Preacher
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Post by Preacher on May 2, 2017 19:35:22 GMT -8
He was jarred slightly by her sudden change in demeanour. There was no sugar-coating it, and only the most casual of observer would have missed her about-face. It was not only off-putting, it also served to illustrate her mental state, need for subterfuge and misdirection, and possible paranoia.
"You were just watching over me while I slept then?" At this point, his hands were still up defensively, and the look on his face would be somewhere between confusion and disbelief, though he tried to play along, if only to ease her way. "Something like that." He offered no further additions. Explaining his Gift was often misunderstood, feared, or mistaken for aggression. Lowering his hands slowly, he stood neutrally, and was conscious of his form blocking the door. He stepped to the side, granting her an easy exit, should she want it.
"You know I'm starting to feel like this relationship is all one sided. You seem to know a lot more about me than I've told you and you've seen me naked. I don't even know your name." Hoisting himself up onto an unoccupied bit of counter-top, he side-steps the first, more playing bit of her question, and instead answers the second. "My full name is Silas, of Biul. What would you know of me? It is true, few aboard Captain Draykon's ship know much of my past..."
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Isabelle Eoura
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Post by Isabelle Eoura on May 3, 2017 16:34:31 GMT -8
He didn't make a move on me, that's--odd. Most guys would try to take full advantage of the situation, but of course they would just be disappointed when nothing happened, at least nothing they were expecting. Silas is different somehow, maybe he's just not into women, or maybe he breaks the usual male mold and thinks more with his head than his dangley bits. Of course he it's possible he might not have the equipment downstairs which might make him my favorite man in the galaxy, nothing to drive that nauseating male bravado. Well mostly nauseating, sometimes it could be charming. Or maybe he's just not into me. HA. Well that's just ridiculous, if he's likes women then he most definitely is attracted to me. No one ever makes me question so much, people are typically so easy to figure out. He's playing a game, he has to be, which makes him all that much more fun.
She leaned back and seemed to relax even more as the corner of her mouth began to curl ever so slightly. Her icy blue eyes looking him over attempting to read him like the pages of a book but to no real avail.
"Silas of Biul? I've never heard of it. Is everyone there so stoic and to the point as you?"
Surely not. I'm not even convinced that that is who he is yet, but we'll see.
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Preacher
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Post by Preacher on May 3, 2017 17:28:12 GMT -8
Silas leans back against a piece of scanning equipment, and his accidental contact activates the machine. He looks slightly alarmed, and takes a full twenty seconds to figure out where the 'off' button is. Turning back to face Isabelle, he grins sheepishly. "House Biul (he pronounces it 'Bayuuule') is on my home world, a place you call Kilia IV. I wouldn't be surprised if you had never heard of it. Very few have. Where I am from, none of this -- he suggests the ship, the tech, all around him -- exists. I am new to your ways of space travel and blasters, computers and androids. I had a very specific job on my planet. Before we even knew there were other worlds... other civilizations. I was known as a Preacher. I kept the law. And where I am from, taking advantage of a situation -- even 'watching over you as you slept' as you say, is not done. Not by one such as myself."
He let that sit a moment, as it's a tale as tall as a Rancor pen. Truth was often stranger than fiction. Maybe she believed him, maybe not. He crossed his arms, looking at her pointedly. Not certain where the question had come from... but there it was. Silas wasn't one to ignore his inner monologue. "Now, tell me -- why are you here?"
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Isabelle Eoura
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Post by Isabelle Eoura on May 3, 2017 18:30:19 GMT -8
Isabelle watched in amusement as Silas startled himself with the machine and then spent an inappropriately long amount of time fumbling around trying to turn it off. When he turned around to see her the small grin on her face had widened to a more obvious and genuine smile, which quickly faded once she realized it was there.
Kilia IV? I've heard of it from somewhere, maybe from M? Or in a story? Or maybe it just sounds familiar with the numerous planets with similar names with arbitrary numerical distinctions. I guess it doesn't matter, I don't know much about it either way. It's interesting how they call their lawmen Preachers, there has to be something more to it than just a title. But maybe he's lying. Using an obscure planet in his story and making up some title to hide the truth about himself. Maybe. But--he doesn't seem like he's lying, and he clearly doesn't have a grasp of technology yet. I'll have to dig further to find out more.
She stepped her other foot on the chair and leaned on her knees with her arms folded across her stomach and looked at him with inquisitively as he finished speaking and through the short silence before he asked his question. She turned away slightly obviously lost in thought.
"I had no where else to go."
There was a certain genuineness in the way she spoke, probably not the revealing answer that he was looking for but it was actually kind of a big step, or misstep, for the otherwise calculating beauty. She lightly scoffed and grinned at him once again as the moment passed.
"I mean I wasn't left with a lot of options. There were guys trying to kill me and you guys had the closest ship ready to go so here I am. It was a simple choice really.-------------Same question."
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Preacher
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Post by Preacher on May 3, 2017 18:48:46 GMT -8
Crossing his arms, he sat while she replied, knowing exactly (or nearly) the words or interpretation she'd go with.
"No... I mean, why were you -- you -- in a slave pen?"
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Isabelle Eoura
The Organization
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Post by Isabelle Eoura on May 3, 2017 19:06:01 GMT -8
"Well that's the million credit question now isn't it?"
What should I tell him? The truth? Something elaborate that boarders on the unbelievable? Something completely believable but entirely false? Or a version of the truth? Decisions, decisions.
"Like everyone else there I was captured, sold, and waiting to be sold again."
It wasn't a lie. But it wasn't the whole truth either. She looked away for a moment as she reflected on what really happened, all of it, just for a moment, and then she looked back to him.
"So, again, same question--why are you here? I mean you have to admit, a preaching lawman flying around the galaxy with a bunch of criminals seems odd."
