1. Oh hai Guest!

    Welcome to the RPF!

Star Wars 5 BBY - The Imperial Fist

Discussion in 'Role Playing Forum' started by Sarge221, Jul 26, 2010.

Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.
Moderators: Penguinator, Ramza
  1. BLemelisk Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Aug 19, 2003
    star 4
    GM APPROVED


    Character Sheet:

    Name: Kol Arantis
    Age: 28
    Race: Human
    Homeworld: Anaxes
    Personality: Intelligent, quick, sarcastic, and sometimes angry, Kol is objective-oriented and decisive ... when he feels he needs to be. As a disinherited member of Imperial Intelligence, his once-strong nationalist convictions have softened.
    Appearance: Wears the standard olive-drab tunic of an Imperial Customs officer. However, due to the need for Customs officers to be in the line of fire from time to time, he also maintains a set of plastoid combat armor typically worn by the Imperial Army's mechanized corps.
    Profession: Imperial Customs Officer, ex-Imperial Intelligence Agent
    Ship: Rendili StarDrive Light Corvette Impinger
    Rank: Lieutenant
    Brief History: Born into the Arantis family, one that was known to have great ties to Old Republic bureaucracy, Kol was expected to rise high into the upper ranks of society like the rest of his family. However with the onset of the New Order at the conclusion of the Clone Wars and the simultaneous de-valuing of the republican system, the Arantis family gradually lost their prestige and power. As the years crept by they kept more and more to their villas on Anaxes and other Core Worlds, leftovers of an antiquated system.

    Realizing this early on, Kol took full advantage of his family's still-considerable ties and money, and attended the University of Coruscant. While still in school he became an avid member of COMPNOR, and upon graduation immediately joined the Imperial Academy, and then went on to Imperial Intelligence.

    He excelled as an Intelligence operative, becoming one of their foremost agents. However during a terror attack made by anti-Imperial dissidents on the planet of Gerrenthum, his cell was sent in haphazardly to assist in situation control. In the week-long riots that followed, Arantis' group was scattered and decimated due to improper deployment and unrealistic objectives. The blame naturally was placed upon Arantis himself, who wholeheartedly denied all charges. Wishing for a quick and clean resolution, Intelligence saw fit to demote the politically-connected Arantis and have him transferred somewhere he'd be able to quietly fade out of the limelight.

    Given command of a newly-launched Light Corvette, he was placed into the Imperial Customs Agency and sent on a wide array of that group's typical assignments - a post he's held for three years. He's had a lot of time to think while drifting between stars and from spaceport to spaceport, and his unflagging loyalty to the Empire isn't what it once was.
  2. Ktala Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Sep 7, 2002
    star 6
    GM APPROVED

    Name: Lana Vangress (Striker)
    Age: 18
    Race: Human
    Homeworld: Born in space (Has no clue)
    Personality: Usually a bubbly, cheerful outlook on things. Quiet and thoughtful at times, and when she is working, she turns into a totally different person, serious and dark. She believes quite heavily in luck, relying on her instincts.
    Appearance: She is small and wiry. 5' 2" barely 100lbs. Brown curly hair and green eyes that occasionally peek out from the hair. When she pulls it back, she looks like a boy. Her Green overalls and Brown jackets hide her female body well. She wears a pilots cap a lot, or a large floppy hat, deciding that it looks 'cool'.
    Profession: Tracker
    Weapons (Optional):2 Vibroblades, hold out blaster, Walking staff w/blade, Sonic Blaster, net.
    Ship (Optional):The Blue Mynok - a Skipray Blastboat
    Rank (Optional): n/a
    Brief History:
    She doesn't like the Empire, not one bit. She tells folks she used to work with folks who thought of themselves as big gamer hunters. Now, her clients keep wanting her to hunt down people instead of big game. It makes her miss her stint in the old circus, where she used to help take care of the animals, and had an act with some of them. The Empire stopped that, when the circus ringleader had complained about how hard it was to get permission to travel...and then turned up dead several weeks later. The circus disbanded. But she did manage to rescue her 'companion'..a spukamas (Black cat/Green eyes)she has named Daks.

