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Garang
Apr 9, 2013 6:53:02 GMT -8
Post by Shaman Odin Alfodr on Apr 9, 2013 6:53:02 GMT -8
*Garang was the capital city and trading hub of Dantooine. It's spaceport handled the planet's exportation of foodstuffs.*
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Garang
May 8, 2013 9:15:14 GMT -8
Post by Death's Cohort on May 8, 2013 9:15:14 GMT -8
The planetary fleet of five Dreadnaught-class heavy cruisers and five Carrack-class light cruisers and ninety-five outdated ARC-170 starfighters sits in drydock not far from the town, undergoing maintenance work. All of the cruiser class ships have been modified to accomadate a hangar. The Dreadnaughts can carry tthirteen starfighters, and the Carracks can carry six starfighters in a modular hangar bay.
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Garang
May 12, 2013 11:37:06 GMT -8
Post by Death's Cohort on May 12, 2013 11:37:06 GMT -8
The ships, having completed their repairs, launch themselves back into space. The drydock workers relax, and continue refitting the odd jobs that they have.
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Garang
Oct 28, 2014 19:38:10 GMT -8
Post by Death's Cohort on Oct 28, 2014 19:38:10 GMT -8
--The Governor's Office-- Governor Ellis Spencer paces in front of his desk."Fierfek. How in the essence of the Force is the 'Valiant's' weapons control centers failing again? Can we get a repair crew up there to fix it?" Deputy Governor Lina Delacroix glances at several reports. A team is on it's way up now, but, as usual, we're running low on replacement parts for... well, just about everything we could need repaired. The shipyards and drydock are running at about two percent capacity. Almost all of the farms are short-handed, so our produce, not to mention the exports. The economy keeps getting worse every month. |
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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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Garang
Oct 6, 2015 13:14:13 GMT -8
Post by Adi on Oct 6, 2015 13:14:13 GMT -8
At the bar of a local watering hole, a weathered-faced, middle aged man was relaxing, cold bottle of beer with a yellow label in his hand. A small tailless cat was curled up on the barstool beside him, fast asleep. In between sips of his beverage, the man would reach down, petting the cat's head. Around them, the bar was hopping with activity. Patrons of all walks of life went about their business. Some were getting quietly plastered, while still others were sitting in groups of two or three, celebrating this thing or that. Several off-duty local security agents also were sitting in the back corner, being a little unruly in their revelry.
Basically, it was a great day to be the owner of this establishment so far today.
This man had been in the bar since morning. He had nothing better to do, anyway...He really didn't have anyplace else pressing to go. Of the many patrons in the bar, there were a few that had caught his notice. Sitting down a ways, in another booth was a Zabrak woman and a human male. Not unusual in any way, but a zabrak was, at least in this part of the Universe. Another sip of beer, and the man turned around, facing the bar. It -was- a good crowd in here, and the jukebox continued pumping out rock tunes, with the occasional odd acoustic tune popping through once in a while. He continued to observe the goings on around him, silently chuckling at a drunken woman dancing like a fool, but thinking she was a pro. That was damn well not the case, as she was stumbling and falling over her own feet, let alone the others trying to dance around her. Several young men were trying to gain her attention, but in her inebriated state, she had not noticed. Gulping down the rest of the beer, the man glanced back down the bar, where the security guards were getting drunker, louder, and more boisterous. It could be heard that they had subdued some old man earlier that day using far more force than they had to. Each part of the tale elicited a laugh from the group, thoroughly enjoying hearing about the beat-down handed to the elderly gentleman. Apparently, the only offense he had committed was trying to negotiate a better deal for some vegetables. Then again, the men in the group looked like the type that would enjoy brutalizing those that were weaker than them, the ones not able to defend themselves properly, picking on the ones that they knew were too scared to do anything about it. Just basic thugs, more than likely hired because they were big and strong, not necessarily for their ability to think.
They were, most certainly, not planetary security. Probably the lackeys of some corrupt politician attempting to further his ambitions through intimidation. Hell, the tables around them were notably empty, a sign that anyone close to them got a taste of their love of bullying. Before turning back around to the bar to order another beer, the man caught the eyes of one of the "security officers" briefly, shook his head, and spun back around to the bar. The cat's head came up for only a moment as its master waved for the bartender to come his way. As the bartender approached, the feline laid its head back down on its paws, but did not close its eyes. It, too, was observing the goings on, as only a cat can, nose, ears and whiskers twitching at each new sound and smell that rolled their way with the disinterested look that was part of its normal countenance. Typical cat, to be sure.
