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Theed
May 12, 2015 14:58:52 GMT -8
Post by Alkor Centaris on May 12, 2015 14:58:52 GMT -8
Alkor paused when the energy pulsating though his mind rippledd, touched by an outside force. His gaze tore open and both pupils dilated, as if his focus were narrowed to all of the Nabeen minutia. In his mind's eye, the scene faded. Theed bled away in a psychotropic nightmare.
Consummate darkness shredded like paper as his thoughts raced across the gap that Sakri had spanned. He knew the presence immediately- she had brushed his thoughts for the microsecond her control faltered over Carida, moments before the planet exploded. He did not bother with questions of why she came to Naboo. Easily, she must have learned the same information that he came by. She wanted the Holocron.
Her surface thoughts bubble at the surface when his mind found them. With a simple, precise thought, the Jen'jidai brushed over them and seized what he needed- the fleeting images relayed through her optic nerve.
The boat skidded away over waves ahead of her. Subtle hints of emotional attachment dripped from the skiff, clues to the meaning behind it. The demonic gaze ended in an instant, but the chill would linger in the woman's psyche for several seconds.
When Alkor opened his eyes, they glittered an eerie, deep violet. With a ragged breath, the Corellian shivered and reached for the dark item hidden in the folds of his robes.
Several minutes passed as Alkor made his way toward the docks. He noticed several other bodies migrating toward their own skiffs.
The Force flickered at that instant.
Subtle but intense, the energies coalesced around that marina and flowed rampantly toward the horizon. The others seemed ignorant of the phenomenon, but Alkor had heavy exposure to it. Each being served as a node, the starting point for a fissure in the pattern that wove the galaxy together. Entangled in a web that surpassed their understanding, Alkor wondered if they knew just how dangerous this situation had become.
"A shatterpoint," he muttered, eyes narrowed on the boat that disipated into the distance.
At once, he knew the secret being kept by the galaxy itself.
Everything was about to fall apart.
With a sinister hiss, the deep, hot blade seared bloody crimson. A yelp rose from a fisherman as Alkor stared down at him, and when their eyes met, Alkor smirked. "Scream, and I will melt your mouth shut."
"Others will see you," the man argued. Alkor gripped the man's collar.
"Then you have precious little time. That boat there-" he indicated a small, albeit sleek looking ship. "Can you pilot it?"
"Yes, but it's not mine!"
"It is now." Alkor ripped the man off his feet and hurled him toward the ship. The man stumbled across the docks, a scream echoing unbidden from his lips.
Alkor snorted when the chorus of accusatory cries and fingers pointed in his direction. He strode quietly toward the ship, which the fisherman had begun to start up already. "Make it quick," he added, "the hull won't keep out blasters for long."
"What!?"
The scream withered as blasters wailed in response. Alkor stared intensely back, the blade of his lightsaber slipping swiftly away. A field of gentle energy coated the ship and swallowed the raw bursts of energy as the engine roared, and the ship hurtled away.
Alkor turned his gaze to the pilot. "I told you not to scream."
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Theed
May 15, 2015 22:49:56 GMT -8
Post by Sakri on May 15, 2015 22:49:56 GMT -8
Her eyes went wide, a gasp sticking in her throat, as the presence reached across to her and took from her what it needed.
Alkor.
She recognized him as soon as his mind touched hers, and though she was offended at the blatant violation of her mind, part of her could understand where he was coming from. However much the man had managed to earn her ire during their brief time together, she had to admit a grudging respect for him. That admission would never make it into the realm of sound, though, instead staying locked in her head with most everything she had.
The membrane across her eyes briefly slid closed as she surveyed the marina once more. It seemed as if there was a small fleet starting to depart from the area, and Sakri couldn't help but notice that all those departing had one thing in common: they weren't the ones piloting their craft. Which gave her a distinct advantage in that she didn't need a pilot's aid.. She just needed them to be distracted. So it was that she strode down towards the docks, removing her arms from her cloak as she turned to walk along the waterfront. She passed by a human male just getting out of his skiff, sizing him up in an instant, before moving on.
Then, with the aid of the Force, the cloak sprung from her person and flung itself at the man, wrapping itself around his head and upper body. It was a tactic she had used many times, and it never failed to distract her target. In the moment he started trying to flail and extricate himself from his situation, she jumped aboard his skiff and brought the craft up and running. She smiled as she pushed the throttle forward, then turned back towards the unfortunate human and held her hand out with an open palm. The cloak came rushing back, spinning him around and flinging him into the water as it did so. The mass of black fabric wrapped itself over her arm like a well-trained bird of prey as she turned to face the other departing craft. The throttle was pushed up to full, and her two-tone red-and-blonde hair flowed out behind her in the newly-borne wind. Her golden skin glistened in the light from Naboo's sun, and she allowed herself a brief moment to smile as she tore across the water after her quarry.
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Miras
Member
Posts: 91 
Affiliation: Watchmen
Traffic Light: Green
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Theed
May 17, 2015 20:22:16 GMT -8
Post by Miras on May 17, 2015 20:22:16 GMT -8
Theed's port was by far the busiest area of the city. Nestled beneath the elegant spires of the city's metropolis, a bustling hive of almost frantic activity hugged the shore. Sentients, the majority human but with members of two dozen other species scattered among them, wound through the stalls and kiosks clustered around the various marine transports docked on the edge of the tributary. It was crowded, noisy, and stifling.
Miras pushed his way through a cluster of men laughing around a droid repair kiosk, his gray eyes narrowed in irritation. Sweat beaded on his brow as he tried to keep his focus on maintaining his pace while simultaneously dodging the gawking pedestrians clogging the street. His teeth ground around the stub of a smoldering cigarra. The high traffic had slowed his progress by half, and all the while his target's presence was growing fainter. The thought of losing him again was too much for the Jedi to bear; it had to be here, and now. Besides, the vision had been clear. If he was too late to stop it...
A shudder ran through him and he again redoubled his efforts, opening himself to the slightest trickle of the force's all encompassing energy. He felt its touch at the edge of his consciousness, and the hair on his arms stood on end as it coursed through his limbs, soothing the aching muscles and urging them to higher speeds. The stained fabric of his cloak rustled as he flowed through the crowd, sidestepping and weaving around beleaguered passerby effortlessly. The lines of his face smoothed into a placid mask of concentration, and he lost himself in the movements.
Time seemed to slow around him. A slow breath left him, then he blinked and came to a halt.
He stood at the water's edge.
"Help you with something, sir?"
The Jedi's head snapped toward the voice, gray eyes fogged with exertion and a touch of exultation. A Neimoidian stood nearby, wearing a smile that mixture of cringing servitude and poorly disguised avarice that could only mean he had something to sell. "I need a boat," the youth murmured around his cigarra, his words ragged.
The green-skinned creature did a passable job of hiding the sudden flash of unease that passed through him, but Miras felt it as clearly as he felt his own heartbeat. An exasperated sigh escaped his lips as he reached into his cloak.
"Ah, well, I have a number of personal transports for sale at very reasonable prices. I'm sure I have something-"
"Excellent," Miras cut in, withdrawing his lightsaber from his robes. He opened his hand, balancing the hilt on his palm to display it. "I'll need to requisition one, then. Jedi business."
The Neimoidian's face paled to a lighter shade of green.
The repulsorcraft was fast, Miras had to give it that. The whine of its engines cut through the rushing wind as effortlessly as their blowback cut a trail through the water behind it.
One of the Jedi's hands gripped the control yoke, while the other slipped beneath the fabric of his cloak to grip the shard of quixoni crystal laying against his chest. 'I'm coming for you,' he thought, eyes fixed ahead. Then another word flitted through his mind, unbidden and gone before he could grasp what it might signify.
