Preacher
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Post by Preacher on Oct 8, 2014 8:38:31 GMT -8
It all got very busy, very quickly. He had been admiring the design and the purposeful lines of the Wayfarer-class vessel, wondering if there might be off-world passage available, when suddenly the crowd in the starport began acting as a mob: startled, frightened yelling; shoving and barely-controlled stampeding toward cover. All vestiges of pleasant, civilized behavior disappeared as several hundred individuals worried about their own necks first.
A woman ran headlong into Preacher, falling splayed on the duralumin floor grating beside him in a frenzied attempt to escape the as-yet unseen menace. With the throng of people moving in herd-mentality, she was in danger of being trampled, and Preacher fought against the tide of people to reach her, and help the woman to her feet. Immediately, he was in danger of being swept along with the crowd, and he calmed himself, opening his arms wide and calling upon the Inner Strength to protect and guide those around him. Several beings slammed into him, trying to escape, and he parried their bodies to move against the current of sentients. It was only a matter of seconds before the fleeing masses spread out around him, answering the will of his Inner Strength, parting as if unseen barriers created space on all sides of him. He moved toward the threat, now becoming audible over the crowd.
Gunfire and shouting were headed this way, and then the air rushed past him and grew warm, the after-effects of a nearby explosion. The wind blew his duster back, exposing the pistol on his thigh, and Preacher gripped the handle, fingers resting easy on the two triggers. He sought deep within his Inner Strength once more, and cast his glance toward the commotion, where he saw several beings fleeing a group of armed men. Pirates. Several of the group were injured, and scores of innocent passerby were being shot and trampled. He placed his left hand inside the shoulder satchel that contained the Law, ran fingers over the aged leather of the book, and closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, he was filled with glorious purpose. Drawing his pistol, he aimed and fired once, twice. A pause. Three times.
The first shot caught one of the Pirates that was pursuing an armored man, leveling a rifle at his back and making ready to fire. The .55 caliber round tore through his throat, and his head disappeared in a spray of fine, red mist. The second round caught another pursuer in the stomach. This pirate was less interested in the fleeing crew, and more intent on killing and looting on the run. Scum. He doubled over and fell as the bullet passed through him, severing his spine, and cried out in pain and shock. The final round was meant for another Pirate closing on a trio of beings: a man, clearly wounded, being helped along by another, fierce looking man and a woman with blonde hair. The bullet passed over her head and caved in the Pirate's skull as he raised a massive vibro-knife to sink into her back.
Two shots left.
The crowd was now insane with trying every means to escape, as both the fleeing crew, and their pursuers closed to within thirty feet, moving at breathtaking speed, seemingly headed straight for him. Though his Inner Strength kept space around him, and forced the fleeing masses to move fluidly past him in a teardrop shape, Preacher was torn between the threat, and helping these beings to safety. Another Pirate brought a vibro-blade down, deep into the meat of an Iridonian's shoulder, nearly severing the limb, and his focus was certain once more.
Calling again on his Inner Strength, he reached out with a tendril of the mystic energy, and crushed the Pirate's esophagus, lifting him several feet off the ground, and sending him flying back, against the fore bulkhead of a neighboring vessel, where the lifeless corpse crumpled to the ground. It was too late to help the mortally-wounded Iridonian, who lay bleeding out on the deck, and so Preacher killed him as well to end his suffering, forcing the life from his lungs and ending him painlessly.
He turned his attention back to the approaching crew to aid them once more, but time had run out and they were upon him, the blonde woman running headlong into him at the foot of the Wayfarer's ramp. Not ten feet behind her, three more Pirates bore down on them, one armed with a fearsome chainsaw-like appendage, another brandished a hand-blaster, and the last a short and bloody sword, dripping with the blood of innocents. He was about to fire at the closest Pirate, the one with the chainsaw -- but she had thrown him off balance...
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Atia
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Affiliation: Nightsisters of Dathomir
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Post by Atia on Oct 8, 2014 9:18:15 GMT -8
The sound started to be noticable over all that was happening, and it came closer and closer. Syrens.
Also...