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Trent Weston
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Post by Trent Weston on May 3, 2017 21:24:11 GMT -8
Through the swirling blues of hyperspace the Midnight Shadow crosses the threshold from the Mid Rim to the Western Outer Rim.
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Sayra Nur
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Post by Sayra Nur on May 8, 2017 22:05:05 GMT -8
(Continuing from earlier in this thread... )The Roche Asteroid Field
The heavily modified Mobquet-class transport "Farlan Flyer" was early for its 1600 hour arrival at the Roche Asteroid Field, where it was scheduled to make a delivery to Colony 28 on Roche G28. As the large freighter dropped out of hyperspace, the crew aboard the Farlan quickly found themselves thrust in the hustle and bustle of the Asteroid's traffic lanes. The place was a trader's hub out in the Mid Rim, everyone from civilian merchants, to the native Verpine, to Mandalorian clans, did business out in the Roche Asteroids.
Lt. Commander Sayra Nur, formerly of the Jedi Shadows, now third in command aboard the Farlan, stood at the bridge of the small freighter,
just off to the side of the pilot Zeron Attari's helm. She was dressed in her tan-colored leather jacket, with brown pants and boots, uniform for all Farlan Flyer crew members. She couldn't afford to be caught dead in her Jedi attire - it was all business right now. The Echani woman took a deep breath and sighed as she saw all the busy traffic flowing throughout the asteroid field. She seemed eager to get this particular delivery over with, and she grew impatient with the amount of starship traffic they would have to weave through just to get to their destination, as well as the inevitable line they would have to wait in just to dock.
"Laaaadies and gentleman of the Farlan Flyer..." Chimed in the young, cocky and fun-loving pilot Zeron, who was also an Echani like Sayra, except he had slightly darker silver hair... "...I'd like to proudly welcome you all to the busiest kriffing spaceport in the Mid Rim, ANNND our final stop of the day - the Roche Asteroid Field!"
Sayra took another long look at the busy traffic before heaving a contented sigh. "Well, at least we're ahead of schedule." She folded her arms in front of her, then eyed Zeron, trying to maintain a calm demeanor. "Alright, Zeron - find out how long we're gonna have to wait before we can dock at Colony 28. If you can manage to get us an express docking placement, do it."
"Aye aye, Commander, I'll get right on it." The male Echani pilot was about to key his headset to hail Colony 28 when he turned back to face Sayra, noticing that she seemed a bit stressed. "Say, Commander - everything alright? You seem a bit, uh...on edge lately."
Sayra apparently had little patience for Zeron's concern, and she brushed it off quickly. "It's nothing - just do as I asked, please." Zeron merely shrugged his shoulders before going back to hail the station. Sayra then turned to the Communications officer, an older human with asian features, affectionately known to the crew as 'Mute'... "Mute, let the Captain know we've arrived."
Mute, who really didn't say much outside what his job dictated, being the communications officer, hence how he got his nickname, merely nodded at Sayra before opening up an in-ship channel to hail Captain Marvis Renald, the captain of the Farlan Flyer.
With Zeron and Mute both doing what they needed to do, Sayra knew that the next thing she would need to check on was the recieving and docking crew, led by one of her friends from the Jedi Shadows, Oni-Li Berrin. She knew that Oni-Li liked to goof off, far more so than their pilot Zeron, and she would have to calmly but firmly crack the whip to get him and the other crew members ready to complete the delivery in a timely manner.
She turned back to leave the bridge, and - as she did so, caught the eye of her younger sister, Alia Nur, wearing an identical Farlan Flyer uniform. It took Sayra a few seconds to realize that Alia had been standing at the door leading to the cargo bay ever since they jumped into hyperspace, and that she had been watching Sayra. Alia, also a Jedi like her older sister, could sense that something still wasn't right with Sayra and wanted to talk. Sayra really didn't feel like having any sort of discussion at the moment, but she knew she wouldn't be able to get to the cargo bay without going through Alia first.
Sayra frowned as she approached her sister, steeling herself for the inevitable discussion.
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Sayra Nur
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Post by Sayra Nur on May 10, 2017 21:10:49 GMT -8
Alia Nur, Sayra Nur's younger sister, and another of the five former Jedi Shadows that lived and worked about the Farlan Flyer, had been concerned about her older sister's behavior as of late. She noticed that Sayra had become increasingly anxious and irritable as of late, and Alia couldn't quite put her finger on why. Now, Sayra's impatience with a seemingly easy job, the last one of the night, and even ahead of schedule, was a sign that Alia needed to confront her.
As soon as Sayra passed her to head to the ship's cargo bay, Alia turned and followed her. She wasted no time speaking her mind. "Are you gonna tell me what's wrong?"
"There's nothing wrong, Alia." Sayra returned, rather coldly, her pace not slowing.
"You're a terrible liar, Sayra. You've been acting strange since yesterday. I can sense there's something on your mind. Please, tell me - I'm concerned."
"Not now...we have work to do."
"...then "when?" Alia did her best not to shout as they entered the cargo bay, where they could see Oni-Li Berrin, Xera Salla and the other receiving crew talking and laughing out loud in a circle.
Sayra sighed. She didn't mean to push her sister away like this, but she was eager to be done with the job at Colony 28. "When we get downtime. After this job. I promise."
Sayra started to head towards the receiving crew, but Alia stopped her. "It's about Zalor, isn't it?"
Sayra stopped in her tracks immediately, remaining silent for a short while. Alia could sense that she was wrestling with something, and she was desperate for her sister to talk about it. Finally, Sayra caved. She turned and gave her sister a small hint as to what had been troubling her.. "...I think I might know where he's been. Recently. Within the past day or two."
