Faust Skirata
Member
I'm the Juggernaut, bitch.
Posts: 203 
Affiliation: The Priesthood
Traffic Light: Blue
|
Post by Faust Skirata on Dec 10, 2014 17:50:00 GMT -8
He sneered at the old man's admission of heresy, teeth grinding behind his flayed lips. It galled him to no end that his circumstances forced him to work with such heathens, but with the Mandalorian Empire on the verge of collapse, there was no other way to achieve Kad's directive. Failing the Destroyer God simply wasn't an option, and so he found himself reaching for a datapad instead of his Ripper, to do business rather than deal death. Kad's tide will wash away this inequity, he vowed silently. Until then I must be patient and trust in my Lord.
"Very well," Faust shrugged. "What's another hour in this place?"
Off to his left, Rilk was letting out a sigh of relief and mopping at his bald head with a handkerchief. The reavers surrounding them were silent, their scarred faces expressionless, but Faust thought he could detect a hint of disappointment in the air around them. He supposed it had been some time since they'd been blooded. They were no doubt anxious for a battle. The priest shook his head, amused, and inwardly promised to find them a fight soon.
"Very well. Forty-five thousand credits and twenty replacement slaves is the new price. Bargain struck, Mr. Bateman." the priest leered.
|
|
Atia
Member
Posts: 1,232
Affiliation: Nightsisters of Dathomir
|
Post by Atia on Dec 22, 2014 15:53:29 GMT -8
Bateman looked behind him again, at the Twilek. The slave nodded, and then started making a phonecall. Bateman turned back to Skirata.
-Bateman-
"The cargo will be here in about a hour, more or less. Meanwhile, my associates will check the health of YOUR cargo, and... well, if you are intrested, I may have a different job in mind. You... do you happen to be the kind of person that likes messy work?"
|
|
Faust Skirata
Member
I'm the Juggernaut, bitch.
Posts: 203
Affiliation: The Priesthood
Traffic Light: Blue
|
Post by Faust Skirata on Jul 15, 2015 21:56:07 GMT -8
The exposed muscles of Faust's jaw clenched and writhed as the ghost of a smile passed across his flayed lips. 'Messy' The priest had heard the Basic word used before: the old man proposed carnage, bloodletting. Entertaining, but a hollow and fleeting pleasure on its own. To achieve the mortal art the strong must overcome the strong to prove their worthiness. Simply enduring the cycle was not enough enough to avoid stagnation; the Destroyer God hungered, and only a worthy tribute would satiate him. Still, the men could use a diversion to improve morale, and getting paid in the process couldn't hurt.
"Messy is a good start," the Reaver Lord rasped. "but first I must attend to yet another bora. Leave the specifics of the task with Rilk while I see to your thralls, and if the contract is jate, if it pleases Kad, we will meet again." He turned and stalked away, leaving the Duros slaver fumbling for his datapad.
He seemed to collect himself once the device was out, the familiar complexities of commerce putting him at ease. Faust's departure may have also played a role in Rilk's sudden change in demeanor. Suddenly he had an objective, and the expertise to achieve it. "Perhaps we should fulfill our current contract before drawing up a new one," he suggested in polite but detached Basic. "After I receive confirmation of your deposit in the amount of forty-five thousand credits, we can begin transferring the cargo. Sedation will wear off after four hours, at which point their behavior cannot be vouchsafed."
"I don't like this." Janse muttered when the priest drew near. He was leaning against one of the hydraulic struts that supported the ship's ramp. "He agrees to unreasonable terms just to get his way. I have heard of this Bateman, my Lord, and he is not the sort to be petty. We would be fools to trust him."
The priest shrugged. "What does it matter? I grow weary of these jahaats, the deception...they reek of Arasuum."
"The stench clings to this entire planet, it seems. See how they scurry about, oblivious. Ibac gotal'ur ni ner kar'ta cyric."