Window shutters closing, doors being locked, alarms primed. Children were called in by their mothers, no more playing in the street for little bobby, oh no. The cars parked down, no more safe passage on the streets. Even the civilian speeders got up into higher altitudes, trying to find a cloud to hide in. Street wendors hung the closed signs and packed up their merchandice, then suddenly left it all, covering behind dumpsters. The homeless quickl found homes.
The streets started to go dark, only the foolish and the suecidal remained, and they were few and far between.
The local authority was coming. Syrens ever louder and louder.
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Spectre
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Affiliation: The Moon Goddess/ Dha Werda Verda
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Post by Spectre on Oct 9, 2014 19:38:34 GMT -8
*Sirens where far off but getting closer. Even after the blast. Spectre didn't move, well not as much as everyone did. The blast goes off and he steps back little and absorbs some of the blast. But not all of it though. What appeared to be the captain took a nasty brunt of the grenade explosion. Spectre looked around at everyone on the ground. He tilts his buy'ce a little in wonderment. "I guess the Goddess didn't bless them like she did me", he says internally. With that thought he shrugs. When the blonde pats him gently, he doesn't move. Until that is she stops at the wrong ship. Spectre is about to say something, but can't. She's already committed to her confusion. All he can do is facepalm. When she figures it out he then still moves behind them, bringing up the rear. Just when they thought they were home free another batch of hostiles shows up. Just as Spectre is bringing his rippers out, a hail of bullets rips past him. They came from a man in a duster. What was more incredible was the size of that gun. They tore through the hostiles and damn near anything in it's trajectory AFTER it went through them. Yet the man firing barely had any trouble with recoil. Things looked well in hand, even with whatever passes for the law about to show up. That is until the blonde knocks him off his balance. "Note to self", Spectre thinks,"Make sure this Jare'la Vaar'ika stays out of the way from now on. I don't know how she's made it this far with her head still attached? I think the Moon Goddess wants me to watch out for this one."*
*The last three pirates looked like a challenge. Well at least to someone uninitiated to violence like this. As the man in the duster is getting his footing back, Spectre fills in in his absence. When the pirate with the blaster starts shooting, Spectre swats the volleys away like he would a fly. That in turn redirects a shot at the one with the chainsaw arm, right in his face. Spectre then returns fire at the pirate with the blaster. The Pirate is about to take cover when Spectre notes that one of the cargo cylinders is highly flammable, right behind the pirate. He then shoots it and yet another explosion goes off and engulfs the di'kutla. Which leaves the one standing with the blade all alone. He rushes Spectre in a vain attempt to get a slash in, aiming at his neck. Spectre simply steps into him, making the slash look like he overstepped and overreached, grabs him with his free hand and pistol whips him with his ripper. This action stuns the pirate and blood goes spraying from his face and nose.* "I see you have a point." *He quips dryly.* "You should meet my friend. He has six of his own he'd like to make for you." *With speed and Goddess aided strength, he let's go of the blade hand and grabs him by the shirt collar and tosses him right into Fenrir's path fast and hard. Hoping he impales the di'kut as soon as they meet.*
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Oct 10, 2014 4:22:59 GMT -8
Leon had been forced to resign himself to following close behind the blonde haired woman, somewhat perplexed by her rather interestingly irratic manner, as she dodged, jumped, and tried breaking in to, what soon become apparent, was the wrong ship. Thankfully he had still been a couple feet from the foot of the ramp when she came charging back down and finally lead them through to the correct hangar bay, where a Wayfarer class Medium Transport sat. He suddenly dodged to the side and around the fallen forms of the blonde haired woman and a guy that was wearing what looked like some antiquated cowboy outfit, no doubt from Wild Space, which was rather aptly named considering the man's look. Leon came to a stop at the base of the ramp and turned back to see who their assailants were, just as the Mandalorian started to take care of them
Fenrir's day was really not shaping up to be any better as it progressed, first he had had to have a staring contest with a couple walking bacon rashers, then he was relegated to babysitting chained slaves, followed by the departure of the crew's pilot, which was proceeded by the bar fight, then their escape, and to top it off, someone had wanted to try throw a pair of grenades at him and Adrien. Which brought him up to where he was now, running shirtless through the streets of Juvex, making a mad dash back to the Midnight Shadow, with a veritable mad house of crooks shooting at each other and them.
