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Post by Deleted on Jul 27, 2017 21:34:12 GMT -8
Coronet Spaceport
"You presume correctly, Fumnanya tells the Kitonak with a friendly smile, and then does his best to keep up with the combination of requests and questions that the Kitonak's partner lists off for him. Getting the distinct impression that the human woman is an all business sort, Fumnanya reaches into a back pocket for his identification as he says, We came from Garqi, making that information up on the spot and making a mental note to have Vejide scrub and doctor their navcomputer data in case CorSec is thorough enough to check such details. We're carrying droid parts and scrap to pawn off in the Blue Sector," he lies with practiced ease, answering the last two questions asked of him before handing his identification over.
Whistling to get the rest of his crew out as his identification, an expert forgery that identifies him as a thirty year old native Corellian with no criminal record, Fumnanya tells his crew to hand over their documents when they gradually emerge from the ship. Nkosana, scratching his arms or scraggly brown beard while shuffling his feet with nervous energy, looks like the junkie he is, and has one of the two sets of legitimate identification among the crew, records showing that the Nish was once a former Sector Ranger. Sango, the crew's medic, has the second legitimate identification documents, records showing that the Bothan doctor lost his license to practice when found to be addicted to the narcotics he was diverting from the medcenter employing him. Dikeledi, the crew's co-pilot, has an expertly forged set of identification documents that, aside from omitting the fact that she left the First Order's militray without leave, contain truths like her Shownarri heritage and age. Vejide, who gets Fumnanya's hint when he asks the Kitonak if he has ever been to Garqi, hands over her own set of forged documents, identifying her correctly as a Lorrdian but giving her an unremarkable record to replace her past occupation as an enforcer for a spice smuggling cartel operating off of Tatooine. The CorSec agent will, on the whole, find the documents and the records associated with them, unremarkable and bland.
"Ready to head aboard and have a look around?" Fumnanya asks in a thoroughly unconcerned tone after what seems like a long enough time for any records searches to have been conducted. Not concerned about the droid or its sensors, Fumnanya anticipates the inspection will be quick and uneventful, their illegal cargo cleverly hidden away amidst the scrap and droid parts in his freighter's cargo hold rather than in hidden compartments which could be discovered more easily. Since it is not weaponry or tech that they are smuggling, the military grade sensors of the droid will not detect the spice they are carrying, and Fumnanya anticipates that he and his crew will soon be cleared to go about their business.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 28, 2017 11:34:27 GMT -8
Coronet Starport
Examination of the Geheim Masjien's crew identification documents and the records available from CorSec and other law enforcement databases associated with the various members of Jang's crew are, with the exceptions of the ex-Sector Ranger and disgraced doc, perfectly vanilla; almost, Paola thinks when she has finished quickly reviewing all of the information she had been able to find regarding the crew, too vanilla. Glancing around at the crew to try and see if her gut will tell her that things are too squeaky clean to be true and should be dug into a bit more, Paola ultimately decides that Jang and his crew look harmless enough, and don't give off any overly hinky vibes.
Sure, Paola thinks as she nods when Jang asks if the time for the inspection of his ship has arrived, the tall red head's overall bearing practically screams ex-military even though she has no official service record, Jang's eyes seem to belong to someone far older than he looks, the scruffy looking former Sector Ranger is almost definitely an addict of some kind, and the little one with the specs has the air of an ex-con, but her gut tells her that the crew isn't dangerous to anyone, except maybe themselves.
After sending the artoo through the ships to scan for weapons, explosives, or structural anomalies that might indicate concealed compartments, Paola has the crew open a few random crates so that she can physically inspect the contents. As fortune would have it, the random selection of crates does not include any containing the crew's actual cargo, and so after Paola replaces the lid on the last of the crates, she tells Jang, "Everything seems to check out, Captain Jang. You're free to go. Nodding towards Takoda to signal that the inspection is officially over, Paola looks at Jang and, with a pointed glance towards the junkie, says, Make sure your crew stays out trouble and keeps their noses clean. With a small, brief amused smile, she adds, Be a shame to ruin those nice n' squeaky clean records you all have after all," and then disembarks from the freighter to move on to the next ship she and her partner will be inspecting.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 30, 2017 21:45:22 GMT -8
Coronet Spaceport
Nobu Ueno, a male Aqualish of the Quara subspecies, waits until the CorSec inspectors leave to motion for the burly quartet of Gamorreans milling around nearby to where he has been keeping an eye on Jang's ship since it landed, signaling them to follow him as he goes to meet with Jang after sending a holonet message to his associates on Vreni Island.