The bitterness in the Echani's voice came as a surprise to Faust. It was rare for the captain to show emotion beyond a certain snide cruelness. "They are lost." He said finally. "Ignorance was not their choice; the Light of Har'angir was allowed to fade from the galaxy. Kaysh ran olaror cinarin mhi."
|
|
Vyra Silara
Member
A bird without its wings is a low and tragic thing.
Posts: 30 
Traffic Light: Orange
|
Post by Vyra Silara on Jan 27, 2016 23:00:01 GMT -8
::Ladies and gentleman, we're beginning our approach to Juvex. Estimated time until we enter atmosphere is about one standard hour. Please remain in your cabins for the duration of the flight. Do not attempt to enter the cargo hold to retrieve your luggage before touchdown. Your items will be sorted once we reach the hangar and given to you in an orderly fashion—::Of course, everyone got up at once. The rest of the pilot's announcement was lost in the sudden surge of noise as species of all shapes and sizes scrambled around their sleeping units in Room C Aisle 29, gathering their possessions and stampeding towards the cabin doors like it was a high stakes race. Vyra rolled her eyes, lips twitched slightly to one side in amusement as she finished folding her spare travel gown. She couldn't blame them. After nine days, she was already going a little stir-crazy, but some of these beings had been on this starferry for weeks with no privacy, no quiet, and no personal space. Now that their destination was within reach, even an hour seemed too long to wait for the chance to breathe new air again. A slipper slid off her cot, landing with a soft tap on the floor. She began to bend to retrieve it but paused halfway down, reconsidering. A quick look around told her she wasn't being watched. Hand outstretched, palm towards the shoe, Vyra did as she'd done many times before, grasping for the Force, pulling at the shoe, willing it to rise into her open hand. She strained, forehead scrunched, brows flat over her eyes, fingers curling like claws. The shoe gave one sad little shudder and stayed right where it was, and the Force slipped through her fingers like water. Vyra sighed, relieved.
"Whoo! Ah…kriff…" The door swished open behind her. Vyra scrambled to grab the slipper, tossing it quickly into her bag as she turned. Fina, her bunk mate for the past nine days, hurried in and flopped on the cot opposite Vyra, out of breath. Her hair was wild, exposed flesh shiny with sweat, her shirt buttons were half undone and the rest of her skimpy outfit was all twisted awry. The ex-senator raised an eyebrow, one corner of her mouth turning up in amusement, and perched lightly on the edge of her own sleeping unit. "I take it you used the oil?"Fina lifted her head, grinning. "Where the hell did you get that stuff?!""I made it." Vyra shook her head at the awe on Fina's face. "The process isn't too hard; it's finding the right ingredients that takes time, especially for an aphrodisiac oil meant to appeal to multiple species. For example, most Twi'lek men find sandalwood and vanilla repulsive, but it'll work a human male into a frenzy in the right dosage.""Huh." Fina frowned. "You make it all sound so…clinical.""It is clinical, to an extent. But being aware of that isn't a bad thing." Vyra cocked her head a bit, adopting a soft, conversational tone in hopes of sounding less…medical. "Understanding the scientific elements behind what we do doesn't make me dispassionate or unable to appreciate the other part of it. If anything, that knowledge helps make the experience better."Fina snorted, setting her head back down and smirking at the ceiling. "Heh. What 'we' do. I think what you do is a little different than what I do, honey."