Every now and then, he would drop back a little from his position on the group's flank to check on each member of the group, wondering just when the next attack on them would occur. As they arrived to the spaceport, Fenrir had dropped back a little behind the group, to dissuade any one that was tailing them from continuing to do so, before picking up his pace again as he saw them first run into the wrong hangar, before rushing across to the right one. It turned out to be a good thing that he had dropped behind a little, as a group of pirates started to try sneak up on the group, wielding a number of gardening type implements.
The Mandalorian managed to take out two of the guys with a fair amount of ease, something that Fenrir still intended to talk to the man about, before the Mandalorian tossed the third pirate towards him. Fenrir was at that point in his bad day, that he needed to let off some steam, and he did it, as he angled himself towards a nearby crate, before performing a wall jump as he jumped sidewards at the crate, before pushing off the side of it with his left foot, sending him into the air. He then twisted in mid air and brought his left fist down into the pirates chest and dropped the man to the ground in a rather sickening crunch as the pirates ribs were crushed between the weight of the punch crashing down on his chest and the three blades that penetrated his chest. Fenrir stood up and turned back towards the group as they arrived at the base of the Shadow's boarding ramp, doing his best to calmly stroll towards them, quite glad they were taking their leave of this place
=Fenrir Asikari=
Rightio folks, the crew currently has some temporary job openings. Our pilot recently departed about an hour ago, over personal differences. If one of you can pilot this thing, congratulations, you're hired... Otherwise, none of us get out of here, and I don't plan to be around when the authorities arrive, got it.
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Kiri
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Post by Kiri on Oct 13, 2014 18:09:59 GMT -8
Kiri, ran, its all she really thought about. Running, everyone else was running the streets were filled with gunfire, bombs, and screams, but there was that unmistakable sound of pounding. 'Stampede' she thought, the constant droning of the sirens did not help anyone.
Kiri intently watched the blonde run up to a ship and start pounding on it, there was nearly a domino effect of people bumping into each other as she ran back down and too another ship. Kiri rolled her eyes, as she bumped into a man in a worn duster and then finally made it to the right ship.
There was an immediate change as another skirmish broke out. Luckily this one Kiri didn't get hurt, or involved and as soon as was possible she ran up the ships loading ramp.
One man mentioned that they needed a pilot and Kiri immediately headed for the pilots chair, flipping switches and turning on the Wayfarer as she went and began prep for flying.
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Dice
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Post by Dice on Oct 15, 2014 19:26:19 GMT -8
Dice though usually observant felt disoriented, the noise was overwhelming, the smell. The smell of Burning flesh was permanently stuck in her nose she was sure. She remembered running, and bumping into someone when everyone in the group suddenly stopped, fighting broke out, she was no longer in the flank position. There seemed to be some kind of confusion about the ship, then she was inside. All she cared about at that moment was moving so that she could reload a fresh clip in her Mark Eagle and cover her back while catching her breath.
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Erly Ryzer
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Chilli Cheese Fries, please...
Posts: 181
Affiliation: CorSec (Formerly)
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Post by Erly Ryzer on Oct 16, 2014 1:57:42 GMT -8
Erly had panicked a little when confronted with the Juvex Chainsaw Massacre guy, though much to her relief, the Mandalorian and...the man with knives attached to his hands, were on site to despatch of the few remaining assailants. And all of this started with just one man pointing a gun at a bartender. Erly made a note to herself never to set foot on this planet ever again if she could help it. Collecting herself together, she looked at the the man she'd bumped into, and she had an odd feeling about him.
Now all things considered, without any sensible or logical facts to back up such a decision, Erly suspected her decision may come back to haunt her one day, but for the moment, she just had a gut feeling which she decided to act on, so she tugged lightly on one of his sleeves before taking off for the ramp into the Midnight Shadow, followed closely by the two nuna, "Come on, mister, you're gonna get killed staying out here!"
That was when she remembered that Captain Adrien Draykon was badly hurt. She was nearly run over by the redhead woman, who'd dashed for the cockpit of the ship, and she could feel the vessel humming to life. They were getting out at last.