Reaching into his pocket, the man pulled out a hand-rolled smoke, and a lighter. Putting the cig to his lips, he flicked the lighter, and ignited it, taking a long pull. He held it for a few seconds, and exhaled, a large cloud of pungent smoke exiting his lungs. A relaxed smile slipped across his face as the last remnants of smoke cleared from around him, and he repeated the action three more times. Another patron sitting beside him also smiled as the smoke slipped past his face. Being courteous, the cig was offered to the neighbor, and he proceeded to take a couple of hits from the smoke, the smile growing far more broad.
"That's pretty good stuff, my man. Thank you." A nod was given, and the smoke was handed back. The neighbor, now properly stoned, moved back to his group, leaving an open seat. Going back to his beer, the mysterious gentleman allowed the world to blur by as he attempted to forget his troubles in the universe as he continued to puff on the joint....
....forgotten, if only for a few hours, at least...
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Garang
Oct 6, 2015 14:29:36 GMT -8
Post by The Shadow King on Oct 6, 2015 14:29:36 GMT -8
The man that entered next very clearly did not belong. Where many of the patrons clothes were well-worn and seemed used to a hard day's work on the farm, this man's suit was both impeccably clean and very well-tailored. The entire light grey ensemble fit him just as well as the black gloves that covered his hands. He was a slender man, though not in a sense that would lead one to believe he was a weakling, and he moved with cat-like grace and an almost machine-like precision. His eyes swept over the room once before settling on the booth with the Zabrak and the human, and he slipped easily through the room and took a seat opposite them. His hands rested on the table top with his fingers interlaced, and his posture never relaxed.
"My name is Alistair. Are you the captain of the vessel designated The Loki?"
It was almost more statement than question, as if he already knew the answer and merely needed the verbal confirmation to proceed.
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Loki
Crew of the Wayward Son
Posts: 238
Affiliation: The Crew of the Wayward son & Zadea Ordo
Traffic Light: Green
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Garang
Oct 6, 2015 18:40:17 GMT -8
Post by Loki on Oct 6, 2015 18:40:17 GMT -8
Looking from Rexana, to the man seated across from him Derik smirked taking a sip of his drink. "Maybe, maybe not, depends on who's asking. A little bit forward aren't you."Derik said looking around the bar, his eyes taking in everything from the off duty security forces to the people on the dance floor."I don't really care for your tone pal, so why not ease up?" Derik said turning his attention back to the man.
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Garang
Oct 6, 2015 18:53:21 GMT -8
Post by The Shadow King on Oct 6, 2015 18:53:21 GMT -8
Alistair blinked once at the man's response, he'd heard people found it unnatural if you didn't, then reached into his suit jacket and withdrew a small 10,000 credit chit and placed it on the table. He slid it calmly over to the human's side, then once again folded his hands in front of himself. "Is that how you speak to your future employer? I have a job, and a man to do it. What I do not have is the man to get him there. Consider that a retainer fee." He paused to let the man mull it over for a moment, but only a moment. "Do you want the job or shall I find someone else?"
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Loki
Crew of the Wayward Son
Posts: 238
Affiliation: The Crew of the Wayward son & Zadea Ordo
Traffic Light: Green
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Garang
Oct 7, 2015 18:48:29 GMT -8
Post by Loki on Oct 7, 2015 18:48:29 GMT -8
Derik blinks at the man, looking from him to the credit chit, then back again."Ten thousand, for what exactly? That's a lot of dough sitting there.?" Derik looked at the bar wondering who was listening in, and who could care less. Derik looks back to the man."You've got your pilot, just relax a little I wouldn't wanna have to shoot somebody today."Derik said winking at Alaistir
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Garang
Oct 9, 2015 9:57:37 GMT -8
Post by The Shadow King on Oct 9, 2015 9:57:37 GMT -8
"Excellent! As I said, it's a retainer fee. We do not expect you to work for us exclusively, but we will expect that our needs will take priority over those of your other customers. As for the job itself..." He reached into an inner jacket pocket and withdrew a small device, setting it on the table between them and depressing the activation switch. The moment the power light came on, the sounds from the bar ceased and the view distorted subtly. Not enough disruption for the general crowd to notice, but enough to make discerning the conversation nearly impossible even for a lip-reader. "...you'll be breaking onto a bulk freighter in order to steal a holocron encased within a prototype droid chassis. Since we want both the droid and the holocron intact, we have hired a specialist to verify the presence of the holocron one the droid is located. We do not know where in the hold it will be, but that should be easy enough to determine from the manifest. Once you have the droid, you will bring it to these coordinates." He pulled a datapad from the opposite jacket pocket and slid it across the table. "That datapad also contains the details of the freighter's itinerary, and the best time to strike. Once we've confirmed the delivery, you'll receive a deposit of one hundred thousand credits for job completion. The ten thousand should cover expenses until then, and if you wish to remain one of our preferred contractors after this job, you'll receive a deposit for that sum once every three months." Then, without waiting for a reply, he deactivated the audio/visual distortion device and replaced it in his pocket. "I would also recommend you hire a team. The freighter in question will be docked at The Wheel, and they don't very much like thieves."
