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Post by Whill Shaman Erevis on Apr 9, 2013 10:09:34 GMT -8
Mos Eisley was a large spaceport town on the planet Tatooine. It was the largest settlement on the planet and generally known as the "armpit of the galaxy". You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.
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Post by Seanna Vel on May 8, 2013 20:43:52 GMT -8
Letting off the throttle of the transportation of choice for her. It was more of a statement to her. It was all part of the job she had now came into. It just a part in a much bigger piece at work here. Raising her goggle up over her eyes after coming to a stop. Parking her speeder close, it was the codes she put in to make sure that where it was put would stay. Noting key area, always keeping herself open to the fact if trouble could arise would have a easy escape. Making her own weapon cheek after swing her leg up and over.
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Post by Erin Darkwell on May 9, 2013 7:49:40 GMT -8
*In the stifling darkness, harsh breathing could be heard, gasps and moans the only sound breaking the silence. A match flared to life, sputtering momentarily before it was touched to the end of a cigarra and held 'till the end of the thing glowed cherry red, then extinguished. The harsh breathing continued. Another long moment passed, and then with a click, the lights were activated. They illuminated a cramped, dingy cellar, the walls of which were lined with shelves of preserves and the floor of which was spattered with a mix of wet sand and dark blood. Two spindly, straight-backed chairs were set in the middle of the room, positioned a few feet apart and facing one another. In one was a young woman, unassuming of feature and small in stature. In the other, a Rodian, bruised and bloodied, one bulbous eye deflated from a puncture wound, his orange flight-suit shredded, the flesh beneath flayed. His frantic gasps ceased momentarily as the lights flickered on, then continued.*
*Still silent, Erin took a long drag from her cigarra, relishing the feel of the acrid smoke as it filled her lungs, and then blew twin streams of white from her nostrils, directly into the Rodian's face. He didn't bother to turn away, and Erin decided this was good: he'd broken. It'd taken a lot- quite a lot more than had been expected- but everyone had a breaking point. The trick was reaching it without killing the person, or sending them into shock. She had bacta on hand, in case her captive's wounds became too grievous, but it was doubtful she'd need it, now.*
"So, Malborn- "
"Please."
"The Exchange." *She continued, as if the Rodian hadn't interrupted.*
*Silence fell again. Malborn's wheezing resumed and Erin continued to puff on her cigarra while she waited. He would tell her what she wanted to know; she'd had plenty of experience with this sort of thing, and the signs were all there. Mostly it was something you could see in the eyes- eye, in this case- but there were other signs. Slumped, defeated posture, and his hands weren't shaking anymore. When the hands stopped shaking, then you knew. The Rodian heaved one last, quivering sigh, and then turned his baleful gaze on her.*
"There is....an estate, in Mos Entha." *He coughed, and a glut of blood speckled the front of his flight suit. He didn't seem to notice.* "They are meeting there, now. There's a...street entrance...the only way in unless you fly, and they'll shoot you down if you try that."
*Erin thought for a moment.* "What about security? Guards, electronic countermeasures, et cetera?"
"I don't know," *Malborn replied, shaking his head.* "I'm low level, I don't... have that kind of information. I'm not even supposed to know about the street entrance- if they knew I knew they'd have gotten to me... long before you did."
*She nodded, unsurprised. It was a long shot that he might know anything detailed, but there wasn't any harm in asking- she could've gotten lucky. Rising from her chair, Erin took one last drag off her cigarra before flicking the butt away. She curled her right pinky inward, and in response a long, thin blade whickered forth from within her sleeve. Laying her other hand on Malborn's shoulder, Erin smiled genially and leaned down so their faces were only inches apart. He fixed his one good eye on her, and she winked in response.*
"I believe you. You know we could have skipped straight to this part if you hadn't been so difficult."