Alia's jaw dropped. Her eyes widened. She knew how Sayra felt about Zalor, given their long romantic relationship, and how they had gotten separated after a mysterious fleet of ships destroyed the Jedi Shadows Enclave on Endor. Sayra had been searching for her boyfriend Zalor Anneri ever since, and now it seemed she was closer than ever before to finding her. "Really?"
Sayra nodded, instantly glad she had finally decided to get it off her chest. However, as much as she wanted to explain her newfound knowledge in full, she knew they had a job pending. "I'll tell you how I know - after we finish this job. I promise."
This seemed to please the younger sister greatly. Alia smiled sweetly at her sister, then nodded in acknowledgement."Okay! Fair enough." Alia was so focused on what was wrong with Sayra that she forgot what she was doing. Then she remembered it was her turn to clean the mess hall after their dinner break, which they had had just before they hypered into Roche.
She giggled as she made her way through the cargo hold, tripping over a broom as she did so. "I'll uh...I'll go clean now."
Sayra breathed a sigh of relief. That exchange had gone better than she expected. Now that Alia knew what was bothering her,
and Alia had become her closest friend in their time aboard the Farlan Flyer, it allowed Sayra to focus on the task at hand. After a few more seconds of still silence, she finally heaved a deep sigh of relief, then turned back to confront the receiving crew, all crowded around the younger male human Jedi known as Oni-Li Berrin, the 'official' comic relief of the Farlan Flyer...
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Sayra Nur
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Post by Sayra Nur on May 10, 2017 22:16:59 GMT -8
As Sayra Nur approached the receiving crew in the cargo hold of the Farlan Flyer, she found the five or six members of the crew circled around their 'foreman' - Oni-Li Berrin, a brown-haired, 24-year old human former Jedi Shadow, doing what he did best: goofing off. The closer she got to Oni and the crew, the more she realized what was going on...
"...so the Hutt slithers up to the guy, and he's like, 'Did you get the registry number of that barge?' And the guy laughs and says, 'Na, I was too busy gettin' a snack.' Then he hands him the sack and says, 'Here! Want some?'" A huge smile crossed Oni-Li's face just as the rest of the receiving crew, minus the Twi'lek woman - Xera Salla, the fourth member of Sayra's Jedi Shadow outcasts - burst into a mix of heavy laughter and grossed-out exclamations of 'eww!' Once again, Oni-Li had proven himself as the Farlan Flyer's resident comedian, which he enjoyed being to help boost crew morale both on and off the job.
Xera, the Twi'lek, could sense their commander, Sayra, approaching, and she relieved herself from the group with an irritated eye-roll, clearly not that impressed by Oni-Li's humor. She turned to face Sayra, then shook her head.
"I swear, I have no idea where he gets his jokes from."
Sayra frowned at Xera, as if confused as to why the crew was standing around talking and not working. "What's going on, Xera?"
The blue-skinned Twi'lek, and the only crew member not wearing the Farlan Flyer uniforms, choosing to remain in her normal Jedi training garb, thumbed towards Oni-Li and the group behind her... "It's Oni's new ritual he does with the crew before a delivery. Gotta get in those lame jokes in before unloading. Personally, I think they're dumb, but I don't have the heart to tell him that. The other crewmembers love it."
"I see..." Sayra couldn't resist a small amused smirk, but she quickly diverted from Xera's attention and went over to confront Oni-Li directly.
"Oni..." Sayra's presence in the cargo hold suddenly and quickly broke up the receiving crew, as they began to go back to work, prepping the tugs to unload the heavy cases, of which there were 50, all 4 meters by meters, and stacked neatly towards the back of the cargo hold. As the group dispersed, they left Oni bewildered as to why they were leaving to go back to work, until his eyes met Sayra's.
"Oh! Crud. Hey, Sayra. Sorry - I was just shooting the breeze with the guys until we dock."
"I can see that." Sayra stood calmly in front of Oni-Li, trying not to seem too stern. She turned and nodded at the large pile of cargo crates... "I assume that means you have the manifest checked and double-checked to make sure everything's accounted for? It's all sorted and ready to be unloaded?"
"Yup, and yup! I already took care of that right after we left Terrabin Colony. I'm way ahead of ya'."
"So..." Sayra frowned at Oni-Li, putting a lot of effort into not yelling at him or seeming bossy... "...why didn't you guys already get around to starting up the tugs and getting the load closer to the loading doors already? Why were you just standing around talking?"
Normally, Oni-Li knew that this was grounds for getting chewed out by the Captain himself. Fortunately, this time, Oni-Li seemed as though he had a good reason for the downtime... "'Cause Zeron just called me and said that the left lower engine's been actin' up again. He's got clearance to land, but it's taking us forever to get to the landing dock because we're only on three engines right now. Said it'll be another ten minutes before we can get in line - we've got three ships ahead of us yet."
Sayra's face scrunched up like a kinrath pup; now she was even really confused. "Just now? That's odd - I was just on the bridge with Zeron. Everything seemed fine to me."
Oni-Li merely shrugged his shoulders. "Don't know what to tell ya', boss. Why don't you ask him yourself?"
