Spectre
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Post by Spectre on Oct 21, 2014 10:12:04 GMT -8
He looked at Spectre quizzically. He pursed his lips lightly and swirled the drink in his left hand, looking down into it after a moment. He looked back up at the other man after a moment and mentally sighed. He knew that this man would never understand the taint the Force had on the universe, nor did he seem to believe in the Mando's inherent distrust of the Force. That was too bad. Spectre was a good soldier, a solid Vode.
Placing his drink almost gently on the counter, he glanced behind Spectre, doing a quick calculation in his head as he did. He nodded. He knew that this could only end one way. If Spectre talked him to death he would never be respected by the others. Talking simply wasn't how shit got done. Snapping both of his fists straight out, aimed at Spectre's chest, his goal to angle the man towards the door and out of the 'baat, his enhanced strength and reflexes acting in his favour this time. For once......
"Ow." *Spectre quips dryly.* "I'll take that as a resounding disagreement to my proposal. So be it. To save you and our people, I challenge you Ashrah Intalbo, for the right to lead our people. I challenge you for the Helm."
*Spectre then gestures for his buy'ce to be returned to him. When it's done he puts it on.*
"Meet me in the abandoned warehouse district in half an hour. Only what you carry and no explosives. This a battle of honor after all, not an execution."
*With that he exits the Oyu'baat.* |
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Ashrah
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Post by Ashrah on Nov 7, 2014 12:08:52 GMT -8
-I posted in the keldabe thread.
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Cayne
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Post by Cayne on Mar 2, 2015 21:09:44 GMT -8
The silence that followed the departure of the two combatants was deafening. Time itself seemed afraid to draw a breath and continue along its stately progression towards tomorrow. How many people followed to watch the contest Maraak couldn't say. He'd turned back to his drink, satisfied that he'd found out all he needed to know here. Times had changed too rapidly for him and his, the evolution of Mandalore a stunted and alien thing. What he just witnessed wasn't honour, or didn't seem it to him. It had seemed petty and small compared to the glory of old. A pale shadow of what was once a...
He blew out a sigh and swallowed his drink, barely tasting the bitter brew that had gone flat in the time it had been static. Setting the glass down with a grimace the man in black armour rose to his feet and nodded to the barkeep before turning in time to see a short figure duck out the door. Maraaks eyes narrowed as he took in the posture, the cobbled together armour, the furtive air... His left hand sought and found his helmet as he started for the door only to be halted halfway to the portal by a meaty hand on his chest. The man was big thought from the look of him a lot of what was once muscle had gone to fat. A broad face framed small, pig-like eyes that seemed to spend all their time squinting as if the light was too bright. An oft broken nose sat above an unkempt beard the same dull brown as the matted hair that hung to the shoulders. The man swayed slightly and seemed a bit to large for the battered breastplate her wore poorly. His breath stunk of booze and onions...
"Been a long time since we've had an exile through here...
His voice was stone on iron. About as uncivilised as language could be. Maraak eyes flickered over the man's shoulders to the other two ruffians were lurking. One a tall lean man in green and gold armour, the other a shorter version with opposing colours, probably brothers. The weight of his helmet in his left hand was telling as he leaned back ever so slightly, allowing his hand to drift backwards. One look was all it took to see there was no avoiding this fight. Clanless vode ere vulnerable by their very nature. No family to back them up and such. Rogues would seek to make a name for themselves by taking out an exile, seek to enhance their own honour by eradicating one with none. Didn't make much sense to Maraak but there it was. One thing was true was that exile were hated and scorned.
"How about you-urgh...."
The helmet caught him in the chin as he spoke, jamming his teeth together with such force that some shattered under the impact. Maraaks right foot came up to plant a solid kick right into the bigger man's chest, leaning into the move to add weight to the move. The chest plate protected the guy from the impact but the force propelled him backwards into the shorter of his two companions. Both went down in a tangle of limbs as the third man reached for his gun, only to see Maraaks already in his hand.
N'eparavu takisit, nibral.
He edged around the man as the two on the floor untangled themselves. The rest of the bar just went about their business all but ignoring the disturbance, though Maraak did note that the barkeep had a rifle trained on him. Backing towards the door he kept them covered as he slipped his buy'ce over his head and settled it in place. The big man was staring daggers at him, annoyed at being robbed of all the blustering and threats he had intended before building up to his own pre-emptive strike.