"You- ungh!" *The razor sharp blade punched through the Rodian's chest with ease, cutting him off. Still smiling, Erin gave the blade a sharp twist and then withdrew it, stepping back as he collapsed forward out of his chair. A moment later, and the harsh breathing stopped. It lent the cellar a sudden eerie silence, and she found herself eager to be gone. Now, thanks to the information Malborn had provided her, she had a destination: Mos Entha. An estate in that rat hole shouldn't be too hard to find. She uncurled her pinky and the blade retreated back into her sleeve slowly, almost regretfully. Sparing the scene of carnage one last, fond look, the assassin turned on her heel and ascended the set of rickety steps that lead back out into the city proper.*
*Immediately breathless beneath the assault of the twin suns, Erin moved quickly and fluidly through the swarming crowds of sentients, her white jacket gleaming and her amethyst eyes mischievous. Tatooine had a high non-human population, making her a bit more noticeable than she would have preferred, but for once she wasn't bothered. On this planet two commodities were valued above all others: water...and discretion. People minded their own business. As such, this was the perfect work environment. She wouldn't be hampered by nosy citizens or meddling local security. All she had to deal with was the Exchange. A daunting task, to be sure, but Erin enjoyed her a challenge.*
*It wasn't long before she reached the garage where she'd stored her speeder bike. She paid the greasy attendant without complaining, though the price was outrageous for one day's use of the garage, and they brought out her model 74-Z. Running one hand along its length lovingly before swinging one leg over and settling into the seat, Erin fixed her eyes on the horizon and with a deafening roar of her engine, left Mos Eisley behind.*
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Post by Karbo Rohn on May 13, 2013 19:35:31 GMT -8
Karbo walked out of Louies Tavern and into the cool night air.With F4 in tow, he decided to slowly stroll back to the ship for the night. It was a better plan than getting some sort of lice from the local inns.
After a lengthy silence, Karbo spoke.
"Do you think he'll come?"
F4 seemed indifferent to the question.
"I don't think it's a matter of "if" so much as "when." Judging by the conditions on the inside, I would say you nearly doubled his weekly income with that little satchel."
"I just hope I didn't come off as a pompous jerk. He seems a lot like me. He just got to see life from the outside of the cage, but we both are fed up with people and all their bantha dung. You heard the bit about you staying at the ship, right?"
"How could I not? You designed me to be your eyes and ears in the event your own start to fail you. I will accept this decision on one condition."
"Which is?"
"I was checking out several of the junk dealers nearby and the one near the derelict ship had a vocabulator that SHOULD by all logical accounts replace this loosely wired hunk of slag I have now."
"I see where this is going. I'll get it first thing tomorrow."
F4 went silent for a while.
"I don't understand you humans very well... that man in there showed all evidence of being very much aroused by that female who came to the bar, yet your own pulse didn't so much as spike by 1%. Why?"
Karbo laughed heartily
"Haha! F4, that woman in there was beyond me on so many levels. For one, I'm a grizzled old mercenary who maybe has AT BEST another ten years before I catch a laser blast between the eyes. For two, she's from Kiffex. I don't know if you know much about it, but her kind can "read" the memories in objects. Imagine it like having a photoreceptor on every little object. Imagine if she touched my body armor? Or the ship? Imagine the kinds of memories that would haunt her for the rest of her days. I may be ruthless when I work, but to even tempt fate like that with the horrors of my life....I couldn't live with the guilt of mentally scarring the poor girl.
Karbo paused in thought.
Hehe... if she touched you her head might explode you have so many different parts."
"I see."
They arrived at the docking bay, and punched in the code to get in the bay with their ship. Once settled in, Karbo decided to have a little fun.
"Dejarik, F4? I promise not to let you win." he said with a smirk.
"As if your human brain could possibly beat a computer. Lets get this over with."
The pair sits down at the Dejarik table and power it on. As the creatures materialized on the table, Karbo strikes up a conversation.
"Why do you want that particular vocabulator so badly?"
"Isn't it obvious? Would you rather be sick or healthy?"
"Healthy, obviously."
"Well, think of it like I am sick."
"I see now..."
They begin making moves one after another.
"I see you still use that old opening strategy..."
"If it ain't broke, don't get a new hydrospanner."
"I wonder if that same logic applies to people too. I've been thinking about what you said earlier about you catching a blaster bolt between the eyes. What will happen to me if you die?"
"Well, you'll obviously get the ship and all my money and equipment to do with as you please. I think you should just keep looking for my mother like we have been."
"About that, master..."
"REALLY F4? Can we play one game without you bringing up your objections to it? I don't care about the odds being "20 million to one" or whatever new number you spurt out!"
"But sir! It is a huge waste of resources to keep paying people for information on a woman who is most likely d-
"DON'T you even finish that sentence. She is alive. I would have felt her die the same way I did when my brother was killed in that riot."
They were both silent for what seemed like hours, silently moving their pieces. The only sounds were the death cries of the holos as someone would gain ground on one plane and lose it on another.