Not known for patience or diplomacy, Nobu greets Jang by asking, "Where's our crinking stuff, pretty boy? Snapping his fingers at one of the Gamorreans who have fanned out behind him, Nobu says, Go keep an eye out for any CorSec looking like they might be coming this way. Looking back to Jang, he waves his arms out to his sides in exasperation as he says, Let's get this show on the road, we got places to be."
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Post by Deleted on Aug 3, 2017 15:48:04 GMT -8
Giving Paola a lop-sided grin accompanied by a wink when she, as she and her partner leave after the inspection of the Geheim Masjien is completed, makes a comment that suggests she knows that their records are probably falsified to some degree, Fumnanya says, "Yes, Ma'am, it would be a cryin' shame, so I'll do my best to keep my crew, and myself of course, in line while we're here. Promise. Thanks for the advice, he adds with a wave, and you have yourself a great day."
"Didn't get her comm frequency? Dikeledi asks with a theatrically concerned and confused frown as she steps up beside Fumnanya to watch the CorSec inspectors walking away from the ship, You must be losing your touch."
"We just got here, Fumnanya replies with a cocky grin, I'm pacing myself, keeping my options open, that kind of thing. Don't worry, I won't break my perfect record of finding companionship on every world we . . ."
Lifting a finger as she interrupts Fumnanya after stepping up beside him on the opposite side as Dikeledi, Vejide says, "Felucia, then adds a second finger as she goes on, Naboo, and adds a third as she finishes, Ryloth."
Lifting a hand to cup his chin as though deep in thought, Fumnanya says, "Right, but, see, the fact of the matter is . . ."
"Company," Dikeledi interrupts, her tone becoming serious as she spots the Aqualish and Gamorreans heading their way.
Gesturing over his shoulder with a thumb, Fumnanya tells Nobu cheerily, not perturbed by the brusqueness of the Aqualish's tone at all, "Your crinking stuff is in the crinking hold. We'll have it out in a flash, and then glances over at Dikeledi to have her go and get Sango and Nkosana started with the offloading. Glancing at the Gamorreans, Fumnanya asks, They going to carry things out, or do you have a repulsorsled or something you want us to put everything in?"
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Post by Deleted on Aug 8, 2017 21:02:15 GMT -8
Nobu shakes his head, chiding Fumnanya, "Not really your concern what happens with the crinking stuff after the delivery is it? Can't tell anyone what you don't know and so on, savvy? Snapping his fingers to have his Gamorrean henchman move forwards towards the freighter to take the cargo once it has been offloaded, the Aqualish says, Your credits are in a long term storage locker," then tosses a key with the number of the locker it opens on the attached tag.
Once the crates of scrap and droid parts containing the hidden spice have been offloaded, Nobu inspects them to make sure that the entire expected shipment is present, reluctantly telling Fumnanya, "That's real crinking clever, the scrap and all. Nodding to have his Gamorrean henchman start loading the crates on the repulsorsled they have waiting, Nobu mockingly salutes Fumnanya, Pleasure doing business with you, captain."
Once the cargo has been loaded, Nobu and his henchman take it outside to the hovertruck they have waiting, which they then drive to docks on the ocean west of Coronet, where they have a boat waiting. Transferring the cargo from the hovertruck to the boat, Nobu and his Gamorreans change into attire that gives them the appearance of simple commercial fisherman and then set out for Vreni Island, transferring the spice hidden amidst the scrap and droid parts to the freshly caught fish stored in the boat's hull.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 29, 2017 21:21:15 GMT -8
Grinning and returning the mock salute in the same spirit as it is given, Fumnanya says cheerfully, "Always just a sheer delight doing business with you all too! Buh-bye now! Shaking his head and turning to Dikelide, Fumnanya asks, What ever happened to professional courtesy? Have any of these guys been anything other than rude? What's up with that?"