Then he turned to go, and immediately decided to remain seated instead, and bide his time while the clearly developing situation resolved itself. No need to become part of this scene unless he was directly attacked.
On the far side of the room, one of the increasingly more inebriated security guards had taken issue with the man with the feline companion, and finally decided to do something about it. Nobody looked at him with disinterested disgust and got away with it, no one! He was gonna teach that punk a lesson, and his buddies were gonna back him up. Though he still asked them if they would just to make sure. That blonde freak might be a punk, but he was a punk that looked like he could handle himself. All seven of the securithugs rose nearly in unison, forcing their way through the room and knocking several other patrons out of their way as they went until they stood in a semi-circle behind the blonde punk.
"'ey you! Who the 'ell do you think you are?"
The blonde didn't move.
"'EY! I'M TALKIN TO YOU!"
Typical bully. Couldn't stand to be disrespected or ignored while those were the only things he did to others.
"Grab 'is arms and spin 'im around. I wanna see 'is face when I kick 'is kriffin ass."
Ever the dutiful friends, two of the also fairly inebriated securithugs moved forward to do just that.
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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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Garang
Oct 9, 2015 10:28:54 GMT -8
Post by Adi on Oct 9, 2015 10:28:54 GMT -8
"Huh?"
For some odd reason, one of the inebriated security troopers seemed to be addressing him. Why, he didn't know, but now, they were coming this way.
"'EY! I'M TALKIN TO YOU!"
'Great. Here they come....just what I needed.'
The thought rang through the mysterious man's mind, as he simply went back to his drink. Looking over to the cat, he nodded his head in an upward direction. The cat jumped off the barstool, and headed in the opposite direction from the incoming thugs. It jogged over to an area where it could make it up on a windowsill, up onto a shelf, and then into the rafters of the establishment, vanishing into the shadows. No sooner had the cat made its way down, two of the troopers stood behind the unknown man, following orders to 'turn him around'. One of the drunk troopers clamped his hand down on the blonde man's shoulder.
"Don't make this hard on yourself, mate. Just take it like a man."
"I'm only going to say this once. Remove your hand, pal, or you wont have it for very long. First, final, and ONLY warning."
A chuckle escaped the trooper's lips, and another man stepped up, also clamping his hand on the blonde's other shoulder. This put them on either side of their intended bullying target. A heavy sigh escaped the mystery man's throat, and he closed his eyes for a split second. He really wished he didn't have to do this....
In one very rapid movement, he threw his elbows back, hitting both of the bullying troopers directly in the gut. Doubling over, each man caught a fist as it snapped up toward their faces. Now, with the lone guy reaching behind and grabbing the backs of their heads, they found their heads moving downward, as they were slammed off the heavy wooden bartop. One of their noses exploded, sending a fine spray of blood everywhere. Spinning on his barstool, the blonde man hopped off the stool in one motion, extending his right leg. When they had slammed into the bar, the impact force of their heads snapping back from the bounce, mixed with the massive blow to the head, sent them backwards. The momentum from the spinning stool caused a powerful rotation in the maneuver, and the men stumbling backward, the kick connected heavily. Both of them were sent flying with the one fluid, flying kick. They ended up in a heap about ten feet from where they had started, knocked out cold. The whole interaction had taken less than five seconds.
The man landed, staring right at the one who had given the orders to attack.
"Anyone else feeling froggy tonight?"
Glaring with an icy stare, the blonde mystery man snapped into a very practiced stance. He knew they weren't going to give up that easily. Apparently, it was time to take out the trash.
All five remaining thugs slowly approached the apparent interloper, moving back and forth amongst and around one another. This was a tactic to try and confuse their opponent with movement, and use their numbers to their advantage. As they drew closer, they began to encircle the stranger, attempting to surround the blonde man and cut off his escape. Gone were the jokes, the sneering laughs...they knew they had someone tougher than they initially thought on their hands....
One of the men grew bold, and rushed in, thinking that he would catch his foe off guard. The strategy failed miserably, however, when he was intercepted with a flurry of punches to the abdomen, and a single side kick. The kick sent him flying back toward the others, who promptly caught him. Once again, the speed at which their cohort had been dispatched had been blistering. The punches were so fast that their eyes couldn't follow them at all. Not to mention, the stranger was just standing there, as if nothing had transpired. Yet, here they were, two of them already unconscious, and a third almost there as well. Most of the patrons had wanted nothing to do with the fight, and started running for the exits.
It was looking like something out of a bad dream...for the security troopers.