Erly then turned to look at the man (Leon Asikari), who was still carrying Adrien. She slowly walked over to him and said, "Let me check his pulse?" Without waiting for approval, she gingerly plucked up the captain's wrist with one hand, while using her other to place two fingers on the side of his neck, to get a bead on his condition without machines.
About that time, the other guy, with knives in his hands (Fenrir Asikari) spoke up. Good, Erly thought, so at least some actual crew members are here. At the moment, the ship had picked a whole bunch of random stragglers all thrown together by circumstances. And even Erly wasn't really a new crew member, she'd been trying to book a passage off the planet, and had run into Adrien, a stroke of luck if nothing else. And the man mentioned that there were spots available to be a part of the crew. Now wasn't that kind of what she was hoping for? So she turned to look at him, "Erly Ryzer - yes that's really my name - I met your captain on the way out from this ship and already paid for my ride - though I think that money is now burnt, literally - when all the poodoo that went down in the cantina happened. Do you guys have any kind of medical room or facility on board? I'm not a doctor, but I've got basic medical emergency training, and I don't even need that training to tell you your captain's not in a good condition. That he survived a close proximity explosion without protection is a miracle by itself."
The girl was almost hopping around on the spot with pent-up energy and excitement. She owed Adrien at least for his willingness to take her on board, and the least she could do was try to save his life. She was raring to go once the men or any crew member pointed her in the right direction to go. She tugged impatiently at the sleeves of Adrien's jacket, which she was now wearing (and swimming in), trying to keep her hands visible and unblocked. Her heart rate and scents all were indicative of a mildly adrenaline-pumped individual mixed with fear, excitement, and sincerity.
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Spectre
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Post by Spectre on Oct 16, 2014 11:52:44 GMT -8
Kiri, ran, its all she really thought about. Running, everyone else was running the streets were filled with gunfire, bombs, and screams, but there was that unmistakable sound of pounding. 'Stampede' she thought, the constant droning of the sirens did not help anyone.
Kiri intently watched the blonde run up to a ship and start pounding on it, there was nearly a domino effect of people bumping into each other as she ran back down and too another ship. Kiri rolled her eyes, as she bumped into a man in a worn duster and then finally made it to the right ship.
There was an immediate change as another skirmish broke out. Luckily this one Kiri didn't get hurt, or involved and as soon as was possible she ran up the ships loading ramp.
One man mentioned that they needed a pilot and Kiri immediately headed for the pilots chair, flipping switches and turning on the Wayfarer as she went and began prep for flying. |
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Preacher
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Post by Preacher on Oct 16, 2014 14:56:01 GMT -8
The blonde woman who had bumped into him, throwing him off-balance, was clearly rattled, and as the group pressed in toward the ramp of the Wayfarer-class transport, with sirens and all manner of evil bearing down upon them, Preacher allowed himself to be carried along with the crew, even as the same woman called out, panic in her voice, "Come on mister, you're gonna get killed staying out here!"
Watching the armored man and the fierce warrior lay waste to the remaining thugs, Preacher couldn't argue with that logic. Never turning his back from the gangway, he nodded to the blonde and backed with her into the belly of the ship, passed at break-neck speed by another, red-headed female humanoid, who headed off deeper into the vessel. Only when the armored man, also covering their retreat had entered the hold, then left a moment later closing the boarding ramp, did Preacher look about himself to take in these new travellers. He cast a watchful gaze over the crew, opening the breech of his shooter, allowing the spent, hot brass to clatter on the duralumin grating of the cargo hold, and reloaded the three spent rounds, sheathing the hand-cannon in it's thigh holster.
Seeing the injured member of the party was worse off than he might've originally thought, he approached cautiously, in case the crew were particularly touchy about their own. Pulling his hand free of its glove, he carefully placed it palm-down on the man's shoulder as the blonde took the man's pulse. Then blondie referred to the man as their Captain. Preacher closed his eyes, and concentrated, calling on his Inner Strength, and Adrien stirred under his touch, moaning. He spoke, his eyes still firmly shut.