Snorting a laugh as she takes the key from Fumnanya, Dikeledi pouts her lips as she says, "Aww, did they hurt your feelings? Rolling her eyes, she asks, You didn't become a smuggler for the pleasant company I hope? Tossing the key up and down in her palm, she says, I'll go get our payment, and meet you back here. We staying in Coronet, or are we slumming it in the Blue Sector again?"
"What's wrong with the Blue Sector? Nkosana asks as he scratches his bearded chin, glancing around shiftily as he adds, Besides, there's more CorSec around in Coronet to be worried about, and, like . . ."
Patting Nkosana on the back, Fumnanya points out, "We've got nothing to be worried about now that our friends have accepted their delivery, and then answers Dikeledi, What the frell, we deserve a bit of pampering, so we'll stay here in Coronet."
"Fancy, Vejide says, smiling as she waves a hydrospanner over her shoulder and says, Let me know where we're staying, I want to check those inter-level conduits. I don't like the way she sounded when we came out of hyperspace."
Nodding, Fumnanya says, "I'll comm you once we check in wherever we end up checking in. Looking over at Nkosana and Sango, he sighs and, knowing that they will be feeding their spice habits as usual when off duty says, Be careful guys, I don't want to bail anyone out or, he gives Nkosana a pointed glance, get any call from medcenters."
As Nkosana and Sango head off to get a cab to the Blue Sector, Fumnanya and Dikelide begin making their way to the storage lockers. After retrieving the bag containing their payment, Fumnanya and Dikelide catch a cab to the Coronet Arms Hotel, where they arrange for three rooms - one for Fumnanya, one for Dikelide and Vejide, and the last for Sango and Nkosana.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 10, 2017 6:27:49 GMT -8
Coronet Arms Motel
After giving Sango and Nkosana their shares of the payment waiting for the crew in the spaceport's storage lockers as promised, Dikeledi had commed Vejide to let the crew's mechanic know where they will be staying, and then took advantage of the fact she had the room she will be sharing with the Lorrdian to herself for at least a little while by taking a leisurely bath. Though she is solitary by nature, Dikeledi found, after her bath, that she actually was not in the mood for quiet or solitude, attributing the fact to the crew's recent adventures on Zeltros or, more disturbingly for her, to the fact that she might be undergoing some internal change in her nature due to being a member of the crew. With Nkosana and Sango having already, predictably, left for the Blue Sector to indulge their vices, and Vejide still working away on their ship, the captain is Dikeledi's only option for company, and so she makes her way to his room to see if he is in the mood for finding something to eat.
When there is no answer to her knock, Dikeledi lets herself in when the door proves unlocked, planning to wait for Fumnanya to return. The sound of the shower running in the bathroom lets Dikeledi know that she won't need to wait long, and so she walks around the room idly, curious to see if there is anything to be learned about their enigmatic captain from what he has laying around. Unsurprisingly, Dikeledi doesn't find much at all at first, only Fumnanya's shoulder holster and DC-17 handblasters and the orange cloth he always wears tied around his upper arm, like an addly cheerful mourning band. Examining the orange cloth closely, Dikeledi thinks it looks like it was once a piece of something larger, like a scarf maybe, and that the fabric feels old and worn, as though Fumnanya has had it in his possession for quite some time. As she sets the cloth down where she found it, Dikeledi spots the corner of Fumnanya's datapad poking out from beneath his shoulder holster, with something blinking on the display. Using her index finger to slide the datapad out enough to get an idea of what is blinking, Dikeledi leans closer when she sees that the blinking is a part of what looks like some kind of vital signs display.
Whisking his datapad from the top of the dresser, Fumnanya asks in an annoyed tone, "We on a dropping into one another's quarters unannounced basis now?"
"Yeah. I mean, no. Sorry about that, Dikeledi replies, having been able to see that the vital signs monitor was beside a carbonite flux monitor before the datapad was taken away. Not mentioning the datapad or what she had seen, Dikeledi explains, I was hungry, thought we could grab something together."
