Galdaart Fel
Retired High Councilor 
...not hiding anymore
Posts: 1,565 
Affiliation: The Unfair Advantage
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Galdaart Fel on Dec 30, 2015 6:24:19 GMT -8
Galdaart fell into the routine -- the place that was as much a home to him as anywhere he had "lived" in the last twenty-odd years. The process of getting a bird airborne -- the pilot's seat, any pilot's seat... he had only flown the '545 for a day, maybe two, but his hands moved intuitively over controls and switch-gear, bringing the idling freighter to life. If asked, he wouldn't honestly know how he knew that the YV-545's thrust vectoring system was 29% more sensitive and powerful than the older YG-4210 he was used to, or how he instinctively knew that the 545 was a full 15 tonnes heavier than the 'UA.' In fact, he wouldn't have been able to tell that it was 29% more powerful... certainly wasn't because he had done his homework, read any specs-charts, or spent time in simulation. He would have said something like 'she's a little quicker in the weight transfer' or '...bit of a sports-freighter...' but the fact remained, after less than 20 hours stick-time, Galdaart Fel piloted the 545 (and the same would be true for most any ship in the 'verse) as if he'd known her for years. To him, it wasn't any special ability or power, it was just how he got things done. Feeding power unevenly to the maneuvering thrusters allowed for the starboard side to lift off first, angling the bird away from the remaining wreckage left by the Sith's transport. Once they were clear of the landing platform, Fel put as much distance as possible between them and the incident that just transpired. He descended a further thousand feet, before looping back around a half-dozen tower blocks and re-directing them (by feel more than by GPS) toward team one's drop-off location.
Next we pick up the first team, and get the hell off-world before anyone knows we were here, alerts a citywide APB, sends the cavalry, shuts the gates, and traps us under the planetary shields. turning to Bloodshot Right? cracking his neck and turning to peer back out the canopy, executing a full-power inversion to avoid a pedestrian overpass stretching between two city-blocks ...should be a cake-walk.
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Post by Icrarusk on Jan 1, 2016 14:50:43 GMT -8
Steclan left the Outlander club and made his way toward the starport and docking bay twenty three. Once there Steclan boarded the battered looking freighter that passed as his transport and reluctantly parted with the second sum of forty thousand for the one way trip to Felucia.
With the Iktotchi at the controls and the Devaronian as his co-pilot, Steclan strapped himself into a bucket seat in the hold and waited for the bump and jerk that signalled departure. Moments later the craft blasted off and a satisfying pop in his ears signalled that they were leaving Coruscant far behind.
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Post by Aherk Fyyar on Jan 5, 2016 8:03:00 GMT -8
Galdaart fell into the routine -- the place that was as much a home to him as anywhere he had "lived" in the last twenty-odd years. The process of getting a bird airborne -- the pilot's seat, any pilot's seat... he had only flown the '545 for a day, maybe two, but his hands moved intuitively over controls and switch-gear, bringing the idling freighter to life. If asked, he wouldn't honestly know how he knew that the YV-545's thrust vectoring system was 29% more sensitive and powerful than the older YG-4210 he was used to, or how he instinctively knew that the 545 was a full 15 tonnes heavier than the 'UA.' In fact, he wouldn't have been able to tell that it was 29% more powerful... certainly wasn't because he had done his homework, read any specs-charts, or spent time in simulation. He would have said something like 'she's a little quicker in the weight transfer' or '...bit of a sports-freighter...' but the fact remained, after less than 20 hours stick-time, Galdaart Fel piloted the 545 (and the same would be true for most any ship in the 'verse) as if he'd known her for years. To him, it wasn't any special ability or power, it was just how he got things done. Feeding power unevenly to the maneuvering thrusters allowed for the starboard side to lift off first, angling the bird away from the remaining wreckage left by the Sith's transport. Once they were clear of the landing platform, Fel put as much distance as possible between them and the incident that just transpired. He descended a further thousand feet, before looping back around a half-dozen tower blocks and re-directing them (by feel more than by GPS) toward team one's drop-off location. Next we pick up the first team, and get the hell off-world before anyone knows we were here, alerts a citywide APB, sends the cavalry, shuts the gates, and traps us under the planetary shields. turning to Bloodshot Right? cracking his neck and turning to peer back out the canopy, executing a full-power inversion to avoid a pedestrian overpass stretching between two city-blocks ...should be a cake-walk.