    Heading to Merson, cause she really has no place to go. Besides, she heard that it was a bit safer than Nar Shaddaa.
  3. Sarge221 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Sep 9, 2006
    star 5
    [image=http://images3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20070625020055/starwars/images/b/b4/Imperial-I-SD-ANH.jpg]

    Hyperspace
    Imperial I-class Star Destroyer


    In the final years of the Clone Wars, the Imperial-class Star Destroyers had been relatively new to the Republic Navy. The models have once been called Imperators, there had only been three known ships of it's time: the Executrix - the first -, followed by the Exactor and the Imperator itself. It was only at the end of the Clone Wars, with the transition to the Galactic Empire having been complete, that the Imperators models became known as Imperials. Along with the name change was a significant increase in production that has led to these Star Destroyers becoming a symbol of the Galactic Empire's might. Today, hundreds, if not thousands, patrol Imperial space to this day, looking out for any disturbances to Imperial stability that needed to be crushed.

    With the arsenal that the Destroyers possessed, they had more then enough firepower and manpower to take on any job that may be required nowadays. Dozens of turbolasers and ion cannons formed the teeth of the Destroyer, an entire wing of starfighters and bombers filled it's hangar, and thousands of stormtroopers and other personnel were ready to land on any battlefield while being supplemented by a multitude of armor such as the new AT-ST Walkers that were used in conjunction with the still-serviced A6 Juggernauts.

    But what of this Star Destroyer? It was only an hour ago that the captain of this warship - one Captain Adrian Fulock - had been transmitted coordinates and immediately ordered to go to light speed. Currently, no briefing or further orders had been transmitted; an unusual sign that someone with Fulock's experience and knowledge of protocol may quickly noticed. The communications officer was at his station, ready to receive those orders, but currently his station remained in the dark.

    Nor was there any explanation for the crew. Though there was a call that all personnel were to be ready for sudden changes with troopers to be in armor and armed with all pilots in uniform and ready to board their vessels at a moment's notice, there was no explanation as to what they should be prepared for or when the fighting would be had.

    Until such knowledge was made public, both captain and crew were free to explore and chat, perhaps to share their concerns or opinions of what, exactly, had the ship at near battle-ready. The mess was open for any last-minute meals as was the hangar for individuals that wanted to be near their ships - whether they be TIEs or troop transports. The armory and supply officers were still handing out weapons and gear and, though it hasn't been encouraged, the barracks and bunks were still accessible to those that wished to relax in privacy until the start of the mission.

    Whatever that mission was anyway.

    [image=http://images4.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20090906071931/starwars/images/thumb/9/9f/Merson-Rep64.jpg/800px-Merson-Rep64.jpg]

    Merson Orbit
    Providence-class Carrier Mad Fefze


    If it wasn't for the motley collection of starfighters that patrolled around the Mad Fefze, Kagin Rys would've found the picture to be the exact match of the one that remained etched in his mind like the chemical burns that seared the left side of his face.

    As the Mad Fefze sped past Merson's asteroid field, so too did it's escorts. Outdated V-Wings and R-41 Starchasers flashed passed the bridge with CloakShape fighters trailing behind the faster ships, on patrol for any attacks that the pirates that ordinarily hid within the asteroids tended to conduct on big, wealthy-looking targets. While the Providence-class Destroyer - this one modified as more of a carrier - was indeed gathering in age, the Duros captain thought that it would still prove to be too big of a target for your us
  4. Sarge221 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Sep 9, 2006
    star 5
    [image=http://images3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20070324152411/starwars/images/0/01/EM081C3.jpg]

    Issagra Station
    Scoundrel's Corner Cantina


    The cantina's name wasn't just fitting for the cantina itself. For the entirety of Isaagra Station, found so far out in the Corporate Sector, it was a nice little corner in the galaxy for scoundrels to dwell when they wanted to get away from the Imperial law that had yet to encompass the Outer Rim Territories.

    Scoundrels such as Saner Tahl, the green-skinned Twi'lek who now lounged at one of the cantina's tables, nursing an ice blaster in one hand, and a hand of sabaac cards in the other. Seated around the table with him were his opponents; two wrinkled-face Weequays and a Quarren. All with alcoholic drinks like Saner's, all concerned with the pile of creds planted in the middle of the table, and all scoundrels just like him.