"You know, for a mercenary, you are very spiritual."
"I guess I'm a liar too. You win." Karbo abruptly shut down the game, stood up, and walked out, leaving F4 in the darkened crew quarters alone.
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Post by Karbo Rohn on May 16, 2013 14:23:35 GMT -8
Early the next morning before the suns had even risen, the passenger ramp lowered and Karbo disembarked from his ship, making sure the door stayed unlocked. After strolling for awhile, taking in the lay of the land. Passing through the adobe houses and windbreaks, he started to get a feel for how the town was laid out, which is VERY beneficial in any sort of firefight. Not that he planned to cause trouble, but nevertheless, trouble always had a way to find him. He walked past the junk store F4 had spoken of, and as they were not yet open, continued his stroll for a bit. He passed a pair of Jawas who he thought were dead by the way they were laying against the side of a building, but as he drew near, their amber eyes lit up and they began chirping and chittering in that joke of a language they called Jawaese.
"Ok, ok, Calm down... I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I wouldn't want you guys frying out here when the suns get overhead."
He continued walking, and he passed by a row of stalls where the vendors were just starting to set up their wares. Mostly scrap, but the occasional fruit or vegetable stall split the mechanical parts dealers apart.
"How in the world they manage to grow much of anything here is beyond me" he thought to himself.
As he continued past the bazaar, he came to a place that caused a chill he knew all too well to go up his spine. The smell of smoke of the fires for branding irons was thick in the air. The smell of sweat was interlaced with the smoke along with the stink of unwashed bodies. The sound of clinking chains, and the soft moans of those forced to stay in the sun for hours with minimal water invoked memories of nights spent on the duracrete floor huddled with others for warmth in Karbo.
"See any you like, mister? These are all top quality slaves, fresh from the other side of the galaxy."
The comment jarred Karbo back to reality. A squat, fat greaseball of a man stood next to a row of cages holding some of the saddest looking specimens of life Karbo had seen since Orvax.
"Oh, umm... I'm not really in a buying mood today, thank you."
"Oh come on! EVERYONE'S in a buying mood if the price is right, eh? Haha! Come on in and I'll cut you an offer even you can't say no to."
Karbo got an idea.
"You know, maybe you're right. I could use some extra hands on the farm this season. Lets go indoors before the sun gets us."
A couple hours go by. The twin suns blazed high overhead, scorching the flesh of the slaves. The heat and smell of the area was unbearable.
Karbo finally emerged from the office. The slaves looked at him expectantly, but he merely pulled out a datapad, and all at once, each of their cage doors opened. There were no guards this late in the day because of the heat.
Karbo came to each of the slaves and gave them ample water from the water container each of the slaves had grown to rejoice at the sight of.
"I recommend you all clear out of here as soon as you have strength enough to move. You're free now."
Karbo pulled on a sun hat and started rapidly walking away. He had reached the end of the street when the office exploded and flames began coming from the windows like a blast furnace.
The fire alarms blared as others peeked out of their windows and doorways at the commotion. The slaves who were still alive had all gotten away before any sort of authority had arrived. Nobody noticed the moisture farmer in the sun hat walking down the street.
"All part of the plan, mother. Now to get this vocabulator before F4 wonders if I'm dead."
Karbo kept walking until he got to the junk dealer
"Crazy day today! That poor old slave trader's store just exploded! I didn't think I'd get out of there alive."
"Is that what that noise was? I thought it was Ol' Kriggs trying some new part for his speeder again. WHat can I help you with?"
"My droid came in here to check out what you had in stock for droid parts."
"That heap that came in yesterday was yours?"
"Careful who you call heap. He's got a loose wire somewhere, and even I don't think I can control him. Haha!"
"Well, in that case, we have a bunch of droid parts. What model are you looking for?"
"Doesn't matter. I can recode the parts to fit on "that heap" of mine. I just need a new vocabulator. He has some sort of personality matrix problem, and I think the wire is loose in his current vocabulator."
"Oh you are in luck, friend! I have just the thing for you!"
After a quick walk through the aisles, the man produced a black, cube-shaped part with wires hooked up to what appeared to be a personality matrix.
"I think this will suit your needs perfect. It's a vocabulator with a built in personality matrix. Apparently, the developer wanted them to be sold in unison with whatever type of droid these go to. It's by Adascorp, so it should be pretty good. Those GG hospitality droids are pretty pricey, but they last long, I hear. Speaking of which, this part is going to cost you... Lets say.....2000?"