"Maybe some other time, Fumnanya says, still sounding annoyed as he tosses the datapad onto his bed and then continues drying his hair, which looks to Dikeledi as though it is more blonde than it had been when they had first arrived on Corellia. Dropping onto the edge of the bed once his Shownarri co-pilot has left, looking apologetic and mildly confused but not asking the question he had assumed would be coming when he saw her looking at his datapad, Fumnanya sighs and reaches for the datapad. After staring at the image, a date and time-stamped loop of a recording that cost him most of his share for the job to obtain, as well as to ensure that what is being recorded will not be altered so long as he continues to make regular payments to the ones recording it, Fumnanya closes the recording and sets the datapad aside. Running his fingers through his hair, freshly dyed, Fumnanya laughs bitterly and asks himself, "For you or her at this point? Might be insane or worse if . . ." laughing again, lowering his head as he shakes it while letting the realization that it is a most unlikely if given that there is no way to know where the recordings are made, Fumnanya stands, fists clenched at his sides, and paces the confines of the room for several moments before dressing and, tying the orange scrap of cloth around his right upper arm as always, heading out to use the rest of his share to get as blindingly drunk as he can as quickly as he can so that he can forget the recording and everything associated with it for at least a while.
Not even paying attention to the name of the first bar he finds after leaving the hotel, Fumnaya orders a bottle of Whyren's Reserve, taking it and a glass to a small table in a secluded corner, pouring a glass and downing it in a single go as he gets to work with accomplishing his goal for the evening.
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Will Sontir
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Post by Will Sontir on Dec 21, 2017 15:30:43 GMT -8
As a hoverbikes vectors in from the direction of the jedi academy grounds, a Corellian male can be seen in all back and no safety equipment riding it. Jedi Master Will Son'tir reaches in to his black riding jacket and pulls out his flask and kicks his head back-- taking in a deep gulp. He brings it back down as he merges into the regular hustle and bustle of the capitol city of Corellia that he knows all too well. Will takes another big swig and stares back down at the flask-- a gift from his long time friend and colleague Mike Frantz. A relic of times long past. . . in many ways very much like Will himself. . .
The hoverbike creeps to halt into his desired port off the street. Will takes another quick sip with a snap of his neck and begins to choke and cough from the Corellian whiskey burn and the liquid going down the wind tube. Will scrunches his face in a scowl staring down at the flask as if it is somehow the flasks' fault-- that somehow ALL of it was the flasks fault, his scowl scanned the Aurebesh signs until he found the establishment he was looking for: "Keller's Tavern." Will dismounts the hoverbike and spares the flask one last glance and redepositing back inside his riding jacket and begins lackadaisically sauntering over to the tavern, narrowly missing bumping into other pedestrians on the street. Will makes it to the entry of the tavern, looking for what most come for into such hives of scum and villainy. Will snorts in amusement at he thought of how Mike would have responded to the comment, as Will leads with his combat boot forward, and the rest of his body following inside the tavern . . .
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Post by Deleted on Dec 24, 2017 7:41:54 GMT -8
Keller's TavernFumnanya is halfway through the bottle of Whyren's Reserve when he makes the mistake of taking his datapad out to look at the very thing he had been trying, with the bottle's help, to forget. Using his index finger and thumb to enlarge the image he brings up on his datapad, one of many images of the same object, Fumnanya winces when he has succeeded in focusing on the face of the woman trapped in the block of carbonite. The pained expression on the woman's face has never lost its ability to stab at Fumnanya's heart, or to reopen the old wound to bleed anew, not even the passing of forty years in which to accept the cruelty of fate having robbed the expression of even a modicum of its potency.The anger that seeing her in the carbonite block and knowing that he is still as helpless to free her from it now as he was all those years ago incites burns as bright and hot as ever too, and Fumnanya powers the datapad off with a violent stab at its power button and shoves it back into a pocket, immediately downing another glass of the Whyren's afterwards to try and drown out the fury and pain, or at least dampen them down before they can prompt him to, as he has before so many times in the past, look for a fight to find an outlet for the rage and hurt.
As he fills his glass once more, Fumnanya looks up and towards the door of the tavern as it opens and Will leads with his combat boot forward, and the rest of his body following inside the tavern . . .
