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Post by Shaman Odin Alfodr on Feb 26, 2013 17:00:27 GMT -8
*Ahto City was the capital city of Manaan. As the entire surface of Manaan was covered with water, Ahto City was the only above surface city on the entire planet.*
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Post by Deleted on May 17, 2013 18:53:41 GMT -8
Manaan is not the sort of place that Eralam would consider as a vacation spot. He could deal with sun and happy people as well as the next fellow, but water worlds had never been kind to him. Deep down, he knew that his aversion to large bodies of water was mostly superstition, but every droid or otherwise mechanical being tends to fear the stuff. Back in the old days, water was death to electronics. That ancestral fear was somehow passed down the line from the very first sentient robots at the dawn of civilization. It was a little known bug that most organics weren't even aware of. Hell, there was a pretty decent chunk of the population that didn't believe droids to be capable of emotion, despite reams of evidence to the contrary.
For his part, Eralam's phobia was milder than most, tempered with the knowledge that the skeletal battle droid that made up his standard appearance was nothing more than a shell, a chassis that his Shard form used to get from point A to point B.
That didn't mean he had to like the stuff.
Still, there were rumors of a potential Shard underground on Manaan. As it was likely to be the last place that anyone would look for them, it made perfect sense for there to be a hidden community here. The old Iron Knight was always looking for those of his race, mainly to offer protection and employment to any who wanted it.
With this in mind, Eralam ambled aimlessly around town, playing the role of sightseer. And if his current chassis gave away the fact that he was a droid and his casual use of the Force made it clear that he was an Iron Knight, what of it?
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Post by Chloro on May 17, 2013 19:28:57 GMT -8
A whistle cut the air. There was a flag, being forcefully waved and a small mob of elderly, near-sighted people. It was too small to be a rally of a sort and far too disciplined. It was a tour group from Corosant, being lead by the fearless leader of rich geriatrics, Kuroro! Times were hard and there was good money to be made carting these walking retirement funds around. Today's schedule was a touch different.
It had been a forced march for the past half-an-hour. The usually benign general was letting those who could not keep up be left behind as they shuffled in hot pursuit of... something... down the winding streets. But finally they overtook their prey and surrounded him. Kuroro gave the piercing war-cry:
"This is the fabled of Iron Knight of galaxy! A sentient droid, he was one of the first...."
The group appreciatively took photos of Eralam - his boots, the lightsaber, a silhouette of him, provocatively posing with him, etcertra etcerta. She was wearing a fishing hat, a pair of sunglasses and a boring summer dress. Would he recognise her? Maybe. But it would useful to know if he was still Eralam...
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Post by Deleted on May 17, 2013 20:01:07 GMT -8
"Well damn.
Being mobbed by old people was most definitely not expected. Not that Eralam had any room to call anyone old. He scanned the crowd, looking for a sign of danger. His photoreceptors paused briefly on a young human woman, the apparent instigator of the octogenarian stampede. She looked familiar, but his memory banks couldn't quite place that face. He had a brief flash of recollection: bandages, explosives...still nothing concrete. To be on the safe side, he decided it would be best to ditch the entourage. He needed a distraction. He needed...
"Look!" he cried, his electronic voice cutting through the chatter. "They're having a sale on commemorative bath products and t-shirts!"
Though it took a moment for the elderly to spin round and have a look, the Shard ducked off onto a side street as soon as he could. He sprinted for a few meters before hiding in a convenient doorway and checking to see if he was followed.
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Post by Chloro on May 18, 2013 0:43:28 GMT -8
Kuroro waited a beat.
"Surprise!"
She shouted from behind him. Doing her best baby monkey impersonation, she had latched on his back when he turned to run. Maybe Eralam needed a sensor check, but then again Kuroro had lost weight. Sliding off him and landing infront of him, she took her glasses and hat off. It would be priceless to see his surprised face. She had a a pair of perfectly matching eyes, a straight-toothed grin, had a shower earlier in the day, no cigarette and no explosives on her person. Most of her scars had faded and he had covered the worst with a layer of makeup - not the disguising kind, but the one meant to enhance appearance.
"Oh my gosh, I'm so happy to see you again Eralam-dono. I thought I'd never see again. I've been out of rehab for a year and I thought I'd look you up, but I've been so busy with work. I've had a stable job now for four months and they've taken me off the pills, so thing have been really great. But it couldn't be better with you here..."