"Are you out of your skull? 2000 for a part that MIGHT have been in a GG droid? Everyone knows Adascorp put that one code in their droids to report back to their own company with all sorts of information. You think I want my yearly income and the locations of my vaporators put on the open market for anyone to buy? I'd be out on the streets in half a season."
The junk dealer seemed genuinely surprised at this "simple farmer's" knowledge of droids and parts.
"Well, uh, I suppose that you ARE taking quite a gamble with this part... but my offer stands.
Karbo knew it wasn't right, but he DID need that part. Reaching into himself, he tapped into the part of him that helped him win at Pazaak hand after hand.
He moved his hand slowly through the air in front of his face.
"You don't want to rip me off. You only want 500"7 for me to take that piece of junk off your hands"
"You know, you're right...that WAS a silly offer. You gotta make a living too, right? How about 500 then?"
"Sounds like a deal to me, mister."
Shortly after, Karbo departed the store with his new part in a box under his arm, and an extra 1500"7 in his coffers. Turning the corner, he said a silent thanks for whatever force allowed him to do such things. After the brief pause, he got his bearings, and headed for the ship.
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Jace Stealer
Member
Posts: 305 
Affiliation: Unfair Advantage
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Post by Jace Stealer on May 27, 2013 14:47:22 GMT -8
Despite their outpost's location being a secret to the denizens of Mos Eisley, the Emerald Blades made sure to keep a discreet presence on the streets. Agents dressed as aliens and locals perused the streets, maintaining a watchful eye for trouble. Tasked with orders to observe only, the PMC was certainly not a peacekeeping force at this time. Fights and violence that broke out in the streets were left alone by the organization, but the agents remained nearby with a hand on a concealed blaster underneath their robe. They were not to be detected whatsoever, and had to maintain the secret of their outpost at all costs. Until the time was right, they would continue to play their cards close to the chest and out of sight.
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Kashk
Member
Posts: 46
Affiliation: Whoever pays the most
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Kashk on Jun 19, 2013 16:56:20 GMT -8
Kashk left Louie's Tavern. He hailed a transport and left for Anchorhead.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Sept 1, 2013 21:04:36 GMT -8
"Good good. 75 credits for each bull."
With his hands tucked into his pockets, Aidan suppressed the urge to strangle the merchant obviously trying to swindle him. One would think that food and supply merchants were large men but this one was skinny enough to evade blaster fire by standing still. He stood a shade under 6 feet and sported clean brown and white clothes for a man of his stature. His hair balding, he looked down on Aidan behind his large nose and long neck. His neck, long and slender, was thin enough for him to wrap his large hand while the other balled into a fist and showed the merchant the definition of a fair trade. But he wouldn’t. Twelve mercenaries stood behind him, armed with carbines and pineapples in brown desert garbs. They looked strong enough but they didn’t look like they could shoot the back side of an Imperial Cruiser. Behind them was a large hover truck with three equally large trailers behind it. The second and third ones were full. The first still had enough space for the banthas Aidan brought in.
“That’s a rip off and you know it. You bought slaves for more.” Aidan coldly replied.
The merchant smiled after he took a sip of his water. “Ah of course, my friend. You are being sold short. I would help you, I really would…” He waved his hand at his men, before bursting into laughter. His men followed suit. “But I have more than just slaves. I have food. I have water. I have weapons. And I have soldiers.”
Aidan scoffed at that. These “soldiers” that were with the fat lowlife were con-men, thieves, murderers, and rapists. They would sell their soul at the smell of credits and fame. They lived for themselves. They had no alliance but to the source of their livelihoods. These men are children with guns. He wouldn’t say that out loud of course. Aidan, of course, needed the credit. He needed tools to keep his gear in check. He needed supplies to survive during the days when bantha wouldn’t show up. He needed water to live during hot Tatooine days. And he needed a drink. If men like these are considered soldiers, he would like to forget that for the next few days.
“I want cold, hard credit the moment they’re loaded in.”
The merchant nodded. One of the soldiers reached for the chain that held the five wild banthas together. The bull tensed up and growled at the man. Aidan leered at the mercenary. “If you value at least one testicle, you’d step away from them. They don’t like strangers.” The man stepped back before Aidan led the bulls around the trailers. As he passed the second and third trailers, he could feel the enslaved eyes begging for freedom. Unlike the thirteen men outside their prison, these slaves had a lot to live for. Men, women, and children that would give anything for the liberation of their fellow slave. He reached for his vest pocket before the mercenary behind him pushed him down.
