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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Ahto City
Jul 15, 2013 12:15:05 GMT -8
via mobile
Post by An Tiarna Dubh on Jul 15, 2013 12:15:05 GMT -8
Mortus a chara here *Handing over his everpresent bottle* & a thousand apologies - quick get Mortus to the... Mortus, the man is sickly in need of booze & that bottle will not do.... *He turned at words spoken to him in many a language many a time simply saying* you speak the tongue?
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Delvin Keets
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Posts: 69
Affiliation: I DON'T HAVE ONE! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
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Post by Delvin Keets on Jul 16, 2013 4:48:32 GMT -8
Avidus's shuttle landed and he disembarked pulling his hood over his face. A selkath followed him keeping quiet. He had nearly forgotten what this planet was like. As he strode toward the beaches he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head. A flashback, his vision clouded and he reached out steadying himself against a wall. Lord Mortus's force signature was strong. Avidus had nearly died at the hand of Lord Mortus many years ago and the memory of that encounter was seared into his brain. He took a few deep breaths and willed the memory to depart. His vision returned and he continued on his way. As he approached An Tirana Dubh's location, he spied several members he hadn't seen in ages. He first greeted Lord Mortus.
"A chara, it has been far far too long since I have seen you. I have brought you an old friend of yours. While you may have forgotten him, he has never forgotten you."
Avidus stepped aside to reveal a Selkath by the name of Su'uko. Su'uko took a long look at Lord Mortus and the passed out from shock. Avidus smiled and then turned his attention to An Tirana Dubh.
"Athair Beannachtaí. It has been many years since we parted. I return now and would like to know when we are going to get down to the business of making enemies and splitting skulls. My blade has been dry for far too long."
The others he would meet later in the Mortus once An Tirana and company decided to head to the bar.
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Lord Magus
The Vegemite Enclave
Fág an Bealach- Clear the way
Posts: 31
Affiliation: Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Lord Magus on Jul 16, 2013 10:39:42 GMT -8
Cormac nodded, still meeting his father's eyes.
"Not expertly, but I have studied as best I could. My name is Cormac, you knew my mother, Lady Jessamy Hejaran of Nightsinger's Orb."
Cormac opened his tunic and bared his chest. The brand over his heart visible to all standing there. His eyes were still locked with those of his long lost father.
"You put this on me after you gave me my name. I have not come for vengeance or birthright or any such thing. I have come so that I may know you, and so that I may learn my heritage and all that it means."
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Gaiscioch Dearg
Adventists of the Eye
Posts: 107
Affiliation: New Order of the Eye - Warriors of the Iron Fists
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Post by Gaiscioch Dearg on Jul 18, 2013 5:48:33 GMT -8
Gaiscioch Dearg took a moment to look around after leaving the spaceport. It had been an uneventful ride down and an even more dull landing. Ahto city was secure, as he had made it, and so there had been absolutely no hassle in getting here. Here to Ahto City, where everything gleamed and nothing ever went wrong. Well that's what the Councilmen told the locals and tourists anyhow. Darkness had come back Manaan however, in the form of himself and the others who had been gathered here. He could feel them, point in their direction even. Manaan was not a place where you hid your force signature. Not unless you were THAT paranoid, or didn't belong here. As odd as it may sound coming from a Sith Lord.. this was a place where members of Óglaigh na Iarndóideanna went to be among friends and family. The hulking Sith Lord actually smiled as he strolled casually through the streets. He had to admit that there were good memories here. Back before he had truly become a Sith. The Warriors had never truly been Sith. No, they had welcomed all types and followed their own religion. To this day An Tiarna Dubh maintained contact with at least one of his Goddesses, but Dearg still swore she was an apparition brought on by that harsh Dantooine shine.