To be fair, "in the middle" wasn't the best term for it; Jef had basically hid behind cover the entire time while the red-helmeted lunatic had gone in guns blazing, and he had occasionally moved to get a better vantage point, getting his eyes on their supposed target while the mercenary had what the medic assumed was the time of his life. But despite being out of the fray proper, Jef could feel the old sensations again; the adrenaline racing through his body, the sudden sharpness in his vision and his hearing, the slowness of his deep breathing as the world around him seemed to go at near-lightspeed. And on Coruscant, no less. Jef's memories of the planet were far from fond, and sounded almost exactly like the cacophony below him. And here he was once again, kidnapping some fair maiden for nefarious purposes, simply because he was bored with running a clinic on Mandalore.The more things change, eh? he thought as the blaster fire finally stopped.
It didn't take him long to navigate the anarchic ruin that had become of their target's location. The female he had been assigned to keep alive was lying supine on the far edge of the space, with several minor wounds. Patching them up was the work of a minute, though one of the slices on her leg ran deep, and necessitated the use of Jef's tourniquet. The medic then injected his sedative into the female's arm, more to slow her heart and bleeding than to keep her unconscious (his friend with the red mask, gun, and anger problems had taken care of that entirely too well). When she was stable enough to be moved, Jef chimed in at long last.Whenever you're ready, guys, Jef said, his blue eyes darting around the scene in case the local authorities decided to check in on the ever-so-common wild gunfight, preferably now. Now would be good. |
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Galdaart Fel
Retired High Councilor
...not hiding anymore
Posts: 1,565
Affiliation: The Unfair Advantage
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Galdaart Fel on Jan 7, 2016 6:37:40 GMT -8
Galdaart hadn't exactly been expecting the message, but it certainly wasn't bad news, either. There would be no waiting or circling -- they were ready and waiting, which was better for those already aboard the '545... no circling or having to fly traffic lanes, making like we're on delivery while waiting for the call.
Way ahead of you, Team One. Four o'clock and low, arrival in 10 tics.
The YV-545 emerged from below the landing pad, and Fel extended the ramp. There would be no 'landing' here, only hovering for as long as it took to get Team One aboard. Navigating as much by feel as by the ventral camera and instrument / data readouts, the Spacer brought the landing ramp to within inches of making actual contact with the deck. In the midst of the maneuvering, two warnings appeared on his HUD. The first, a condition yellow alert that the maneuvering thrusters on the port side - engine two were operating at 50 degrees above optimal, the second a notification from the comms monitoring he had set up, a bulletin that the city authorities had discovered the destruction from Team Two a hundred or more levels below. The resulting follow-up bursts of chatter lets him know that Coruscant Security has been alerted. Fel glances over at Melia, a knowing look crosses his features.
That's the call. We don't have long before they lock it down. inclining his head to suggest "back there, at the landing ramp" Help 'em out back there, Mel? Take the masked wonder with you... we need to be outta here, and soon.
Team One -- Let's go!
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Post by Aherk Fyyar on Jan 9, 2016 0:08:31 GMT -8
Jef didn't have to be told twice. As soon as the freighter came into view, and well before the ramp even lowered, the medic made a mad dash for it, hauling the sedated female with him. He couldn't have timed it more perfectly, either; his feet went from the floor of the penthouse to the metal ramp of their escape ship without breaking stride, and his momentum practically flew him across the vessel to the med bay, where he began to strap their new friend down.
The medic didn't check to see if his partner had followed him on board. He was a fit guy, and should have been tailing him the entire way. In fact, Jef had no idea how - with a heavy medical bag, a slightly heavier captive, and no recent training - he had managed to beat the red-helmeted mercenary onto the ship. But if he was, great. If not, even better.
Go. Go. Gogogogogogogo.
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Bloodshot
Member
Posts: 311
Affiliation: Chaos and credits, baby.