She rattled on how the doctors were calling her a success story, her new career as a tour operator with many opportunities to see the galaxy (hint hint), the easy money, the photos she took last week, how she was otherwise unoccupied. She would have told him her whole life in one breath if he didn't stop her. But curiously, the was no mention of anything that happened before that...
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Post by Deleted on May 18, 2013 13:02:03 GMT -8
With every fiber of his being, Eralam desperately wanted to escape. There were few beings in the galaxy that could scare the old Shard, and even fewer that he'd hesitate to strike down if the need arose. A single blow would snap her fragile little neck. She would be dead and he could be on his way, but something staid his hand. A diminutive human female, nothing special, nothing terrifying in the slightest. And yet...
A flash, an explosion.
A whiff of cigarette smoke.
His memory banks couldn't place the face, but some people leave an impression in the Force, one that no amount of plastic surgery could change, one that registers somewhere deep in the back of the mind.
"Son of a bitch," he muttered, mostly to himself. "Chloro?"
The instinctive fear here was not something that he dredged up from the past. If this was who he thought, then she had been dangerous, but nothing that he couldn't handle. Something had changed. No amount of talk about rehab or jobs could hide the fact that the manic mind in the human body wearing a plain dress and a hat set off his danger sense more than 200 kilos of detonite stuck on a metal rod next to a case of thermal detonators in a lightning storm on Mustafar.
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Post by Chloro on May 18, 2013 22:43:22 GMT -8
"Nihinhinhinin..." Kuroro could not control her new nasal giggle at his surprise. Eralam was an ice-cold droid, but was more human than most. And she saw in him a very real fear, to run, to kill - anything but be here. It was an emotion that she had not elicited from anyone in a long time. There was a heady thrill to seeing it in Eralam. Her giggle turned into a full-throated laugh.
"Son of a bitch," he muttered, mostly to himself. "Chloro?"
"C'mon, let's get out of the street."
Latching onto his forearm, she dragged him across the street and into a nearby coffee shop, ordering two cups before landing Eralam on a seat. She took the opposite seat and paused a moment.
"My name is Kuroro by the way. My real one, at any rate."
She gave him the smile again. Would he understand the metamorphosis that she underwent? Or was just a temporary change from her inherit nature? |
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Post by Deleted on May 18, 2013 23:28:40 GMT -8
And lo, the cause manic whirlwind of humanity in front of him became clear. Someone or something had taken one of the best (if slightly unstable) operatives he had ever known and had, somehow, either rewritten her personality or managed to suppress the original. Or perhaps the original personality had been this bubbly and the Chloro he had met was the result of years of hardship and trauma, and what he was seeing was effectively a factory reset. It was hard to tell and pointless to try. The important thing to remember was that the old Chloro was still in there, and apparently did not want to come to the surface. Besides, this new Kuroro personality seemed pretty harmless, and if his danger sense had spiked when he first saw her, so what? What could she possibly do to hurt the Robot Space Ninja? Best to deal with her, catch up a bit, and move on. That's what the Shard thought best, and that's what he planned to do.
You can imagine his surprise as he broke from his reverie and found himself sitting at a coffee shop. With coffee. It was well known that Eralam could consume liquids, a modification he had installed to allow him to be polite in situations where declining a drink could well cause offense. He took a cautious sip of the liquid, detected no poisons (more of a formality, as toxins meant for organics would be utterly ineffective,) and turned his attention to the conversation at hand.
"Oh, erm, right. Kuroro."
He took another sip, desperately trying to come up with a way to continue the conversation without letting things get too awkward.
"Um, how are you? It's been a while..."
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Post by Chloro on May 19, 2013 0:34:30 GMT -8
There was good reason why Chloro never did small talk, unless it was part of her disguise. She was simply terrible at it. She dredged every bit of triva she could could find and fed it to Eralam. Her interrogator's instincts naturally led her to pick the most mind-numbingly boring topic, besiege it with her incredibly uninspired collection of three syllable words, decimate any possible fun and instill a well-conditioned fear of the topic. The irony was, that she was trying to persuade Eralam to join her in her poorly-calculated retiree-rip-off venture, which was nothing like calculating Brisance ratios. But worst of all, she was sincere. She really felt they could rule tour the galaxy together. All Eralam needed to do was leave (here Kuroro was careful not to mention anything that linked to their past directly) it all behind.
