumus Matango was killed almost two years ago, as far as I'm concerned."
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Gavin Roken
Crew of the Wayward Son
Posts: 14
Affiliation: Credits
Traffic Light: Green
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Ravelin
Nov 19, 2015 14:49:24 GMT -8
Post by Gavin Roken on Nov 19, 2015 14:49:24 GMT -8
Gavin set off without waiting for a response. He need to resupply the medkit either way. His new potential business associate could catch up or meet him back here at the hangar. That part of it wasn't important. He stepped out onto the street and took deep breath. It wasn't quite as good as getting behind the controls of a ship, but things were certainly headed in the right direction. He headed down the street toward the Medical Emporium and Warehouse, an establishment that hardly lived up to its name. The streets were abuzz with conversation about a heavily armed, well-armored Gungan. Drug-riddled imbeciles, he thought, there are no Gungans on Bastion. He shook his head at the fools as he ducked into the medical shop.
"I'll be a son of a Gundark," He said as he spotted the Gungan. To make matters even more interesting, the Gungan appeared to be traveling with a female Zabrak. That's not something you see every day, he thought as he went about looking for what he needed to replenish the medkit. Gavin held back a laugh when he spotted the Gungan and the small green shopkeeper interacting. He kept a straight face, not wanting to incur the wrath of either of the two. Not that he had a problem with other species, in fact, aliens were often easier to deal with than humans. They always wanted to assume that he was human, though he was near enough. However, the tall Gugan arsenal and the small eccentric medical shop owner made quite the combo.
"Don't often see Gungans outside of Naboo. What brings you here?" Roken was hoping to strike up a conversation so that he could press the topic of work. The Gungan and the Zabrak definitely looked as though they weren't hurting for work. Gavin was just hoping that they could use a pilot and maybe some extra muscle if the kid had indeed decided to follow. |
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Ravelin
Nov 19, 2015 17:58:43 GMT -8
Post by Baylith Smythe on Nov 19, 2015 17:58:43 GMT -8
Baylith had been lost in thought. He had been thinking about his life back on his home planet. Things weren't so good back on Eriadu. He had had a rough childhood. It was something he didn't like to bring up in front of others. Especially those he didn't know too well.
When he snapped back into the present, he saw that Gavin had taken off without him. The merc looked around for a bit and just barely saw Gavin weaving through a crowd of whispering people. He thought to himself: Hmm, where there's smoke there's fire. Something had set the people abuzz. His training kicked in and Baylith followed behind Gavin, weaving through the crowd, trying to keep unnoticed.
The people were talking about a Gungan with heavy artillery and a Zabrak companion. That struck him as odd because it usually wasn't normal for a Zabrak and a Gungan to be, as the locals call it, "buddy-buddy." Smythe shrugged and moved forward. Soon he appeared next to Gavin just as he was striking up a conversation with the Gungan and his friend. Smythe had a habit of imitating a shadow's silence.
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Adi
Crew of the Wayward Son
Posts: 1,108
Affiliation: Crew of the Wayward Son
Traffic Light: Green
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Ravelin
Nov 19, 2015 19:35:31 GMT -8
Post by Adi on Nov 19, 2015 19:35:31 GMT -8
The three blocks from the Spaceport to here, Raxxie continually became more and more embarrassed as a crowd gathered around them. The Waterbunny had refused to leave the weapons at home, and now, everyone that was within eyesight was converging on their location. Luckily for them, the medical shop wasn't that far away.
Thank the Force for that.
They entered the shop as the shopkeeper was cleaning up some kind of mess....looked as if someone had spilled red dye on the floor. The shopkeeper mused about, and ducked into the back with a smile and nod as he headed off to put the mop away. Before the little green...whateverhewas returned, a mountain of a man entered the shop, and spoke immediately to the Gungan. Cocking her head to the side, Raxana's face sprouted a wide smile.
"Well, well, well....Gavin Roken! I know it's been almost ten years, but you can't tell me you don't remember me..."
A flirty little smile crossed her lips, and she put her hands on her hips. She had barely spoken the question when another man entered the shop, and quietly observed the goings on from beside Gavin.
Thumbing over toward the man with the long hair, Raxxie again spoke to Gavin.
"Who's yer friend, big guy?"
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Gavin Roken
Crew of the Wayward Son
Posts: 14
Affiliation: Credits
Traffic Light: Green
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Ravelin
Nov 20, 2015 15:36:51 GMT -8
Post by Gavin Roken on Nov 20, 2015 15:36:51 GMT -8
A smile formed on Gavin's face as he turned toward Raxana. It quickly turned to more of a sheepish grin and shrug as he realized he had been distracted by a Gungan when he could have been distracted by a female Zabrak, not just an average Zabrak either. As if being distracted by a Gungan wasn't bad enough on its own. Now you've really stepped in it, he thought as he frantically searched for the right words.
"Raxana, How could I forget someone as beautiful as you?" And how could he? After all, Raxana was not easy to forget, nor are many Zabrak, for that matter. He held back a wince, hoping that his comment came off at just the right amount of presumptuousness. Smythe's arrival threw him for even more of a loop. In the confusion of the situation he had forgotten about the man. He turned toward the white haired mercenary and nodded. Good, he made it, Gavin thought. He made a small gesture, as if to say "this guy?" before turning back to reply.