Brother
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Xeonon Solomon
The First Order
Posts: 2,206
Affiliation: First Order
Traffic Light: Blue
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Theed
Aug 28, 2015 11:27:17 GMT -8
Post by Xeonon Solomon on Aug 28, 2015 11:27:17 GMT -8
How he got to Theed was not important, after all people took public space transport all the time.
Xeonon had been on Theed for almost two weeks, ten days to be exact. In that time he had not come across a single hopeful, and he had followed up dozens of leads. Most were people pretending to be forcelings who were good at parlour tricks. The others were only good at parlour tricks, to old to be properly trained and so he left them. He only had a few more days on this trip then he would be forced to look elsewere.
The sun was high overhead and he took his head out of his ass and remembered where he was. Theed. Arguably one of the most pristine and beautiful cities in the galaxy. The sun was just setting behind him and made the water in the canals look beautiful. Compared to the last city he had been in this was a lot more scenic. Hell that city was nothing but ruins and ashes now. Idly he wondered in Nicamadeus had figured out his cryptic message and went there.
Walking into a cafe of sorts Xeonon took off his red jacket revealing a studded shirt underneath. To the people it would look like just another weird fashion trend of an outsider. In reality it was actually plates of phrik studded to the inside of his shirt. He may have left everything but his lightsaber in the ship, but wearing armour was like having a second skin to him. Without it he felt naked. Sitting in a booth he looked at the other patrons, there was something off about one of them. He couldnt place it but it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
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Miras
Member
Posts: 91
Affiliation: Watchmen
Traffic Light: Green
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Theed
Aug 28, 2015 12:41:50 GMT -8
Post by Miras on Aug 28, 2015 12:41:50 GMT -8
Miras watched the sun set through the cafe's open windows, studying the streaks of purple and blazing orange sullenly. His failure to track down the Sith from his vision still twisted in his gut like a knife, leaving him angry, bitter, and more often than not, very drunk. With no clue as to where the man had disappeared to, and no further messages from the force no matter how much he meditated, the Padawan-turned-assassin was left aimless and wasted on a planet all but forgotten by the major powers of the universe.
It was a boring existence, to say the least, but there was nothing to be done. He'd already killed the two darksiders that had been residing on the planet- one an Anzati serial killer whose fledgling powers were just enough to make him more dangerous than the thugs and prostitutes he left drained in Theed's dark alleys; the other a crone who lived in a swamp and collected the souls of her victims for use in necromancy. The Anzati had been a rough customer- he had a poorly healed wound across his chest that attested to that- but the old woman hadn't sensed him until it was too late, and he was falling through the sky toward her with his lightsaber lit.
Since then he'd spent his evenings here, surfing the holonet for articles that might indicate a force user's presence and drinking himself blind. Each day that passed with no new developments caused his frustration to mount, until he had to resist the urge to jump in his TwinTail and set a hyperspace jump for Korriban. Watch the Sith come out of the woodwork then, eh?
The sun set, and with a final sigh the youth stood and tossed a credit chit onto the table next to his unfinished drink. With no clue where he was going, he lit a smoke and stumbled out into the night.
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Xeonon Solomon
The First Order
Posts: 2,206
Affiliation: First Order
Traffic Light: Blue
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Theed
Sept 10, 2015 14:14:34 GMT -8
Post by Xeonon Solomon on Sept 10, 2015 14:14:34 GMT -8
Miras watched the sun set through the cafe's open windows, studying the streaks of purple and blazing orange sullenly. His failure to track down the Sith from his vision still twisted in his gut like a knife, leaving him angry, bitter, and more often than not, very drunk. With no clue as to where the man had disappeared to, and no further messages from the force no matter how much he meditated, the Padawan-turned-assassin was left aimless and wasted on a planet all but forgotten by the major powers of the universe.
It was a boring existence, to say the least, but there was nothing to be done. He'd already killed the two darksiders that had been residing on the planet- one an Anzati serial killer whose fledgling powers were just enough to make him more dangerous than the thugs and prostitutes he left drained in Theed's dark alleys; the other a crone who lived in a swamp and collected the souls of her victims for use in necromancy. The Anzati had been a rough customer- he had a poorly healed wound across his chest that attested to that- but the old woman hadn't sensed him until it was too late, and he was falling through the sky toward her with his lightsaber lit.
Since then he'd spent his evenings here, surfing the holonet for articles that might indicate a force user's presence and drinking himself blind. Each day that passed with no new developments caused his frustration to mount, until he had to resist the urge to jump in his TwinTail and set a hyperspace jump for Korriban. Watch the Sith come out of the woodwork then, eh?
The sun set, and with a final sigh the youth stood and tossed a credit chit onto the table next to his unfinished drink. With no clue where he was going, he lit a smoke and stumbled out into the night.
As he sat there he ordered a drink, if it had been later it would have been alcohol but it was still early. The sun was still up. Kinda. Instead he ordered a blue milk and as he had his first drink his eyes skimmed the crowd. None of them looked especially dangerous nor did they have any outward signs of being a force user. Most were human with a few humanoids hanging around the edges, and by the time he drained the drink the feeling was gone. It may have been a cool breeze but on a world like this he doubted it. It was the force warning him.
He walked out the door and saw a man who had left about a minute later staggering around on the sidewalk. He followed him, noting that it was now dark out he walked up behind the drunk and tapped him on the shoulder. Excuse me sir wo- He had not planned to say much more than that though as he was instead planning on dragging the man into the alley on their left. Standing under one of the green roofs he wished for the umpteenth time he still had his bionic eyes. The force is strong with you, you wouldnt be the fabled drunk Jedi Master would you? He had never met Mike Frantz but word of the Jedis antics were famous. His favourite story about the man involved a police cruiser somehow ending on the top of a university roof upside down. |
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Theed
Dec 22, 2015 18:09:12 GMT -8
Post by Aya D'Ordinii on Dec 22, 2015 18:09:12 GMT -8
The Gold Standard Consultants Office in Theed was the usual small operation. A single mid-sized office building with a full time staff of less than a hundred. Enough of the local population used their Legal & financial services to keep the branch turning a low but steady profit. Like most MandalMine Collective buildings it was discretely, but functionally reinforced enough that a small but well trained force could hold out in the building for weeks against a full scale siege.
Most of the bankers & lawyers that worked there where not truly part of Clan D'Ordinii & by extension, not well trained for combat. The attackers had planned well enough to hit the building while most of the actual members of the Clan were either off shift or away for the noon meal. The fifteen assorted humanoids had stormed the building, killing three in the process. The remaining eighteen members of the staff had been marched into the main lobby & made to kneel as the raiders took cover further back. Outside the building, local police had set up a road block while attempting to negotiate with the robbers.
Clan D'Ordinii however does not mess around when it comes to challenges to its safety. A secure way into (or in an emergency out of) the structure was available from under the building, accessible only when remotely opened by a tactical operator assigned to the sector. The heavy vault like door waited now for a local new recruit that had been drafted to break up the hostage situation.
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cage
Member
Posts: 30
Affiliation: Of Clan D'Ordinii
Traffic Light: Blue
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Theed
Dec 22, 2015 20:48:03 GMT -8
Post by cage on Dec 22, 2015 20:48:03 GMT -8
Cage approached the door underneath the building. His shotgun slung under one arm as he sauntered up to it. He had been enjoying his drink when another mandalorian of all things had approached him. Not only did they offer him a job, something he was desperately in need of, but also a chance to join a clan. They had then explained to him the hostage situation and the entrance below the building. Hearing all he needed to Cage shook hands with the man before standing and departing the bar. In front of the building police had quarantined the area, unfortunately with them Cage was used to doing thing that weren't necessarily legal. He had simply gone around it while the officers were busy with a local explaining the situation. So here he was, punching buttons on a keypad to open a door and begin his new life as a member of a clan, no longer a lone wolf.