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Post by Bloodshot on Jan 10, 2016 19:42:19 GMT -8
Bloodshot only paid attention to the pickup for as long as it took to confirm they were aboard, then headed for the hold and the containment unit they'd brought along for the holocron. Experience and hearsay both told him they were tough little data drives, but he wasn't going to be taking any chances with this one. Leaving Drallinix with orders to supervise the prisoner, he followed Sev into the hold and sealed it behind them. Once they were alone, Sev held out the holocron and his face screwed up in concentration.
If you needed a guy to rip a vault door off its hinges or light up a freighter like a kriffing life day tree, Sev was your guy, but whenever it came to anything subtle that required finesse, you were usually better off looking for such a skill on Nal Hutta. Bloodshot was actually a little surprised that he managed to activate the thing without blowing it to pieces, but he was the only one in the group (that Bloodshot knew of) with the capability to verify the holocron and its contents.
A moment later, the Holocron sprang to life and a beam of light arced out to the side, quickly solidifying into the form of a robed woman. Taking the Holocron from Sev, Bloodshot flipped it the right way up and examined the figure briefly before nodding.
That's it. Shut it down and pack it up. He handed it back to the young man then activated his link to the ship's comm. You heard the Doctor, Captain. Take us out.
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Galdaart Fel
Retired High Councilor
...not hiding anymore
Posts: 1,565
Affiliation: The Unfair Advantage
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Galdaart Fel on Jan 11, 2016 8:29:02 GMT -8
Fel spat an expletive at the comm unit (Fireblast, was that all he was good for anymore?) at the gross oversimplification of Bloodshot's "take us out." Would it were that simple.
As soon as the notification arrived that all were aboard, the pilot punched full power to the thrusters, igniting the afterburners and sending the ship rocketing forward at its' maximum in-atmo velocity. Inertial dampers would take care of most of the motion, but the passengers would most certainly 'feel it.' Fel wasted no time in grabbing a fistful of the column yoke and yanking back until the ship was angled up at 90 degrees relative to the planet's core, taking them up as fast as they could manage. The spacer was fully engrossed in what lay before him, operating three, four, five, six moves ahead as the YV-545 shot up, through traffic lanes, around landing craft, narrowly missing slow-moving taxis, hovering billboards and traffic buoys. It didn't take more than a heartbeat before the warning came: Coruscant security were onto them, their small patrol ships closing on their position from three sides.
Melia, get to the main dorsal gun! flipping on the comm Bloodshot -- get your best shooter to the main ventral cannon, now! We've got company, and less than a minute before planetary shields lock us in here. If it's following us, burn it outta the sky! Fel ran the engines to 120%, damn the torpedoes... they had to get away. There was NO WAY he was going to spend the last few months of his wretched existence in a Coruscant jail. Capture was not an option. Failure was not an...
Fel began to multi-task. Dodge this, flip inverted to avoid that, alter course to avoid incoming blaster cannon fire, all the while re-calculating for something he had never done before. Something he wasn't sure anyone had ever done before. He could hear the cannons firing in the background, saw (felt) the reports from engines and latent shield fatigue, took note (and then promptly ignored) the warning that sublight engine two would fail in forty-five seconds -- in fact, he pushed even harder, allowing scant miliseconds for the computer to re-calculate that they had thirty seconds before engine failure. He ignored the comms, of which there were plenty, both internal, and external. He ignored everything around him. Ignored breathing. There was only that tiny speck of light through which he had to thread this 50-tonne needle.
His hands moved at near-lightning speeds across the controls, making the ship do things for which it was never designed. Official atmospheric airframe crush-points were reached and breached (though the ship had told Fel she could withstand just a little more...) as the next-to-impossible feats of acrobatics at speed designed for snubbies punished the small freighter.
There. There it was. So simple. How had he never thought of it before? It had been there, this whole time. (more reports of engine failure, and comms from the main guns citing multiple contacts intercepting at high speeds) It was an inelegant solution, but as with all things that related to Galdaart Fel, the here and now was all-important. What came after was a gift. The planetary shield line was just out of reach, and closing fast. Fel overlaid their trajectory with the iris of the shield, and there was no way they'd make it. Not even if they burned out their engines (in 18 seconds,) and somehow missed all the incoming blaster fire. They were forty seconds away, and the shield would close in twenty-two seconds. The math simply didn't add up.
But this was so simple. Somehow, math didn't really enter into it. I mean, it did, it certainly did. But this was a feeling. A feeling as sure and sound as the yoke at his fingertips. He could do this.