“Hurry up, hermit, if YOU value one testicle.”
Aidan got up before he shot a smile. Once the banthas were loaded and secure, the merchant made due with formalities and finalized the transaction. Once the merchant and his lackeys left with their wares, the soldier stayed to watch on. Before reaching the horizon, the concussion grenade Aidan planted between the trailers left the trailers’ locking mechanisms useless. Again, quick guess work was involved when setting the timer. He couldn’t see it from that distance, but he guessed that the mass of people surrounding the truck were more than just thirteen and the five silhouettes running were too large to be mercenaries. He took count of his credits before slipping deeper into the city.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Sept 2, 2013 10:41:12 GMT -8
*The Hati rumbled slowly over the city as it approached the hangars. Dust and sand kicked up into the air as the ships engines shifted into the vertical landing position. Gently Kaytra set the ship down in an empty hangar bay. The Hatis landing struts groaned in protest as the ships weight settled down on them. With a loud roar the engines gave their last burst of life before shutting down. The only sound filling the cockpit now was a low hum of the ships shutdown procedure. Kaytra methodically went over her mental checklist like she had done a hundred times before. With the board green and no sign of any damage from reentry, she let out a sigh. Turning around once more she shouted back to the others.*
"Boards green, all is good. Welcome to Tatooine everybody."
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Post by Sylas on Sept 2, 2013 13:12:51 GMT -8
Leftenant- Jonn started, before turning to face Ali Hadrix, No not you, Hadrix. How many Leftenants does it take to run a pick-up anyway? Actually that reminds me of a jo- Jonn cut himself off with a slicing motion of his hand whilst shaking his head, I'm getting sidetracked. He pulls out the Verpine shatter-pistol holstered on his right thigh, optics removed for a quicker draw, and checks to make sure the weapon is loaded. You and me @kaytra, we gotta check if we're reading from the same Basic dictionary. Cause it seems our definitions on nice and easy differ a little bit. Quipped Jonn sarcastically. In any case- He turned to look at each of his companions one by one, Ali, Kaytra then Sam.Whoever's coming with, load up. He punctuated by reholstering his pistol with a little extra emphasis. |
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Deleted
Deleted Member
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Post by Deleted on Sept 2, 2013 15:10:36 GMT -8
*Kaytra gave a shrug at Jonns comment and slid out of her seat. She needed to stretch her legs some, even if they were almost completely prosthetic. Everything she needed was already with her, including her Delgado Heavy Blaster Pistol. Other then that, she just needed to do a quick walkaround of her ship.*
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Ali Hadrix
Member
Posts: 179 
Affiliation: GALSAF (Galactic Security Assistance Force)
Traffic Light: Yellow
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Post by Ali Hadrix on Sept 2, 2013 17:10:10 GMT -8
The Hati settled down into their assigned hangar bay within the Mos Eisley spaceport, shivering slightly as the vehicle hit the dusty ground. The engines whined down, and the interior lights cut on as Ali was reaching for her pack. She had made sure to dress for the weather before they had dropped out of hyperspace over Tatooine. Leather shorts that cut off at mid-thigh, a red wrapped bra for her top, and black utility boots that buckled up along her calves. Over her bra-top, Ali sported a light utility harness from which her sub-assault rifle hung from a clip, and her other equipment remained stored within attached pouches. On top of it all Ali wore the same lightweight brown shawl she had on Bespin the week before.
They had arrived out of hyperspace over Tatooine just short of an hour earlier, where they were planning on meeting with an old contact of Sylas's, some hermit by the name of @aidan Miles that shucked captured banthas for a living. From what Jonn had told her of the man, he was good in a fight...much less annoying. Ali stared Jonn down as he prattled on about the ranks and checked his pistol. She signaled for the rest of the men to disembark from the vessel's rear bay as Leftenant @kaytra came into sight. Giving Jonn a hard shove with her shoulder as she stepped passed him, Ali stopped at Kaytra's side. Leftenant Asha Bonafeld remained in the cockpit to better keep watch on Kaytra's ship.