"And how is that?""I give a quick but decent screw for a lump sum. You pour tea, wear jewels, make magic oils, have philosophical discussions and take men to another plane of existence between your enchanted thighs." Vyra burst out laughing. Fina grinned. "It's true! I bet you even comb your hair between clients.""You're ridiculous.""I don't even own a comb.""Then how do you get your hair so perfectly tousled?"Fina smiled, rolled on her side and propped her head up, fixing Vyra with an impish expression. "I let men tousle it. A lot."Chuckling, Vyra watched the woman fondly, her lips turned in a sad smile. "I wish we had more time," she sighed. "I'd take your measurements and have some proper gowns sent to you on Coruscant. It would help attract better clientele.""Nah." Fina shook her head at the consort. "Thanks, but I like my short skirts and skank tops. Your fancy princess gowns would look weird on me," she declined, tone firm but friendly."Oh, I doubt that! With the right tailoring on that narrow frame of yours? Something strapless with an empire waist…maybe in a bright yellow—"
"Vyra?""Mmm?""No."Vyra quirked her lips to the side in a tiny pout, but her brown eyes glimmered in amusement. "You ruin all my fun." Fina stuck her tongue out at her. "Are you all packed?""Yes'm!" Fina sat up with some effort, swung her legs over the side, and huffed a sigh in a very unladylike manner. "Pack before you screw, that's my motto." She grinned as Vyra giggled. "But I think I ruined that guy's future chances at a good lay. He'll never finish quite that explosively ever again." She rolled the little crystal bottle of oil between her fingers before holding it out to Vyra. "Here."She waved it away with a kind smile. "You keep it, Fina. I can make more on Naboo.""Really?" The hooker's face lit up, and she quickly re-pocketed the bottle. "Thanks! Man, I'm gonna start charging extra when I use this.""Remember, only a few drops. Otherwise you'll—""Possible seizures and chronic erections and mild insanity, yeah, I know. I'll be careful," Fina assured her, hopping off her cot to grab her tiny, worn pack.The two chattered as they gathered the rest of their things, beings filing by on their way to the ramp. Vyra felt the transport shudder under her feet as they entered the atmosphere, and a few short minutes later, an announcement blared over the comms as they landed.The off-load turned out to be a longer process than anticipated, due to a few of the passengers not having the right documentation. A handful had lost their baggage tickets, four had lost their children in the crowd, and one elderly Bothan had to be carted off the starferry by medics. "Do you have baggage to collect?" Vyra asked Fina. "Nope. Don't you, though?"Vyra shook her head. "I sent all my things ahead of me, there was too much to travel with alone. They'll be waiting for me on Naboo."Fina smirked. "I bet you have three closets full of designer shoes, don't you?"She rolled her eyes, linking arms with Fina and towing her through the crowd. With some maneuvering and convincing words, they were able to pass the knot of upset travelers and head down the boarding ramp. The Juvex spaceport looked much like any other. It was decently busy, for a world with no ties to the Republic, fairly smaller than most on major planets, and no less dirty. But the architecture was full of sweeping arches and smooth sandstone, and colorful mosaics decorated the walls and the ground, though worn from time they were. People, mostly tired travelers hurrying to their next destination, scurried around in tight groups, their eyes down, keeping to themselves. Vyra saw why. Lining the side streets were slavers, selling their newest 'catches' or eyeing the passer-byers with wicked expressions. Nausea gripped her, and the ex-senator turned away, face sour. Fina studied her for a moment, gaze flicking from slavers to Vyra. "You've never been here before, have you?"Vyra frowned, her face stormy. "It makes me sick, knowing slavery is still allowed anywhere in this galaxy."Fina shrugged, wrapping herself in her threadbare brown cloak. "It's part of life, doll.""It shouldn't be," she spat. "We-..the Republic worked so hard to abolish it, but for every trade we close down, a new one springs up on worlds like this.""It's always been here, always will be, and there isn't anything anyone can do about it. Hey…" Fina grasped Vyra by the shoulders, ducking a little to look at her face, and smiled her street-girl smile. "You can't solve everyone's problems, Vy. Just worry about yourself."
Vyra's frown softened. "That's a selfish outlook."Fina winked. "Never said it wasn't. C'mere, I gotta go, my next flight is here."