"This is, uh, Smythe. He was told that I could procure some work for him. Which, by the look of your cannon wielding friend here, might be rather fortuitous for him." Roken pondered his next step. He didn't want to sound as though he was merely looking for work. His options were severely limited though. Just act casual, he told himself.
"What brings you to Bastion?"
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Kyp
Crew of the Wayward Son
Posts: 10
Traffic Light: Blue
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Ravelin
Nov 22, 2015 14:03:43 GMT -8
Post by Kyp on Nov 22, 2015 14:03:43 GMT -8
Kyp had just about finished cleaning up the mess left by his previous "customer" when his shop gained the first of four new customers. The first pair were a strange couple, a Zabrak female and a Gungan male, the latter was heavily armed indeed. Kyp had to hide the smell of the blood and so he quickly grabbed the bucket he had been using, that was three quarters filled with blood, and rushed into the back. Luckily the cleaning chemicals he was using had a very strong odour of their own and without the bucket of human blood, he was confident the smell would be overlooked. He put the bucket next to the plastic sheeting that he had used to wrap and body of the troublesome customer. Later he would bathe the body and all of the equipment he had used in a strong acidic solution and then dispose of the lot.
However he didn't have time right now, he might actually have some customers. Once he returned to behind his front desk he could see that a second pair of potential customers had entered, two humans, and one of them was engaging in conversation with the Zabrak. Kyp perched himself on his stool behind the counter and didn't even glance at his rifle, still sat on the shelf underneath.
“Can I help any of you?”
He tried to ask the questions genuinely but he knew it wouldn't come across like that. He did want to help but he did not have what was necessary for a life in sales.
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Post by Diamonte Tuhlute on Nov 28, 2015 7:42:15 GMT -8
It seemed that a few hours had passed since I fell asleep. First thing you do when you try to be a true hybrid of Man and machine is turn remove any apps that route power into a processing unit in such a way that would wake you from slumber. Pretty sure that happened after the Dante’s Asylum jumped to the dimension dubbed “The realm of the storytellers” and I got to see the story based on the monsters without sleep. Without Digression I no longer cared to know how long I slumber.
I woke up to my com beeping this cheerful tune from one of my holo-series that I assigned to Saarai, a Zugurk that I once trained as a Jedi apprentice, but now he served two masters. he was a Caporegime to whatever organization he served for. perhaps it was Black sun, perhaps it was something to do with I always would meet him in a Cathedral. but to me, he was my Consigliere. my advisor when I needed to go below the legal board to acquire things for myself. Because I was not ready to test the manual security that my programs provided, I elected for a slight of hand. I moved a bit back from the toolbox and brought up a video screen to relay the transmission both ways… and then I lowered my hood revealing my face. because of some problems that occurred my body was radiating Midichlorians at an abnormally high rate. this process was used by my people to cheat death… but because the rules didn’t allow for this, the ‘shut off valve’ wasn’t accessible meaning I would have to increase intake of certain unusual nutrients, or else the process would ravage my body until I could stabilise it again.
I lay back on the cot, when a second buzzer goes off. this time not from Saarai, but a transmission from Honoghr.
As I look over the details of the message and the attached results, two things come to mind. the first being how impressed I was with the rapid speed at which my data was analyzed and a positive match made, and the other was a pang of guilt for directly sending the letter to Ice without considering how she might react. bringing up the keyboard I punch up a response to Alisha Mercotti , this time using a direct line and encrypting it so only she could open the message.
I lay back once more attempting to rest when the nagging feeling hits me again. the net I cast with starnet was too small… yes, it would hit some key players, but it wouldn’t get the majority of the masters attention. I needed what had been my adopted pet project, The Jedi Holonet, operational if only accessible to the Masters of the Order. It was then that two ideas hit me simultaneously. the first involved my ideal from of order leadership, “The College of Masters”, and the other was the man who could take care of the matteras I sent off the last message I flopped back on my cot and my eyes closed, not willing themselves to open again until an hour after the craft’s liftoff gently rocked me as if in Mother’s arms.
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Post by Deleted on Nov 28, 2015 9:33:53 GMT -8
Trynna couldn't help it: she laughed. The stark sound of genuine amusement penetrated the air as she did nothing to stop Adieumus from nailing her to the wall. She rolled her eyes at his posturing...it was always the same old tune with him. "I'm the best, blahblahblah, you can't kill me, yaddayaddayah." "Stop being such a whiny, dramatic little bitch, Adieumus..." she managed to sneer nonchalantly as she crossed her arms. "I hate to break it to you, but you're not as special as you think you are, and you're twice as stupid. As far as killing you...I could have already, surely you're not as dense as to not realize that." She tipped her head to the side as she offered a practiced grimace. "Sithspit...you're uglier than I remembered. You should have kept the mask on."
She arched a dark eyebrow at him, uncrossing her arms and resting a hand upon the hilt of 'her' lightsaber at her waist. "So what are you doing here? Trying to find yourself?" she snorted. Despite his annoying diatribe where he, once again, made it clear he believed himself to be the center of the universe, she was genuinely curious as to what the hell Mantango was doing. Lone wolf was her MO, not Adieumus'. He was all about being the leader. Trynna figured it made him feel important, leading a bunch of losers and idiots. So why was Mister "I am the best" on a shithole planet drinking in that dank, little bar? She knew there was a story there somewhere and she was surprised at how curious she was about it. She also wanted to know why, despite his blustering, he wasn't genuinely trying to kill her.
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