Ali glanced down at her datapad before looking up to Kaytra. "Good flying at Bespin, by the way. I never had the chance to thank you. You kept our shebse1 in one piece." Ali flashed a smile, then pocketed the datapad and pulled her hair back behind her head, locking it into a loose bun. Tatooine's suns were already reaching for the high sky, making Ali's skin sticky with a light sheen of sweat. She blew loose hair from her face, then looked around the empty hangar bay. Sergent Huff He'gai, a male Quarren from Mon Calamari, was rounding up the rest of his squad, all of whom were garbed in similar fashion to Ali: loose-fitting, short cut trousers and tops, with shawls and baklavas to ward off the suns rays. All kept weapons hidden within the folds of their clothing, prepared in case anyone in Mos Eisley decided to get rough."Alright, folks, let's gather around so Jonn here can let us in on what he knows." WIth that, Ali took a seat on the edge of the SS-54's loading ramp, and popped a cigara between her lips, lighting it. She took a drag from the cigara and let the smoke drift out of her nostrils, pointing over to Jonn. "C'mon, get over here." She ordered as the rest of Sergent He'gai's squad gathered round. Seasoned commandos, every single one of them, and word was Jonn himself had served beyond expectations during the recent mission on Bespin where GALSAF had been working in cooperation with the Jensaarai. It was the success of that mission that had led GALCOM to their decision to assign Ali and her platoon to other Jensaarai operations. This was as much a PR move as it was an effort to assist the Force Users based out of Contruum, another world GALSAF had helped defend within the last standard year.1: Asses, backsides
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Way Too Many Characters
Red Dawn Medical Center - RDMC
You want the Honoghr? YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE HONOGHR!!!
Posts: 103
Affiliation: Affiliations
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Way Too Many Characters on Sept 2, 2013 20:49:23 GMT -8
Sam noiselessly shifts out of his seat, in spite of his armour. He adjusts the large poncho that hides most of his upper body (and the rifle slung under the right shoulder) to better conceal anything on him that would give away the fact that he is armed to the teeth, just short of overkill.
Sam tends to overestimate the logistical needs for any mission, but that's what makes him the best suited for unexpected events.
When Ali Hadrix calls the team to gather around, the tall man obediently shuffles over and stands at attention, hands clasped behind his back. He concentrates on dulling the blue glow of his eyes, signs of his inhumanity, and also paying attention to the people around him.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Sept 3, 2013 2:35:46 GMT -8
The Hati settled down into their assigned hangar bay within the Mos Eisley spaceport, shivering slightly as the vehicle hit the dusty ground. The engines whined down, and the interior lights cut on as Ali was reaching for her pack. She had made sure to dress for the weather before they had dropped out of hyperspace over Tatooine. Leather shorts that cut off at mid-thigh, a red wrapped bra for her top, and black utility boots that buckled up along her calves. Over her bra-top, Ali sported a light utility harness from which her sub-assault rifle hung from a clip, and her other equipment remained stored within attached pouches. On top of it all Ali wore the same lightweight brown shawl she had on Bespin the week before.
They had arrived out of hyperspace over Tatooine just short of an hour earlier, where they were planning on meeting with an old contact of Sylas's, some hermit by the name of @aidan Miles that shucked captured banthas for a living. From what Jonn had told her of the man, he was good in a fight...much less annoying. Ali stared Jonn down as he prattled on about the ranks and checked his pistol. She signaled for the rest of the men to disembark from the vessel's rear bay as Leftenant @kaytra came into sight. Giving Jonn a hard shove with her shoulder as she stepped passed him, Ali stopped at Kaytra's side. Leftenant Asha Bonafeld remained in the cockpit to better keep watch on Kaytra's ship.