I can keep him stable for a few hours, maybe more, but my art is no replacement for a doctor. This man... is not human. He needs special care.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Oct 18, 2014 21:34:54 GMT -8
Fenrir gave a nod as the Codru-Ji female headed for the cockpit, taking the pilot position by silent concensus, before his attention was drawn to the blonde haired women that was with the duster wearing force user, a conclusion based purely on the man's choice of words, whom introduced herself as Erly Ryzer, which if it was actually her real name, meant that perhaps her parents had had a sense of humour. That aside, she apparently had started as just a passanger, but her medical training was going to come in handy, even just for the present situation
=Fenrir Asikari=
Go through the cargo hold and take the first door on your right to get into the Medical Bay.. As to what species he is, if it helps any, he is a Firrerreo...
Just one of the benefits of the file that he had been provided by the Organization, when he had originally been tasked with tracking Adrien down and getting to know the man to see if he could be pursuaded to return. But things had changed since then, and right now, his duty to the Organization was going to be taking a back seat whilst he tried to keep this crew together
Leon gave a nod to his brother, before craying Adrien, and leading the way for Erly and the cowboy, through the doors Fenrir had pointed towards and making the turns to get into the Medical Bay, where Leon set Adrien down. He then moved back and out of the way, to allow the pair to do what they needed to do to stabalize Adrien's condition, before he headed back to the common room where everyone else was gathered
With the most basic and important things taken care of, Fenrir headed to the cockpit to find their new pilot, whom was already getting the ship started up and ready to take off. There was a number of things that would need to be discussed and worked out, one of which was ensuring that they delivered on the contract to deliver the cargo they had, but that could all wait for later, for now they needed to get Adrien some medical attention
=Fenrir Asikari=
Right, time to get out of here, we need to head for Honoghr...
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Kiri
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Post by Kiri on Oct 20, 2014 18:25:19 GMT -8
Kiri turned her head as Spectre approached, she nodded at his instructions and opened the cargo hold.
“Make this quick” She said, taking control of the ships controls and began moving. As soon as the barn swallow was complete she would enter orbit and shoot out into space. The wayfarer was different than what she had piloted before, but she was a quick study and the controls were not all that confusing. Kiri nodded to Fenrir, after a pause.
"Honoghr it is then. Im Kiri."
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Spectre
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Post by Spectre on Oct 20, 2014 20:57:13 GMT -8
*With the cargo bay doors open, Spectre lands his Whitecloak fighter in such a way that only a professional lunatic would land in such a tight and narrow opening. Threading a needle backwards blindfolded. Yet nothing is knocked over or out of place. Though the sound of scraping metal can be heard when he does a hockey stop with the landing gear. With the successful barnswallow done, Spectre powers down the fighter and exits into the ship.*
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Faust Skirata
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I'm the Juggernaut, bitch.
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Post by Faust Skirata on Oct 30, 2014 18:10:39 GMT -8
The coordinates led them to a private hangar on the outskirts of the city. Well maintained but modest, it was empty save for a few guardsmen when they arrived. The floor and walls were gleaming white, giving the place a sterile appearance.
Faust's gunship set down first, and he disembarked amidst a half dozen reavers in shining 'gam. All wore a Ripper on one hip and a beskad on the other, and most carried rifles as well. The Reaver Lord was armored in his breastplate and ringmail, his ragged black hair tied back with a leather thong. Fresh blood was spattered across his cheeks. Resting an idle hand on the Grimhammer, he watched Rilk's shuttle land.
As the ship's ramp lowered and the slaves began to descend, Faust turned to the man at his side. "Let Mr. Bates know his cargo awaits. Use a secure channel." The man slapped a fist against his breast, then raised a hand to the side of his helmet as he set about his task.
It wasn't long before the Wookiees were unloaded and assembled in a rough formation in the center of the spaceport. Most hung their heads, while others growled softly. Every one had glazed, vacant eyes from the drugs. Despite their submissiveness they also each wore heavy, military grade stun cuffs tuned to their highest setting. Faust had faced their kind in battle before, and knew firsthand their deadly strength. He would take no chances.
"Alor." Rilk's mouth twisted awkwardly around the Mandalorian word. His bald head gleamed a light blue beneath the spaceport's bright lighting, his scarlet eyes even more bloodshot than usual. The priest sneered with undisguised contempt, his hand tightening around the Grimhammer's haft. "A fresh dose was administered just prior to landing. They will remain docile during the transaction."