Sayra shook her head and sighed - her anxiety and impatience once again bubbling to the surface. She turned away from Oni-Li,
grabbed her comlink, then immediately spoke into it. ::Zeron? Zeron - it's Commander Nur. What's going on up there? ...Zeron?::
The comms were silent for a few seconds. Before long, however, a response came back from the bridge. It wasn't Zeron's voice,
though. It was the voice of an older woman, the co-pilot Maggie. ::Hey, honey. Maggie here.::
Sayra wasn't surprised that Maggie had responded instead of Zeron. Maggie was a much more experienced pilot, and took over for Zeron often, when the need arose. If there was something wrong with the engines, piloting the rather large, bulky freighter would require both of them. ::Hey, Maggie - what's going on up there? Oni tells me we're having engine troubles again?::
::Yes, ma'am. It's that dang-blasted left lower engine again. Zeron's too focused on keepin' her steady, so I'm on the comms at the helm.::
Sayra seemed to understand the situation, and her anxiety melted almost instantly. ::Is Greelik or Jasso back in the engine room working on it?::
::Greelik's up front working on the navigation computers, honey. And I haven't seen Jasso since earlier this mornin'. I couldn't tell ya' who's back there.::
::I'll talk to Jasso. We need that engine patched ASAP. Thanks, Maggie.:: With that, Sayra switched the channels on her comlink, then spoke into it again. ::Jasso? Jasso? It's Sayra - where are you? We need you in the engine room. Jasso?::
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Sayra Nur
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Post by Sayra Nur on May 11, 2017 22:25:05 GMT -8
The Farlan Flyer, Engine Room
Jasso Li, a 24-year old green-skinned Nautolan, was the fifth member of Sayra's group of Jedi Shadows refugees that were living on board the Farlan Flyer. Together, he, with Alia Nur, Xera Salla and Oni-Li Berrin were a group of friends who called themselves 'the Padawan Crew', since they were all still officially Padawans when they worked as Jedi Shadows at Endor. Now, while the other three younger Padawans had chosen regular crew positions, and Sayra ended up being in a leadership position aboard the freighter, the self-styled Jasso took to mechanics, and eventually became an apprentice ship engineer, underneath the tutelage of the sometimes impatient but very skilled Rodian engineer, Greelik. Jasso, who seemed to like everyone he came in contact with, and had no trouble getting past Greelik's grumpy disposition, was a fast learner. He found that the Farlan Flyer's ion engines were easier for him to understand than their old Delta-7 starfighter's engines, which Jasso liked to work on back at the Enclave.
Jasso had his portable radio on, which was tuned to his favorite station, OR-Jam Radio. Dressed in his comfortable mechanic's shirt and pants, he bobbed his head to and fro with a big, satisfied grin on his face as he made some in-flight adjustments to the hyperdrive motivator. He had his radio on loud enough that he hardly noticed his comlink going off until a few seconds later...
::Jasso? Jasso? It's Sayra - where are you? We need you in the engine room. Jasso?::
"Oh!" The Nautolan exclaimed as he set down his tools, realizing that someone was paging him. He picked up his comlink, which was sitting next to the radio on a workbench next to the motivator. With an even bigger grin, he spoke into the comlink in his usual care-free, reggae-like tone.
::Hey, hey - it's Jasso, da' smoothest, best-lookin' freighter mechanic in da' galaxy speakin'! To whom do I owe da' pleasure?::
::Jasso, it's me - Sayra...:: ...came Sayra's voice, seemingly rather flustered. ::Are you in the engine room right now?::
::Ah, Miss Sayra - always a pleasure ta' hear your voice! Yes, yes, I'm in da engine room right now, just makin' some last minute adjustments to da' hypa'drive. What do ya' require from lil' ol' Jasso, mon?::
::The pilots are saying that Engine 4 is offline again. We're only on three engines, and we're in line for an express docking at Colony 28 in less than ten minutes. Can you get us back up and running before then?::
Jasso quickly turned and eyed the engine in question, noticing that it was, in fact, offline. Fortunately, he knew why, as this particular engine had been troublesome for weeks, for the same reason. ::Ah - dat is unfortunate indeed, mon. I was noticing it was runnin' a bit hot today. Yes, I t'ink I can remedy da' issue right away. Just gotta get da' coolant system back up an' online. Not a problem, mon!::
::Good. Thank you, Jasso.:: Sayra's voice, despite her pleased response, seemed no less anxious however. ::Let the pilots know when it's back up as soon as you can so they can start the ignition procedures right away - we're pressed for time. You've got less than ten minutes, Jasso. Ten minutes.::
Jasso started to sense the anxiety in Sayra's voice, and was quick to try and offer her his utmost assurance, in his own Jasso fashion. ::Hey! No worries, mon! Jasso Li is on da' job, yah? Save your worries for anotha' day! Over an' out!::
With that, Jasso put his comlink back on the desk next to the portable radio before reaching to his mug of Jawa Juice, taking a sip, then briskly dashing over to Engine 4 to take a peek at the coolant system to see what was the problem. As he began to work on the engine, the song that was playing ended, and was quickly followed by Jasso's favorite voice in the galaxy, the sexy female voice of DJ Vanna Stylez...
"Hey, hey, Outer Rim, and a few of you Mid Rim folks - 'cause we love you, too! This is DJ Vanna Stylez, and you're listening to OR-Jam Radio, the number-one Outer Rim station for classic jams - Hutt approved! How's life in the galaxy treatin' y'all today?"
As if the radio DJ could hear him, Jasso replied with a huge, contented grin on his face... "With your sweet, melodic voice on da' airwaves, my beautiful sabil-flower, life is treatin' me grand!"
Much to Jasso's continued dismay, the DJ couldn't hear him, and kept on talking without interruption."Hey, so - before we put some more jams on in just a few minutes, I just got a bit of news coming down the hyperlane from the Dantooine system..."
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Aug 12, 2017 3:48:39 GMT -8
The battered hull of a jettisoned escape pod drifted lifelessly through the vacuum of open space somewhere within the confines of the Mid Rim. The design and structure of the vessel was similar to that of an escape pod commonly found in stock model Corellian CR90 Corvette's,
though the surface seemed to be painted with a medley of carbon scoring and rough abrasions - this craft had been through some kind of fight and now uncontrollably waded through the fringes of the Mid Rim's open space. The survival of the vessel and its occupant, if any, was as the mercy of whatever other vessel managed to stumble across it.