As the door opened Cage's shotgun was already raised. He walked through the hallways weapon at the ready, but saw no signs of movement. Finally up ahead he could hear yelling and sobbing, a mixture of stressed captors and hopeless captives. Grinning under his helmet Cage smiled and muttered to himself "guess im at the right party after all" as he studied the criminals. Each was dressed in standard clothing with minimal armor, and all but one carried a heavy blaster pistol. The one he presumed to be the leader carried a blaster carbine. Continuing down the hall Cage came to what he had originally planned to find, the circuit box for the building. Reaching into it he flipped the switches to off and his helmet switched to thermal as the lights were cut and all was engulfed in black.
"WHAT THE FUCK" one of the criminals yells as the dark suddenly washes over them. They struggle to turn on the lights on their weapons and point them around frantically. "CALM DOWN" the leader yells. "Go check the breaker Jack" the man says to another of the criminals, who responded with a nod and moved to the hallway. Cage waited behind the door, and the minute the man entered he was silenced by a quick blow from a beskar sword to the back of his head, the blade burying deep into his skull and killing him before he was ever alerted. Walking quietly into the room with the rest of the captors who were each holding a small group of the hostages. Once he was about ten feet away from the captors one of them finally spotted him with a flashlight. "What the fu-" was all the man got out before he began screaming in pain, as Cage's wrist-mounted flamethrowers burned him horrendously. The sudden flash momentarily blinded all others in the room, Cage was spared due to his helmets advanced optics. The heat had caused the fire alarms to go off and water rained from the ceiling. Yelling and screaming profanity the rest of the would-be abductors sprayed blaster fire in all directions.
Cage strode through the falling rain and blaster fire in silence, and with complete confidence. His stride brought him to the left of one of the criminals and with a deliberate slash, the man's right arm was removed from the elbow down. The leader and the other turned and opened fire, but Cage simply shoved the man towards them letting him absorb most of the blaster fire as Cage was cloaked in the darkness once more. Grabbing a hostage and holding a heavy blaster to her head the kidnapper screamed out "Who or whatever the fuck you are, lay down your weapons and surrender or I blow the woman's head off" To emphasize his point the man pressed the barrel of the blaster to the sobbing woman's temple. The only response he received was a direct blaster shot to the side of his own head. The entire time he had been speaking Cage had slowly circled the pair of remaining criminals before lining up his shot. As the man dropped the last one turned and opened fire. Cage took a shot to his shoulder and as it was jerked back retaliated by blowing the man's kneecap off with his shotgun. The man fell and wailed loudly as Cage walked forward and put the barrel of the shotgun under his chin, before slowly removing it and saying only "Not this time" and walking off to turn the lights back on. Walking back into the room the workers were still in shock as their savior threw the doors open and the police all locked weapons on him. Dragging the wounded criminal out by the back of his shirt Cage dropped him and simply said "Situation dealt with accordingly" before striding forward and past the barricades. The police simply stared at him as he passed.
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Theed
Dec 22, 2015 21:14:45 GMT -8
Post by Aya D'Ordinii on Dec 22, 2015 21:14:45 GMT -8
Several populated systems away, the sector command garrison for the region updated their personnel files. Cage was moved from the standard probation rank of P1 to the normal first rank of P2. His file also had several notes added to it, mostly things along the lines of "Excessive force", "Potential PR hazard", & "Property damages". While it certainly wouldn't stop his progression in the clan (after all, the Clan had uses for violence as well) it would limit the jobs sent his way that involved being anywhere near city limits or valuable installations in the future.
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Vash'Ur Nam'Aser
Member
Staging New Protocol: Please Wait...Buffering.........Buffering.......
Posts: 24
Affiliation: Stampede Technologies
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Theed
Dec 23, 2015 19:22:28 GMT -8
Adi likes this
Post by Vash'Ur Nam'Aser on Dec 23, 2015 19:22:28 GMT -8
Outskirts of Theed - Villa FortunaThe riverside home of a secretive Bothan was nothing to shake a spanner at. This villa, in particular, was one that was certain to turn more than a few heads - some of them on the same being. Much of his adult life thus far had been spent slumming it in cruddy apartment buildings on Coruscant and little motel rooms on Ord Mantell. This place undoubtedly was a step up. Privacy, personal spacecraft hangar, the best self-designed security system a slicer of his caliber could manage; and on top of all that, a surveillance network that could wildly be speculated as one of the most intricate in the galaxy - Vash had it good, certainly.*
*And yet, he always desired more.*
*He wasn't attempting to be greedy. He had a steady flow of credits coming in from various offshoots of holonet sites, some small, untraceable cred-sieves that he had set up within the local governmental facilities and amenities. No, this was a much stronger want. He was desperate for something to give him purpose. Something he could really sink his teeth into. So far, his desperation had sunk into pure boredom. He had been delving through his network all day, looking for the one thing that would occupy his mind for more than a fraction of a second. His subdural uplink was flashing image after image across his eyepiece. Segments of delivery manifests from the spaceport - a few key items that he flagged and stored away for later reference (and possible action); small "highlight reels" from several security feeds scattered throughout the capital; local "news outlets" spewing their usual inane prattle. Some of those reports had merit to them, though. Vash was one who would usually cut through all of the bantha-spit and get to the core of the issue; accessing holocams, uncovering security footage, audio feeds, getting the entire picture.Raising his mug of tapcaf to his lips, Vash poured over the day's findings with a half-hearted interest."Let's see now..." The first images flicker across, a declaration of war on Sullust from some ragtag group. "Nope. Nothing there. Moving on..." Local reports of new tax regulations in the Naboo system. Vash opens a few view-windows, adjusting his coding slightly regarding the changes, and closes the window. "Crisis averted. Next." An HNN report detailing a hostage situation that had taken place yesterday afternoon at Gold Standards Consultants. Vash had already assessed that the business was a front when he began to dig into past financial statements regarding the company, but decided not to dig any further when he began receiving counter-slicing notices on his own network. Apparently, the HNN was spamming coverage now detailing the aftermath. "Oh? Let's see what we've got here..."Setting his cup of tapcaf down on the short table in front of him, the Bothan lifted his left arm in front of him, and began tapping away at the "wrist-comp" that resided on the top of the forearm. The screen sprang to life, projecting a holo-image in front of him that he began to access with his free hand, using his uplink to input code as he continued.NAVROOT//:_BITMAP_011
HN:1.487.11.279.0
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SUBLINK: CONFIRMED
RUNDAT:OMICRON_HOST ... LINK SUCCESSFUL
DATALINK::THEED/SECDATA/CAM_FEED_OSIRISDIST/22.12.79_1200H//Several feeds came up on his screen, from the hour and date in question. Vash focused in on the cameras surrounding Gold Standards Consultants, seeing as the actual feed from inside the establishment was a closed circuit. The Bothan was quick to find that out a few months back, when he tried to access their feeds in an attempt to case the location for a client. He simply did what he could for the interested party and went along his way, knowing that these things eventually worked themselves out. However, seeing them worked out on the five o'clock news didn't do much to inspire faith in his clientele. That would be the last time he would work with that contact. They payed sithspit, anyway.The feeds began to show a few vehicles coming and going, and one particular landspeeder cycling the block several times. It wasn't long before Vash noticed the speeder parking, and a team of individuals exiting. Vash exchanged camera angles, looking more-closely into the lobby area. Several flashes of light and some movement later, and the scene became eerily-quiet. This must have been where the hostage situation started.Vash continued to monitor the situation, advancing the timeframe every so often to see any changes. When another series of flashes started during one of his advancements, he slowed the feed back down to real-time to get a better look.*
*What he saw was even more-interesting than before. The blaster exchange was evident. One side was losing, though, and quickly. The situation outside was heating up, as well. The Nubian authorities had arrived, and their teams were moving into position once the blaster fire started. However, it was only moments later when the front doors flew open and the hostages started filing out; followed by a Mandalorian in red and black armor dragging along - what Vash assumed was - one of the assailants. Vash began freezing the frame on the Mandalorian from multiple angles, scanning his body armor for clan sigils or other identifying marks. He found none, however, that would give him any indication of who the operator was. Following that, he began accessing the Nubian Police Database for the localized officer's holofeeds on their own body-armor vidcaptures. He referenced several audio clips, filing them away as he went along.Saving the files for later viewing, the Bothan began closing out his access points, making sure to sweep his digital prints from any of the HP proxies."Well...'situation dealt with' indeed..." He then sat forward, grabbed his mug again, and sat back to relax and enjoy his tapcaf once more.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Theed
Dec 27, 2015 22:29:24 GMT -8
Post by Deleted on Dec 27, 2015 22:29:24 GMT -8
Sleek, fast, like a predator stooping through the sky, the antique - albeit modernized - Seltaya-class fast courier dove towards the planet. It's pilot, a somewhat blasé and stoic Firrerreo eyed the planet with a disinterest that edged on outright boredom. How many times had he been to Naboo? To this part of the galaxy even? Too many times, to be sure. Indeed, Dante had seen far too much of the galaxy altogether, and the countless wars, treaties, rise and fall of empires - all of it, had lost its charm on him. Once, he had fought for enjoyment, then for money, then for some cause or another...and the cycle continued. Fighting had lost its meaning to him now, even the galaxy itself had lost its meaning.