Ali glanced down at her datapad before looking up to Kaytra. "Good flying at Bespin, by the way. I never had the chance to thank you. You kept our shebse1 in one piece." Ali flashed a smile, then pocketed the datapad and pulled her hair back behind her head, locking it into a loose bun. Tatooine's suns were already reaching for the high sky, making Ali's skin sticky with a light sheen of sweat. She blew loose hair from her face, then looked around the empty hangar bay. Sergent Huff He'gai, a male Quarren from Mon Calamari, was rounding up the rest of his squad, all of whom were garbed in similar fashion to Ali: loose-fitting, short cut trousers and tops, with shawls and baklavas to ward off the suns rays. All kept weapons hidden within the folds of their clothing, prepared in case anyone in Mos Eisley decided to get rough."Alright, folks, let's gather around so Jonn here can let us in on what he knows." WIth that, Ali took a seat on the edge of the SS-54's loading ramp, and popped a cigara between her lips, lighting it. She took a drag from the cigara and let the smoke drift out of her nostrils, pointing over to Jonn. "C'mon, get over here." She ordered as the rest of Sergent He'gai's squad gathered round. Seasoned commandos, every single one of them, and word was Jonn himself had served beyond expectations during the recent mission on Bespin where GALSAF had been working in cooperation with the Jensaarai. It was the success of that mission that had led GALCOM to their decision to assign Ali and her platoon to other Jensaarai operations. This was as much a PR move as it was an effort to assist the Force Users based out of Contruum, another world GALSAF had helped defend within the last standard year.1: Asses, backsides |
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Post by Sylas on Sept 3, 2013 14:13:14 GMT -8
Jonn rolled his eyes as he rubbed the shoulder that Ali had bumped into. He figured it was just her way of saying to quit being a dick. Which he was. Kaytra's piloting now and back on Bespin was superb as always. He'd seen very few with the skills she exhibited and especially for one so young. This particular run just had him tense. Back when he had been attached to former Corporal Miles' unit, they had a reputation for having missions always go horribly wrong yet somehow coming out on top. Except for the last one.
Jonn shook himself out of the past and walked into the present as he stood before the ramp facing his fellow Commandos. I'll keep this short. He raised up a holograph from his datapad depicting Aidan Miles garbed in marine uniform. Former Corporal Aidan Miles. Sector Marine, special forces division. He belonged to the 1st Regiment's Foxtrot Squad under Sergeant Rankin Burnside. Better known as Burnside's Foxmarines. Tasked with taking down various criminal activity, Miles specializes in close quarters and- The holograph of Aidan was replaced with the HoloNews clip of a slaver caravan exploding. -explosives. After the short clip ran it's course, Jonn turned off his datapad and continued on. I have reason to believe that this is his handiwork. Aidan Miles is a highly-trained and deadly individual. Most professionals of his caliber would be extremely difficult to track with a slaver cartel at the heels. Jonn paused for a moment. And that is why we are headed for the nearest cantina. Miles isn't most men.
Jonn glanced around the group. Any questions?
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Ali Hadrix
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Post by Ali Hadrix on Sept 3, 2013 15:54:08 GMT -8
"I've got one for you, Sylas," Ali called out in a sweet voice, raising her hand in a sarcastic manner. "In what groups are we heading out, and who's covering what ground? And what are our contingency plans depending on what goes wrong?" To an outsider, it might seem as if Ali was trying to catch Sylas off balance, in an attempt to make him look bad. But to trained commandos, her intentions were obvious: She was gauging how well Jonn had prepared for this mission. Considering it had been at his suggestion that Captain Shane had ordered 4th Platoon leave ahead of schedule for the Tatooine operation with the Jensaarai to make contact with @aidan, Ali was more or less leaving Jonn up to leading them. She lowered her hand as she finished speaking, letting it rest on her bare thigh while she waited for Jonn to respond to her questions. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Sergent He'gai nod in own approval.
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Post by Sylas on Sept 4, 2013 8:08:11 GMT -8
Jonn's eyes narrowed into slits for but a fraction of a second as unflattering words regarding the Leftenant flashed in his mind. Despite the training GALSAF put him through, Jonn was not a natural at coming up with group-sized strategies. He had for the most part excelled as a solo operator. But hearing Ali's words he felt as if he had something to prove.You, you and you, with me. Jonn pointed at Ali, Kaytra and Sam respectively. We're going to Chalmun's. Sarge- He turned towards the quarren. Take any two with you and leave the other three with Leftenant Bonafeld. You'll shadow us from a distance, making sure to comm in any red flags you see. Bonafeld- Jonn started before remembering she was still in the cockpit. Someone tell her to keep the ship prepped and ready to go at a drop of a hat. Anything goes wrong, I either want guns in the air or a quick exit ready and waiting. Jonn turned back to face Ali, eyebrow cocked up. Any more questions? No, stop. That was rhetorical. Let's get moving. As Jonn turned for the exit he nearly walked into Kel Thelmat, one of their newer recruits. Geez- kriffin- sithspit, new guy, the hell you doing standing behind me? Jonn just shook his head as he sidestepped past him. Fall in, I guess you're with me too. Lucky you. That was a lie. The new guy would probably regret being a part of his team.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Sept 4, 2013 8:34:04 GMT -8
*Kaytra stood up when Jonn said it was go time. She turned and shouted back at the cockpit to Asha.*
"Take good care of her while I'm gone. I want her in one piece when I get back."