The buildings began to recede as he made his way to one of the many new docks that were already forming up around the massive city. The beach had been rebuilt long ago by Lord Iniquitous. One of his oldest brothers in arms. It had not taken long for him to join An Tiarna as a War Chieftain back in the day. Even after the Iron Fists had all gone their separate ways he had maintained the beach. Old loyalties died hard in some men it seemed. Dearg was grateful; his old master probably would have put him in charge of rebuilding that as well. Like he had not been given enough to do once he got here. Sometimes he hated not actually being the brute most thought he was. Brute's weren't given the mundane tasks of running planets and empires. Former Kings and Generals however.. His head shook as he boarded a watercourse craft designed to take him to the beach. The others were gathered there. Gathering at that old relic, the Mortus. Gaiscioch Dearg refused to believe for even a moment that it was the original. They themselves had torn the rickety building down on more than one occasion. It was always rebuilt according to tradition though. No shiny durasteel walls, complete with automatic doors and screens. It was natural. Everything about it had been built by hand. By loving, drunken, hands. Stepping off the boat and seeing it felt like coming home. He had to be careful.. he had stopped letting himself feel such things years ago. Full lives ago.
God you've all gotten old..
He couldn't help it. Just being on the damn planet made him feel like he was back in his original life. His original body. It was partially true though. While not truly "old" the others had aged while Gaiscioch Dearg had appeared not to. One of the few silver linings in having died and been reanimated in clone bodies. He himself still looked much as he had back then, if maybe only ten years older. Eight feet tall, his whole body had been designed by the Sith Military. Plenty of muscle, that had been slowed down at all. The man may look like a house, but he was as fast a Duxn malraas. His lips quirked in a grin as he took in the men of his past. Some were terrifying to look at, others went through great lengths to appear plain. All of them were just as dangerous as he. Some, in the case of Mortus, were probably much more dangerous. Deargs eyes lingered on the one he didn't know. This one was new, never seen before by him. He had the look of his master about him though. Gaiscioch Dearg turned his eyes over to An Tiarna Dubh. Doubtless this was another son. Just another of the countless brood of the man. It was a wonder it hadn't fallen off yet.
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An Tiarna Dubh
Member
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 Jul 19, 2013 14:56:13 GMT -8
*The old man possessed an extraordinary memory given his massive alcohol consumption. Conor he remembered but a welp in his giant hand being tattooed. His mother too he remembered fondly & responded to the young man quickly* You will be in for a quick introduction to the ways of the Dubh indeed.... *Looking to Mortus he spoke in deep respect to his old friend* A chara we did a piss poor job protecting your planet.... The IF may call Manaan home but a chara it belongs to you & you alone.... Only by means of tragic fate have we been able to return it into your hands. & given that i have managed to make enemy of almost the entire bloody universe you may wish that we leave. As a friend I would follow such request.... Others here too may wish to turn your back on a dying beast. I myself am too stubborn to do such. *Taking his bottle in hand he looked at it as if what would answer all questions. It would not but would allow time for others to respond before he launched into another agonizing speech which would invariably end by declaring IF action as could be expected; doing exactly what was not expected of them* I will finish this bottle already havin figured out the direction the IF will go in but leave time for all to respond to what I have said. the failure of many of our kind to hail my call is in itself an answer. *The old man nursed the bottle awaiting responses*
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Delvin Keets
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Posts: 69
Affiliation: I DON'T HAVE ONE! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
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Post by Delvin Keets on Jul 19, 2013 16:50:15 GMT -8
Avidus smiled
"Dearg! I thought you were with the beyond! How have you been?"
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An Tiarna Dubh
Member
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
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by An Tiarna Dubh on Jul 19, 2013 21:45:49 GMT -8
*An Tiarna reacted to Aivudus outburst in the middle of serious business was sharp & thunderous* Avividus is that in some way an answer put forward.... If you claim to be a part of organized crime none in the galaxy need fear theft of a fork. knock off the foolishness until this meeting ends! *The Old Man left no room for argument nor would he tolerate any*
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Lord Nexus
The Vegemite Enclave
Posts: 174
Affiliation: Chaos
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Post by Lord Nexus on Jul 22, 2013 11:14:28 GMT -8
Nexus looked on at the men who were once his brothers in arms, his expressions hidden behind the visor of his helmet. He looked at Dearg, the man who was once a brother, then a stranger, then a corpse, and now a stranger once more. He looked to Avidus, the strange mummer of the group who possessed a deadly edge, often concealed through his acts of tom foolery. Then he looked to Mortus, who was but a stranger to him. While a stranger, Nexus noted An Tiarna's respect for the man, and that was good enough for him to be content with. Then he looked at Cormac, one of the many spawn of Dubh- the war lord had seen them come and go but never did they remain. Perhaps this one would be different.