Indeed, the only thing that had made him raise an eyebrow - and even at that, only by the barest fraction of an inch - was a communication from a long lost friend, a Jedi at that, Adi Matango. Dante had barely recognized the man's voice, the man's clipped tones and sparse instruction - nay, request - being altogether un-Jedi like. Then again, perhaps the man that spoke now wasn't a Jedi. Not that this would surprise Dante, for when he had been in the order, countless Jedi had turned to the dark, even to the gray at the minimum, in the face of such war and monstrous cruelty. Adi, had he fallen, if he was preparing to fall, would simply be one more in a long line of innumerable Jedi before him.
But Dante's interest was piqued, the wanderer of few words knew of the man's exploits in the recent Mandalorian wars...of the terrible cost of the numerous battles. Few were the times one was offered the chance to witness the fall of a hero. And, to what end? Villain? Or hero redeemed? Well...that was the fun in watching now, wasn't it. So Dante had answered the communique, replying in similar clipped tones that he would arrive at Naboo, at the coordinates given. And so, for the first time in nearly five years - ironically the last time he had seen the man, actually - Dante was motivated. Moreover...
Dante was interested.
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The Seltaya skimmed across the ground, slowly coming to a landing near the outskirts of Theed. The ramp descending, Dante strode out from the ship and across the landing pad, ignoring the stinging of heated exhaust and coolant, making his way towards the edge of the city. He was a strange sight, to be sure; a six foot tall humanoid with golden metallic skin, golden animal eyes, and two toned black and silver hair. He was in drab dress, albeit, with black sturdy boots, black pants, a chromium utility belt, a gray long sleeved tunic, and the man's signature dark blue jacket. Neither of these things, the exotic alien or the plain clothes, was more unnerving to the peaceful sentients of Naboo than the man's weaponry. A sheathed sword across the man back, a pistol at his left thigh, the man strode with the walk of a soldier, and all who saw the alien gave him a wide berth. Several times he was stopped by authorities, and several times the alien had to pull out identification authenticating that he had an active bounty hunter's license, allowing him to carry said weapons.
Eventually, though, he made it to his destination. A villa on the outskirts of Theed, supposedly home to an information broker of some repute. Oz Griffin, a renowned slicer on the Smuggler's run, had suggested the being to Dante to get ahold of certain information. And, if there was ever a time to use such a being, it was now. Dante had high hopes that the elusive creature would be able to tap into Jedi networks...perhaps get some information on Adi. Knowing the situation that the man was in before he arrived would make the proceedings more...agreeable. Walking up the vaulted steps, even Dante could appreciate the masterful architecture and craftsmanship. He himself had owned one of these villas. Well, before the war, anyway.
Raising a hand, Dante's cybernetic muscles flexed, bringing his left fist down heavily on the Villas outer gate several times - the alien preferring to knock than use the Villa's comm system. While it was doubtful anyone would hear the rattling of the gate protesting under his fist - the message would be clear, and, no doubt, various electronic systems would be pointed his way to document every knock. Such was the way of information brokers.
After a long moment, the alien knocked once again, this time addressing the comm panel next to the gate. The alien spoke in dull and uninterested tones, in Huttese at that (the most widely spoken language in the galaxy, only second to basic, meaning that most anyone would understand), with an odd growling accent.
"Die Wanna Wanga, Mi bosco de Vash di slicer. Jee oto vo blastoh ee sordo, puti, Jee mano nano keeko. Ting cooing koo soo ah, para...nanto?"
(Greetings, I am looking for the slicer "Vash". I am keeping my weapons on me, but I offer substantial credits - and mean no harm. I'm searching for someone...will you take my business?)
Brief, clipped, and to the point. Dante rarely danced around issues at hand - and when he did, they were invariably with a woman. This was business though, and that fact bled into his speech with all the subtlety of a Gamorrean with a club.