Clink! Clank! Bam! Debris left from previous fights in this sector of space collided with the damaged hull of the vessel as it continued to drift. Alarms and sirens whistled within, as proximity sensors rang to life as they were tripped by the spatial relics adrift outside the pod. Grimacing, a lone occupant slammed his fist to a panel, silencing the piercing ring of the alarms and sirens aboard the vessel. Even so, the annoyances had continued long enough, now, that the man's ears continued to sing away to the stoic melody the alarms had been cut of.
::WARNING!
MAIN POWER AT 20 PERCENT.
AUXILIARY POWER AT 30 PERCENT.
MAIN ENGINES OFFLINE.
LIFE SUPPORT AT 20 PERCENT.
COMMUNICATIONS OFFLINE.
HULL INTEGRITY CRITICAL.
WARNING!
... ::
The message rang out through the ship's main computer over and over and over again. Dire as the situation appeared, fear and panic failed to take hold of the lone occupant of the vessel. Hell had taken him to this point and spit him back up; if an embrace of Kad was to come, then so be it.
Clad in the signature attire of the Mandalorian people, Kalmann's beskar'gam still carried the script of war upon it. Carbon scoring and scarred metal. Blood and dirt and grime. It all added to the story of him recent existence. He didn't wear his buy'ce as the crack in the visor rendered the HUD useless and made for a rather large and belligerent obstruction to his line of site. Instead the helm sat lazily upon the floor where blood had since dried and began to crest upon its surface. He carried no weapon on his person for they had been thrown to the floor when he boarded the vessel however long ago.
Ten months had passed since he'd awakened upon the bank of the Massassi River of Yavin IV. Ten months since he'd fallen into his trauma induced amnesiac state. Ten months months since his eyes cast down upon a knoll covered in fallen Mando'ade, Jedi and some other kind of soldier. Hundreds of bodies that had only filled his conscience with a seemingly ceaseless number of recurring questions. What had happened? Where was he? Why was he there? Why were there so many dead? The questions continued on and on, but now certain things had begun to fallen into place. For now, what he knew was he chieftain still lived and he had to find his way back home - wherever home was.
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Post by House of D'Ordinii on Aug 16, 2017 21:26:31 GMT -8
==Gentleman Night SL==
<<64 PP; O17 Sector>>
Alejandro Lateran Fernando De la Vega, GENTLEMAN KNIGHT of Clan D'Ordinii was good looking. Very, very good looking. Alejandro Lateran Fernando De la Vega, GENTLEMAN KNIGHT knew it will all his being, & Alejandro Lateran Fernando De la Vega, GENTLEMAN KNIGHT knew everyone else knew it as well. Some might even go so far as to call Alejandro Lateran Fernando De la Vega, GENTLEMAN KNIGHT the most beautiful person in the galaxy. Alejandro Lateran Fernando De la Vega, GENTLEMAN KNIGHT wouldn't of course, that would be crass (even though it was true).
Alejandro Lateran Fernando De la Vega, GENTLEMAN KNIGHT walked into the village using the main street (as Alejandro Lateran Fernando De la Vega, GENTLEMAN KNIGHT always did) & introduced Alejandro Lateran Fernando De la Vega, GENTLEMAN KNIGHT to the local peasants (as Alejandro Lateran Fernando De la Vega, GENTLEMAN KNIGHT always did). "Greetings humble villagers, it is I: Alejandro Lateran Fernando De la Vega, GENTLEMAN KNIGHT." Alejandro Lateran Fernando De la Vega, GENTLEMAN KNIGHT had (of course) timed Alejandro Lateran Fernando De la Vega, GENTLEMAN KNIGHT's entrance into the village perfectly so that the light from the planet's sun would refract through Alejandro Lateran Fernando De la Vega, GENTLEMAN KNIGHT's transparisteel armor & surround Alejandro Lateran Fernando De la Vega, GENTLEMAN KNIGHT with a shimmering halo of light motes.
After allowing the locals to bask in the glory of Alejandro Lateran Fernando De la Vega, GENTLEMAN KNIGHT for a few more precious moments, Alejandro Lateran Fernando De la Vega, GENTLEMAN KNIGHT got down to business. "I, Alejandro Lateran Fernando De la Vega, GENTLEMAN KNIGHT, Have learned that there is a group of pirates hiding in this very village. This fell taint shall not be allowed, for I, Alejandro Lateran Fernando De la Vega, GENTLEMAN KNIGHT, shall purge it from your ranks!" Alejandro Lateran Fernando De la Vega, GENTLEMAN KNIGHT held up his hands to halt the growing praise of the humble villagers. "Forward loyal servant! Forward Philippe!" Alejandro Lateran Fernando De la Vega, GENTLEMAN KNIGHT then dashed forward toward the pirate lair leading his loyal servant into the jaws of the enemy.
After a Daring & Epic battle where in Alejandro Lateran Fernando De la Vega, GENTLEMAN KNIGHT conquered many foes, Alejandro Lateran Fernando De la Vega, GENTLEMAN KNIGHT returned to the village to receive the humble villager's grateful thanks. Seeing the job once again finished Alejandro Lateran Fernando De la Vega, GENTLEMAN KNIGHT continued onward to rid the galaxy of all evil.
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Post by House of D'Ordinii on Aug 16, 2017 21:28:44 GMT -8
==Gentleman Knight SL==
<<64 PP; O17 Sector>>
Alejandro Lateran Fernando De la Vega, GENTLEMAN KNIGHT was a ponce. He was also probably mentally handicapped, but the GENTLEMAN KNIGHT refused to take an IQ test. He claimed that it would only be pointless bragging & make others feel bad in comparison. Phillip Gunther of Clan D'Ordinii was more or less the idiot's minder, present to make sure that he didn't cause any major trouble. Phillip still wasn't sure where the idiot had managed to get his hands on a complete set of transparisteel armor, or the personal shield that reinforced it.