She leaned forward with a sad smile, wrapping Fina in a quick, tight hug. "If you're ever on Naboo…""I'll follow the trail of blissed-out men and incense," Fina joked. The two giggled, breaking apart. "And, hey…thanks. For all your advice.""Be safe on Coruscant, please? Send me a holo sometime!" Vyra waved at her new friend, watching her saunter away like she was the hottest piece of flesh on the block. She probably was. As Fina disappeared into the crowd, Vyra clutched her suitcase, took a breath, and got her bearings. She'd booked private transport on a ship berthed not far from here, if her directions were correct. The consort lifted the embroidered hood on her dark purple traveling gown, shrouding her face in shadow, and made her way to Dock E, avoiding the side of the road peppered with slavers. Half of her wanted to march over and buy every single slave being offered to a growing crowd; she probably had enough credits for it. But she knew it would solve nothing.Ah, there it was. A bulky freighter sat heavily in Dock E-07, the words 'The Concord' scrolled across the hull. As she approached, however, sirens blared, and authorities pulled up in their flashing speeders. She hung back, stunned as they stormed the ramp and dragged men of various species outside, cuffing the rowdy ones. One of the officers engaged in a screaming match with a large Twi'lek who, she assumed, was the captain. The list of charges against them was long, and the Twi'lek kept roaring something about waiting for a 'very distinguished passenger'…She back-peddled, heading the way she'd come at a decent clip. "Well, now what?" she muttered, scanning the ships in the other berths. Her heart dropped a bit as she realized her plans had fallen through and she could be stuck here for quite a while. It took weeks to book new passage sometimes, and Vyra had no desire to sit around this slaving hole for any extended period.Fueled by this thought, the woman raised her chin and strode forward with determination, pulling up ship information on her datapad as she passed each waiting ship. Many were empty, or not looking for passengers. But this last one… "Dock F-26…hmm….'The Frosty Mynock'?" She chuckled, scanning the YZ-775 with an approving nod. "The Frosty Mynock. Well, they have a sense of humor, at least." The landing ramp was down. Slipping her datapad into her bag, Vyra moved slowly up the ramp, eyes peeled ahead. Strolling onto someone's ship without invitation was not good form, but perhaps if she just poked her head in and called out…
|
|
|
|
Post by Rik Vane on Jan 30, 2016 20:21:45 GMT -8
"That ain't good form, you know." The voice came from above and behind her, and belonged to the ship's Captain (and only organic resident), Rik Vane. He stood on the walkway that lead to the cockpit and created a balcony of sorts above the boarding ramp (which was great when you were getting boarded by thugs and needed a vantage point), scrutinizing the woman trespassing on his ship. "Barging onto a stranger's ship like that. Hell, pretty lady like you might even find herself in more trouble than she was counting on." He might not be that kind of guy, but there were plenty in the 'verse that wouldn't hesitate to take advantage of a beautiful woman traveling alone. She's just lucky I managed to turn the authorities on to those slavers she was going to travel with. You're a real kriffin' saint. Now shut up.
|
|
Vyra Silara
Member
A bird without its wings is a low and tragic thing.
Posts: 30
Traffic Light: Orange
|
Post by Vyra Silara on Jan 30, 2016 21:08:20 GMT -8
"This lady always counts on trouble, and can very well take care of herself, but your concern is noted." She turned, slowly, peering up through her hood at the man standing above her. Vyra smiled in the shadows, though he probably couldn't see it. "And how do you know I'm pretty?" she said, her tone sharp with conversational sparring. "You don't. But you see a female form in a richly embroidered cloak and assume that, because she hides her face and wears expensive things, she must be beautiful." She shook her head a bit. "Spacers and their romantic notions."
The consort reeled in her playful tone a bit. The man was right, to an extent, and though she knew how to defend herself and how to work a situation, she counted herself lucky so far. She couldn't quite tell from this angle, but he didn't look the unsavory sort. Of course, looks could be very deceiving.
|
|
|
|
Post by Rik Vane on Jan 30, 2016 21:20:39 GMT -8
"It's the smell, actually." With a quick hop he was over the railing, dropping to land just in front of her. He rose to his full height then, which was only slightly taller than her due to the angle of the ramp, and reached a hand up to push the hood off her face. "See? The nose never lies." Her aristocratic features flickered with surprise at his brashness, then quickly shifted to more subtle tone of amusement with just a hint of respect. She's totally got the hots for you right now (no she doesn't). Rik took a deep breath and used the moment to compose himself in the face of his little parasite's unrelenting peanut gallery side show, then looked her in the eyes again. "What is it you want with my ship, exactly?"
|
|
Vyra Silara
Member
A bird without its wings is a low and tragic thing.