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Vash'Ur Nam'Aser
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Theed
Dec 28, 2015 11:22:03 GMT -8
Post by Vash'Ur Nam'Aser on Dec 28, 2015 11:22:03 GMT -8
Just Outside of Theed - Villa Fortuna "...And the source? You're sure it was from the Council on Dantooine?" The voice from his internal commlink seemed to echo through his mind."Mr. White, have I ever brought you faulty information?"Vash scoffed. "Let's not use words like 'ever'...if you'll recall, I have a long memory." "Very well. That seems fair. Still, when it comes to information like this, I can hardly be accused of making it up."There was a moment of silent contemplation from Vash, then his voice grew slightly-distant, as though he were preoccupied with the matter at hand.In fact, he was already setting up a private staging ground for the next series of hacks he was about to perform. "...Your credits will be wired to your shell accounts over the next five days. You know the ones. If the information you provide turns out to be useful, I'll make sure you're compensated accordingly. Now, is there anything else?" The mechanical voice responded."No, Mr. White. And I believe I've taken up more than enough of your time. Good day, sir."The link between them closed, and Vash began wiping the conversation from his logs immediately.It wasn't his voice. The programs he used were speech-to-text translated. One less means of someone identifying who he was. The "voice" on the other side was nothing more than his sender's response in mechanized speech.And now, the real work was set to start. He began to access his backdoor network, using one of the thirty encrypted starting points he had been careful to set up over his time as a slicer.*
*First, his mind developed a sort of "stage"...an area in which he was able to imagine a hacking subspace. The "world" he was imagining was a spanning darkness, alight with row after row of digitalized holoshelves. The Bothan had a specially-designed avatar of himself that was able to access this staging ground much like perusing a library.As he processed the info, his mind began to spring into action.First, he established a link with Naboo's Primary Control Cluster. He and the satellite network were old friends, although Vash used that term very loosely. Their time together had been a clash of massive proportions. Whoever had designed her coding was a cut above the rest; however, Vash ultimately won that battle. This particular interface was evidence enough of that.*
*From there, it was a simple matter of connecting to the network that spanned his known galaxy. Using both continuous and burst transmission frequencies, the Bothan began establishing a secure, encrypted connection between the Nubian satellite and Dantooine's own high-orbital platform. Within his mental/digital interface, the connection resembled walking through the "library" and selecting "holobooks" off of several shelves. Vash flashed between the aisles, accessing one file after another, each of them releasing a series of coded entries that connected each of the files via a string of "light". Soon, the entire local area had been networked, and the lights all formed a web-like pattern that held the satellite feeds in a latticed matrix framework. This would be where his true work began.*
*According to his source, the governmental council of Dantooine placed out a localized BOLO for a person of interest in an ongoing investigation. The crimes listed were ghastly in and of themselves. That, coupled with the fact that they were supposedly committed by one Adieumus Matango - formerly of L'Ange Noire - pushed this right into the realm of harrowing.Vash began by bringing up several listed images of the once-famous Adieumus (by the gods, if he never had to reflect on that poor excuse for rhyming again, it would be glorious). After his biometric program was able to pull a 3D render of the facial scans, he began to research other biometrical data. Step gait, recorded movement patterns, vocal recognition (where he could pull it from). This, along with other footage from differing angles, allowed him to determine height and approximate weight at the time of the attacks on Honoghr and Carida. Some mild psychological profiling could also be determined after some thorough analysis, so Vash held onto the captures, filing copies of them away in some darknet folders after proofing them with viral scans and removing any unwanted trace programs from the footage.*
*Soon after that, Vash began accessing Dantooine's satellite network, focusing in on data regarding the attack in Garang. He came up on news feeds reporting the incident, and some captures detailing what the security feeds were able to pick up. As before, Vash began filtering through the "white noise" of the galactic media spin-offs and sought to grab the raw footage. A few of his previous backdoor attempts had been shut out -- apparently, someone had been busy trying to halt the slicing attempts on this network. Vash thought he had maintained a sophisticated, mutating algorithm to keep them guessing. This had been thwarted by completely closing out the accessible circuits within this portion of the network; which Vash had chosen specifically because they were remote enough not to warrant a trace. For this to occur, someone had to have gone looking for this exact type of backdoor coding. The Bothan wondered how much more of his network had been compromised.*
*No bother. It was time to update his old security protocols for this part of the system, anyway.The "Archive Room" that he had set up was now a whirlwind of code cells, each one sifting through its contents and removing segments of parsed coding to conjoin in a single column of cyberspace. What was noticeable was that the coding looked very similar to the rewritten code that was currently locking him out. In order to create his new backdoor, it was going to have to look as though it was already part of the original coding process. Vash packaged it as part of a "scheduled update," which was set to occur at the top of the next hour. This "chameleon code" would then alter itself and begin spanning the network systematically until all the little bits were able to work together as a sort of "geared system." It wouldn't be too much longer now. Vash needed only to wait. The next seven minutes would detail the effectiveness of his attempts.*
*Just then, Vash received a notification. There was someone at his front gate, waiting to speak with him.Raising a hand, Dante's cybernetic muscles flexed, bringing his left fist down heavily on the Villas outer gate several times - the alien preferring to knock than use the Villa's comm system. While it was doubtful anyone would hear the rattling of the gate protesting under his fist - the message would be clear, and, no doubt, various electronic systems would be pointed his way to document every knock. Such was the way of information brokers.After a long moment, the alien knocked once again, this time addressing the comm panel next to the gate. The alien spoke in dull and uninterested tones, in Huttese at that (the most widely spoken language in the galaxy, only second to basic, meaning that most anyone would understand), with an odd growling accent."Die Wanna Wanga, Mi bosco de Vash di slicer. Jee oto vo blastoh ee sordo, puti, Jee mano nano keeko. Ting cooing koo soo ah, para...nanto?" (Greetings, I am looking for the slicer "Vash". I am keeping my weapons on me, but I offer substantial credits - and mean no harm. I'm searching for someone...will you take my business?) Brief, clipped, and to the point. Dante rarely danced around issues at hand - and when he did, they were invariably with a woman. This was business though, and that fact bled into his speech with all the subtlety of a Gamorrean with a club.
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Deleted
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Theed
Dec 28, 2015 13:15:26 GMT -8
Post by Deleted on Dec 28, 2015 13:15:26 GMT -8
"Achuta, an chowbasa tah Ma bunky dunko. Uba settah uba boska che 'Vash ta Slicer'. La sa nobata wanga wata foo da name. Haku poonoo do uba waba tah boska che?"The most literal translation was as such: "Hello, and welcome to my home. You say you search for 'Vash the Slicer'. There is no one here with that name. What business do you wish to search for?" "A Hutt? Come now...even the poorest Hutt would have at least one servant; and he would most certainly be answering the Comm." Said the Firrerreo wryly, dropping out of Huttese and edging back into basic. He spoke with a heavy growling accent, belonging to that same savage class of accents that Zygerrians tended to use (IE, space Russian). Waving his hand, the Firrerreo dismissed his own words as soon as they left his mouth. "It doesn't matter. I search for information on Adi Matango, head - or former head - of L'Ange Noire. He's been up to no good, I fear. And as I don't keep in Jedi circles, I must rely on alternative methods to catch up on old...eh, friends." Restlessly, the man's hands twisted, clenched, and spun. He disliked small talk; perhaps even outright despised it. But it was needed sometimes, especially in these initial stages. Inwardly, the alien made a note of the use of the Hutt voice, the denial of a "Vash" living on the premise, and yet, at the same time, the inquiry as to the nature of the Dante's business here. The words spun and spun in the Firrerreo's head, looping around and around, Dante's mind obsessively dissecting each inflection, each word choice, and each nuance to the greatest possible extent.
Surely, to anyone who didn't know Dante, the process would seem neurotic - perhaps downright insane. They wouldn't be far off the mark. Dante was something of an odd duck, possessing an Eidetic memory, making him initially perfectly suited for Intelligence work. Indeed, he had spent most of his younger years as a Counter-Intelligence Agent for the Serenno Internal Security force, and had quickly ascended the ranks; quickly, though, it had become apparent to his superiors that the alien's assassin training, combined with Intelligence work, brought out severe obsessive compulsive tendencies in the alien - to what was arguably an unhealthy degree. To make a long story short, Dante was paranoid - very, very, very paranoid. Every word, every action, every thing had mysterious and unknowable agenda and motive to it; motive that Dante's brain, with its perfect recall and feverish and frenetic need to overanalyze, simply HAD to decipher.