At the moment, 'Sir' Alejandro was leading the way into a small town. Of course this was after nearly three hours of hiding in a large bush just outside of town limits waiting for the 'proper moment'. It had actually been a rather enjoyable rest & Phillip had made some good progress on the current book he was reading.
Reaching what was roughly the middle of town, & drawing a fair sized crowd due to more or less appearing to be in nothing more than his underwear, 'Sir' Alejandro stopped. Planting his fists on his hips & thrusting out his chest, he launched into his usual speech about evil. It was pirates this time. Sometimes it was raiders, thieves, murders, vandals, dragons, gnomes, or lazy people. The speech itself never changed however & Phillip could easily quote it word for word by this point. It did however mean things were about to get somewhat less enjoyable.
The crowd was fairly well confused by this point, which is probably why they failed to react when the nut-job pointed at a random building, called Phillip 'Flippy' for the hundredth time that day, & then charged into the building.
As Phillip raced along behind 'Sir' Alejandro, he did have the presence of mind to note that the building was, in fact, a lawyer's office. It was probably just blind luck that got it picked from the others around it however. After passing three overturned desks, one decorative plant that had somehow been set on fire (despite the fact that it was a fake plant & merely melting in the flame), along with several very confused & panicked lawyers, Phillip managed to catch up to Alejandro. After pulling him from the building Phillip noticed that the crowd was gradually shifting from confused to 'let's stone someone' angry.
While Phillip more or less dragged Alejandro out of town, the fool still managed to shout another speech. That of course meant that the crowd followed the duo for a good three miles while throwing various small rocks before giving up & going home.
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Post by House of D'Ordinii on Aug 17, 2017 21:00:37 GMT -8
==Honor SL==
<<92 PP; R9 Sector>>
Tach liked to eat lunch with his HUD cleared. He found it let him zone out & think about whatever problem he might be working on for the day. With his HUD at its normal setting, the hall was a riot of colors & designs. Names floating unsupported in the air, awards, & training badges all fighting to distract him from mulling over his problem. Not to mention the constant stream of text updates & messages from friends & co-workers derailing his thoughts. With it set to clear the hall was a subdued sea of grey, with a light sprinkling of black & red tribands, the clan colors. The only way to tell one figure from the next was the various styles of armor & the number of metal studs on their chests. The hall was even free from distracting chatter due to the habit of most to chat over suit comm systems.
This meant he was rather confused to have his attention suddenly drawn to a bright splash of color in the sea of grey. Four figures in blood red armor walked steadily through the crowd, each several paces from the others. Each of the figures bore a long pike which gave off an ominous hum. Force pikes ready to deal death in an instant. Each was followed by a billowing cape of the deepest black. Praetorians. The Mirror-faced Elite guards of the highest ranking members of the Clan.
Tach was about to return his HUD to its normal state, but the titanic figure that stepped into view needed no identifier. As the figure came around the corner, everyone within sight immediately stepped out of the way, clearing a wide path down the center of the arcade lined with the sea of kneeling grey figure. Even if everyone except the praetorians wasn't kneeling, the figure would still tower over everyone else present. The black suit of armor was more like a small vehicle than a suit to be worn. Standing at a full three meters, just the legs of the armor were thicker around than Tach's chest. But the size was no mystery, true it was part power armor, but most of the space was taken up by the complex life support system keeping the figure inside alive. Projected from the front of the pod-like main body of the suit was the floating face that everyone in the Clan knew by heart, not even as a HUD ghost, but an actual holograph projected into the air for any to see. It was a face heavily lined with age & torn by scars too numerous to count. Hair once black as jet & worn long was now a wispy white & cropped short, not quite managing to hide the aged scalp beneath it. But not everything changed with age, the figure's horns were cropped short as always, a choice that had led many of the clan to follow suit. The figure's eyes were as black as pits of tar, with no white or color to separate pupil from the surrounding eye. With almost religious gravity a single phrase whispered it's way down the hall, with Tach gladly lending his own voice to the whisper.
"Kandosii Ba'buir."
It meant, most commonly, Noble Grandfather. A fitting title for the founder of the Clan, someone who was rumored to have beaten death itself & halted the effects of age, though not reversed them. Of course another perfectly valid translation was Ruthless Grandfather. Which was also fitting if even half of the stories about the Clan's early history were true. The figure didn't halt its journey or even falter for a step, such reverence was the norm anywhere the Clan held in its' power. Instead the response was simply a measured nod & a returned word.
"Ner'Ade"
My Children. It was like a confirmation & benediction to hear those words. Suddenly, Tach's problems seemed so small & weak. With this blood in his veins & the support of so great a figure, nothing was impossible. Within an all too short time, the powerful figure passed out of sight, with four more of the Praetorians trailing along behind, like children 'protecting' a tank. As activity slowly returned to the hall, Tach wondered what business had brought the Alor to here. True this was one of the one hundred & fifty two Citadels that controlled & monitored everything that happened with the clan, but the Alor was still on a completely different level above that. Tach could only daydream about what blessed figure would be graced with the patriarch's presence, or what cursed fool had drawn his ire.
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Post by House of D'Ordinii on Aug 18, 2017 19:15:39 GMT -8
==Railroad SL==
<<100 PP; S10 Sector, Sleheyron>>
Zerri Tildat was neither a good nor a nice man. He liked clothes that favored dark colors & leathers, often with little trinkets that looked worryingly like they might have been a part of someone originally. He was currently wandering through a crowded, smelly, & bustling market. Four beings trailed loosely behind him, hired thugs. Several more waited at his ship for the soon to be purchased cargo. He ignored the small time peddlers & made his way around another bend entering the central courtyard of the market. Dozens of beings stood in lines, chained in place. The sole thing for sale at this market, with the exception of food, were slaves. Zerri smiled in a way that would have made any of the slaves even more uncomfortable had any seen it. He took a dark glee from wandering down one of the rows, inhaling the scent of misery in the air. Wonderful. Making his way toward one side of the large courtyard, he picked his seller. All the slaves in the courtyard belonged to one group, with several hands standing around to cut deals with any willing to buy.