The Grimhammer remained at his belt. "Aye. And how long will their new owner have to transport them?"
"Five hours, maybe six. It's hard to tell with Wookiees." shrugged the Duros.
Faust turned away without bothering to reply, setting his pale yellow eyes upon the entrance.
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Atia
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Affiliation: Nightsisters of Dathomir
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Post by Atia on Nov 4, 2014 11:10:13 GMT -8
About a hour after the call came in (and the caller was informed that he would have to wait, since they came from far away) the A5 Juggernought drove up to the hangar, followed by an other.
When the ships were detected, the A5s had already started off from the Crucible, but it was a while before they got there, it was clear. Now they were here.
The ground shook, it was clear that there was something large coming even before the lights were seen. Large spotlights were the next, highset. It lit everything around the warmachines as they drove up to the hangar and finally stopped with their left sides turned towards the Reavers. The ramps on the back opened up, and gammoreans wearing heavy black armour carrying metal clubs walked out, five, six, then finally all ten. They seemed to set up a peremiter around the warmachines.
Secondly, a red twilek in a white dress calmly walked down, wearing a slaves collar, a vibroblade on her left and an E-11 blaster on her right. She seemed very confident in her position.
Finally, it was the man himself. An old man, around 70 walked with a slight limp down the ramp. He wore a suit with a white shirt and gray west. Fly tie. Thinning hair, graying but still owning some of its ancient blackness. The man smiled at the Reavers and walked outside the peremiter of Gammoreans. He stopped... Waited for someone to approach him.
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Faust Skirata
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I'm the Juggernaut, bitch.
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Post by Faust Skirata on Nov 8, 2014 7:30:26 GMT -8
Faust was seated atop a crate mumbling and sharpening his beskad when Mr. Bates and his contingent arrived.
The mammoth vehicles finally ground to a halt and offloaded their passengers: pig-men with clubs, a Twi'lek wearing a slave's collar, and an aged humanoid the priest knew had to be his employer. He rose and stepped through the perimeter his men had set up around their shuttles and the captives, striding out to meet Bates. Almost as an afterthought he sheathed his blade halfway to the man, dropping the whetstone into a pouch on his belt. Rilk followed, his scarlet eyes darting about nervously, as did two of the reavers.
Faust came to a halt a few feet away from the old man and folded his scarred arms over his breastplate. "Took you long enough," he said in garbled Basic. "Show me you have the bounty, and you may take your pick of my thralls." His yellow eyes glittered with madness and amusement.
There were thirty Wookiees bound in the spaceport; Mr. Bates had only ordered ten, but rather than sacrifice the excess, Faust had determined it would be better to let their employer have his pick. All of the walking carpets were young, able, and healthy, but obviously things like physical prowess, behavior, and intelligence varied between specimens. The ones that Bates did not pick would be given to Kad on their voyage to Osarian, despite Rilk's insistence that they should be sold as well. Faust had nearly taken his head for that; to even suggest cheating the Destroyer God of his due was blasphemy. He eyed the Duros warily now, but the alien's bald head was covered in sweat and he stood wringing his hands. A sneer of contempt twisted the priest's flayed lips.
Soon, he consoled himself, and stroked the Grimhammer's spiked visage.
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Atia
Member
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Affiliation: Nightsisters of Dathomir
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Post by Atia on Nov 13, 2014 9:33:28 GMT -8
-Bateman-
"Juggernauts. Fast, but not so nimble.
I am Patrick Bateman, President of Juvex Import Exports. You are... Faust Skirata? I believe I ordered ten, not thirty. Yet you present me with trice the number. Do you aim to collect trice the profit?"
A viable question. Also.... may be the start of good haggling. Both groups had good hold over the ground and weaponry. Pig-men, a slave and an old man against trained an well maintained warriors, and wookies in the middle. Both had firepower on mahines, one with shuttles and one with rollers.
Both had something the other wanted.
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Faust Skirata
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I'm the Juggernaut, bitch.
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Post by Faust Skirata on Nov 15, 2014 14:28:06 GMT -8
The priest scratched absently at the ruin of his cheek. The ceremonial wound he'd given himself before his fight with Darian had never healed properly; the scars ragged edges were prone to weep pus and blood, and came apart at the slightest distress. For now it held firm. Through the hole one could see Faust's teeth grinding.