    To be fair, not all the current denizens of Issagra Station were scoundrels. Out of the tens of thousands of people that could be housed at one time and the hundreds of freighters that docked with the station, Saner was sure that there were some honest or oppressed people that wanted to make a living away from the Empire. While gambling and trading were the main aspects of Issagra Station, there were plenty of other businesses around that were trying to make an honest cred like this little cantina here. Need a transport? There's plenty of ships with plenty of people that could probably do some transport work.

    Course, there is always the black market for the rest of the not-so-honest people. Need a couple deathsticks or not-so-legal upgrades for your ship? Could probably find someone that has the supplies you want if you look in the right dark corners. Saner once had a chance to score a good deal on a very illegal disruptor rifle but he had passed. He wasn't that great of a shot; he was a better pilot and mechanic.

    And card player.

    "Good playing with you gentlemen," the Twi'lek spoke cheerily and dropped his cards for all to see, the face of the Idiot staring up at his opponents. Downing the last of his ice blaster, Saner immediately fell upon the pile of credits, scooping them over to his side of the table. "No hard feelings I'm sure. Let me buy ya a round for a game well played."

    Looking over the bar, Saner raised a hand to get the barkeep's attention but stopped in mid-raise upon seeing the sight before him.

    The Neimodian barkeep was face-to-face with an ugly-looking Hutt, apparently in deep discussion. Saner wasn't great at reading Neimodian facial expressions, but the way the barkeeper jumped when the Trandoshan - carrying a hefty armory of weapons strapped to his form - that was with the Hutt stepped forward and smashed a fist upon the counter told the Twi'lek all that he needed to know. Quickly, the Neimodian ducked beneath the bar, reappearing a second later with a stash of credits in his hands that he pushed over to the Hutt's party.

    Ah well, that's how the game is played, Saner thought. Once the Hutt left the cantina, Saner again raised his hand to get the attention of the now relieved-looking Neimodian. Win some, lose some.

    [image=http://images3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20080930192926/starwars/images/3/35/Foamwander_City.jpg]

    Dac
    Foamwander City


    "Welcome, friend. How are the tides tonight?"

    Normally, Xlo Leyr would never consider a Mon Calamari as a "friend", but the galaxy had a habit of bringing enemies together. Ever since the Quarren War that had taken place thousands of years ago, the Quarren and their cousins had always kept a tense relationship. Some would call the years after it a "golden age" but it could never be denied that the Quarrens and Mon Calamari had, more then once, come to the brink of open war during the time between the past and the present.

    Course, fact of the matter is that they did go to war not too long ago. During the Clone Wars the two races had gone
  5. Sarge221 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Sep 9, 2006
    star 5
    GAME START

    Alright guys. Took me some time over the weekend and even then I still had most of Monday to type up this intro post. As you may or may not see, I had a lot of work that ended being put in this post :p

    Anyway, now that that's posted, you may start whenever you're ready! Select a planet/station, place your character on it, and do some playing!

    Last Minute Notes: During the construction of the intro, some other ideas have decided to hit me. I will now type them out now.

    1. Imperial Players: As I may've discussed with you over PMs, I was pretty much just gonna group you all together and throw you on the Star Destroyer that Littledawg's character is captaining. However, with further thought, I have decided that you may choose to start on Naboo if you wish. Whether it be the Star Destroyer or Naboo, however, I have plans for either one so choose freely. The only other thing I would like to add is try to keep the division between what Imperials go where relatively even or at the very least try to make sure one Imperial player isn't left all by his/her lonesome :p


    2. All Players: With some further thought to this as well, I have decided to close off Dac as a starting word. Repeat, you CAN'T start on Dac. You can still journey to it later on in the game but at the moment Dac is off limits as a starting zone. One more time: no starting on Dac. Just Merson, Corellia, Issagra Station, Naboo, and Alderaan. Only Imperial players get the Star Destroyer unless you give me a very good reason as to why your non-Imperial character is on it.


    And with those minor notes taken care of, game has now STARTED! [face_dancing]
  6. Kahn_Iceay Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Mar 5, 2006
    star 5
    Argen Devalie
    Issagra Station
    Iglon?s Arms and Equipment
    Promenade

    And so it begins...

    ?Five Hundred Credits.? The phrase was one of countless hundreds of the same type said probably at the same moment across the bustling center of trade and commerce known as Issagra Station. This one in particular was coming from the synthesizer of a translator droid carefully articulating the words spoken by the Rodian shop keep.