-Zerri
You! Jockey. TO ME.
The command had the desired effect as the being quickly made its way over to him.
-Zerri
You will provide me with a dozen of your strongest. I will pick them out. Follow.
Without giving the being a chance to reply, he strode back down another line. He found being commanding often got him better prices. He cast a critical eye over the slaves as he passed. Too weak, too fat, too small, already had broken spirit. He was looking for strong specimens that still have that spark of fire, of defiance in eye. In the end, he had picked out fifteen, a better haul than he had expected, included what seemed like a pair of sisters.
-Zerri
These are troublemakers. I can tell by looking at them. They will make for good fights. You will give me twenty percent off your price to take the problem off your hands.
There was some debate, but in the end he managed to get a respectable fourteen percent off. After gathering up the goods, he sent two of the thugs to deliver them to the ship. They would return in time enough for the next load. Zerri repeated the process with three more of the lanes, the haul wasn't as good for those rows however, bringing his total for the day to thirty. After a few sharp words, he managed to get in touch with someone higher ranked. It didn't take long after a modest bribe to get a contact for a few more markets that might be able to better help his needs.
After getting a nice meal & enjoying the vista a little more, he made his way back to the ship. The ship left the planet shortly after that. In deep space, not far from the planet in astronomical terms, but nearly impossible to find without knowing were to look, the ship landed in the hanger of a massive Lucrehulk. Emblazoned on the hull was a flaming goblet with a handle of metal rails with wood beams. Zerri made his way out of the ship at the head of a line of slaves. Waiting for the slaves was a collection of medical personnel & intelligence people. Zerri thought it was weak to throw money away to buy slaves only to set them free, but it wasn't his money. On top of his own pay for the job, he was allowed to keep any funds that he didn't use. Paid twice for each job wasn't a bad way to work. Making his way over to one of the intelligence people, he handed over a datarod. He wasn't able to read the data himself, but he knew it was the feed from several concealed sensors & holofeeds hidden in his clothing & trinkets.
Clover Cassiopeia though Zerri & his thugs were absolute scum, but they were scum with use. The data from the sensors would be carefully studied. Every last byte of information would be drawn from it. Even more would be gathered from the former slaves. The data would be studied while Zerri moved on to the next market. Within two weeks the combat part of Operation Railroad would raid the place, dropping anything & everything with stunners & adhesives. Those gathered would be closely questioned to sort them into three groups.
The former slaves they were given three choices. The first was simply being released on a nearby civilized planet, no questions asked & with minor memory disruption used. The process didn't have long term effects unless over used, & tended to prevent any memory of the last few days. The second option was to work for the Clan for a year in return for fair pay for that time & passage to anywhere in the galaxy. The last option was an open invitation to fully join the Clan. A few would general take the first option. A good number would take the second. They realized that without funds they would have little chance of returning to their homeworld on their own. The majority would eventually join up with the Clan. In fact, once back in touch with their families, they often would convince additional relatives to join as well.
Those at the market that hadn't been involved directly in the slave trade made up another group. Most often small time merchants, as well as bodyguards or other staff of buyers. These had the same memory disruption as the slaves that took the first option, waking up in the destroyed market with no memory of the last few days.
As for the slavers, they were left in two piles. One for the bodies & one for the heads. These were left in a nice easy to find location usually in the main courtyard. The chains that had been used to hold slaves weaving the mass of bodies into a tangled mass of flesh. Anyone that wanted to move the bodies would have to either cut the chains or the bodies themselves. In many cases the bodies were left to rot on the spot. A nice poetic statement. Already rumors were beginning to spread about slavers being hunted across the galaxy.
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Darth Wraak
Blackguard Imperium
Posts: 197
Affiliation: Blackguard Imperium/Clan Starkiller
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Post by Darth Wraak on Sept 16, 2017 9:30:40 GMT -8
The Brotherhood shot through hyperspace, heading back to Iridonia. Venom sat in his chambers, meditating. The Force was drawing him and his brother back to Iridonia, that much was certain. But for what purpose? A confrontation with his former master was not something either of them were prepared for. Both he and Valafar barely survived against Xander on Rhommamool during Xander's resurrection. And Xander was still weakened from his return. If they were to fight Viox, it might as well be the end of the road for them. Though he did have a sneaking suspicion that this return to Iridonia wasn't for a fight, but for something much greater than petty revenge. As much as Venom wanted to make his master pay and suffer for all the indignities he suffered during training, his real vendetta wasn't against Viox, is was against his father, Xander. If Viox was willing to play nice with him and his brother, then perhaps they could go after Xander together. It was no secret that Viox hated his father. And it was no secret that he wanted his father dead. So maybe having witnessed Xander's rebirth, they could come to some sort of truce. Viox never openly wanted to fight Clan Starkiller anyways, so perhaps there was still a glimmer of a chance that this would work out for them. Maybe... Venom continued to meditate while the ship made its approach to Iridonia...
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Darth Verenhimo
The Sith Eternal
Posts: 130
Affiliation: Blackguard Reborn/Clan Starkiller
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Post by Darth Verenhimo on Sept 16, 2017 10:17:10 GMT -8
The Brotherhood, Armory
The Armory Tech motioned to Valafar to check the modification to his armor. Valafar was impress the Tech did an amazing job with the equipment the ship had.