Ni copaani bah ba'slanar jii...
He doubted whether those clowns could understand him. Plastic Mando's were always the same, he thought in disgust as he continued to back towards the door. As soon as he was through it he wasted no time in turning and making haste down the street, ducking into the crowd and immediately diving down an alleyway. He had no doubt that they would be coming after him. Chumps like that did not let such a thing lie and would seek to avenge themselves...
True to his thoughts as soon as he was through they pulled their own weapons and followed.
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Post by D. Villain on Mar 7, 2015 17:04:30 GMT -8
Strolling into the cantina, he looked around. A multitude of thoughts flew through his head. Past memories and current thought made it so hard to think straight. He shook his head as he took a table near the back corner of the bar. The man known simply as D adjusted the cloth that covered the lower half of his face, just above his nose. The hideous burn scars that covered his entire body could remain hidden.
D waved over one of the bar workers, and order a tall mug of Ale. His cloudy gold eyes scanned the room. The light in here burned his eyes, it was hard to even keep them open. Got to keep it together, D thought. Images in the cantina started to blur in and out. He rubbed his eyes slowly with one hand before dropping it down quickly as the attendant came back with his ale. He nodded a thanks to the worker and threw money to pay.
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Post by D. Villain on Mar 7, 2015 21:27:32 GMT -8
The glass of ale was gone when D looked back down at it. Had he drank it, He wondered. It had just been there. Closing his eyes again, he tried to focus on reality.
Seeing things again? You know these little issues we've been having isn't good. You're starting to look sick. Pretty soon you'll start looking crazy.
D picked his head up and looked straight ahead. Sitting across the table from him was a figure. Dressed in odd clothing. Pale skinned and gold eyes. Blond hair poked out from beneath a hood.
"I'm sure we passed the sick phase a long time ago. You also owe me for the drink."
The figure across from him chuckled softly.
Oh yeah, blame the nonexistent person. Or perhaps it could be the drinking problem that has you forgetting who drank what. Listen, how long do you think this little game of ours is going to last. You keep this barrier up all the time, keeping me away, when I could just as easily take what I want from you.
D adjusted himself uneasily in his seat. Adjusting the cover over the lower half of his face, he glared back at the man before him.
"We both know that if you start driving this show, we wouldn't make it out the door before the curtain's fall for us both."
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Post by D. Villain on Mar 8, 2015 7:52:32 GMT -8
The figure sitting across from D crossed his arms as he leaned forward over the table.
How long do you think you can keep this up? How much longer can you keep me at bay. Escaping by the skin of your teeth for all these years has done nothing for you.
He sat back again in the empty chair, placing two gloved hands on the table.
You continue to live this disillusioned reality thinking you are the one who is in charge, and that I am the figment of your imagination, but let me finally put things in perspective for you. I am the one who is REAL. You are a mistake. You are the figment of my imagination, but somehow you are the one who's driving, as you so plainly put it. All I have to do is bide my time and wait it out. You'll make a mistake and then I'll retake MY body.
With a blink of an eye, the figure vanished. A trembling began in D's hands. Clasping them together and gripping hard, he tried to contain the trembling and keep it from showing. He shook his head slightly, and blinked again. Hoping beyond hope, that the man would not reappear. It's impossible he thought. I am supposed to be the one who is in charge. He isn't real, he will never be real. Too many jobs, too many missions, to much trauma, that's exactly what the doctors told me. He continued to rack his brain trying to keep reality in order. This imaginative being is all in his head he thought, a product of mental pain and anguish.
D raised his hand and ordered another round of strong ale for himself. Too much to think of and he didn't want to think of any of it. He needed help, he needed an answer, but staying focused was difficult these days. Hopefully there is an answer out there, or someone who can do something. D was all out of options.