The activation of the internal comms seemed slow motion in comparison to much of his flying in the last couple of minutes. four or five more blaster shots splashed across their aft shields. A red warning light flashed in the cockpit.
Hold on to something.
Fel activated the hyperdrive in atmo, accessing the newly-laid-in course, and the YV-545 became a hole in the sky.
Galdaart Fel had threaded the needle.
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Mel Tervho
The Vegemite Enclave
Posts: 169 
Affiliation: Vegemite Enclave
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Mel Tervho on Jan 11, 2016 12:29:35 GMT -8
She was still a little pale around the edges but when he yelled for her to get to the dorsal gun, she ran for it and opened it wide on anything that had the misfortune of crossing their tail. It wasn't kill shots, sometimes, the best thing you could do was to disable other ships as then they would cause your pursuers to slow their progression. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. Nonetheless, Mel took aim and disabled civvies, and shot the fuzz fulll of holes until she heard Fel say to hold onto something.
There wasn't enough time to grab anything but the controls and with the sudden acceleration to lightspeed, she was thrown from her seat and slammed hard into the console next to her. Pain shot through her forearm but after a moment or two, she forced herself to move it and confirmed it wasn't broken. She picked herself up off the decking and swooned a moment, still woozy from the violent expulsion of her breakfast at his maneuvers.
This was bad news. All over. Mel stayed silent as she rejoined Fel in the cockpit, cradling her left arm as she tried to work through the pain.
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Post by Brigid Dubh on Feb 12, 2016 1:52:37 GMT -8
*Brigid walked the street a fish out of water. If one had said that her quest would have landed her in this concrete jungle she might never have left. She scarcely remember how let alone why she ended up here in the first place. Right hand against a pole she asked herself : 'How will I get myself out of this mess? How exactly did I get into this mess!?!' But voiced nothing externally. Hope was growing thin. With a deep exhale steeling herself continued to walk along the main drag*
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Post by Twin Togruta Dubh on Feb 17, 2016 21:20:47 GMT -8
*As the two walked along Aranrhod turning to Rhiannon asked*
-Aranrhod-
“Manaan – right Rhiannon?”
*Sighing as her hands and eyes went up in frustration Rhiannon responded*
-Rhiannon-
“Yes Aranrhod! Manaan. How many times do I have to say that!?!?”
*Aranrhod tossing her hands up*
-Aranrhod-
“How are we going to get to Manaan from here???”
*Rhiannon turning her head with a caustic stare responded*
-Rhiannon-
"Just keep walking - we'll get there”
*With an sharp glare*
-Aranrhod-
"WTF is with you Rhiannon??"
*Rhiiannon kept pushing ahead, a shade slower now, said in a singsong voice*
-Rhiannon-
"Shut up Aranrhod or I tear your tonsils out."
*They fast disappeared into the ugly scum filled cityscape. And on they went. Rhiannon thought as she walked ~Things seemed desperate but desperation leads to thinking... unless one gives up, then they just lay down and die. We're not doing that~ Her mind wandered. Something had to happen fast. The Chance of anything happening fast was difficult to picture. The girls walked along. Hoping. Rhiannon exclaimed suddenly*
-Rhiannon-
"C'mon!"
*Grabbing her sister's arm she dragged her along. And low and behold, some half drunk git with an airspeeder was having some difficulty with a beat up excuse for a vessel. Walking up on him fast the girls split one coming at him from the front – the other behind. Aranrhod at the front smiled and blinked her eyes as Rhiannon came up stealthy behind and stuck that DL-6H heavy blaster pistol near outweighing her behind his ear. Rhiannon spoke*
-Rhiannon-
“Ride Mr?”
*She was not asking a question. The gentleman had been robbed more than once in his pathetic excuse for a life and went along nice and peacefully. Off they went on a joyride through the craziest traffic either girl had seen in their young lives. Rhiannon gave an offer that he could not deny*
-Rhiannon-
“Here’s the deal: you get us off this planet and I don’t make your brains one with the front seat.”