Accidentally, or possibly on purpose, not even Fumnanya can say for sure as he staggers into the black clad drunk on the way to the bar and then, as though it was the drunk's fault rather than his own, scowls as he says, "Eeeeyy!! Wash where ya goin', huh?"
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Will Sontir
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Post by Will Sontir on Dec 25, 2017 9:15:08 GMT -8
Planting his feet firmly with each step before continuing with the next, Will snaps open his riding jacket to allow his body to breathe. Will wasn't sure if it was the whiskey warming his blood or just the amount of species in the bar keeping him-- warm either way...
Will makes into about the center of the tavern approaching the bar to order a drink before--Accidentally, or possibly on purpose, not even Fumnanya can say for sure as he staggers into the black clad drunk on the way to the bar and then, as though it was the drunk's fault rather than his own, scowls as he says, "Eeeeyy!! Wash where ya goin', huh?" "Don't sweat it, kid. I don't even wash my clothes, let alone where I am goin'."
Will is . .of a certain age where sobriety and drunkedness falls on a relative spectrum. .especially for the Corellian members of the Jedi Order. Functioning under influences whether the Force or substance is really of no concern to Will when it comes to completing the mission and surviving. .
As Will sidesteps, his back profile is presented to the smuggler as he makes his way to the barkeep. .
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Post by Deleted on Dec 25, 2017 10:55:44 GMT -8
Keller's Tavern
Blinking in confusion as the black clad drunk heads for the bar, Fumnanya, who despite his apparent youth is actually old enough to be the drunk's father, tries to puzzle out the meaning of the drunk's parting words. Smiling and lifting a finger up into the air triumphantly when he eventually works out that the drunk had made a clever pun on his slurred pronunciation of the word watch, Fumnanya stumbles after the drunk and, all but falling onto the stool beside the man as he orders his drink, says, "Tha' wassa good one, the, the, you know, the whole wash insteadda watch thing. Waggling a finger at the drunk with a grin, Fumnanya unsteadily but successfully manages to pour the last of the bottle of Whyren's into his glass as he says, You're a really funny guy. Hilar . . . he hiccups, and then concludes, real funny."
Waving the empty bottle in the air to get the bartender's attention, Fumnanya orders another bottle once he has it, and then asks his new friend, "Hey, hey, you inna milee . . . milna . . . army or summin'? Or, he laughs while, with the rapt concentration of a bomb squad officer trying to defuse a bomb, trying to pour from bottle to glass without spilling any of the precious liquid, or, or, are you, like, just tryin'a look like you're inna milnat'y?"
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Will Sontir
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Post by Will Sontir on Dec 26, 2017 15:26:38 GMT -8
Will makes it to the bar and props an elbow on it and flags down the barkeep and orders a shot of Corellian whiskey and an ale simply by tapping two fingers on the bar. Will takes a deep breath as he sees the previously empty stool next him gets filled by the drunk whom he had just sidestepped. Shaking his head in annoyance, then downing his shot with a swift cock back of his neck. Exhaling past the burn in his throat. He picks up the ale for a sip. "Imma Vet. . ." Will takes a sip and raises an eyebrow in contemplation. "You can say I sit in the Reserves right now." Will leaves it at that while scanning the rest of the room and keeping a casual eye on his new drinking companion; now close enough, Will sees scars around the kid's eyes to suggest he isn't just a young drunk smuggler. . .
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Post by Deleted on Dec 26, 2017 16:14:56 GMT -8
Keller's Tavern
Fumnanya nods as though having been entrusted with some great bit of wisdom that he has to mull over before understanding fully, eventually, after having successfully filled his glass without spilling any of the Whyren's, taking a contemplative sip and then saying, "Soooo, you're inna milniary 'serves? Cool, cool. Lifting his glass as though in a toast to the drunk that he has decided, with the simplicity of children or the very drunk, is now his newest friend, Fumnanya says, To havin' made it through alla shit I'm sure you hadda go through ta be a vet inna 'serves now. T'anks fer ya sev . . . service an' all."