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Cayne
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Post by Cayne on Mar 8, 2015 9:23:55 GMT -8
It was a slow afternoon in the 'baat. While the place was still pretty busy as far as most cantina's went there was little in the way of opportunity or interest happening. Sheva sat with her back to the far wall, chair leaning precariously on two back legs as she toyed with a nasty-looking dagger. The thing was all hooks and barbs, a bit like Sheva herself Dax would say. Leave never suited the young Mandalorian female well and this enforced absent from duty was something that really got under ones armour. Others had found employment running cargo, taking bounty's, or had gone back to their farms and families, but Sheva had no such ties. No contacts ready to offer her work. So she toted the Oyu'baat in the hopes that something of interest would come her way. The bounty boards were stagnant. What targets there stale and cold, with little hope of being picked up with someone lacking galaxy-wide informants.
Her eyes swept the bar once again, noting the newcomer who had entered. He was quite a big man and moved with the precision and poise of one who knew how to handle himself. Not really a deviant from the norm in this place true, but there was something else about him that drew the eye. Some troubled nature that alluded to a complicated soul. The lower half of his face was covered by what may have been a scarf leaving only his eyes bare. The hood covering his head meant combined with the face covering gave him a slightly sinister aspect, the black clothing doing little to alleviate that fact.
She watched as he took a seat in the corner to her right, no more than five meters away, settling into the shadows as much as possible it appeared. Sheva frowned thoughtfully as she stared, making no efforts to hide her scrutiny. She didn't recognise him but that didn't say much given the clothing situation. Still, she had been trained to read gait and body language. He drank his drink as she observed, his movements almost robotic, a steady set of motions that seemed preprogrammed. She thought she saw the lower half of the scarf move as the man spoke but couldn't be certain, the background din of the establishment making it impossible to make out any muttered sounds.
Finally, her curiosity piqued to the point of no return she let her chair slam back down onto all fours with a crack. Unfolding herself upon her long legs she rose, tilting her head back to let her auburn hair spill down her armoured back. Her near six foot of height gave her an impressive look for a female, long legs carrying her lithe frame easily as she scooped up a battered helmet before making her way to his table in five easy strides. Her breastplate hide her gender to an extent, scorning the physical restrictions her breasts had tried to impose. Vambraces adorned her wrists with the actual gloves clipped to a heavy gun belt to leave her hands free. A short beskad hung at her left hip and she slammed the dagger back into its sheath on the right, just above where a blaster hung on her upper thigh. The armour was faded red and blue, pitted scars attesting to its use, and her green eyes were intent.
She arrived just as his drink did and paid for it before the man could react. With a muttered phrase she order a netra'gal of her own and dropped into the seat opposite the man without preamble. With a finger she slid the drink across the table to the pair of eyes, her face bending into a lopsided smile.
"Buy you a drink, burc'ya?"
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Post by D. Villain on Mar 8, 2015 12:54:58 GMT -8
It wasn't until the female sat, did he pick up his head. Paying for his drink and staring at him intently, D knew this was a woman of confidence. He studied her closely, but with no fixed gazed. Years and years of his profession taught him to take in a person with one such gaze. Her armour and clothing screamed Mandalorian. From the appearance of her, she knew her way around situations. A woman not to be trifled with, thought D.
"It appears a rhetorical question, but I thank you."
D's voice was hoarse and gritty, a product of a long ago accident. He grabbed the drink with one hand, holding it looking down at the liquid and studying it briefly before looking back up at the woman.
"Do you normally buy strangers drinks? Especially one that looks like I do?"
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Cayne
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Post by Cayne on Mar 8, 2015 15:37:06 GMT -8
Her eyebrow arched at his questions, her smile growing slightly. The server returned with her drink and she paid the man without ever taking her eyes from the man opposite her. When she spoke her voice was light, an amused drawl that contained just a hint of laughter in it.
"I have no idea what you look like, ner tat..."
She casually picked up her drink, finally lowering her eyes from the scrutiny of his strange golden orbs. She took a long pull before setting the drink down again, swiping her armoured sleeve across her mouth.
"As to your other question, sometimes."
She gestured around the bar with a dismissive wave.
"There is nothing of interest here this afternoon. Everyone in their cups or sitting around at the mercy of Arasuum..."
She leaned forward on her elbows, emerald eyes intent.
"Except you."
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Post by D. Villain on Mar 8, 2015 15:52:54 GMT -8
D tried not to focus on the strange words she used. His Mando'a was non-existent. But he tried to go with the flow. His cloudy golden eyes met hers, and he could see she was intently watching him. Studying him, and taking in everything. A voice spoke in his head, startling but he remained poised.