Looking at one another, they moved around the blonde man. He had switched stances, to one more neutral. His hands were at his sides, and he was watching them all intently as they circled, like a pack of predators circling prey. A nod was given from one at the stranger's back, and the four remaining thugs rushed in at once. The man in the middle of the group bent his knees, catching movement out of the corner of his right eye. His right hand flew up, blocking the incoming punch. His left flashed out deflecting the second punch thrown from the opposite side. Twisting between them, he threw a quick one-two to the face of the one directly in front of him, sending him backward a few steps. The next motion saw the stranger's left knee come up into the groin of one of the men who had circled in front to replace the one thrown back, eliciting a heavy grunt from the thug, who immediately grabbed his crotch, dropping to the ground. His moans of agony were drowned out by the roar of the last two men throwing wild punches in a vain attempt to hit the stranger. He allowed them to drive him backward, tactically retreating to allow them the room to tire themselves out. He waited for the perfect moment to strike, knowing that the eventuality was that they would make a mistake.
It was the one on the left that began to tire first, and the stranger took one quick step forward. Dodging the incoming punch from the thug's cohort by deflecting it downward to throw the guy off balance, he whipped out his right hand fingers extended and locked, catching the thug directly in the throat. Instantly, the man began coughing and hacking as the wind was cut from his lungs. Turning his attention to the one that had been knocked off balance, the blonde stranger threw a series of punches...right, left, head, body....the combinations getting faster and faster....
...until they became a blur of hands slamming into the hapless thug's head, and body. There was no blocking this attack, no dodging it...not for the thug at least. His body rocked and rumbled like he was being ripped to shreds by a rapid fire blaster...until the final blow. That punch came as the blonde man hopped first backward a little ways, and immediately flew across the small gap again. He drove his fist squarely into the right side of the man's jaw, sending the now-unconscious hired help flying across the bar, splaying right across the table with the human, and Zabrak woman.
That thug, too, was completely out cold.
Three of the others who hadn't taken quite such a vicious beating had gotten up, and were standing there, staring down the stranger who had just bested seven of them, and wasn't even close to out of breath. They all thought about rushing him again....the look of indecision in their eyes said they wished they could do it....but fear of a far more skilled fighter got the better of them. They scrambled for the exit, dragging their unconscious teammates with them.
All in all, it was an exchange that took less than forty five seconds, from inception of combat, to the retreat of the whipped men. Applause from the remaining patrons, all of which who were tired of the bullying the troopers had handed down, began rippling through the establishment as the blonde stranger again took his spot back at the bar. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out another of the hand-rolled smokes from its pack, and placed it to his lips. Lighting it, he took a chug from the beer the bartender had placed in front of him, exhaling after he had swallowed the amber brew.
...It was, after all, about the simpler things in life, was it not?
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Garang
Oct 11, 2015 9:46:12 GMT -8
Post by The Shadow King on Oct 11, 2015 9:46:12 GMT -8
Alistair watched the fight unfold with a critical eye, unimpressed by the blonde man's showmanship. He was certainly fast and knew how to handle himself, but the moves were all flashy and meant as much to impress as they were to conduct a fight. It was... wasteful. Inefficient. He'd struck a single man more than a dozen times, rather than simply ending it with one or two blows as he clearly could have. Whether he had intended it or done it merely out of habit, the man had very clearly just put on an audition. An unnecessarily protracted audition, but an audition nonetheless. A glance over the body of the thug at the spacer across the table showed the effectiveness it had, and Alistair nodded once to himself before rising from his seat to leave.
A couple minutes after he left, a grand commotion began to stir up outside the cantina as several planetary security vehicles pulled to a stop, sirens wailing and lights flashing as officers poured out of the transports. Upwards of two dozen men in full riot gear took their formations outside the building, then began advancing, riot shields leading the way through the cantina entrance. A loudspeaker blared, calling for the occupants of the facility to surrender and lie down on the floor, interlacing their fingers behind their heads. Anyone who did not comply would be summarily stunned and dealt with harshly. Someone had gotten it in their head to report a violent force user, and whether that was true or not they couldn't afford to take a report like that lightly.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Garang
Oct 11, 2015 14:58:55 GMT -8
Post by Deleted on Oct 11, 2015 14:58:55 GMT -8
Tryn sat in the furthest corner of the bar within the shadows. She was forced that morning to kill the gentleman with whom she had been having an ongoing affair. It was too bad, really...she liked this one more than she had the others of late. He'd gotten wise and noticed the bounty on her. Such a shame to waste such a fine specimen. It was quite upsetting, even to her, so after she disposed of the body she made her way to the first bar she came across, sitting in the very back with the view obstructed to signal that she didn't want to be bothered. She smoked her cigs and drank a little as she thought about what to do next. She had been drifting from planet to planet, taking assignments to keep floating. A kill here, a kill there, all decent work that paid well. She undoubtably made some enemies, but that couldn't be helped. In truth, it didn't really bother her. It was just annoying to have to kill your latest plaything over it. She probably should choose someone with more brains who knew better next time...