This lent incredible ability to Dante - kinetic communication for one, or rather the ability to read someone physically so perfectly as to be nearly a form of telepathy. Beyond this, incredible ability to analyze data, sift through motives, comprehend psychology, formulate and decipher battle plans, and glean accurate insights into situations with startling accuracy. It was, however, very much a double edged sword. For example, should a master warrior, through no fault of his own, were to honestly drop something he was eating, Dante would find catastrophic meaning in it. Why had he dropped the food? Was it a ploy? A distraction? Was he distracting Dante right now? Was it a sign to someone else? Who else was here? Where were they?! Thus Dante would be left huddled in a corner, waving his blade around, eyes darting around to look for unseen assailants, while said warrior walked away and ate his lunch. |
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Vash'Ur Nam'Aser
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Theed
Jan 5, 2016 10:43:49 GMT -8
Post by Vash'Ur Nam'Aser on Jan 5, 2016 10:43:49 GMT -8
Outskirts of Theed - Villa FortunaThe Neuro-Lounger was a fancy name for Vash's docking station, which he used to interface with his replica droids of varying design and species. It had taken him considerable time and resources to be able to purchase just the three of them, which he used to interface with the public at large. Perhaps the most-secretive of them was one which he had dubbed "Mr. White," a white-furred Bothan that continued to serve as his most-trusted "consiglierie" during negotiations. He spoke with a heavy Carratosian accent (i.e. "Space Irish"), one more way for Vash to maintain varying degrees of separation from his clientele. It wasn't as though the Kothlisian had anything to fear from his dealings. He simply didn't wish to waste valuable time with the masses when he could be using it to further his goals in other ways. He'd be preoccupied with the interaction rather than initiating wireless hacks from several systems away, in the comfort of his own home.Once Vash was seated, several components of the chair began to come to life. Of course, the neural uplink visor lowered over his head. Then, there were certain medical components to consider. Bio-monitors of varying design, standby medical equipment that would auto-administer if necessary, and Vash's least-favorite -- the intravenous contraption that would be keeping him alive during the stints that he had to be "away". After all, breaking contact with the replica droid wasn't something that was recommended. One could never be certain that they could reinitiate the uplink once it was broken. Vash simply took the time during "sleep cycles" to go over his findings and catch a few winks in the chair, himself. After all, this particular lounger was able to account for everything. Every neurological reaction, physical interaction, even waste cycles. Vash shuddered as he considered the implications.*
*Still, he didn't have time to waste. Once he was hooked up to his system, he immediately activated "Mr. White". It wasn't too long after the uplink that Vash was able to see through the eyes of his counterpart. The cylindrical tube door shifted open in front of him, and the white-furred Bothan stepped out to view the basement area. The out-of-body experience alone was something Vash had trouble getting used to. Seeing his still-lying form in that chair was enough to send a shiver up his spine. When he saw his own body react in the same way, he quickly closed his eyes and shook his head, turning toward the stairway. The process had taken only a few minutes to complete, and so the automated response had given him just enough time to get into his "new skin" before replaying the response. Vash had to be quick on his feet, but, the small lapse in communication could be seen as him "thinking it over."The Huttese brought a slight smile to the man's face, and he barked out a laugh. "A Hutt? Come now...even the poorest Hutt would have at least one servant; and he would most certainly be answering the Comm." Said the Firrerreo wryly, dropping out of Huttese and edging back into basic. He spoke with a heavy growling accent, belonging to that same savage class of accents that Zygerrians tended to use (IE, space Russian). Waving his hand, the Firrerreo dismissed his own words as soon as they left his mouth. "It doesn't matter. I search for information on Adi Matango, head - or former head - of L'Ange Noire. He's been up to no good, I fear. And as I don't keep in Jedi circles, I must rely on alternative methods to catch up on old...eh, friends." Restlessly, the man's hands twisted, clenched, and spun. He disliked small talk; perhaps even outright despised it. But it was needed sometimes, especially in these initial stages. Inwardly, the alien made a note of the use of the Hutt voice, the denial of a "Vash" living on the premise, and yet, at the same time, the inquiry as to the nature of the Dante's business here. The words spun and spun in the Firrerreo's head, looping around and around, Dante's mind obsessively dissecting each inflection, each word choice, and each nuance to the greatest possible extent.
Surely, to anyone who didn't know Dante, the process would seem neurotic - perhaps downright insane. They wouldn't be far off the mark. Dante was something of an odd duck, possessing an Eidetic memory, making him initially perfectly suited for Intelligence work. Indeed, he had spent most of his younger years as a Counter-Intelligence Agent for the Serenno Internal Security force, and had quickly ascended the ranks; quickly, though, it had become apparent to his superiors that the alien's assassin training, combined with Intelligence work, brought out severe obsessive compulsive tendencies in the alien - to what was arguably an unhealthy degree. To make a long story short, Dante was paranoid - very, very, very paranoid. Every word, every action, every thing had mysterious and unknowable agenda and motive to it; motive that Dante's brain, with its perfect recall and feverish and frenetic need to overanalyze, simply HAD to decipher.
This lent incredible ability to Dante - kinetic communication for one, or rather the ability to read someone physically so perfectly as to be nearly a form of telepathy. Beyond this, incredible ability to analyze data, sift through motives, comprehend psychology, formulate and decipher battle plans, and glean accurate insights into situations with startling accuracy. It was, however, very much a double edged sword. For example, should a master warrior, through no fault of his own, were to honestly drop something he was eating, Dante would find catastrophic meaning in it. Why had he dropped the food? Was it a ploy? A distraction? Was he distracting Dante right now? Was it a sign to someone else? Who else was here? Where were they?! Thus Dante would be left huddled in a corner, waving his blade around, eyes darting around to look for unseen assailants, while said warrior walked away and ate his lunch.
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Vash'Ur Nam'Aser
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Theed
Jan 30, 2016 21:04:37 GMT -8
Post by Vash'Ur Nam'Aser on Jan 30, 2016 21:04:37 GMT -8
The man at the gate didn't say much else. Either he'd seen what he'd wanted to see and simply vanished, or he was there to rattle Vash's cage and see what came running out. It didn't seem to matter. The man was gone. And now, Vash could concentrate on handling the hack on Dantooine without many further interruptions. The central database of Dantooine's governmental offices came back with a couple of private firms that handled security around the community of Garang. Vash singled out one of them on the basis of distance alone. None of their guards were known for frequenting the same dive as this "Adi" character seemed to find himself in. The other had just the sort of seedy element that the Bothan was notorious for rooting out; so he began diving into their security mainframe. He found several selections of security footage that he began to filter through, entering the search parameters revolving around the date and time in question and cross-referencing them with the officers who were "off-duty" - and yet, still conspicuously in full-uniform - during their encounter with the former "prince".*
*He settled on a couple of the officers who had riot-cams over their shoulders. One was near the head of the conflict, and the other was a soldier on Adi's left flank. Audio suggested that the Jedi was far from his right frame of mind. Vash continued to grab camera angles from several sources, splicing them together to run at the same time across the board. Data parsing was one of his least-favorite things to do, but, his neural uplink was able to transcribe the commands almost-instantaneously. It allowed for a seamless flow of events from whatever angle the Bothan desired to see the event. "This is where you end. This? This is where you fall." The words rang hollow in the Bothan's ears, otherwise, he may not have been so shocked to see the being's arms and legs torn from their sockets before the remainder of his corpse was tossed unceremoniously to the wall behind the Jedi. The resulting carnage was a bit much for the Bothan to watch, but watch he did. It wasn't too long after the bloody display that the man dropped to his knees before collapsing entirely. And then, that's when he saw her...*
*...Raxana Lareaux...*
*He went ahead and ran facial recognition just to be thorough. Not that he needed to, because he knew that face. He recalled perfectly her lithe figure, and the grace with which she moved. That much, he remembered. And, there she was, plain as day. She had stepped out to handle the situation involving the man who had fell just moments before Adi had went on his rampage. Apparently, the man was important to her. The facial recognition pulled up a man by the name of Darik Stovros. Captain of a small freighter known as the "Loki" from the looks of it. The virtual represenation of the Bothan shook his head, even as he continued to watch the scene unfold. Everyone darting in different directions, a speeder being broken into by Raxana, the regrouping near the spaceport two blocks away. He followed every camera, every angle. With each new revelation, he began to file away the recordings and the feeds. He began tracking the registry information for the freighter, and finding new little tidbits out about it from there on. The title change, the renaming of the vessel; the idea that Raxana was being so sloppy disturbed him. She wasn't like that in the past. He knew her; perhaps a little too well.*
*And for the first time in a long time, Vash didn't know how he wanted to proceed. Did he pursue the angle with Raxana? Or should his concern lie with tracking down the fallen prince? He continued observing the recording, hoping that something else would present itself as time marched ever onward...