The intensity of her being had not diminished though. And it definiately was not in her words. But rather at the RobotSpaceNinja, whom she still held up as a god. And she was rather attached to that aspect of him. And she had promised, after all. But she needed a moment to visit the facilities and she was sure Eralam wasn't going anywhere.
If Eralam had any doubts that Kuroro was insane, this would be final proof. And if Eralam had any sense, he would run or put Kuroro out of her misery. It was terrifying what a boring life could do to a person.
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Post by Deleted on May 19, 2013 10:45:55 GMT -8
It takes a lot to bore a being that can call itself a rock god with only the barest trace of sarcasm and without referencing music. Eralam was used to events occurring on a geological timescale. Hell, before he broke off from the formation, he was well known for his patience, even among a species that viewed a century the same way that most organics would a Saturday afternoon. He was an excellent assassin, able to wait for days, motionless in conditions that a lesser being would be unable to stand for more than a few minutes without dying.
And yet, when Kuroro headed off to the little psychos' room, he very nearly bolted. It would have been the smart thing to do. The last half hour had strained his patience far past the breaking point, but that was precisely why he stayed. Clearly, there was something of the original Chloro in there; it had been years since he had been so thoroughly interrogated. Never mind that the topics ranged from favorite music to long walks in the park and his inclination to engage in said walks. Eralam was determined to see just how deeply the latent personality was buried.
Eralam reached down to his holstered revolver and used the Force to remove one of the percussion caps from his revolver. He then gently placed the cap under her chair leg. When she sat down, the cap would be crushed, there would be a loud bang and a puff of chemicals, and Eralam would bolt.
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Post by Chloro on May 19, 2013 19:12:02 GMT -8
Kuroro returned, almost floating with glee. There was a heady joy about being around Eralam. She flopped down on the chair - that habit hadn't changed.
The waiter behind her shouted abruptly and before his shout turned to a gurgle. Kuroro was holding him.
Scarcely an instant had past between the shot and Kuroro's pure reflex action to stab him in the thigh, followed a fatal stab through the soft skin under his chin and into his brain. All of which was done with a nail file. And now holding the rapidly exsanguating waiter, Kuroro realised her mistake. It would have been a textbook counter-insurgent operation to off an enemy in a public place, using a civillian cover. Except he had no weapon. Where was the shooter? Holding his body close to her as a shield from the next shot, she realised another thing - she killed someone. Again. Lowering his body, she shouted:
"Oh my god! He's been shot! Call help!"
She began crying hysterically. Hysteria was easier than sadness. Which, she curiously felt none. It was a mistake, nothing more. Someone at the wrong place at the wrong time. She waited until someone removed her from the scene and hopefully she would be gone before someone noticed that there was no bullet wounds...
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Post by Deleted on May 19, 2013 19:21:31 GMT -8
Well now. That was data. Exactly what it meant would have to wait, because Eralam had to think of a way to get them both out of here.
"Chlo-Kuroro, whatever the hell your name is, grab my hand!"
The Shard offered out his right hand to the sobbing female. The left dropped a small flashbang grenade. If she was lucid enough to cooperate, he could have them both out of the restaurant and to safety before the local law enforcement had a chance to respond. It wasn't lost on him that the waiter's death was on his hands, and that he let the man die just to collect a bit of information. There was neither guilt nor remorse; Eralam had killed for far less. There was, however, a sense of responsibility. He'd make the usual discrete checks later for offspring. No need to let his experiment's repercussions go further than they needed.
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Post by Chloro on May 19, 2013 19:37:18 GMT -8
She was perfectly lucid and in control. There was nothing that she was showing that wasn't there for good reason. She took his hand and obediently trailed after him. And was snatching odds and ends off people they past. They would be hard-pressed to catch the shard, that she knew. Waiting until they stopped, Kuroro changed faces. What was big was small, frilly was plain and interesting was now dull.
"I think we'd better skip town. Do you have a ride out of here?"
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Post by Deleted on May 19, 2013 20:22:47 GMT -8
They stopped in an alley near the spaceport.
"I have a ship, but first..."
Eralam slammed his mechanical fist into the wall, hard enough to send splinters of ferrocrete spraying across the narrow alley.
"...What the kriff happened back there? What, exactly, were you thinking?"