Tryn watched and listened almost lazily as the thugs tried to intimidate someone at the bar. It was the guy with the cat. She could barely make out the gentleman through the smoke and walls that obstructed her view. The show - or what she could see of it - of him kicking the drunken fools asses was mildly entertaining. It served to help her momentarily forget about Gary. Maybe she would feel better if she kicked some ass too. She yawned, taking another sip of her brandy. Mmmm, Corellian...there was nothing better. She could feel them before she heard them. Security. Great. She shot back small portion of the alcohol that was left before cracking her neck, rolling her shoulders and flexing her fingers. Ask and yea shall receive. A cheshire grin was already on her face. What was another crime to add to her roster? She stood, ignoring the panic that was starting to ensue among the patrons. This was going to be a good time...she was over this planet anyway.
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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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Garang
Oct 16, 2015 18:12:12 GMT -8
Post by Adi on Oct 16, 2015 18:12:12 GMT -8
A few minutes after the incursion with the thugs, sirens screamed up outside, followed by the bootfalls of quite a few men...In heavy gear, from the sounds of it. They were lining up outside of the bar....the single pane window looking out over the front showed at least fifteen, and that was just among the visible officers. There were probably a ton more.
This situation was beginning to get a little hairy.
"M.I.C.R.O....What's the situation?"
"Two dozen warm bodies showing in scans of known means of exit. They have surrounded the doors. Blaster rifles, grenades, stun batons, and shields. It would appear that they mean business, Sir."
"Copy that. Keep out of the line of fire. Jam the coms, and move out when I do. If things get too hot, pop the pulse, and bail."
"Yes, Sir."
The mysterious man took the last chug from the beer, pulled a long drag from the hand rolled smoke, and pitched it away. Hopping off the wooden barstool, he kicked it, knocking the top from its position, and sending it flying off into the nearly-empty bar. Reaching down, he gripped first one leg of the barstool and ripped it off, then another. He looked them over, and grinned, feeling their weight in his hands. Closing his eyes, he squeezed them tight, as the announcement came....basically, give up peacefully so we can beat the crap out of you without resistance.
Fat chance of that happening....they truly did not have a clue who they were up against....
The man glanced around the establishment as he opened his eyes, and loosened his grip on the legs of the barstool. Most of the patrons had panicked and run away during the first skirmish...and the ones that hadn't looked like they could handle themselves anyway. The man and the Zabrak woman, another woman sitting at one of the tables, and the man at the other end of the bar who had come in with the mysterious stranger. Laying the stool legs on the bar, the man turned toward the front entrance as the first troopers began streaming into the front entrance....
Game on.
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Abraxas Korax
Member
Posts: 57
Affiliation: Himself
Traffic Light: Orange
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Garang
Oct 17, 2015 18:25:09 GMT -8
Post by Abraxas Korax on Oct 17, 2015 18:25:09 GMT -8
There were times when one chose caution and times when one chose aggression. As he looked around the backwater bar, a place that brought the sense of utter disgust to the forefront of his mind, he ventured a care only to the decision that neither option appealed to him. From his place, leaned carefully against the wall beside the entrance he had taken a front seat audience to the spectacle that had ensued. The myriad of motions that had unfolded before him inconsequential when he mentally compared them to matters irrelevant, yet as he watched his companion, the mysterious man, he couldn't help but smirk to himself at the notion that he was sporting the thugs a challenge.
Shifting his weight a bit, folding his arms over his chest as he tilted his head in cold amusement, he watched with a practiced look of disinterest as thug after thug fell victim to their own hubris. It felt almost as if mere moments had passed when he heard the sound of bootfalls from outside the bar, his brow rising briefly but was followed only by a statuesque response. It came complex to him that he had come to such a place; that he had become subject to such a level of existence. Yet, as he brought his gaze back to the man he'd accompanied, his memory was all to lucid for him to forget the purpose of his displacement. A displacement best treated with caution and a sense of proper danger. One could easily forget such things, as quickly as one might find themselves dead upon the metal of a grime ridden, back alley.
There were no words exchanged, no sounds given, as the soldiers began to enter the bar. Only the gentle, fluid motion of his body as he brought himself between the entrance of the bar and the tables within. A position that, given their apparent plethora of equipment, would have put him at a disadvantage had he not eyed them up in the time they had taken to bring their sights to their target. Such seemed the finality of a great many individuals. Beings hardly capable of calling themselves talented, let alone functional. A train of thought that could carry for hours were it not for the swift cross swipe of a stun baton towards his left shoulder.