Then his eyes came to the big man himself. An Tiarna's was an intimidating sight to most- with a fierce physique, fiercer personality and fiercest drinking habits. Nexus had been the greatest of friends with this man, and the greatest of enemies- that was why he was so willing to follow him. He let his eyes settle on the Ard Ri for several moments before looking around at the encampment. He smirked- glad to see the unnecessary luxuries done away with. All the Lord of Chaos sought to have was his weapons and his armor, everything else was expendable. After a few moments of silence, he reached up and pulled his helmet free from his face, revealing a man that was unfamiliar to most- though An Tiarna knew that Nexus was a man of many faces, and probably wouldn't be surprised.
No longer was he the Arkanian brute, born of Dace Concordia- now he was smaller and more lithe. Instead of his notable silver hair, his hair was as dark as obsidian, though his eyes remained the same. Those haunting, ice blue eyes. The eyes of a monster.
"So, when will we get to smashing?"
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Lord Magus
The Vegemite Enclave
Fág an Bealach- Clear the way
Posts: 31
Affiliation: Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Lord Magus on Jul 22, 2013 14:34:09 GMT -8
Cormac did not bow, still searching his father's features. They had some resemblance, he thought, though naturally the elder dubh had a good deal more evidence of hard living on him. Still, there was something of kinship in his father's face. Cormac laced his shirt back up, and smiled than, and addressed his King.
"I have come to learn and serve. I have come to earn my place among my father's people. I am at your command my king."
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Zenchou Piteos
Member
It's all for deception.
Posts: 149
Affiliation: What's yours?
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Post by Zenchou Piteos on Jul 28, 2013 22:48:03 GMT -8
*A man wrapped in a dark black cloak walks the streets of the bustling city. His face shrouded deeply in the shadows cast from the hood of his robe, and the only sign of what this man's profession may be is a single edged curved blade strapped across his back with the hilt barely visible jutting over his right shoulder. He was here for business, not pleasure, and not business in the sense of coin. This man's business was that of blood, and information.*
*Standing outside of what one would only assume to be a drinking establishment the man paused in consideration. He had been gone for so long, hidden away in solitude of practice and meditation. He didn't pause out of worry or fret, but out of calculation. It had been years, or he assumed so, since he had last made himself known. With so much time having past and with his complete disregard for the calls his brother made, he could only assume that things had changed in the winds of time. However he had his own mission, desires, and dreams to accomplish. He would see his idea take form, and if he should fail in converting the denizens of the universe to his ideology he would spend an eternity slaughtering each and every foe that stood between him and his goals.*
*He pushes the door open and strides in, silver eyes flicking from one individual to the next. Pausing only long enough to memorize key facial features, such as nose length and brow width. He was thorough, thorough as usual and just as paranoid as he had been when he was mortal. But the time for playing a hidden deity was over, now he was to act. Now he was to use his katana as a judge would use a gavel and pound on their self righteous podium. He was here to kill, perhaps not in this bar but the smell of blood lingered in the air not far from where he was.*
"A single bottle of imported Rishii wine" *The hooded man said as he slid into a bar stool in the most shadowy of spots he could find. Drawing back his hood, he revealed his stark silver hair and almost playful facial expression. Should any here recognize the man that now sat at the bar, they would know that the kind expression was merely one of sadistic expectations from a Sith sorcerer that had tipped many scales in the galactic playing field. He knew that his brother would not be far, but he would wait until all cards had been shown before actively beginning his crusade against the galaxy.*
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Zenchou Piteos
Member
It's all for deception.