Downing the rest of his glass and beginning the complicated process of trying to refill it, Fumnanya says, "My firs' mate issa vet too you know. Nodding slowly so as not to risk spilling any of his drink, he continues sharing, She's nainna 'serves though. Leaning over after setting the bottle down, he confides in a whisper, She's AWOL fromma Firs' Order, then lifts a finger to his lips and looks around as though afraid someone might be listening in, then continues in a hushed voice, She had some ideeoo . . . idree . . . some of that diff'rence o' whatever you call it where ya don' like what the big wigs in charge'a ya haf' become, you know? So she, he lifts a hand and flicks his fingers outward while making a ffffttt noise, leff'em. Nodding a few times, he looks into his glass as he swirls it around and then looks at his new pal, narrowing his eyes as, seeing something in the drunk's eyes that suggests he has some of the same inner demons that his first mate has been left with after being a soldier, he asks, Wha'bouyou? You still havva beliefs in alla whatta your big wigs stand for?"
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Will Sontir
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Post by Will Sontir on Dec 26, 2017 17:46:25 GMT -8
Will cocks a half smile to the toast and hearing about his first mate's defection , he lifts his own glass in his own toast to her courageous escape. Will swallows hard and wipes his newly clean shaved chin he is still getting used to with the backside of his wrist. . .
Will runs his hand through the lazy side parted hair, runs his hand against the close shaved size of his head (probably the biggest clue of his appearance that he was somehow in the military. .aside from the boots he supposed). Then he finds the smugglers eyes creeping into his soul, not through the Force, but how many others who are skilled at reading people do. Will gazes back with his icy blue eyes, and pierces back with the Force. . .only to find an resistance. Not a purposeful manipulation of the Force, but rather just a natural inclination to not bend to its will.
Slightly intrigued, Will's eyes dart back and forth-searching for intentions in the other's eyes; frustrated he could not find anything, he takes another gulp of his ale while he contemplated the question.
Do I believe in what my Big Whig's stand for? Do I even know what they stand for these days? I just got back, and the galaxy has turned asunder. My friend and Supreme Chancellor of the Republic is dead, and the Republic has fallen. The Jedi Council is all but gone, and Grandmaster Calmcicil has been appointed, and I have to be debriefed as to the Council's priorities; ever since he was forcibly removed from his post on it. Reading, the Jedi have the fewest safe havens, and fewer numbers it has had in a generation thanks to the Mandalorian Crusade. And Yet, here I am; left standing with memories of blood and flames. gleaming Mando helmets and blazing Sith blades. . .memory of being left for dead on the hangar floor with only the voice of his friend Master Roma ringing in his ear "come home." Here I am, home and uncertain of where to go, what the Force has for him, or even if he wants to listen. He hasn't meditated and communed with the Force in months. . .
Will looks down the glass, as he downs the rest of his ale, pursed his lips and sets his brow as he flags down the barkeep for another one. Will answers "I make it work."
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Post by Deleted on Dec 26, 2017 21:30:08 GMT -8
Keller's Tavern
When the vet doesn't answer the question and instead gets a look on his face like he is thinking hard about whatever it is that being asked the question led him to think about, things he may not have wanted to think about, Fumnanya almost feels guilty for having asked the question at all. Dikeledi, Fumnanya's first mate, has never really spoken about her time soldering for the First Order, or Imperial Remnant as it was called at the time, and she would get, when pressed for details about what led to her going AWOL, a similar look in her eye to that of the vet Fumnanya has decided to conversate with instead of fight. Never having been a soldier himself, Fumnanya guesses that whatever it was that gave the vet and first mate an eerily similar look in their eyes is something that only other soldiers can understand.
The vet's answer, when it is finally given, strikes Fumnanya in his less than sober state as particularly profound, or maybe the sentiment evident in the simple statement just resonates with Fumnanya's own disconsolate mood. Making it work sounds, at the moment, like a perfect description of Fumnanya's life ever since it was upended so many years ago, leading him to choose the life of a smuggler so he could have a way to pay, and keep on paying until the day he dies if the Hutt has anything to do with it, to keep a plug from being pulled on a life that Fumnanya is wrongfully believed to have taken when he would both then and now happily lay exchange his life for hers. And yet, despite how hopeless the situation seems, Fumnanya has never let go of the tiny, fragile sliver of hope that has somehow survived within him, no matter how foolish or achingly painful clinging to that hope can be. After nodding slowly in agreement with what the vet had expressed, or at least what he had taken away from it, Fumnanya, his expression doleful for a moment before he lifts his glass once more with a forced smile, toasts, "To magginit work," and then tosses back the contents of his glass with an almost angry upward jerk of his arm.