Taking a light step back and to his right he brought his arm up between the baton and his body. An immediate crackle of energy as the energy based weapon collided with the phrik metal of his gauntlet. Then, and perhaps only then, did his expression change as he watched the chemical reaction burn through the fabric of his jacket. Exhaling a sound of disgust, he twisted to his left, bringing his right arm between his body and the guards and out at an upward angle through his elbow into the man's chestplate; a blow capable of knocking the wind out of a normal man regardless of armor. Unseen by any in the room, his phrik mechanical arm reinforced the blow from his strike before he made a swift, seemingly breakneck, motion as he ducked under the extended baton.
Coming upright again before the second of two guards, allowing his body to move freely with each motion, he wrested a backhanded strike into the guard's shoulder. His goal? Send one into the other as the first continued to back into those who had been following him; a measure followed up by cross fade retreat, he bringing himself down and about back the way he had come and safely away from the rest of the troops coming through the door. Not quite effectively removing himself from their line of sight, nor their focus for apprehension, but enough to put himself at an advantage. The mysterious man had had his fun, it was only fair that he be allowed his chance to prove his mettle. He hadn't even taken more than a single breath.
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Garang
Oct 18, 2015 15:13:01 GMT -8
Post by The Shadow King on Oct 18, 2015 15:13:01 GMT -8
"Get back in formation Owens! Owens! Gorramit Owens..."
Officer Turm called after his partner as he rushed out of the formation to subdue the nearest patron, and though the man was clearly non-compliant and Owens had every right to do what he did, the call had been for a potentially volatile force user. If this hadn't been his first day in the field with the unit, Owens might have remembered that and been a little more cautious, instead of letting the adrenaline go to his head. As it was, Turm rushed out after him because, hey, can't leave your partner out in the cold even if the guy you're rushing might be able to kill you with his brain. Luckily, both men were fortunate in the sense that the patron decided not to kill them, instead using them as a distraction to gain distance.
Which suited the officers just fine. The formation expanded as more officers entered the cantina, and a wall of riot shields quickly formed around the downed officers, who were summarily pulled from the building to receive medical attention. With that done, a volley of suppression grenades was lobbed into the room in an assortment of flash-bang and knock-out gas varieties, meant to incapacitate the patrons and open the way for the volley of stun bolts that would follow. The lawmen's head gear would protect them from the effects of the grenades, but none of the patrons appeared to be sporting similar protection.
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Garang
Oct 18, 2015 20:21:25 GMT -8
Post by Diamonte Tuhlute on Oct 18, 2015 20:21:25 GMT -8
♫….Mysterious Hooded man Watches,... (From a distance)….♫Somewhere in the darkened corners of the bar there stood a faint Ethereal spectre. It was my forme projected from the comfort of my own Shuttle in the spaceport. I had been hired onto the expedition as a consultant for objects of a force sensitive nature, & told to Rendezvous with the rest of the hired crew once they had been assembled. the middleman for the job assured me that if I did this job I would be compensated with a lead toward someone that I had sought for years.
But as usual, real life meant that the timeline would be delayed.
So, as old habits were kicking back in, a sense of impatience & anxiety flowed over me. trying to figure out what was taking my employer so long. of the skills I possessed, I believed the one most apt, was a technique known as Visio Aquilis. using it in combination with other skills such as a sense to travel outside of my body so long as I had a path from myself to the destination. in this case the faint aura trail that my employer left as he traveled from the port to the tavern gave me a magic tether.
This allowed me to slightly bend the rules around my powers. however other rules remained in effect. these included: that since my embodiment was of spiritual nature, I could only see on the spiritual spectrum, or that what I could see was based off of the auras radiated. the other rule was a hard & fast rule of this reality that I could not reach the Apex of my power & swap the location of my physical being & spectre. For this fight, all I could do was observe. The advantage to this was any words I uttered would only be heard from someone standing near my physical forme.
I could make out several figures by their aura. The first obviously was my employer, he had a sense for timing & was on the “Safe” side of the blockade by guards… safe being a relative term, but like myself he too was in a position to watch the next events with minimal damage to his person.
Next of course were the guards… the fear that was radiating off of them in the forme of overconfidence was far too palpable. despite being on a planet with an active Jedi academy, these men were not in a mindset to safely subdue a force sensitive. they were looking for a strike of a match to hit the powder-keg.
Which was supplied by the next figure, a gentleman who had the agility to be one of the brethren. his signature was strong across his body, & although he had a prosthetic arm, enough time had passed that even that glowed faintly with the aura of the whole.