God, if only she knew what an imbecile she was dealing with. What's a matter D? Can't understand some mando'a? HAH! Arasuum is the sloth god of their religion you idiot. God I hope she sees right through your doe-eyed crud and checks you.
D did his best to ignore him, and focus on the woman in front of him.
"It does appear the mood of late is... relaxed. As for me, just a lot of the mind. Nothing a good drink can't fix."
He lowered his head down, bring his hood over his drink while he brought it to his mouth, concealing the act of consuming his beverage from the lady. he finished the drink quickly before bringing his face back up. Lowering his guard in a foreign land was dangerous, but his shame was too great. Plus if she meant him any harm there wouldn't of been a better time. A test of her true intentions.
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Cayne
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Post by Cayne on Mar 8, 2015 16:24:14 GMT -8
She pondered that for a moment, mulling over the words he had spoken and noting the strange look to his eyes before he spoke. The iris' themselves were strange, looking as if they were covered by a light film, giving them a cloudy aspect. Her own thoughts remained boiling just below the point of frustration at her situation, the almost painful need to be doing something perhaps driving her to hope that this stranger could lead her to some form of absolution.
She toyed with her own drink, lowering her eyes as he drank, for some reason finding that averting her gaze was the decent thing to do. She wasn't much for such considerations but something about the man, some hidden pain, made her seek to set him at ease.
"No doubt..."
She raised her eyes again as he set the glass down, once more only a pair of eyes peering out from the shadows.
"I'm Sheeva."
She didn't offer a hand nor further explanation, just a name. It was more than he'd given her. She couldn't quite place his accent which was odd considering her training, but that could have been the distortion from the scarf.
With a smooth motion and a casual tilt of her head she downed the rest of her drink and signaled for the server to approach. With a rapid series of words she told the man to bring another two ales and a bottle of Tihaar with two glasses. She looked back to the man anticipating a questioning look.
"We're not going to get drunk on ale alone, cyar'ika..."
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Post by D. Villain on Mar 8, 2015 16:48:11 GMT -8
No voice came this time. He was helpless to her foreign language. His eyes gave away his quizzical look. Whatever she told the waiter, it appears their choice of drink was changing. She said her name was Sheeva. They was an eagerness to her. A hatred for idleness it appeared to D. The way she spoke of others and their laziness, showed that she wasn't one of them. Not one of the herd to sit idle and let the world spin.
"My name is D. A pleasure to meet you Sheeva. And I agree, that ale will not be enough."
He'd given her a name. It wasn't much, simply a letter. But it was all he had, all that he could call his own. Since he awoke that day in the waste disposal bin in Coruscant, all he ever had was that. A letter. He moved place to place, never fitting in, but always able to perform work of any kind. The things he was capable of, he could never explain. He knew weapons, tactics, fighting, but never how he knew.
Coming back to reality, he looked over to Sheeva. She knows I'm not one of them, he thought. She knows I am more than I seem. At what point does she question whether I am friend of foe. He couldn't help but feel his skin itch again. The feeling running all along his burned and scarred body. He told himself to relax and let things play out. Sheeva could be helpful, she seemed eager and old saying came back to him from when he awoke. "Better to know someone drunk, than sober."
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Cayne
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Post by Cayne on Mar 8, 2015 17:06:52 GMT -8
The beers and the bottle of Tihaar arrived in short order, along with two shot glasses that appeared to actually be clean. They were set down on the table in front of the unceremoniously while she held her tongue. In the 'baat information was a valuable commodity and she was not about to let the slug of a barman know what she knew. He was soon on his way with the payment allowing Sheva to resume the conversation.
"Dee... Dee..."
She seemed to roll the word, or letter I guess, around for a moment as if trying it out before she nodded. Reaching for the bottle she took it and set the cork in between slightly uneven, but spotlessly white teeth and drew it forth with a pop. Pouring the clear liguid into the two shot glasses she arched an eyebrow.
"Just Dee? Nothing else? Its not short for something or an initial for a longer name?"
Setting the bottle down she pushed the glass across to him with a forefinger before taking her own drink. She didn't lift it but waiting for his reply.