    On the other end of the counter the Zabrak Pilot, Argen Devali?s yellow eyes gazed for a moment into the dark recesses that the Rodian called his own. ?Five Hundred??He looked down at the items apparently worth so much, two blaster packs, to replace the two he?d used at the targeting range, the third was a power cell for multitool which had ran out earlier that week.

    Shrugging Argen brought up his account on his wrist datapad, slid a credit chit through giving it a five hundred credit balance and handed it to the Rodian. Argen was sure the keep had jacked up the price of the power cell something fierce to make it fall even but out on Issagra the Zabrak knew better than to get into an argument with a shop keep. Might be the last thing you ever do.

    Gathering his items to a bag Argen stepped out of the store into one of the stations dozens of busy promenades. The Pilot was on a series of errands that he was approaching the end of. He?d already offloaded the express order of Nubian Blossom Wine that he?d been hired to ship out here. Payed the tariff, which was covered by the employer anyway.

    He?d made sure the space port washed the hull of the few pot marks it?d gathered over the past several months and painted parts of the hull that had paint chips off. It was an expensive endeavour to do so every several months but by keeping up the appearance of the Reaper his employers would be more at ease hiring him. After all if a man kept his ship in prime condition, he could keep them or their wares safe.

    When all that had been squared away and the droids had been set off to do their work Argen paid the docking fees and paid to have the ship refueled freeing him up to set off on his various errands. Restocking the food cabinet with supplies, sat down for a nice hearty meal and then finally hit up one of the local shooting galleries for some target practice.

    And so he found his way here and got a few odds and ends. Stepping over to a bench Argen took a seat and started playing with his datapad. After a few moments of running through apps and updating his budget he brought up his to-do list and struck item shopping off the list. That left two items, one, was acquiring a new job to run, the other was inquire as to the cost of installing Ion Afterburners.

    Since any instillation job would take at least a day if not more it was simply common sense to go inquire about them before taking a job that would require leaving sooner than the instillation would allow. So Argen accessed Issagra?s local Net and looked up the directory for repair shops in the deeper sections of the station.

    The further you went into Issagra the higher the prices went and the blacker the market got, but at the same time the items and services became higher in quality. Afterburners weren?t illegal per se but the better models were easier to acquire and get installed ?quietly? in the darker recess
  7. WISE_JEDI12 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Feb 7, 2005
    star 2
    IC: Dacen Mano
    Location: Issagra Station


    Dacen felt like absolute crap, his head hurt, his eyes were watering and his nose was running, all of that was also compounded by the adrenaline dump from combat, Dacen had just killed two people in a spice deal gone wrong. The idiots thought Dacen was just a typical junkie and boy were they wrong. He dispatched them both relatively easy and for his troubles he was rewarded with about 1,500 credits and six vials of glitterstim, both of which were burning a hole in his pocket. His only thought was

    "Tonight is going to be a great night."

    He walked to the closest bar, The Scoundrel's Corner, after disposing of the bodies, sat down on a bar stool and waved for the bartender and gave him a 500 credit chip and told him,

    "The cheapest whiskey you got and keep it coming all night."


    After about six shots Dacen was feeling great and he decided to make his night even better, so he headed to the bathroom for his first taste of glitterstim. He hadn't had glitterstim in a couple weeks and the anticipation was killing him. Once inside the stall he opened the vial quickly and popped it in his mouth avoiding as much light contact as possible, and began chewing. Almost instantly that familiar feeling came about and he was soaring higher and higher, till he hit his peak. At that point he walked out of the stall and back into the bar, at that point the surface feelings of everyone close to him rushed into Dacen's mind bombarding his senses. He sensed the anguish from losers of Sabaac games, and the fleeting pleasure from the winner till the next hand, he felt the mental exhaustion of Cargo pilots after a long work week, and their relief at their first drink in a long time, and most of all he sensed the hopelessness of the many people in the bar wasting their time getting wasted, and to be honest Dacen loved it. He retook his seat at the bar and waved for another shot no longer remembering his pains from earlier.