Posts: 149
Affiliation: What's yours?
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Post by Zenchou Piteos on Jul 29, 2013 21:12:27 GMT -8
*Piteos had noticed many familiar faces upon entering, it seems as if he had almost stumbled into a meeting of sorts. However with such a lengthy absence he would keep his distance for now, knowning how touchy the Dubh family was, and to not make bold or rash moves when encountering them he chose to instead wait until acknowledged. He sipped the wine, the taste was dull, not due to low quality or tolerance, but from the taste buds in his mouth long since being dead.*
*He brought his right hand up and ran it over his face and through his silver hair. He was bored, he longed for blood, he wished for war, and prayed for calamity. He knew that out of anywhere in the galaxy this was just the place to find it. At the heart of the Iron Fists' planet, in a room full of men longing for sanguine liquid as much as himself. He would stage it here, he would begin to turn the tides of the universe from this simple bar. And it couldn't be any more poetic than that. A galaxy wide war, starting from humble and simple beginnings.*
*He caught the lingering gazes of many harlots in the bar, surely they could tell from the quality of silk of his clothes and his loner attitude that he might make a good John. Half tempted to tease one of the women into thinking they had found a wealthy client and lure them into a secluded spot before killing them he sent a wink to one. She smiled back and slowly moved towards him. His interest however was lost immediately when he caught sight of his brother. An Tiarna, a man who had been missing even before himself, only now did he realize that the force had truly smiled upon him in regards to his goal of spreading his mandate.*
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Deadniquitous
Retired High Councilor 
I AM THE LAW!! Wait.....wrong movie. Sorry.
Posts: 182
Affiliation: The Force
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Post by Deadniquitous on Aug 13, 2013 14:29:24 GMT -8
At a darkened booth in the corner a blue glowing figure appeared, his eyes a brighter blue than his ghostly form. Dace Concordia. Former Jedi. Former Dark Lord. Former Emperor. Former asshat depending on who you asked. He arched a rather dead eyebrow at those gathered, most of them still having their backs to him. He stood. Or flowed. Maybe he just was......And walked to those gathered. He poked his head of Nexus shoulder and looked his little brother Dead in the eye....
"Jesus you are ugly. Thought you were dead."
He pointed a finger back behind him at Piteos and nearly laughed
"Look what the cat dragged out. Pit little brother....Where have you been? You see Tiarna? You come back from the Force only knows where, and everyone shows up to Party...."
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Zenchou Piteos
Member
It's all for deception.
Posts: 149
Affiliation: What's yours?
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Post by Zenchou Piteos on Sept 5, 2013 0:35:00 GMT -8
Silent Piteos nods to his brothers words. Not much ever for being social, and whenever social he had best be watched. A trickster, thief, and liar was possible his better qualities. Piteos waves to the bar keep for a beverage. After it is delivered and he takes down a few sips he finally turns facing his older brother Dace, his twisted smile spread across his face, his hollow silver eyes mocking the happy face he himself wore.
"Well, I should enjoy a party some times should I not?" His silver eyes flicked about the group and then to the door he was facing, watching, guarding. Ever paranoid, for his own reasons, Piteos never would sit with his back towards an entrance. He wanted to see who entered, who left, and from there he would watch his surroundings.
"I have been here, Rishi, my ship, and resting." His voice seemed to care little of the conversation, for the individual spoken to. In truth Piteos cared for nothing, not even his own self, while hypocritical he sat there thinking of his phylactery.
Piteos looked then about the room seeing if his brother, whom at one point he had been at odds with. He could not seem to see him, and perhaps that was more due to where he was sitting or where he wasn't looking.
"So did I stumble here by chance, or by fate? That is my question?" His eyes showed a more serious tone, Piteos obviously longed for more than meditation and practice but for blood.