The second to last was a female, & was less interested in the impending battle as the rest of the formes. she sat there sipping her ale… she would be an interesting character to watch.
Which led me to the most interesting figure in the Tavern… a Sentient floating pair of arms brandishing some forme of makeshift Baton in each hand, both also illuminated to my sight. the reason I found this interesting was the fact that these arms were clearly attached to a body, but the further up the arm I looked, the fainter the aura became, until from the core the aura was undetectable, rendering the user invisible to my vision. Focusing on what I could see, the hue of the aura was familiar… yet strangely foreign to myself. secondly, the nature of the withdrawal indicated the user’s control & understanding of the Force. they were able to withdraw their aura & keep it drawn around there person tightly as a cloak. This camouflaged them to those searching solely for a force sensitive user in a crowd. but it made them stick out against the rest of the area to someone who had learned to see the resonances of the living force.
Reserving myself back to my figure, my projected forme withdrew its reach back to the shadows as the first of the Flash-bangs scattered my housing a part for moments. all of my observations were seen as my own, & the only influence I had over the people I watched was the slight chill brought to each person as I observed them, akin to the feeling of being watched when you are sure that you are alone.
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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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Garang
Oct 19, 2015 16:08:03 GMT -8
Post by Adi on Oct 19, 2015 16:08:03 GMT -8
Darik/RaxxieDarik watched the as the stranger kicked the snot out of the original group of thugs. Sure, it was flashy, and fast, and it -was- kind of cool when he sent the one sprawling out across their table...But there was something else in the distant blue eyes of the man....it was a look only those who had seen the ugly side of war get after being in it too long. A few of the spacer captains had it, and it was a common thing amongst soldiers as well. This man, however, seemed to be neither. He was exceptionally fast, and where ever he had gotten his training, it was pretty apparent that he had taken it seriously.
But, he was drawing too much attention and far too fast.
He unsnapped the clasp on his DC-17, and moved into action. It had been far too long since he had anything worth shooting at. Nodding to Raxxie, Darik moved to the bar, and took up position behind it. The female Zabrak flipped over the table they had been using, putting it on its side. Stealthily, she reached down her pant leg, and grabbed a thermal detonator, clipping it to her waistband.
Don't even ask where she was hiding -that-....let's just say she had learned to prepare for the worst when meeting the Captain's 'clients'.The StrangerWell, someone had finally done it. It was sad, really....These thugs, in all their endless stupidity, had caused another to join the fray, and that man was even -more- dangerous should he feel the need to dip into the river of the living Force. The stranger could only suppress a bout of laughter as one of the troopers was pretty handily beaten by the only man in the bar who actually knew who the mysterious warrior was.
They really hadn't thought this through, had they? Riot gear was nice and all, but it only went so far. It took skill, and a little more courage than these idiots had. Sure, blasters, shields, and stun sticks? They would do alright for a while. But weapons malfunction, shields could be dropped, and in order to use a stun baton, you had to get close enough to use it.
Standing in front of the bar was not a good position to engage rifle-equipped troops, though. He leapt backward, rolling across the bar top. Right as he dropped over the edge of the bar, his left hand shot out, and grabbed the stool legs, ensuring at least he would be somewhat armed when the time came. He had come up with an idea.
Quickly looking around, he saw a fire alarm button behind a square plexi bubble. Taking one of the stool legs, the stranger whipped it at the button. He had used enough power to send the leg through the plexi to hit the button, but not enough to actually destroy the switch. The fire alarm began to blare, and the automatic sprinklers began to shower the bar with a fine mist of water. Hopefully, they would keep going for a while. There was a lot that could be done with water, if you knew how to use it properly.
As the mist began to pool in the low areas of the floor, and the second trooper *who had rushed in to save his buddy* was given the same treatment as the first, a wall of shields formed around the fallen officers. Grenades came flying in, and the blonde haired stranger ducked behind the bar, covering his ears and closing his eyes, as the sharp, rapid report of flashbangs, mixed with the distinct 'thump' of gas grenades, rang out....Darik/Raxxie"Son of a...."The grenades were tossed, and Darik took cover behind the bar, cursing under his breath at the water misting down. He stuffed the heels of his hands into his ears, the grip of the blaster digging into his head. Raxana, too, ducked behind the table she had flipped, and plugged her ears. Before she had ducked down, she had seen that she was on the verge of flanking the incoming officers. As the thumps and pops ceased, she popped up, and took a look around. The sprinklers were raining down, soaking everything and everyone...herself included. About fifteen feet away from her was another booth. That would put her behind the line of shields forming closer to the ones who had started this whole fracas. Drawing a pair of DL-44s from their holsters on her hips, she made her move toward the booth.