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Vash'Ur Nam'Aser
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Theed
Feb 6, 2016 20:56:55 GMT -8
Post by Vash'Ur Nam'Aser on Feb 6, 2016 20:56:55 GMT -8
The virtual headspace that Vash had created for himself was beginning to fill up rather quickly. For all of the files that he was opening and saving, storing away in the deepest recesses of the Holonet, he would soon find more information that would lead to another thread in the web. There was an awful lot of traffic taking place in this one scenario. Vash had already uncovered the new name of the vessel that Raxana had taken over - "The Wayward Son". Some intangible reference to the previous owner, Vash was certain. That name, alone, had already garnered the attention of the Jedi on Corellia and Coruscant, the authorities on Dantooine and Bastion, and rumor had it that the ship was last spotted heading toward this sector of space. Vash wasn't certain whether or not he should be thrilled about that particular prospect. Raxana may have been good for business in the past - well, not just "business", of course - but she seemed to be getting in over her head now. That usually ended up amounting to Vash somehow getting involved. The problem was, Vash had ended their most-recent encounter on a sour note, and made it so he couldn't be found by her or anyone from his past without somehow getting caught up in his present. So far, he hadn't received any of his "Old Friend Alarms", so he knew it couldn't be the latter.*
*But...what if Raxana showed up on his doorstep? Would he be able to turn her away? He doubted that. Still, the Bothan did his due-diligence. Setting up the tracking algorithms, the Bothan laid out the "welcome mat" for "The Wayward Son". If the vessel showed up anywhere in the local systems, he would know about it. "Prince Adi" was a different story altogether, though.*
*The erstwhile-Jedi had parted ways with the crew on Bastion. Vash had watched - with some amazement - as the Jedi (who kept company with a very-odd cat) made a startling jump in his technological prowess. The Bothan had heard about this before, the tech genius of the Arkanian people. Still, when Vash had gone about trying to understand the broad solution of how Adi had brute-forced his way into every system within a fifty-meter radius, he managed to triangulate the source of the tech to the cat, itself. It had lit up like a beacon when the Jedi appeared to issue an...order to it? Was it actually an order? Something interesting revolved around the feline, that was for certain. Vash had gone about making a copy of the code that the "cat" seemed to use in the slicing attempt. He began tasking a portion of his server to analysis of the code as a Priority One initiative. He needed to know how the feline managed to do what it had done.
"...That'll take care of the 'how'...now, I need to focus on the 'where'..."
And so, he did. The "cat" had managed to force entry into a local cannabis delivery shuttle. Why the Jedi chose that, of all things, was beyond the Bothan's expertise of analysis. Still, Vash continued to follow the lead that he was given, and set another tracking algorithm on the shuttle itself. The best part about all of this was the fact that it was all in hindsight. No matter where these things tended to end up, Vash's investigations were sure to show results - because the events had already happened. And when more than half of the galaxy tended to run on tech, and everything seemed to be hooked up to the Holonet for "backup purposes", it made things incredibly easy to track. No sooner had Vash input the "weed shuttle's" tracking information than he'd already received several "pings" - first, it left Bastion; then flew to Manaan; and from Manaan, the vessel took off in another direction. The information seemed to abruptly-stop there, however. Vash must have been getting a little close to the present. That was where things tended to be tricky. That was where it seemed to be left up to the "waiting game" - which Vash hated to play. However, this was all part of the process. Vash only needed to allow his network to continue processing and analyzing the data. With any amount of luck, the next few weeks would show some promising results.*
*Already, he had set in motion the tracking of "The Wayward Son", as well as facial recognition scans for all of Raxana's crew and passengers, and then there would be the code recognition scans - in case the "cat" decided to play rough with any computer systems again. Not to mention, the Fated Prince would have every eye looking for him. He only hoped the "Jedi" was dumb enough to trip and fall somewhere that the cameras could catch him. Kriff...he might even send in the clip to "Galaxy's Funniest Home Holovids" - the public tended to eat that shavit right up...
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Raven Alora
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Theed
Feb 23, 2016 10:24:55 GMT -8
Post by Raven Alora on Feb 23, 2016 10:24:55 GMT -8
Well- now look who's talking like a Jedi now.
Raven said with a thin smile. The speeder pulled up and somewhat surprisingly, a Gungon appeared, much taller than the Jedi master. She smiled kindly up at him, nodding as if she understood quite what he said. Which was true- there had been a gungon on Felucia for quite some time she recalled, Jair Jair Binks, so she wasn't unfamiliar with the race or their strange quippy language.
She sensed Adi's nervousness almost at once, as they entered the speeder, yet as his fears were confirmed, Raven couldn't help but absolutely enjoy the fanatical ride. Without really caring about her appearance, the small woman laughed mirthfully the entire way. Her long braid had sense become a fuzzy tale popping out of the back of her head, but she didn't mind much. Stepping from the speeder, she waved at Bim.
Thanking you muchly!
She called as he sped off. Turning to Adieumus, she grinned, pulling some escaped strands of hair out of her face.
Wow that was fun- wasn't that fun? Reminds me of when I first learned to fly an A wing!
She took in a breath to calm herself, seeing that the man with her wasn't as enthused about the drive over as she was. Closing her eyes, she attempted to regain some dignity, but with wind blown hair and tossled robes, she figured the goal was useless.
They entered the hotel, Raven busying herself with trying to tame her hair, and simply following Adi, nodding distantly at his apology. What was he apologizing for? It was only after they came into the room that she realized it only possessed one bed. But that problem was completely overshadowed by how immaculate the suite was. Raven stood there for a moment, taking in all the colors and elaborate architecture. She didn't know how long she stood there, but when she finally snapped out of it, she found herself standing in front of the large window giving a fantastic view of the cityscape. She glanced around for Adi, hearing him say something vaguely about food and only then realized she was quite famished
Finding a menu on the dark wooden coffee table, she read over it, squinting at most of the unfamiliar names of foods. She supposed she would simply order a nerff sandwich. Once that was done, she decided that- sense Adi was out of the bathroom, she'd take a shower next. Taking her backpack with her, she left the oversized zipped shoulder bag on the floor near the sofa and went into the bathroom to clean up, while she waited on food to arrive.
The oversized zipped shoulder bag jumped.
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Adi
Crew of the Wayward Son
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Theed
Feb 24, 2016 17:10:33 GMT -8
Post by Adi on Feb 24, 2016 17:10:33 GMT -8
Opening a comlink channel to room service, Adi placed the order. Another surprise, they had Noghri wine...which he rapidly ordered two bottles of...it had been nearly two years since he had any, and it was -so- hard to find. How they had gotten any off Honoghr was a mystery to the Arkanian, but he wasn't going to question it. The nice lady on the other end of the com told him it would be about twenty minutes, and the food would be brought to them. Satisfied, he thanked the woman, and closed the channel. Raven went for her shower, allowing Adi the opportunity to step out onto the balcony for a smoke.
Five minutes later, he came back inside, and just as he was shutting the sliding glass door, he saw the bag that Raven had brought jump. Not just a 'things have settled in the bag, and now it was less full' movement...no, this was an actual JUMP...bringing the bag clear off the ground.
He wasn't sure if he was seeing things that weren't there because he was tired, or maybe the humidity was messing with them, but Adi rubbed his eyes, and cocked his head. Nah...He was just imagining things. There was no reason for a bag to be jumping like....
THERE!! It did it AGAIN!! This time, it cleared almost two feet straight up, then came thumping back down to the floor. Keeping his eyes on the bag, Adi slowly started to back away toward the glass door.
"Uh....Raven?? Um...." It jumped again, and so did Adi. His voice, which had been calm at first, now started to show a little more in the way of concern. "Raven?! Uh, I think your bag is possessed!"