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Haytham
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Posts: 23
Affiliation: To be determined
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Post by Haytham on Sept 22, 2013 14:50:19 GMT -8
The flight to Ahto city was uneventful. Coordinates of the numerous public spaceports throughout the city were available on the holonet; Haytham chose one at random which happened to be located in the East Central district. As the Kazellis-class freighter settled into its berth, he settled his DL-44 into the holster on his left thigh, tightened his blade in its scabbard, and exited the ship. The spaceport was crowded, mostly with off-worlders or at least non-Selkath. In fact, the only natives he could spot were mechanics, dockworkers, and other employees and officials. It was Haytham's first time seeing one of the amphibious sentients in person, though he had done some studying on the planet's history during the long hyperspace journey here. Tucking his hands in his pockets, the mercenary strolled languidly through the crowd, observing the roiling mass of sentients with careful disinterest. He was stopped at the gate that lead into the city by a Selkath wearing a black flightsuit and holding a datapad.
"Name and reason for visiting Ahto City?" It asked in bored, garbled basic.
Haytham neglected to reply for a long moment while he studied the Mark IV assault droid looming nearby, obviously meant to guard the entrance to the city. The Selkath sure took their docking fees seriously, he mused with a low whistle of appreciation. Flashing the dockworker a crooked smile when he looked up with what the mercenary assumed was an expression of irritation, Haytham shrugged. "Keagen Frell, just here to rendezvous with a business associate of mine."
The dockworker looked him up and down, his eyes lingering on the pistol strapped to his leg and the blade sheathed across his back. "Mr. Frell I feel I should mention that Ahto City has very strict anti-violence laws in place. The penalties can be quite harsh."
"I understand," Haytham replied with an indulgent smile. "As I said, I'm here to discuss business, not to conduct it."
"Mhmm." The Selkath looked rather unconvinced, but after a moment's hesitation began entering his information into the datapad he carried. "Very well then, that just leaves the matter of your docking fee."
It ended up costing him one-hundred credits even to rent the berth for three days, but he didn't mind. His funds were not inconsiderable, and it was an insignificant sum of credits in comparison to the bounty on his target. If the mercenary could turn up some clue as to Hiro's location here on Manaan, it would be a paltry investment into an enormous payoff. Turning up that information wouldn't exactly be easy, but he wasn't anticipating the search to take longer than two days at the most. While Ahto City was crawling with offworlders and tourists, it was the only place on the entire planet any non-Selkath were likely to be. Still, the youth observed from his position just inside the city gates, the city was rather massive: he could barely see through the crowded streets to the opposite wall, and that wasn't even Ahto City's outer wall, but simply one demarcating the separate districts. Cracking his neck and blowing out an exasperated huff, Haytham joined the crowd.
Later that evening he found himself in the Moortide Inn, a small but modern hotel that boasted a few dozen rooms, a restaurant and bar, and a lounge area. The attendant at the desk nervously inquired after his weapons, but seemed slightly comforted by Haytham's solemn promise to store them in his room for the duration of his stay. True to his word he left his blaster pistol and ninjato in the room's safe. He did, however, secure a vibro-shiv in a discreet sheath on his forearm, beneath the tough sleeve of his fiber armor. He also neglected to remove his gauntlets, which really fell more under the category of, "self-defense appliance" than, "weapon". In his room he contacted Blaise, a Weequay based off of Nar Shadaa that was widely regarded as a jack of all trades in the criminal underworld. Blaise promised to put him in contact with a reliable information broker operating out of Manaan, and make an appointment to meet him the following day- for a fee, of course.
Deciding he'd done all he could for the day, the mercenary retired to the hotel bar to drink until he was tired enough to sleep.
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Post by Darth Ocious on Sept 24, 2013 11:14:58 GMT -8
* The Moortide Inn of Ahto City. You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and-- wait, that's not right. Moortide Inn, it's actually quite nice.
I make my way inside long after I have relinquished my hold on Shatterpoint due to mental fatigue. Like trying to keep your fist clenched tightly around a bag, which you eventually realize can be slung over your shoulder, it seems to me that it wasn't necessary or beneficial to maintain the effort. Argue all you like that it is good practice, but even professional athletes take their time of rest. This is such an occasion to me.