Posts: 30
Traffic Light: Orange
|
Post by Vyra Silara on Jan 30, 2016 21:35:49 GMT -8
Vyra raised one finely arched eyebrow, the rest of her unmoving as she held his gaze. "I need transport to Naboo," she answered, getting right to it. "I'm not on any particular timetable, but I'd like to arrive…quietly. I have a house in the Lake Country with a fully functional port and hangar so we can avoid the Capitol."
She paused, reading his expression. "And no, before you ask, I'm not running from anything. I'd simply like to avoid the public eye for the time." The woman raised her chin a bit, scrutinizing his face. The smart option would be to offer him a set of numbers and haggle until the fair amount was reached, but she was curious of his character. "What's your price, Captain? I'll pay half up front, and the rest when we reach Naboo."
|
|
|
|
Post by Rik Vane on Jan 30, 2016 22:07:20 GMT -8
"Ooh... Pretty and rich." And a reader too. There's no way that turns out well. You should cuff her and throw her on the auction block naked. I will kill you the instant I figure out how. It was difficult, not wincing visibly at the crass suggestion, but somehow he managed it. "If you've got your own starport, that means you've got repair facilities." He brushed past her and up into the ship, running a hand lovingly across the ramp pistons and airlock bulkhead as he ascended. "While the Mynock may be the finest vessel to ever grace the space lanes, even she isn't immune to the occasional malfunction, and I've been meaning to put in some upgrades for a good long while now." He spun back around to face her. "So I'll make you a deal. I'll take you to your fancy little private island on Naboo free of charge, plus expenses, and you buy all the parts I need and let me use your hangar for a month. Fair?"
|
|
Vyra Silara
Member
A bird without its wings is a low and tragic thing.
Posts: 30
Traffic Light: Orange
|
Post by Vyra Silara on Jan 30, 2016 23:38:41 GMT -8
She hesitated for a moment, a little surprised at his request. It was a smart, unexpected business move on his part, and while she certainly had the money to pay her way back home anyway, she found his lack of credit obsession and his resourcefulness very refreshing. A month sounded like a long time, but depending on the parts he needed, it could take weeks to ship everything to her retreat. Vyra studied him, weighing her options. The man was clever, certainly.
"Alright." She moved up the ramp to stand in front of him, suddenly very short due to the slope, but somehow no less regal. "Fair, provided you run all parts needed by my mechanic." No need to be too trusting. Vyra offered a hand to seal the agreement. "Deal?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Rik Vane on Jan 30, 2016 23:58:20 GMT -8
"Eh..." That just wasn't gonna fly. He had no interest in giving veto power to a guy she could just order to shoot down all his requirements out of spite. "...no." He crossed his arms in the universal symbol of someone that wasn't willing to budge. "I don't care if your guy wants to have a look at the list, but I get all the parts I need or you can just run on back to your slaver buddies and see how their deal matches up." He turned and headed up the ramp, glancing back down at her as he rounded the railing to head for the bridge. "I can guarantee it'll be a worse one than I'm offering." His long strides carried him quickly past the ramp, and his back was to her when he spoke again. "Take it or leave it, highness. Gear's up in ten!"
|
|
Vyra Silara
Member
A bird without its wings is a low and tragic thing.
Posts: 30
Traffic Light: Orange
|
Post by Vyra Silara on Jan 31, 2016 19:20:23 GMT -8
She sighed, shifting her back to her other hand and scooping up the hem of her travel cloak as she followed the spacer up the ramp and into his ship without a backward glance. He was right. She'd find no better options here, and she had some time between now and Naboo to change his mind about the mechanic.