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Post by D. Villain on Mar 10, 2015 19:49:03 GMT -8
D watched as the barman left the glasses on the table. Looking back over to Sheeva, he noticed there was so much than meets the eye with her. No average warrior would have the perfect set of teeth that she did and carry herself the way she does. The way of command that held in her eyes and the way she surveyed her surroundings. Grabbing another of the glasses, D watched Sheeva intently and pondered how to answer her question.
"Yeah, just D... well it could be more if I knew more, but as for now it's D."
Letting slip that there was something wrong, especially in regards to his name was the most information he had ever divulged to another. Could it be the alcohol, could it be the exhausted feeling of constantly running. Whatever it was, he was tired of running and keeping everyone at a distance.
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Cayne
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Post by Cayne on Mar 11, 2015 14:12:48 GMT -8
She smiled easily despite the fact that his answer intrigued her greatly. The implication that he didn't know his own name could be simply a humorous affection designed to allow him to remain anonymous but she felt it was more than that. Perhaps he really didn't know and was somewhat adrift in a sea of uncertainty. He certainly gave the impression of one wandering and wondering alike, a drifter with no certain destination in mind. Given her current situation, set apart from her squad, she could relate somewhat, though she was by no means going to wax into depression and morbid what-ifs.
"Can't remember who you are, eh? Must have been a heavy night to leave you so confused..."
She flashed the smile again, a twinkling in her green eyes indicating she was being playfully mocking. It was not her way, not the way of a Mandalorian really, to poke at someones secrets. A suspicious race, closed off and sometimes hostile, they were not nosey. Oh they loved gossip among themselves but to stick ones nose into another's business tended to get said appendage blasted off.
She lifted her glass and nodded her head in a comically serious expression of solemnity.
"To amnesia!"
She didn't wait to see if he followed suit but tilted back to swallow the fiery drink in one swallow. Slamming the glass down on the table she whistled out a breath from between her teeth before reaching for and taking a sip of her ale.
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Post by D. Villain on Mar 14, 2015 12:03:44 GMT -8
D could only nod as he followed suit. The drink flowed through his veins and he felt that familiar slip of reality. Like everything in his field of vision was starting to fade. The sound of the bar started to sound distant and strange. Echos of laughter and speech were becoming quiet. He blinked his eyes trying to correct the distortion of his sight. Sheeva started to blink out of existence and the darkness set it. This was worse than before.
The familiar laughter of the man echoed in his mind. D struggled but it was no use. He was in control now. Back in the bar D's body twitched for a moment but recovered. Looking at the woman in front of him, the new driver of D's body pulled down the cloth from his face, exposing the heavily scarred face underneath. He grabbed the bottle of the drink and took long swig.
"To amnesia indeed... I have a question for you Mandalorian. How much longer until your leave is over?"
His voice was strange, a change. It sounded heavier, if that was even possible. Droplets of alcohol fell from the corner of his mouth as he looked at her. This part of D, the forbidden part, knew things. Knew how to read people. It felt better to be in a body again, even if it was D's, thought the familiar man.
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Cayne
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Post by Cayne on Mar 15, 2015 18:46:57 GMT -8
A heavily scarred face was nothing new to Sheeva. She had come into contact with the worst injuries that war could offer over her time as an ori'ramikad of Clan Vhett. That was not to say the mans scars were not pretty horrific, disfiguring pretty much the whole of his face, but the sight of them did little to startle the Mandalorian woman. No, what really caused her eyebrow to rise was the man's sudden change of personality. It may not have been hugely obvious, perhaps to the untrained eye simply the change brought about by the ingestion of liquor, or a sudden change in mood.... but to Sheeva it was pretty profound.
Her head tilted to the side slightly at his question, emerald eyes narrowing to thin strips of jade fire as she slid her glass across the table with her left hand, prompting him for a refill. Her right hand tapped the nail of her index finger on the batter table top, hand mere inches from the blaster on her belt.
"Until I can get some work, I guess. With things quieting down the Clan is downsizing its armed forces."
She shrugged with casual ease, right hand dropping to her lap while the left reached for her beer.
"Nothing wrong with making ones own way. Why do you ask?"