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Post by Chloro on May 20, 2013 0:34:37 GMT -8
That was a simple answer - not much. It was a reflex action, honed by years on living by the skin of her teeth. And being out of it for a year or so had not dulled her abilities to swiftly and brutally deliver retribution. Sighing as Eralam chisled the wall, she thought of the real reason why Eralam would be so upset. Admittedly, she had been awfully sloppy. There was the gunman still out there and to boot, she killed the wrong person. Or was he unhappy at her remorse? She tried not to think about that right now. There would be time later for atonement.
"Sorry I failed you. I was so sure it was that waiter. Do you want to find the real shooter?"
And how easily the roles had changed. Not two minutes ago, Kuroro was trying to convince Eralam to leave this life behind and now, without a single word, Eralam had brought Kuroro straight back to the way she was. Best of all, she did it all for him. There was a noble selflessness about it...
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Post by Deleted on May 20, 2013 10:24:35 GMT -8
Eralam sighed and shook his head.
"No, it's not that Chl-Kuroro. You did well. Very well."
Whoever had screwed around with her brain had done a hell of a job. The personalities apparently began to merge under stress. As far as Eralam could tell, they (whoever they might be) had created what should have been the ultimate sleeper agent. Docile and boring under most circumstances, but instantly lethal under the right circumstances. It was an interesting dichotomy, and one he planned to study further.
"What would you say to exploring the galaxy a bit with me? I'm looking for more Shards and could use a good guide."
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Chloro
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Post by Chloro on May 21, 2013 3:14:44 GMT -8
Praise. It was like water in a desert. She needed it so badly that it disappeared before it had a moment to hang in the air. But it also fed a hunger to get more of the stuff. And praise had a notorious tolerance escalation. She exhaled slowly. Surprisingly, it was only Eralam who could get this reaction from her. It would be difficult to kill the droid that laid golden eggs...
"No problem. If shards are attracted to moments of public importance, bath-houses and curio shops - I'm your girl..."
She said the sentence with the deliberateness of an actor rehearsing her lines. She had been reactivated to life - and ready to dispense death. At least for the moment. It had been her experience that indiscriminatingly torching everyone was counter-productive and found it was easier to deal with life from the perspective of a average person. It also made things more enjoyable when she did torch someone.
"... but assuming they're similar to you, I guess conflict would attract them. And I could be your guide there too."
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Post by Deleted on May 21, 2013 10:58:14 GMT -8
"After the Empire started killing them off back in the day, most Shards maintain a fairly low profile."
The ship that they approached took the previous statement, slapped it in the face, and then spit in its eye. Eralam's ship was a medium sized craft, painted a shade of matte black that seemed to completely suck all the light out of the surrounding few feet. It was so black that it scoffed at the idea of illumination. It was, frankly, unhealthy to look at for extended periods of time.
In short, the ship was as inconspicuous as a thermal detonator in a kindergarten class.
"They don't want to stand out and make themselves targets, so they fill in the niche usually filled by droids. Mechanics, cleaners, background stuff."
As he approached the ship, the boarding ramp lowered. A cloud of ominous fog, created purely for dramatic purposes, floated down the ramp.
"They tend to stick together, on the grounds that organics are all fucking crazy. It's easier to be around your own kind."
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Post by Chloro on May 21, 2013 17:25:21 GMT -8
Kuroro gave Eralam a look of wounded pride but was secretly pleased. He saw her as one of them, as one of their own kind. She didn't have much opinion of causes, but there was a magnetic quality to whatever Eralam did. And if it gave her the excuse to trail him around, she would do so gladly.
"Lead on, shepherd of Shards. I'm right behind you..."
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Post by Deleted on May 21, 2013 18:52:13 GMT -8
Eralam strode up the boarding ramp, his cloak billowing impressively behind him. The effect was ruined by the loud CLANG that resulted from his head hitting the entry hatch. The ship was brand new to him, having been inherited from a rather unsavory fellow who fancied himself as a pirate. Eralam had killed the man, and since it was a very new, very nice ship, he decided to adopt it as his own.
"Ok, this thing started life as a luxury yacht, so there are plenty of rooms more suited for organic needs than strictly necessary. I haven't had time for a refit. Feel free to explore, but whatever you do, do not enter anything with a sign that says 'Do Not Enter.' The previous owner was a sick bastard, and I am not going to be held responsible if you end up mentally scarred."
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