    The comedown from Glitterstim comes as quick as it hits and after about an hour he was jonesing, bad, so he headed to the bathroom for another, when returning to his seat he noticed a pretty Twi'lek dancer eying him so he approached her drink in hand and starting talking her up, after a couple minutes it was clear she was interested so he asked her what time she got off, she said

    "Soon, about an hour, and if you save some of that glitterstim I guarantee you won't regret it in the morning."

    Satisfied with his acquisition he decided to celebrate with more shots, and some Sabaac. After winning a couple games unassisted, and cheating at a couple others he was tapped on the shoulder by the Twi'lek,

    "Ready,"


    "Of course."

    With that the two strolled out of the bar hand in hand. When they reached her apartment they each popped a vial, at that point Dacen blacked out.

    When he awoke in the morning head pounding, he found himself alone in her bed, with a note on the nightstand

    Last night was fun
    if you are ever in town again
    come by, my door is always open.


    Smiling he rolled out of bed put his clothes on and checked his wallet, only 500 credits remained,

    "Damn last night must have been great."

    Mused Dacen. With that he killed the bottle of whiskey on the nightstand and prepared for another day of debauchery.



    Tag:
    No one in particular
  8. Darth_Ziantor Jedi Master

    Member Since:
    May 5, 2005
    star 3
    IC: Brackston Greer
    Issara Station


    The tall Zabrak looked around the room through half-closed eyes. It was an old tactic he had picked up on the streets of Iridonia: If you looked drunk or even passed out, people didn't mess with you. It wasn't that Brackston couldn't handle himself. The man was a full two meters, and years of playing smashball had built him an impressive physique. But he had also learned the hard way that when fights broke out, it was usually the larger man who got blamed, even if he was defending himself. Stormtroopers were especially notorious for targeting non-humans when fights broke out. Brackston didn't want any trouble at the current moment, so he sat in the booth, trying to pass off his appearance as that of a drunk.

    In reality, he was sizing up potential threats in the room. A mysterious message had made its way to him via a number of intermediaries that Brackston worked through. As one of the most ruthless mercenaries in the galaxy, Brackston had earned a vast number of enemies, and couldn't just set up a mailbox on Iridonia like he had when he started. Now his jobs were contracted through comlinks and under the table deals. Which was what he preferred.

    He was on Issara Station taking a meeting with someone who claimed to be representing a faction on Corellia who was unhappy with the current government deal that had been made with the Empire. Brackston heard the same complaint numerous times, and had always replied the same way: he was a soldier, not an assassin. But this group had offered him twice his normal fee, and had asked him to train and lead a commando unit, instead of just straight assassination. After the last three jobs, which had paid him less than his normal fee combined, he had decided to take the message.

    So he sat, and waited for the man. But his eyes kept scanning the room. After someone had tried to kill him on Nar Shadda by scheduling just such a meeting, Brackston had started a constant vigil every time he took a meeting or job.

    He spotted numerous individuals who certainly fit a profile, but he didn't read any menace directed at him. This was just the ruthless bunch who chose to contract out of Issara Station instead of the seedier, calculatedly more dangerous Smuggler's Moon. He settled in to his seat and waited, eyes still alert but unfocused, and waited for someone to approach him.

    TAG: No one quite yet... Waiting to see what action develops on Issara first.
  9. Vehn Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Sep 14, 2009
    star 4
    Romeyn Oakes
    Chianar, Alderaan
    Customs Office


    Alderaanian Customs had just examined his ship, the [Ruby Peak, from top to bottom, spending a great deal of time in the cargo hold scouting the herd of nerfs milling about complaining with a great deal of noise how hungry and tired they were as a result of the long journey from Roon.

    To add insult to injury, Romeyn Oakes found himself in the customs office being interrogated by a man who had clearly never handled livestock before in his entire life. Still, the city man had thought it amusing to pick on the farm boy from Roon.

    City folk. What the frak do they know? Oakes thought as he opened his mouth to speak.

    ?I?ll say it one more time, nice and slow so you can understand every word. All of the livestock aboard the Ruby Peak have been de-wormed, de-loused, and vaccinated per galactic requirements. They?re clean as can be, sir. I?ve got records on my datapad that verify the last time a vet was out to have a look at the herd and they passed his inspection. Now, you may not be familiar with how we do things on Roon, but let me tell you that we take great pride in raising healthy animals for public consumption.?