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Cayne
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Post by Cayne on May 15, 2015 15:35:06 GMT -8
Across the room the front door banged open to reveal six armoured figures enter from the darkening street outside. The armour was mismatched and didn't hold any clan markings making it likely these beings were freelance mercenaries. With barely a glance around they made their way to a table and sat, ordering food and drinks before settling down to quiet conversation among themselves.
Sheeva glanced around as the six entered, eyebrow arching as she watched them make their way to a table. Losing interest in the newcomers she turned back to face the man opposite her, the strange barve seeming to have descended into a world of his own.
"Well? You awake over there?"
She clicked her fingers across his face a few times before swallowing her drink.
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Post by Roughnecks on May 16, 2015 10:52:06 GMT -8
Entering the bar through the double doors facing the square Sven allowed himself a moment to survey the scene as he stepped to the side to allow Don to follow, eyes moving in a slow sweeping pan from left to right. With his helmet held nonchalantly in his right hand he adopted a casual stance while he got a feel for the mood of the place.
At this time of the evening the bar was pretty busy, with armoured and non-armoured figures bumping shoulders as they sought to unwind from the days events. The bar and the main area abounded with figures milling about or sat at tables, the background hum of conversation accompanied by a rendition of Vode an coming from a group of Mandalorians sporting the sigil of Clan Beviin to the far right of the area. The booths towards the back of the place, near the hallways and stairs leading to the upper floors, wrapped in shadow.
With a slight nod to his cousin Sven began to move through the crowd, pushing past when he had to, drawing the occasional annoying glance. He ignored such looks and schooled his face into the dangerous expression that often got people to give way before him, a heavy frown backed up by a set jaw and thrust of the chin. Finding some bodies parting before him he finally spotted Berrik and the others sat on a table near the corridor that led to the 'freshers, the remains of their meals littering the tabletop and drinks in their hands.
He gave his head a tilt, indicating the table to Don while he broke towards the bar to get the two of them a drink. Getting his elbows onto the battered wooden bar, his shoulders levering room for him to attract the attention of the server.
"Ta'd ne'tra gal getet'ye, ner tat."
He had to raise his voice so the barman could catch his words, watching as the man turned away to see to the order. Turning in place he rested with his back and elbows leaning on the bar, he thoughts drifting over the past twenty fours hours as he tried to assimilate some of the words Don had for him earlier.
With what his cousin had said driving his intentions he went back over some of the interactions he had had with Vee, looking at them with new eyes. He left aside her side of things and concentrated on his own, going over how he had felt and how he had reacted. With every action he was able to pick out the undercurrents of negative emotions, whether fear of rejection or pride robbing him of his honesty. WHile he had not told a lie to her he recognised that the omission of truth was just as grievous a crime, if not a worse one. A crime that likely hurt both of them. That she may have held thing back was irrelevant in the sense that it was her decision what to share and what not to. For him to hold back his feelings due to some misguided concept of pride, or some nebulous fear of being knocked back, was doing those feelings an injustice.
Likewise he realised that by garnering such restraint he was actually stunting the growth of such feelings, blocking them from developing the maturity needed to better be able to guide a path through the emotional minefield of social interesting. A new dawning of understanding lit up his features, not noticing the return of the barman.
An impatient grunt from behind had him turning, meeting the eyes of the rough-looking brute across from him. With a muttered apology Sven laid a cred coin in the man's calloused hands before scooping up both tankards.
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Cayne
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Post by Cayne on May 16, 2015 11:52:02 GMT -8
"Well well well... If it isn't little Saviin Sven Garret."
She was stood behind him as he turned, a mocking grin plastering her elegant features. Armoured much the same way as he was, her beskar sporting a crimson trim, her brown-red hair spilling over her armoured right shoulder to trail down the front of her chest. Her green eyes were playful and amused as she gazed at her former squadmate, hoisting her near empty drink in salute.
"I'd have thought you'd still be under Mereel's boot, running supplies and mail for old lord High Tristan."
She had grown bored with waiting for the strange man sat at their booth to wake from whatever weird introspection he had embarked upon, deciding to seek her amusement, and a refill, elsewhere. It was as she was standing that she had spotted Sven emerging through the crowd, easily recognising his intense look and the violet trim to his armour.
With casual ease she slid into the spot at the bar he had vacated, waving her tankar insolently for a refill...
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