Besides, this is my first voyage in as long as I can remember that I have made absent from the plans of the eye. It is ...a little disconcerting, to be honest. Whenever the eye drops me somewhere, I know that there is a purpose. Whether or not it is immediately apparent is a question unto itself, but I can rest assured that I will, eventually, come to know the role I must play in the plans of the Dark Side.
This is different.
...Or is it?
While the eye is unnaturally in-touch with the inner workings of the Dark Side, and uses me as a tool in a very direct fashion, I guess I would be lying if I said that the Dark Side was absent, just because the eye is not with me. Instead...there's no difference, really. While the tangible reassurance of a mission is nice, it does not preclude the existence of a purpose for me on Manaan, too.
All's ready to be discovered in time.
Only let me find it.*
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Haytham
Member
Posts: 23
Affiliation: To be determined
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Post by Haytham on Oct 5, 2013 14:36:12 GMT -8
He noticed the man as soon as he entered the building; how could he not? His force signature was quite strong, marking him as sensitive, and furthermore it held the kind of refinement that only comes with considerable training. When your line of work holds the constant threat of death, you stop believing in coincidences, chance, or 'the will of the force'. You begin to see everything for what it truly is: a threat. Haytham's eyes narrowed, but beyond that he made no move other than to sip his drink.
Briefly he entertained the thought of fleeing, but ultimately decided against it. He couldn't leave the planet until after he'd met with the information broker anyway, and he'd rather not have to spend his time looking over his shoulder. 'Best get this over with,' Haytham mused, finishing his drink.
The Sorrussian mercenary was seated at the bar, along with three other sentients, all of whom were Selkath. Ironic, that the very reason he had decided to search here, would make it impossible for him to slip away from whomever had just come through the door. Dressed in his olive-toned fiber armor and gauntlets, he stuck out like a sore thumb among this soft, upper-class crowd. They'd been giving him looks of disdain all night. At least, Haytham assumed they were looks of disdain: he wasn't particularly adept at reading Selkath expressions.
Swiveling on the stool to face the doorway, he leaned back and lounged against the bar with his arms resting atop it.
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Zenchou Piteos
Member
It's all for deception.
Posts: 149
Affiliation: What's yours?
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Post by Zenchou Piteos on Oct 9, 2013 11:05:51 GMT -8
*Piteos stood from his stool and looked about at the gathered men that he had briefly spoken to.* "You know how to reach me. " * He walked out of the bar and headed towards the spaceport. His TIE/D Defender would be waiting for him. After showing his identification to the personnel at the Spaceport's entrance kiosk he headed down to the bay where his starfighter was waiting for him.*
*Moments having passed after Piteos had embarked into his vessel, and the engines were screaming with life. Shortly after the engines had been burning the ship lifted up off of the ground and rocketed into orbit.*
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Ash'ad
Member
Posts: 9
Affiliation: Mandalorians
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Post by Ash'ad on Feb 19, 2014 6:19:33 GMT -8
The Rodian's skin was flushed an odd colour, reflecting the state of his nerves. Glancing aound desperatly, he sought a way out of the situation he had found himself in, but the bar her had chosen was the wrong one for help. No patrons remained at any of the tables next to the small corner booth where he sat, and all the others seemed very intent on their drinks. Located in a shady part of the city, happenings such as these weren't uncommon, and everyone knew to ignore what was happening.
Under her helmet, Ash'ad smiled softly. It was perfectly understandable for the Rodian, criminal though he was, to be nervous. On his one side and behind him, he had the solid metal of the bar walls, and on the other was the solid metal of a suit of beskar wrapped around a very large Wookiee. The only way out for him was directly across the table, and that would land him in the red beskar plated lap of an irate Togruta. No an enviable position to be in for this one. The mechanical voicebox that Ash used gave her a toneless, flat sound, almost completely devoid of emotion.
"You see, you told us it would be simple. Get in and get out."