"You're dismissed"
With that the Armory Tech went into a different part of the armory to start working on the troops armor and weapons. Valafar looked at the armor carefully. He wanted to make sure it was up to his standards, and it was. He then proceeded to put the armor on. Valafar was even more impress when he discovered that the armor was somehow a bit lighter than it was before. This would make moving around during combat a bit easier. Instead of a helmet the armor's cape now had a hood. As he finished putting the armor on, he put the Tof sword on his back and walk out of the armory. Valafar decided to head towards the bridge an await the moment when they entered Iridonia's orbit. As he walked Valafar's thoughts were that of excitement he hadn't seen Iridonia since leaving for Rhommamool, and that seemed like a lifetime ago, of course they had seen the planet from orbit when they acquired their ship. It wasn't the same as breathing in the air, and being on the surface experiencing the heat from the sun. Valafar missed the feeling of solid ground beneath his feet. He shook this thoughts from his mind as he entered the bridge. Valafar stood in the middle of the bridge with arms crossed, while standing there he prepared himself mentally for the meeting of his Former Master's son and his cousin.
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Post by House of D'Ordinii on Dec 13, 2017 20:24:47 GMT -8
==Operatives SL==
<<100 PP, L17 Sector>>
Praetor Vethin had marked it as a red letter day when he had first been assigned a pair of the Damocles' Guard. He wasn't high ranked enough to warrant Praetorians, but even the lesser, black clad operatives were a sign of prestige & importance in the Clan. He had been a fool back then.
Much of his wealth & power had come from things that the Clan would not have approved of, had it been more widely known. The next few years had been rather difficult. The operatives never let him out of their sight, not even in the bathroom or bedroom. It had been driving him insane to just watch the various opportunities slip by him as his colony got more & more prosperous. He couldn't even tell if they ever slept or ate. He was pretty sure he had caught sight of one slipping out of sight, only to reappear a moment later. But with their uniform appearance, it was impossible to tell if it was a new one or the same one as before.
They never talked, they never gave the slightest sign that they could even understand others. They just stood around like vaguely threatening statues. There were all kinds of rumors about them. That they had been an entire nation of assassins that had been absorbed by the Clan. That they occasionally vanished their charges for dark magic rituals. That they were actually droids. A hundred & more contradictory horror stories & impossible tales.
Without any way to know the truth, he had to be careful. That was, until the day he slipped up. It had been a long day & he momentarily forgot about his minders. He had taken a bribe in exchange for letting a person walk free that should have been passed over to the joint legal system. He had expected a warning or a threat to show up. But nothing had happened.
So he began to test his guards. He did more & more that should have gotten him punished & nothing happened. Obviously, they were only there to protect him. More & more, he became certain that they were drones, with no more ability to report him than his toaster.
With the extra prestige of his guards he was able to gain even more power. Over time, his little dalliances changed from minor bribing & skimming funds from his colony into more profitable waters. He was even now preparing to ship off a load of information about the Clan Technology base that would set him up for life. The fact that the sale was to a hostile power that wouldn't hesitate to use the information against other colonies didn't bother him at all. He had even managed to get into a proper sit down meeting with the heads of that power, instead of the usual proxies & flunkies he had been dealing with.
The smug feeling was the last thing he ever knew as a broad beam plasma cutter burned a neat hole through his head that a child could fit their arm through. The technology wasn't that dissimilar to that used in a lightsabre, though it wasn't as powerful or as energy efficient as the Force enhanced tech of the Jedi Order. It was still more than powerful enough to burn through the armor of the late Vethin, along with his skull & brain matter. For the foreigners, the last thing they felt was a mix of shock & terror as their contact's bodyguards suddenly began killing everything in the room. Of course, they also felt sonic blasts & plasma burns, but only briefly.
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Post by House of D'Ordinii on Apr 14, 2018 4:02:03 GMT -8
==Making War SL==
<<107 PP, H15 Sector>>
Velt was in charge of the battle. Personally, he felt that overstated his role in everything, but it was more or less true. He had maybe three dozen or so light assault squads rooting through what was left of the city. Other than that, he only had three overwatch platforms. The city was too tight for even the M3 units, so it was down to the M1s to clear out the local resistance.
For the most part the infantry had been doing its own thing. The quarters were tight enough & the enemy mobile enough that giving orders into that mess had been an exercise in futility. Now he was just listing out priority targets for the platforms whenever he could.
At first the enemy didn't realize the full scope of the platforms, after all they looked like pretty much every other GR75 hull in service to the Imperium. That was a very misleading image though, as the modules they had been fitted with made them so much more.
After the first hour of free reign, only the enemies smart enough to stay under cover were left. The high grade sensors of the platforms, combined with their precision beam weapons had reaped a fearsome tally of enemy infantry along the rooftops & in the few open plazas. Now it was just the few speradic shots as one happened to line up with a narrow alley that happened to contain a combatant or two. Their other munition, the proton torpedoes were seeing little use. The tight quarters of the city made enemy vehicles just as impossible as Imperium ones.
There was a shriek of warning. However, it came moments too late. A heavy & sustained beam punched through the roof of a building in the city. Reaching up, it splashed against the shields of a platform. For a long second it looked like the shields would hold. But then they flickered & the beam tore into the gap at the soft underbelly of the GR75. There was a rippling splash from within as the torpedo payload detonated within the craft. The massive hull contained most of the blast, but it was gutted in the process. With deceptive slowness, the hull came crashing down into the buildings below, spreading a wake of destruction.
Even before the craft had hit the surface, one of the remaining platforms had acquired a lock on the newly surfaced weapon & launched a torpedo in retaliation. The blast gutted the building in return for the damage it had caused. Fortunately, the platforms didn't have staff on board them, so it was just lost material. It did cause the remaining platforms to pull a little further back from the city though. Below, the melee ground on.
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