Darik, meanwhile, had stayed ducked down, and moved toward the stranger. He wanted to smack him for setting off the sprinklers. What, did he think a little water would really slow these guys down? The only thing people like the officers understood was a good, old fashioned ass kicking. But, then again, a fighter like that might be of some help on this new job...Maybe he'd save the smack for later, and just ask him to go along for the ride.
If they survived, that is...First and foremost on the list, though? Getting out of this place alive...
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Abraxas Korax
Member
Posts: 57
Affiliation: Himself
Traffic Light: Orange
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Garang
Oct 19, 2015 17:30:44 GMT -8
Post by Abraxas Korax on Oct 19, 2015 17:30:44 GMT -8
Almost as quickly as he'd regained his footing, his lungs finally filling at a breath, the soldiers moved in around their fallen comrades.
Typical.
A quickstep to his right, and he was ready to move again; a notion he'd been balancing the moment he'd engaged. And a notion that would have held merit were it not for the cluster of grenades that began to scatter across the bar room floor. A miscalculation dire if he'd not been prepared for the possibility. They were a riot squadron and with their territory comes the arsenal of choice. What he had not expected was for the troops to quickly remove those who'd fallen as swiftly as they had. Watching them for a brief moment before they disappeared from sight he slid one foot in front of the other and dropped into a crouch.
Five, ten, he couldn't have been sure just how many were about to enter. However, his first reaction was to move, rolling back towards one of the tables that stood nearby and between him and the bar. Grappling one of it's legs, he spun himself around behind it and dropped it top forward between himself and the troops; an optimal position as the grenades exploded and shook the room. One such grenade, having ricocheted off the table itself, slid the table back hard. Bracing himself with a grunt, he felt the table slam into his right arm and send a vibration through his prosthetic. What he did next was what he'd been waiting for. Clutching his prosthetic close to his chest, he brought up his other hand and with a shrill sound of a device charging, he thrust his prosthetic hand against the floor in front of him; placed rather elegantly inches from the side standing table top.
He hadn't failed to notice the gathering of water from above, a pertinent observation moments before he began his maneuver. In only a matter of seconds the repulse emitter attached to his prosthetic clicked and with a loud burst the table shot forward towards the troops, followed in tune with the shock wave from the pulse, and his body sailed upwards into the air. A clunky maneuver had it not been for a bout of quick thinking that had him twist his body into a spin as he reached peak velocity and aerial curve. From above, just feet from the ceiling, he could see quite clear the weapons the troops had brought with him, and just as clearly the machinations that his companion seemed to be putting into motion. And as quickly as he had begun his ascent he landed hard against the bar top, tucked and rolled until he fell safely behind it.
Flashy.
With more time at his disposal, and the sound of the alarm filling his ears, he glanced down the bar towards his companion; not out of concern or reconciliation, but with a face dressed with malcontent. Though it wasn't the time for words, his expression spoke volumes.
Imbecile.
Though all together ingenious.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Garang
Oct 20, 2015 18:01:05 GMT -8
Post by Deleted on Oct 20, 2015 18:01:05 GMT -8
Tryn frowned.
She had watched, mildly entertained as she drew on the power of the Force, a few figures of men bandish about, fighting off security. It was difficult to make out their appearances in the scuffle, fleeing patrons and physical obstacles in her way. Her lightsaber was already in hand when one of the security officers stumbled across her. He didn't realize she was there until it was too late. She activated it without a single thought through the man's body, slicing him cleanly in half. His halves fell with a dull thud to the floor, the stink of the steam rising off his lifeless body parts as her lightsaber deactivated once again. Nonplussed, she slowly continued to make her way where the majority of the fighting had ensued. The men were keeping security at bay from retreating further into the bar where she was. She reached out with the Force, into the chaos. She couldn't get a read on the men in the Force, their signatures ordinary as were the rest.
Approaching the fighting 'ring', Trynna popped a hip against the bar from a distance where she could watch, but not be at risk for involving herself. There was something about the blonde, the way he moved...it was almost as if -
No. That wasn't possible.
She sighed when grenades were thrown, becoming a blur as she used her Force power to speed out of the bar. She used the momentum from the speed to catapult over the men hunkered down with riot shields at the entrance, a hand light and quick reaching out to help balance herself on top of one of the shields as she did so. She was launched out into the bright sunlight a second later where the rest of security was waiting. "Hello." she purred, hearing the grenades go off inside the wrecked establishment behind her. She offered a wicked smile to the remaining security, flashing perfect white teeth as she prepared to kill them, drawing on the Force again. "Goodbye." she said simply. Her hand moved quickly, one of their speeders suddenly flying through the air and rolling sideways in order to crush the remaining officers. Her other hand activated her lightsaber at the same time, prepared and alert to fend off any attacks that might fly her way.
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