Ash leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table, and surreptitiously shifting her armour. The plates were well fitted, but designed as they were to disguise any trace of her gender, they sometimes sat in a slightly uncomfortable manner across her chest or shoulders. A short, wickedly curved blade rasped gently against its sheath, sliding into view over the table. The blade made small clicking sounds as Ash rolled it across her knuckles and flipped it around between her fingers.
"Just grab the cargo, right?"
The Rodian nodded nervously, and his voice held the edge of panic in it when he managed to voice any noise out.
<Yes, yes, cargo, yes. Get the cargo, bring it to my ship. All the cargo, all the pay. Not one would stop you, i's all been payed for. Just get the cargo....>
The knife left a thin bloody line as it sunk into the wall next to the Rodian's head, and his voice ended with a faint squeek of terror. Despite her mechanical voice, the sheer anger forced its way through, putting a rough edge on her voice.
"PEOPLE AREN'T CARGO!" |
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Feb 19, 2014 21:05:00 GMT -8
*The seediest of places gathered like-minded individuals. Those who wished to remain off grid usually chose the under bellies of certain cities. For some, more than most, stuck to the shadows. Anonymity amongst the faceless and obscure. Which was a good thing, considering the new social stigma attached to anyone wearing beskar'gam. Especially gold beskar'gam. Normally he'd be getting evil looks at every turn, but nowadays it was twice as bad. Before his "tragedy" he would have cared. He barely felt anything these days. The numbness implant he had worked well. Too well. But it did have it's benefits. All his new "toys" did. Even his cursed AI that came with a swift 78B Vessel courier system had it's purpose. ::Correction. The assistance given has more than just purpose. Time and again ego dismisses the true function.:: Abe would politely tel it to remain quiet, but realizes the futility. Two minds weren't a bad thing. If it just wouldn't try to take over so damn much. Abe walked inside with his buy'ce tucked under his arm. His suppressed Verpine shatter rifle carried over his shoulder. He stops just inside the doorway. His Hi-sense eyes scanning the room looking for his contact. An old ally from before Ashrah became Mand'alor. Quickly he spots trouble taking place and recognizes his contact. It wasn't hard to spot, two vode giving a rodian trouble was hard to miss. He could pick up their conversation from across the room. Old habits die hard as Ash'ad still has a particular distaste for slavers. Abe stays just out of range but watches intently. Wondering just how long Ash'ad is going to toy with the hut'uun slaver before he's turned into a greasy smear on the wall that would pass for modern art.*
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Ash'ad
Member
Posts: 9
Affiliation: Mandalorians
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Post by Ash'ad on Feb 20, 2014 5:55:04 GMT -8
Kromwoyrr, the Wookiee seated next to the Rodian, rumbled and growled softly, voicing his opinion on the slaver. Ash tilted her head slightly, considering before answering him. It was not that she needed time to decide what to do to a slaver, but rather that she still had some trouble understanding Krom. The noises he made were Shyriiwook, but the words the noises formed were Mando'a. Ash replied in the Mandalorian tongue, so the Rodian would have nothing to go on in attempting to translate Krom's words.
<Hmmm, good idea Krom. Go for it.>
Krom growled happily, and reached over to the Rodian. His big paw easily lifted the slaver out of his seat, and pinned him laying face up across the table. Ash leaned over to stare directly into the unfortunate being eyes, and held up a small metal device.
"This is a shock implant that has been set to go off if it comes within ten metres of a slave collar or another shock implant of any type. If I have to come back here, I'll stick so many of these in uncomfortable places that you'll think you're about to give birth to a 'droid. Understand?"
The Rodian nodded fearfull, having no doubt seen the debilitatingly painful effects of even a single shock implant. Ash slipped the implant out of sight, then laced her fingers together under the Rodian's jaw, cutting off his air, and nodded at Krom. The Wookiee grabbed the slaver at his shoulder and wrist, shifted his weight forward, and with a muffled popping noise, broke every bone in the Rodian's arm. Unable to do much more than moan faintly past Ash's choke-hold, the Rodian's eyes glazed over in pain as the red helmet loomed forward to fill his view again.
"Just so you don't forget us." |
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