*A lame brained moron he might be but self preservation was something which he was not lacking. He also had connections. Now these two may be more fitting for something different he pondered. Little one in front of him was quite nice he thought. Smelling the foul character above the already pungent fumes coming off the man Rhiannon leans in singing*
-Rhiannon-
“Keep your eyes on the road and your hands upon the wheel.”
*And off they went*
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Post by Ciarán Dubh & Laoch Bán Dubh on Feb 22, 2016 21:18:05 GMT -8
*Two men exit a black XJ-6 airspeeder. Both are in three piece black suits. The taller of the two, a Black man pulling a revolver speaks*
-Ciarán-
“Laoch how many are there?”
*The other man, a Caucasian with a pony-tail shrugs as he too pulls a revolver from his side”
-Loach-
“Dunno.”
* Ciarán shaking his head*
“Shouldda brought the shotguns.”
*Loach just shrugs as they close in on a door. Ciarán with a glare remarks*
“That’s what I like about you…. All dialogue; just makes for wonderful conversation”
*With that Ciarán knocks on a door. Loach slips back against the wall pistol raised to face looking towards Ciarán. The door opens and a wide eyed hood, jaw at his chest looks blankly at Ciarán. Loach swings around and the two walk into the apartment. Two other young men are seated on a coach and another in a chair eating fast food. They freeze as the men walk into the room guns drawn. The one who answered the door takes a seat nervously looking at his friends. Loach hangs back as Ciarán casually walks around the room. He rummages through papers and opening a drawer. Holding up a blaster sliding onto a table. As the men watch he strolls about the room. Ciaran begins speaking calm and pleasing to the ear as he walks*
-Ciaran-
"The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men.
Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children.""
*Striking a hard fist down on desk words now hard eyes cascade the room*
"And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee."
-CiaranCiaran-
*Watching the theatrics the men gaze at Ciaran puzzled. At last the young man who answered the door starting to stand speaks*
-Stooge 1-
"I'm sorry... I didn't get your name."
*Ciarán gazes up responding*
-Ciarán-
"My name is Pitt, and your ass ain't talking your way outta this shit."
*Rising up to his feet the young man continues*
-Stooge 1-
"No, no, no. I just want you to know how....."
*Ciarán motions him to sit down. The young man complies but continues speaking*
-Stooge 1-
" I just want you to know how sorry we are that-that things got so messed up... w... we owe An Tiarna. I-I-It...we-we got into this thing with the best intentions. Really. I never..."
*Ciarán shoots the man on the coach sitting to the left of Stooge .1 As the body slumps over Stooge 1 recoils in horror. Ciarán responds*
-Ciarán-
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I break your concentration? I didn't mean to do that. Please, continue. You were sayin' something about "best intentions?"
*Silence fills the air for a few agonizing long seconds then Ciarán caps the other man sitting on the couch and continues pacing as he speaks in a sing-song voice*
"What's the matter? Oh, y-you were finished? Oh, well, allow me to retort. What does An Tiarna Dubh look like?"
*Baffled look on his face Stooge 1 mutters*
-Stooge 1-
"What?"
*Throwing the small table across the room in the room Ciarán's voice rises*
-Ciarán-
"What planet are you from!?"
*The terrified young man asks again*
"Wha-what?"
*All the more louder eyes of fire*
-Ciarán-
"What ain't no country I ever heard of! They speak Common on What!?"
*Scarcely looking Ciarán pops the last of Stooge 1's comrades. The man crashes to the ground bring the chair with him. Flinching Stooge 1 yet again asks desperately*
-Stooge 1-
"What?"
*Now screaming*
-Ciarán-
"Common!!! Do you speak it!?"
*Now writhing and weeping the young man gasps out*
-Stooge 1-
"Yes!!"
*With a huge smile and sweet voice*
-Ciarán-
"Then you know what I'm saying!"
*Heart pounding *
-Stooge 1-
"Yes..!"
*Standing tall with a smile throwing hands wide*
"Describe what An Tiarna Dubh looks like!!"
-Stooge 1-
"Wha-what I—?"
*Pointing a gun directly in Sooge 1's face Ciarán barks*
"Say "what" again! I dare you! I double-dare you! Say "what" one more goddamn time!"
*A heap of a human being cries back*
"He-he's big..."
*Chin lifting*
-Ciarán-
"Does he look like a bitch?"