Slamming his glass down on the bar, Fumnanya shakes his head like a canine that just got soaked in a storm, and then starts to refill his glass without the care he had evidenced before, some of the bottle's contents sloshing on the bar as he asks the vet with a half-smile, "Anybuddyever tell you tha' you're kinna a buzz kill? Seee . . . ser'sly, you godda lighten up. Waving the barkeep over, Fumnanya asks for another glass, and then fills it and his own when it has been provided. Sliding the second glass across to the vet, Fumnanya lifts his own and toasts, To lightnin' up," and downs his glass in a single gulp.
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Will Sontir
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Post by Will Sontir on Dec 27, 2017 16:51:42 GMT -8
Will puts his hands out and catches the glass as the liquid splashes over on his hand and is coating the glasses exterior. Will's face makes a 'figures' pucker to his lips; he rolls with it.
"Buzz kill? Yea, I get that a lot. To lightening up." He cocks his head back once more and lets the liquid pass down his throat, his face not portraying any hint of distaste. Will exhales, and pats the shoulder of the seemingly younger smuggler. "Keep your head up, kid, Whatever you got going on, it isn't worth picking fights with strangers. Trust me." Will winks, and downs the rest of his ale from his glass, waves a farewell to the barkeep who will just add his drinks to his tab, and begins the slow trudge back to the door. This time, his footing is more than slightly less sure then when he walked in. . .
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Post by Deleted on Jan 2, 2018 21:01:13 GMT -8
Fumnanya nods drunkenly several times after the vet has given his unsolicited, yet oddly right on the nose, advice about not picking fights, "Thas' really good 'vice, and, once the vet has lurched off somewhat unsteadily, repeats with a slightly confused expression accompanying his bewildered tone, Really good 'vice achoolee." Too drunk to wonder long how it is that the vet had known he had been thinking of finding an unsuspecting sparring partner, Fumnanya shrugs the thought off after having another drink, deciding to follow the vet's advice all the same.
The tavern seems to rise and fall like the motion of the sea as, when he decides that he had best leave the establishment before he winds up on the floor, Fumnanya staggers out into the night, taking a moment once outside to get his bearings before heading off in what he hopes is the general direction of the Coronet Arms Motel.
Nkosana and Sango, having succeeded in the joint quest to find a spice dealer in the Blue Sector and a place to indulge their need for their chosen poison, find Fumnanya passed out outside the door of his room when they return to the hotel. Giggling and scratching his arms, Nkosana says, "Looks like the cap' had a little too much fun, huh Sango? Think we should help him out, or just, like, leave him out here."
Sango, swaying slightly but otherwise looking as prim and proper as ever, scratches his furry chin and after pondering the question as though it is far more challenging than it truly is, says, "I would feel remiss in my duty as the ship's medical officer were we to leave him out here, and then scratches a furry ear as he says, Let's see if he has his room key though, as our ability to intercede on his behalf will be decided by whether or not said key is on his person."
Nkosana, after a quick search of Fumnanya's pockets, holds the room key his search revealed aloft triumphantly as he declares, "It's, like, on his person. Blinking in a perplexed way, the gangly bearded Nish says, Well, now it's not on him anymore, since, like, I have it, but since I have it, we can use it, so, like . . ."
Patting Nkosana on the shoulder to stave off any further verbal wandering off, the brown furred Bothan says, "And use it we shall, dear Nkosana, to spare out captain the indignity of awakening on the floor. Grab his feet, he adds a moment later after having taken the room key and opening the door, and we shall carry our beloved captain hither to yon bed forthwith."