*She gave the ship one last pat before stepping off the boarding ramp. As soon as her feet hit the hangar floor she cringed. Sand covered the floor and...well basically everything else. She wasn't a fan of it, the stuff tended to clog the joints, gears and whatever else it could get into on her prosthetic limbs. She looked down at her hand and flexed it, hearing the small pieces of machine moving around inside. She never really told her squadmates how she got them.*
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Ali Hadrix
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Post by Ali Hadrix on Sept 4, 2013 11:02:25 GMT -8
Ali nodded her silent approval of Sylas's response to her questions, not at all hesitating. He had obviously anticipated those needs, which was impressive. The commando training had obviously done its job. Ali pushed herself up and took her place at Jonn's side as @kaytra likewise stood and began shouting back to Leftenant Bonafeld, who remained in the cockpit of the ship. To accommodate for the changes in grouping, several of the other commandos swapped shawls and baklavas, to better look apart from those in the other team. Sergent Theng Walf and Corporals Jaster Forlor and Gac Turral shoved off and returned to the inside the ship's loading bay. Sergent Huff He'gai, the Quarren, pointed at Corporal Vesper Bandak and Sergent Tun Bilyers, signaling that they would be part of his team. Once everyone had gathered and rechecked their gear, the group was prepared to move out. Ali nodded a silent greeting to Sam, who was likewise part of Jonn's team. She looked around momentarily to ensure everyone had their teams set right, then nudged Jonn in the back with her elbow. "Alright, let's head out, our team first, He'gai, you follow after a couple minutes. Take the other exit from the bay." Ali said.
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Way Too Many Characters
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Post by Way Too Many Characters on Sept 6, 2013 3:25:04 GMT -8
Clad in a slightly different form of his usual Katarn-class commando armor, this version is designed for optimum protection and stealth, hence why he is without his usual mechanical whining sounds as he moves, all at the cost of his favourite propulsion units and sensors. He’s going for inconspicuous rather than flashy for a change. Sam takes a cue from Consuela, another member of GALSAF, who is the master of silence, for this mission. He watches as Ali asks some leading questions to probe and test Jonn in his capacity for leadership. The right side of his lip quirks upward slightly in a subtle lopsided smile, the kind Corellians are good at, though he himself is not Corellian, let alone human. Contingency plans are usually his forte.
The heat of the planet is already getting to him, though he wraps himself with an additional cloak of protection, courtesy of the Force, it still barely keeps out the uncomfortable heat. Sam likes cold. Back home, he lived in a cold forest climate. No doubt it was thousands of years ago, but his preferences has not changed.
Making a mental check of all the equipment he has: Sonic mines, concussion grenades, ion grenades, rifle, sidearm, sonic sidearm, first-aid kit, cloaking field generator belt, shield...yeah, he’s overprepared, as usual.
Hmm, Jonn is young... he thinks, ...but he’s got a level head about him. He nods back a greeting to Ali, who acknowledges his presence, and takes in Kaytra’s scent, subtly. He notes the foreign smell about her, like a sense that she’s not...as whole as she seems. It isn’t that he thinks she’s crazy, but rather that she’s not completely there, and it intrigues him. His best guess is she’s equipped with prosthetics, which would smell foreign to him on a person, like an extra scent that doesn’t belong, but at the same time, it does. Until she requires medical aid from him, however, he’s not likely to be too sure, and he’s not one to pry into a person’s secrets unless they wish to tell him about it. Otherwise, he’s not going to ask.
Time to go. Sam readjusts his posture and demeanor as he puts on a breathing apparatus, the kind worn by people here who don’t fancy inhaling sand with every breath, which helps to further conceal his face and features, and pulls the hood on his poncho over his head, eventually masking most of his figure. Now he’s not a soldier, just a person. Taking on a persona and blending into a crowd is sort of a specialty of his, and a trait that many of his true race are good at, while following Jonn and the others, Sam decides to keep some distance from the others, enough that a casual observer can easily dissociate him from being with the group, but close enough that Jonn and the others know he’s sticking with them. But his idea is that if he distances himself, he can sit apart, yet near enough to listen in on anything, while remaining as a sort of surprise should any unforeseen event occur.
He starts following Jonn. Once they’ve reached their destination, he’ll separate and go into a casual visitor of the cantina personality.
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