"Hardly. I am a servant of the Destroyer God, not a slave master." the Mandalorian snarled in Basic. "I brought thrice the number so that you might choose for yourself the most acceptable candidates."
Beside him, Rilk was sweating through the fiber armor vest he'd donned. "Though my lord would be willing to part with more of the beasts, if you wish to expand your purchase."
He shot the Duros a glare, and then shrugged. "Perhaps. But you have yet to show you've the means to purchase even one."
His vehement yellow eyes looked past the old man, sweeping over the armored Gammoreans clustered around him. Their fortifications would make them tough to bring down, but one look at their dim eyes and drooling mouths told the Reaver Lord none had the wits or skills of his reavers. Nor the fanaticism, he mused, and that oft makes all the difference. If it came to bloodshed it would be a narrow thing, but Kad's soldiers would triumph.
And then they would be forced to flee the planet, empty handed. Better to make nice and make money.
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Atia
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Affiliation: Nightsisters of Dathomir
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Post by Atia on Nov 24, 2014 6:37:52 GMT -8
The old man smiled. White teeth, as if it was never ever touched with any kind of discoloring. White polished teeth.
He glanced behind himself, at the huge warmachines silently murrmurring.
-Bateman-
"Do I look like I lack the founds, Mr Skirata? I will buy all of them. Name your price."
A test. See what the man would say.
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Faust Skirata
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I'm the Juggernaut, bitch.
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Post by Faust Skirata on Nov 28, 2014 15:44:52 GMT -8
Faust shrugged. "You aruetti all look the same to me."
Beside him, Rilk was wearing a smug smile that made the priest want to smash his teeth in. The cowering little slaver cared for naught but credits, and lacked both a thirst for blood and a proper fear of Kad. It turned his stomach, but for the time being Rilk was necessary. Though if he continues to delight so in robbing the Destroyer God of his due, it will be his soul that Kad receives as an offering instead, Faust vowed silently. Folding his scarred arms over the equally scarred cuirass of Mandalorian iron covering his torso, Faust thought for a moment and then eyed Mr. Bates coldly.
"Nayc. No. I do not wish to sell you these thralls, Bateman. I promised you ten of these wretches," he growled with a negligent motion toward the slaves, " and the rest were to be sacrificed to Kad. And the life of one promised to the Destroyer God must come much more dearly than an average thrall, correct?" Rilk glanced at him nervously, his smile replaced by an anxious grimace. Apparently his time working with the Reaver Lord had been sufficient enough for him to pick up on his tone now.
"If I give you all of my thralls, then I will have to go to the trouble of collecting more, and I have other business that will not wait." The apathy in Faust's voice wasn't a ruse, but he took care to make it obvious- not the easiest of feats, considering his relative lack of familiarity with Galactic Basic. "To make it worth the trouble of another rite of worship, I would have to charge you twice the price of each of the thralls- after the ten you were promised, of course. Seventy-five thousand credits for them all."
He expected the defeated sigh that left the Duros deflated; it was an unreasonable offer and his salesmanship was poor. That was the point, though: if Bateman refused him, then he could give twenty souls to Kad before they left Juvex's orbit, and the Destroyer God's bloody will would speed them on their way; and if, by some miracle, the Human decided to actually take the offer, the Priesthood's coffers would swell with abundance. Either way was a win, and all that Faust cared about now was being on his way.
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Atia
Member
Posts: 1,232
Affiliation: Nightsisters of Dathomir
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Post by Atia on Nov 28, 2014 16:05:42 GMT -8
-Bateman-
"I am an Atheist, and a businessman. Secrefice is stupid to an atheist, and wastefull for a Businessman. But..."
He glanced backwards, at the twilek. He wanted to see if his overly well created brain had the same idea as her wreched birthed one. She nodded. Most likely so was the situation.
"But I need wookies. Same price as the first ten, but you get a different slave for every one over the requested ten."
Actually, the slave twilek behind Bateman, whom did not really care much about money nodded a yes to the Mandalorians offer. It was the Businessman in Bateman that resisted spending so much cash on a project that may not even fall through.
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