Ten minutes later, just as he'd said, the gears were up and the Frosty Mynock was bound for space.
|
|
Óglaigh na Iarndóideanna
Member
Fag an Bealach
Posts: 203
Affiliation: Óglaigh na Iarndóideanna ~ Warriors of the Iron Fists
|
Post by Óglaigh na Iarndóideanna on Jun 4, 2018 20:26:14 GMT -8
A group of troops flooded the city but they immediately offered an olive branch not weapons. Still they strongly asserted themselves seizing control of key strategic positions
|
|
Lámh Dhearg Manaan
Member
Fág an Bealach
Posts: 158
Affiliation: Óglaigh na Iarndóideanna ~ Warriors of the Iron Fists
Traffic Light: Green
|
Post by Lámh Dhearg Manaan on Jun 4, 2018 20:35:36 GMT -8
A second group of warriors appeared, the crack Lámh Dhearg, following suit of those before them and in a well orchestrated fashion, in close communication between themselves, the Óglaigh na Iarndóideanna unit and HICOM they took up positions
|
|
An Tiarna Dubh
Member
Is minic a bhris beál duine a shrón ~ It is often that a person's mouth broke his nose
Posts: 843
Affiliation: Are you joking? the IF
Traffic Light: Green
Member is Online
|
Post by An Tiarna Dubh on Jun 4, 2018 21:37:31 GMT -8
Shuttles continued to land. The creme de la creme of IF troops landed. An tiarna's own Gardaí Cosanta & An Bligeárd, Collins secret service Scáileanna na Iarndóideanna were in the main. They immediately took to probing every square inch of the area
Scáileanna na Iarndóideanna ~ Shadows of the Iron Fists (SI): The SI is the secret service wing of the IF. 500 Scáil na hOíche – The Shadows of Night (Ó Dubhín) 1000 Fiannóglach – Ranger (Togorian) SI Breakdown: Field Marshal Collins: Scáil an Bháis ~ The Shadow of Death (FS Lord) 100 Scáil na hOíche – The Shadows of Night An Chéad Scuad Dubh ~ The First Black Squad General Joe Cahill (FS Lord) Colonel Lennon 100 Scáil na hOíche – The Shadows of Night An Dara Scuad Dubh~ The Second Black Squad General Harry Boland (FS Lord) Colonel Ó Ruairc 100 Scáil na hOíche – The Shadows of Night An Tírú Scuad Dubh~ The Third Black Squad General General Danny Breen (FS Lord) Colonel Mac Conmhaic 100 Scáil na hOíche – The Shadows of Night An Ceathrú Scuad Dubh~ The Fourth Black Squad Major General Adams (FS) Colonel Ó Faoláin 100 Scáil na hOíche – The Shadows of Night An Cúigiú Scuad Dubh~ The Fifth Black Squad (BC)
An Bligeárd ~ The Blackguard (BG) Major General Sands (FS)
1000 Fiannóglach Togorian ~ Togorian Ranger Colonel Ó Cearbhaill Cuideachta A – Company A: 200 An Bligeárd ~ The Blackguard (Fiannóglach – Ranger) Major General Patrick Bryne (FS) Colonel Ó Scannláin Cuideachta B – Company B: 200 An Bligeárd ~ The Blackguard (Fiannóglach – Ranger) Major General Mac Dubhdara (FS) Cuideachta C – Company C: 200 An Bligeárd ~ The Blackguard (Fiannóglach – Ranger) Major General Ó Dorchaidhe (FS) Cuideachta D – Company D: 200 An Bligeárd ~ The Blackguard (Fiannóglach – Ranger) Major General Cónán Ó Dubhda (FS) Cuideachta E – Company E: 200 An Bligeárd ~ The Blackguard (Fiannóglach – Ranger) The These men work in 6 hour shifts on CP duty as assigned. Barracks of SI staff and troops are located in highly organized areas for optimum functional performance of duties. The 500 Scáil na hOíche – The Shadows of Night are housed in dorm style barracks attached to the SI office.