    ?People could die if I let you in there, kid,? the customs officer replied after going through the information on Romeyn?s datapad for the hundredth time.

    ?The only thing those people in Chianar have to worry about is Alderaan?s loose immigration policies. It may be news to you, officer, but your government is creating a breeding ground for crime, poverty, and illegal activity by letting every sentient being in the entire galaxy settle in Chianar. Now I?m here to do some honest to Maker business and then I won?t trouble you any longer. You going to let me in or should I persuade you in a different fashion?? Romeyn inquired close to losing his patience.

    The customs officer looked at Romeyn and realized that he had no valid reason to deny this rancher entry to Chianar. ?How long you staying in Chianar, Mr. Oakes??

    ?Couple of days. Just long enough to sell the nerfs and turn a profit,? Oakes replied.

    ?You do realize that Alderaan is known for its nerf herds. By bringing in your herd from outside, well, you may not find many buyers. People around here do not like competition especially from the mud men of Roon,? the officer said.

    Oakes ignored the insult and replied, ?I?ll make it work, sir.?

    ?Two days, Mr. Oakes. Then I want to see you pack up your things and get off this planet. If you?re still here beyond that dead line, well, there will be trouble,? the officer warned filling out the necessary entry for the computer system.

    ?Don?t worry, officer, I won?t cause any trouble,? Oakes said grabbing his information from the desk and heading out to where his parked freighter rested in a grassy field outside Chianar.

    Funny how they let every blasted being in the galaxy come to Alderaan but an honest man from Roon they inspect and tear apart his equipment as if he were smuggling drugs or weapons. What has gone wrong in this galaxy?

    TAG: Anybody interested
  10. Kev-Mas_Colcha Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Dec 15, 2002
    star 5
    Kev-Mas Colcha
    Imperial I-class Star Destroyer
    Hyperspace


    Intro

    Kev-Mas Colcha, sat in a large, spherical chamber inside of his quarters, deep in concentration, his cybernetic eyes were dimmed, clearly in an off-status. His helmet was off, which is something that rarely, if not never, happened in public. Kev-Mas, was obviously meditating. However, even if it took him a while, he then realized that he was not in realspace anymore, finally being disturbed from his meditation by the ship lurching forward into hyperspace, even though it happened a couple minutes ago.

    Kev-Mas' eyes slowly reactivated, the crimson-hued orbs coming to life, and he paused for a moment while his connected implants booted up. With that, he tapped the console on the chair he was sitting on, and the chamber opened up, its interlocking prongs coming loose to allow Kev-Mas to exit.

    Kev-Mas would curse if he could - not only was his meditation disturbed, but he was in hyperspace, without even announcement as to where they were going. Alas, he was rendered incapable of speaking except when absolutely necessary, through the process he took when joining the ranks of the Shadow Guard, in which the Emperor broke his mind and will to the point where such speech was impossible. So, he merely went over, picked up his helmet, and not outwardly expressing any emotions of exasperation with the current situation, put it on and secured it with a "click".

    He then, attaching his utility belt and picking up his Lightsaber pike, departed his quarters. He was headed to the hangar bay, to stand by in case him and his ship, the Shadow Messenger was needed. In addition to that, he had to make sure it was properly resupplied by the hangar crews, and properly taken care of.

    Arriving in the hangar bay, he took a moment to view his ship from afar, to make sure the hangar crews gave it a proper wash and shine. Seeing it done properly, he then walked towards the black hulled courier, and with a wave of his hand, the security systems was deactivated, the hatch, located in the aft of the ship, under the ion arrays and behind the cockpit, opened, and a boarding ramp came down. Kev-Mas then walked up the ramp, into the ship's ready room.

    He took a right, towards the lift, and took it up to the cockpit. He then walked towards the console in front of the pilot's chair, but not actually sitting down. His hands glided across the console, as he monitored the supply gauges - the fuel reserves, chaffs and supply of sensor decoys. Seeing everything in place, he went back down the lift, and exited into the ready room and checked the various storage rooms connected to that room to make sure the consumables were all stocked.