The bag jumped yet again, and this time, it looked like it was hopping toward him. Not much scared the venerable Adieumus Matango. Fewer things still truly frightened him....But this small bag hopping toward him just that once? That scared him to the point of screaming like a scared little girl for a split second. It was then that the bag made a birdlike trill...or was it an extended chirp? Regardless, it didnt matter....Adi was now quite sure whatever it was would cause him a most gruesome and horrible death, the likes of which no one had ever experienced.
"RAVEN!! YOUR BAG IS ALIVE, AND I'M GOING TO HAVE TO KILL IT....WITH A LOT OF FIRE!!!"
At this point, the man who had faced entire armies on his own with nothing but a lightsaber was cowering in the corner of the room, up on a chair, desperately wishing he -HAD- a lightsaber right now. The bag was chirping, and making slow, short, hops toward him...as if it were stalking Adi, and he was pretty much the most frightened he had ever been in his life. He was actually shaking.
It was then that the knock came at the door....room service...and Adi was in the corner of the room screaming his fool head off, sounding more like a little girl than a full grown man. He was literally beside himself in sheer, comedic terror...all due to this little chirping bag that kept plodding its demonic course toward its target....
...If anyone would have had a holocam on Adieumus Matango at this point, it very easily would have become a viral video on the holonet....
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Raven Alora
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Theed
Feb 24, 2016 18:02:33 GMT -8
Post by Raven Alora on Feb 24, 2016 18:02:33 GMT -8
The temperature, together with the uncanny water pressure made for a perfect combination of soothing strength. Raven felt that, after a shower like this, she might come out perfectly useless and limp, but so very relaxed. Amid the pounding water, she thought she heard her name, like a whisper amid a waterfall. It almost seemed to echo.
Louder- and then a cry. Sudden panic swelled within the epmath's mind, so strongly that she glanced about her, waiting for some murderer with an ax to carve through the shower curtain. But this fear was from someone else. Were there adversaries beyond the bathroom door? Good thing SHE still had a lightsaber- it was just in her pack now, on the bed, beyond the door. Hastily, the Jedi master decided the observation would do more than rushing in there, ill prepared.
Just after the knock on the door, the door to the bedroom cracked opened and Raven thrust her head out, long, wet brown hair clinging to her face, dotted with water droplets. Her shoulders were garbed in only a towel and she held an extinguished lightsaber hilt in her right hand- while the other clasped tightly to the towel's edges at her neck.
What's the matter?
She asked in concern, absolutely apathetic about her informal appearance. Someone was in trouble! She had to help them!
Her small brown eyes trained themselves on the very determined shoulder bag, and the gasped.
Aww, you poor thing...I'm so sorry!
She looked over to Adi, then grinned slightly when she saw his stature.
It's probably going to devour your soul. Could you please let her out. I forgot how hot this planet was, and the cryo pack keeping her hibernating has probably thawed by now. I'm almost done.
She looked behind her, as if she was about to leave again but then recalled the knock at the door.
And you best stand up. No sense causing a panic. No one else needs to know about the killer shoulder bag.
She grinned, then darted back behind the bedroom door, still oblivious about her demeanor. It was alright she supposed. She'd be dressed in like- three minutes anyway.
And should Adieumus chance to open the bag, a very grumpy tailring would probably growl at him before darting behind the nearest set of curtains.
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Adi
Crew of the Wayward Son
Posts: 1,108
Affiliation: Crew of the Wayward Son
Traffic Light: Green
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Theed
Feb 24, 2016 18:41:18 GMT -8
Post by Adi on Feb 24, 2016 18:41:18 GMT -8
Raven leaned out of the bathroom, in only a towel, and tried to calm Adi down. Wait, no...scratch that...calm the BAG down....
If it wasn't for the fact that Adieumus truly feared for his very life from the demonic luggage, he may have actually taken notice of the very attractive, dripping wet woman talking to him from behind only a towel. However, he -was-, unfortunately, fearing for his life...and now she was asking him to OPEN the thing? Oh KRIFF NO!!! DOUBLE kriffin' no. There was no way, no how, it just wasn't gonna happen like that.
"How about NOPE?!?!? It's going to EAT ME!! Why the kriffin' kriff would I even -consider- going CLOSER to it?!?!? I would rather invade Mandalore alone than open that possessed, demonic satchel!!"
The knock at the door was louder now, the person making the room service delivery was probably wondering what was going on behind the door. The bag had stopped jumping, but it cooed now, sending Adi from the chair in flight, screaming the whole way through the air, as he leapt for the delicate light fixture hanging high above on the ceiling. Grabbing hold of it, he held on with both his arms and legs. If that blue, evil monstrosity wanted to take a bite out of his behind, it would have to jump up -here- to do it.
Another knock, and this time, it sounded like the one on the other side of the door was going to knock it off the hinges. On top of it, the comlink on the nightstand started to ring, due to the next door neighbors reporting a disturbance. All Adi could do was try to calm things down by yelling to the delivery person on the other side of the door.
"Be there in a moment!!" Yea, right...THAT was a total lie....He wasn't going ANYWHERE until that bag from the depths of Hades was elsewhere.
As he spoke to the person that had brought the food, Adi didn't notice the plaster cracking around the top of the light fixture he was so precariously hanging from. As he shifted his weight, to get a better grip, one of the two bolts holding the light to the ceiling gave way, jolting it's new resident. Right about this moment is when Matango realized that this light probably wasn't meant to hold a two-hundred pound adult, let alone one panicking so badly as Adi was at this moment. The Arkanian looked up, and gulped hard. He started to curse his luck out loud, but wasn't quite able to finish it...
"Oh...Shi......"
With a crack, the second bolt gave way, and light fixture, Adieumus, and a ton of broken plaster was sent careening downward.
The light fixture stopped for just a moment, jerking to a halt, and causing the man to dangle helplessly as the wires that gave it power came to the end of their length. They didn't hold the weight long either, and Adieumus ended up flat on his back on the floor with an unceremonious crash. The once proud light fixture had smashed into bits as it hit the floor as well, sending small chunks of glass crystals in all directions.
Unable to move, Adi just laid on the floor, and groaned. The blue bag had hopped quickly over to him, and onto his chest. The Arkanian was now frozen in fear, pain, and embarrassment...and simply could NOT move. He was to the point where he couldn't even scream anymore. Whatever this bag was going to do to him, well...it was going to happen. The silence filled the room, as the knocking stopped, and the commlink stopped buzzing. He could hear the zipper of the leather satchel begin to slide open, and he closed his eyes, bracing himself for his violent and horrible end.
But, it never came.
Instead, he felt an indignant puff of breath on his face, and he opened his eyes to find a rather annoyed tailring staring right back at him. Taking one breath, then one more, a nervous chuckle began to build in his chest. Realizing that Adi wasn't going to be of any help, the small creature dashed out of the bag, and hid under the bed. Rolling over, and getting to his feet, Matango went to the door, opening it and holding his back, wincing in pain.
"Sorry bout that...You guys really need to send maintenance up here...I think there is a problem with the overhead light. Might need a new bulb or something."
The young man's slack jawed expression at the plaster dust covered Arkanian, and the disaster scene in the room behind him. Calmly reaching over, he took the electronic pad from the guy, signed his name, and brought the cart into the room. Giving the man a fairly nice tip, Adi smiled, and shut the door.
"Food's here, Raven! Um, I think we better eat, and then go somewhere to let them clean up the room. Such shoddy construction, I'm tellin' ya!!"
Walking over to the glass patio doors, Adi took the cart, and put it alongside the table. Sitting down, not bothering to even brush himself off in his pride, he waited for Raven to finish up with her shower.
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