*Eyes widening*
-Stooge 1-
"What!?!"
*With that Ciarán shoots Stooge 1 point blank in the back of the face. Shrugging shoulders with a once over at the bloodbath*
-Ciarán-
"Let's go."
*Ciarán lighting a cigarette strolls from the apartment. Loach standing observing the show grabs a some items from the table, pocketing them and walks behind Ciarán*
-Loach-
"Where now?"
*Turning at a XJ-6 airspeeder Ciaran remarked*
-Ciaran-
"Out of here."
*Nodding silently as he boarded the vehicle tore off*
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Post by Ciarán Dubh & Laoch Bán Dubh on Feb 23, 2016 17:29:06 GMT -8
*The speeder coming to a stop Ciarán and Laoch walked down the drag. Coming up on a street vendor pawing food Loach stopping suddenly spoke*
-Laoch-
“Hold up Ciarán, I dig this crap."
*Turning to the vendor, an ugly, ugly man*
-Laoch-
"Gimme two of the Specials”
*A smiling vendor handed over two prepackaged colon clogging cardiac arrests waiting to happen. Smiling Loach forked over a fistful of completely worthless credits. The vendor accepting the change with a nod saying*
-Vendor-
“Soft drinks?”
*Loach smiling replied*
-Loach-
“One.”
The vendor cracking a can handed it and some change over*
-Vendor-
“hava nice day!”
*As Loach turned and began walking back down the street stuffing his face Ciarán commented sharply.*
-Ciarán-
*Then turning back handed the man a few credits and caught up with Loach who he then lit into*
-Ciarán-
“You are one cheap prick Loach. That disgusting excuse for a life form probably has an equally disgusting wife and a fistful of ugly children he's feeding off that sad excuse for a job and you take change back! Whats wrong with you?"
*Unwrapping his food h bit into it*
-Ciarán-
*Ummm. This is a tasty burger, thank you Loach. Might I have some of that beverage to wash it down. ”
*Wiping his mouth and handing over the drink Loach spoke smiling as he strutted along*
-Loach-
"Ain’t it sweet? They call it An Tiarna’s Creamy Cheese.”
*Ciaran stuffing his face suddenly screeching to a full stop and spitting his food to the ground, tossed that still in his hand too then quaffing the drink he chucked the can over shoulder inadvertently smaking a man in the head and spoke*
-Ciarán-
“ATD’s Creamy Cheeze!?! Loach did you dig that freak we just bought that off? WTF is this? Get that outta your mouth man.’
*Wiping his hands on his shirt Ciarán muttered*
-Ciarán-
“Unclean… unclean…. Damn fool! knew I shouldda capped you on at least five separate occassions before this BS.”
*His eye catching a antibacterial hand wash dispenser Ciarán bolted towards it smacking a bystander in his path then scrubbing his hands vigorously as loach giggled in the background stuffing his face. Ciarán looking back screaming*
-Ciarán-
“Think that funny MF? The visual effect of that has me discombobulated, sweating and nauseated. How can you eat that thrash man?”
*The two met again walking along with Ciarán ranting on and Loach complaining. Their voices became less and less clear as their bodies climbed into the speeder and disappeared into the cityscape*
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Romulus Aran
Member
Posts: 90
Affiliation: Iridonia's Empire
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Post by Romulus Aran on Feb 15, 2018 7:51:40 GMT -8
Romulus and Serina stepped out of the starport where their ship 'The Grey Unending' had just docked 5 minutes ago. Romulus looked at the bustling sea of people before him.
Ugh, I hate crowds.
Sir, there is a popular drinking spot nearby, just round the corner. Shall we head for it?
Lead the way, Serina.
Serina lead the way through the crowd, with Romulus following behind, his senses not entirely focused on her.
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Post by notjonnjonzz on Feb 21, 2018 19:24:58 GMT -8
Jax paid the cab fare and got off the speeder. He looked around. The all too familiar dank stench and atmosphere of Coruscant's underbelly hit him like a wave. Here was the place where slavery was common, plots were hatched, black market grade weapons were sold and other things too vile and dastardly took place. Truly, this was a place filled with scum and villainy. But it had been Jax's home for the best part of his childhood.
I'm here. But the Underworld's not exactly a very small place. Where do I look?