Close Protection (CP):
Gardaí Cosanta ~ Bodyguard
Admiral Ó Ciosáin (Lord) Admiral Ó Raghailligh (Lord) Admiral Cherry (Lord) Admiral Jonathan (Lord) Admiral Tiger (Lord)
• Fear Faire Dubh – Black Watchmen:
Field Marshal Cat Mhór
General Cat Dubh
General Cat Crainn
LieutenantGeneral Cat Dearg
LieutenantGeneral Cat Fiáin
LieutenantGeneral Cat Bán
ColonelCatzeye
ColonelNyghtvision
ColonelBaddcat
ColonelHairless
ColonelNoname
ColonelAshfree
ColonelBreederschoice
ColonelFancy Beast
ColonelKibblebit
ColonelHairballz
ColonelPerrreena
|
|
|
|
Post by Ciarán Dubh & Laoch Bán Dubh on Jul 6, 2018 20:56:55 GMT -8
Three Wayfarer descended on the city. They set down at a public docking bay. Upon exiting Ciarán began talking to all immediately
-Ciarán-
"The first person who says that they're confused is dying. We are allll gonna collect ourselves for a stretch then we all come together and... reflect." Captain Cathal McMahon, CO, subordinate only to Ciarán & Laoch steps forward, salutes and stood at attention. Laoch returned the salute then waved him off. Captain McMahon nodded courteously as he turned into shelling out orders. Troops went about setting up camp
|
|
Óglaigh na Iarndóideanna
Member
Fag an Bealach
Posts: 203
Affiliation: Óglaigh na Iarndóideanna ~ Warriors of the Iron Fists
|
Post by Óglaigh na Iarndóideanna on Jul 7, 2018 1:02:33 GMT -8
The CO of Óglaigh na Iarndóideanna squad, Lieutenant Éamonn Ó Dubhuí walks over and salutes Captain McMahon
|
|
Lámh Dhearg Manaan
Member
Fág an Bealach
Posts: 158
Affiliation: Óglaigh na Iarndóideanna ~ Warriors of the Iron Fists
Traffic Light: Green
|
Post by Lámh Dhearg Manaan on Jul 7, 2018 1:04:35 GMT -8
But a step behind the CO of Lámh Dhearg Manaan, Lieutenant M.J. Plunkett stands to attention boots snapping together as he gives a swift salute
|
|
|
|
Post by Ciarán Dubh & Laoch Bán Dubh on Jul 7, 2018 1:42:27 GMT -8
Captain McMahon returned the salute
-Captain McMahon-
"At ease gentlemen."
Looking at the two the words just flowed
-Captain McMahon-
"Great honor to have you boys around - rather than have you blown around me, which is no play on words given our history."
Waving a gloved right
-Captain McMahon-
"So we're on Juvex in the capital... Juvex City.... Now some people really put the thinking caps on to get a innovative name for a capital don't they now?"
Spitting tobacco to the ground -Captain McMahon- "Could spend the whole day going at this one but we really have much to do. Don't we!" Men jumped at the sudden lift in the Captain's voice. He chortled laughter -Captain McMahon- "Here's how it works....I could waste time and energy giving out a chain of exacting orders...." Smiling "But... no. To begin, you men know this place. So. You have an hour to have this all cessed out and a report back to me. Then the work starts." Brows rising -Captain McMahon- "On my call.... Now!!!" Men burst into action in a painfully disciplined fashion
|
|
|
|
Post by Ciarán Dubh & Laoch Bán Dubh on Jul 7, 2018 18:07:59 GMT -8
Captain McMahon observed the scene... assessing it and asking himself what was present and what must be change. Right off one could litterallly smell the military presence on Juvex. The place was stained with the remanant of the IF like tea on a fine porciline cup. Problem number one. Desirable that might well have been at the right time; now what they wanted was a more quiet presence, known but less visible. He also noticed with a smile that his men were already moving in that direction
Ciarán and Laoch were free to consider the wider picture. Kuat and Manaan were open. Open for business not some flamboyant crusade bent on conquest and control; that was a mistake of the past. They could fight, and indeed would if need be but what they wanted was influence. That implied quiet moves for the most part. Even the open element of this way of doing things was still largely clandestine. Where people knew that you were responsible for a move yet could not prove that you that had done a thing. The minds worked. One could near see the smoke rising from both of the men's ears as the steel wheels turned in their heads shaking off the rust
|
|