Grunting as they lift Fumnanya, snoring drunkenly, Nkosana bobs his head up and down as he says, "Like, hurry up. Our beloved captain is, like, really heavy."
After depositing Fumnanya on his bed and covering him with the comforter, Sango looks at him and muses, "I don't envy him the headache he is sure to have in the morning, and then shrugs as he gingerly takes a vial of spice from the inner pocket of his vest and says, But I dare say our intervention on his behalf has earned us another taste of this, wouldn't you agree?"
Patting Sango on the back, Nkosana agrees, "Why, like, yes I would, and then motions towards the door leading into the hallway, Lead on, good doctor, lead on."
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Will Sontir
The Jedi Order
Posts: 632
Affiliation: The Jedi Order
Traffic Light: Yellow
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Post by Will Sontir on Jan 11, 2018 16:19:11 GMT -8
After stumbling about a half a block or so, Will's attention is caught by the sounds of cacophonic grunts and smacks. Will's eyes, blurred as they were, tracks in a staccato as a handful of. . .beings? He can't really discern what or who is in this alley what that has attracted his attention; there just seems like a lot of commotion. They could be . . .breakdancing? Will shrugs and can't seem to find the inclination to investigate any further. Will stumbles to his hover bike and thumbs in his access code and puts on the auto pilot back to the jedi academy.
He may be drunk, but Will is not stupid. .
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Post by Edward James Wright on Jul 31, 2018 16:51:36 GMT -8
A gentle alarm resonated in the room. It was soothing; reminiscent of the mooring call of the forest birds of the old city. Curtains turned translucent to let in the morning light. A golden glow was cast in the off-white bedroom, making strange color combinations on the blue fabric that adorned various fixtures. James was already up, buttoning his suit and fitting it to his shoulders.
Many years had led to this day. Schmoozing and pursuing and galas and events had led to this. He didn’t suffer personally at the hands of previous administrations and galactic powers, but he knew there were entire worlds that fell to the gluttony and savagery of those who came before. He had fared well in his life. Coming from money, he wanted for very little in his life. He had attained the best in education, and some of the most stringent martial arts training available. He had taken over for his father when illness took the once strong mind that had led the family for a half century. That was over a decade ago, and almost as long since the passing of the patriarch.
He finished his breakfast in the silence of the morning. The house was empty save for him and a few droids. Most of his belongings were stored away for now, and his staff had departed for the next phase. James got up and headed down to the hangar. Awaiting him was a standard Lambda shuttle, as he stepped aboard, it lifted off and raced skyward.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Aug 11, 2018 20:30:54 GMT -8
Coronet Arms Motel
Fumnanya wakes with a hangover that makes him vow, not for the first time, to never again get as drunk as he got the previous evening. Ordering breakfast and a pot of stimcaf, Fumnanya feels slightly more human after a shower and eating, enough so that his vow about drunkenness is soon, predictably enough, forgotten. Though he had promised the crew a few days on Corellia, he changes his mind after receiving word from a friend of a friend who heard through the proverbial grapevine about a new player in the smuggling and other criminal enterprises world looking for crews such as his. The new player, about whom word of mouth is promising enough despite the relative lack of information about their past or present achievements, is arranging a get together on Dressel, and Fumnanya, always on the lookout for opportunities to earn credits, decides that the possible benefits of getting in on the ground floor of the new enterprise is worth cutting their time on Corellia short.
After sending messages to his crew to meet him at the Geheim Masjien, currently docked in Coronet's Spaceport, in the early evening so that they have at least a little longer in the city to enjoy themselves, Fumnanya packs his belongings and heads to the Spaceport. Vejide, the crew's mechanic, is already aboard their YT-2400 doing maintenance on the light freighter's hyperdrive, when Fumnanya arrives, and, after filing a flight plan with the planet's traffic controllers so that they can set out as soon as the rest of the crew arrives, he lends her a hand with the work as they wait for the rest of the crew to join them.
When the rest of the crew arrives, Nkosana and Sango the last to stumble aboard the Geheim Masjien after rather obviously indulging their spice addiction, Fumnanya and his co-pilot, Dikelide, go through the pre-flight checks and then take the light freighter up and out of the starport to begin the journey to Corellia's orbit.
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