Jax suddenly felt a tug. It was the Force, he knew. But somehow, it felt... different. Darker. Jax knew who... or what he was looking for could be found in the Outlander's Club. Jax felt his lightsaber, to reassure himself it was still there, and slowly made his way to the tavern.
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Post by Lone Wolf on May 4, 2018 19:22:18 GMT -8
Entering the shady underworld the man breathed in deeply as if inhaling fresh mountain air. He had travelled far and wide and had spent a long stretch on this city planet. Having drank cheap booze with transients on the undercity and wined, dined and slept among those privileged on the upper levels he was once told by a silk-stocking acquaintance “You’ll always carry that smell of the streets.” to which he responded “I like the smell of the streets, it makes me feel alive.” He walked along taking in the abject poverty around him as if walking on a street paved with gold
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Post by Lone Wolf on May 4, 2018 20:40:44 GMT -8
Trudging along the dirty streets he hummed a tune moving past all without a word |
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Gráinne Mhaol & Fiach Dubh
Member
Is mimic a bhris beal duine a shron - often a person's mouth gets their nose broke
Posts: 715
Affiliation: Oglaigh na Irandoideanne - Warriors of the Iron Fists
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Post by Gráinne Mhaol & Fiach Dubh on May 12, 2018 18:25:43 GMT -8
The Underworld was every bit the bed of human depravity that it was proclaimed to be. Yet the girl walked the dirty boulevard with ease. She, as always was graced, or burdened depending on how one viewed things, with a healthy amount of attention. She stood out purely based on physical appearance but an aura about her made the tempting near overwhelming. Only adding to her beauty was her companion that sat on her left shoulder, a massive raven. The bird speaking turned heads; watching the two actually engage in conversation was jaw-dropping, to say the least. She spoke:
-Morrígu-
"Where now?"
The bird responded
-Raven-
"Where now? Where now? You tell me stupid!"
Chuckling she turned towards a shady looking establishment
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Gráinne Mhaol & Fiach Dubh
Member
Is mimic a bhris beal duine a shron - often a person's mouth gets their nose broke
Posts: 715
Affiliation: Oglaigh na Irandoideanne - Warriors of the Iron Fists
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Post by Gráinne Mhaol & Fiach Dubh on May 15, 2018 17:36:25 GMT -8
Two bodies quietly slipped from the famed club walking slowly away. Boland knew the Underground like the back of his hand but allowed himself to be passively led by the woman
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Twi'leck Triplet Dubh
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Pog mo thoin
Posts: 415
Affiliation: Óglaigh na Iarndóideanna – Warriors of the Iron Fists
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Post by Twi'leck Triplet Dubh on Jun 15, 2018 22:34:42 GMT -8
The cityscape was breathtaking. Entering a preselected hanger, they brought the ship down on docking bay number 13, as preplanned. Another Wayfarer sat in number 14. Gid spoke up
-Gid-
“Gentlemen… we girls are going for a walk. We’ll be back
The three left. They did not notice the two men sitting and casually watching but ten meters away
-Thug 1-
“Those some beautiful gurls!”
-Thug 2-
“Shut upp moron! You realize who they is?”
Thug 1shut up but the second went on
-Thug 2-
“Besides they gots 10 fellas with em.”
Thug 1 pointed out
-Thug 1-
“So does we….”
Thug 2 smacked Thug 1 in the head
-Thug 2-
“But are guys ain’t 3 meters tall with sharp teeth lame brain.”
Thug 1’s mouth opened to respond but now words exited. Those Togorians were big! His head bobbed in silent agreement. The girls walked on
Thug 1 and Thug 2 stood. Thug 2 with a gesture of hand moved toward the ship. Eight other men joined them, A few words were passed between the two Thugs crew and the Togorians. At last Thug 1 and Thug 2 left with the ship the Twi'leck girls had rode in on
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Twi'leck Triplet Dubh
Member
Pog mo thoin
Posts: 415
Affiliation: Óglaigh na Iarndóideanna – Warriors of the Iron Fists
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Twi'leck Triplet Dubh on Jun 16, 2018 0:09:53 GMT -8
The girls strolled back over and calmly boarded the ship that had sat beside their ship, the hatch fell, engines flared and they were gone
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