    Seeing nothing needing to be resupplied, he then went down the hallway to the cargo hold. Here he inspected the condition of his Razalon FC-20 speeder bike, and made sure that it wasn't damaged in transit or something. He also inspected the spare fuel reserves, chaffs, and sensor decoys. He noticed here that his supplies of sensor decoys were running low, and from his heads-up display in his cybernetic implants, he activated his datapad wirelessly, using it to make a vocal status report:

    "Status report for the Shadow Messenger, date: Elona 7th, year 31 after the Great ReSynchronization. Everything appears to be fine with the ship. The ship has been washed and shined, and the supplies are all in order, however I do appear to be running low on spare sensor decoys. Re-supply will be needed in the event I use up the ones loaded already."

    After that, he immediately saved the log, turned off his datapad. He then walked back down the hall towards the ready room, and out the aft airlock, from where he came. He then closed his ship and activated the security systems onboard.

    He then made the journey back to his quarters, where he sat in a chair near his bed, awaiting further orders and/or information.


    Tag: All
  11. Ktala Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Sep 7, 2002
    star 6
    Lana Vangress - (Striker)
    A Lowlife Cantina, Merson

    Lana shut down her systems on the Blue Mynok. That was NOT fun, flying to this world. The asteroid field was kinda fun, though. She had been warned to be on the lookout for various pirate ships that liked to hunt on unsuspecting ships. But she was looking out for them. That and there seemed to be a somewhat force of ships, patrolling the area, it had come out fine. Funny, when she would find the company of mercs as something 'safe'. The rest of the trip, had either been boring..or hair raising, as she dodge several ships, she rather stay off the radar from.

    Lana sighed softly, as she ran her fingers through her hair. She wished she could go to one of the wooded worlds, but she wanted to make sure that things had calmed down before she headed back to civilization. Lana sighed deeply as she sat back in her seat.

    "Meowwww!"

    Daks welcomed her as she leaped into her lap, her gold eyes looking up at her. Lana laughed and gave the black cat a pat. "Ready for some real food, hmmm? I agree. Rations SUCK!" Lana said, as she petted the creature, while rubbing her own eyes. She could use some good news. Or a job. She had not had a tracker job in ages it seemed. She was not interested in bounty hunting. Or tracking for bounty hunters. That was an ugly scene she rather not participate in. A cold shudder ran through her.

    Lana stood up, and giving Daks a last pat..she reached up, and pulled her hair up and out of the way, tucking most of it into a large pilots cap. She reached down, dusting off her jumpers. "Yeah. That's more like it. Time for Striker to play." she told Daks as she walked over towards the exit ramp. She already had some creds in hand, knowing what to expect.

    "You guard the place Daks, and I'll bring you some fresh grub." she told her companion. Daks meowed once more, and disappeared off into who knows where she liked to hide.

    With a short laugh, Striker put on her goggles, and opened the door, squinting at the light. She tapped at a switch on her goggles, adjusting the light. Much better. She stepped out, her pack tightly cinched around her body, as she locked the door behind her. She quickly checked over her ship, looking it over, making sure things looked good. She quickly handed some creds to a droid that came rolling up.

    "Make sure she stays the way I left it." she told it, as she turned and walked out of the docking area. One thing about places like this. A cantina wasn't far off. An people tended to post jobs in cantinas. Course, that also meant mingling with the locals. Not her fav game, but given the circumstances, it was one she was going to have to play at the moment.

    A few moments and gestures later, she was heading for some cantina. Didnt really mater. As long as the drink was wet, and the info almost credible. And some fresh food wouldn't hurt. She had mouths to feed. Daks at like she had a black hole in the middle of her furry body. That thought made her grin as she walked. But the grin faded away as she reached the dingy place. Loud, full of music, and smells she rather not try to identify. Yup, this had to be the place. She frowned, as she reached the door. Time for Striker to earn her keep.

    As the door slid open, Striker entered the place, and briefly glanced around. Any posting would be nearby. But right now, Striker wanted a drink. And 'he' was going to get one.. It was times like this, she was glad she looked more like a guy when dressed this way. It made life easier. Stiker strolled over to the bar, and ordered a 'Denebian Blaster', as he put his creds on the table.

    One she got her drink, she looked around, tying to gauge the mood in the place. More relaxed with no Imperials around. She hoped it stayed that way. She began to eye the place, looking for something interesting.



    TAG: Anyone who in the Cantina on Merson
  12. Ramza JC Head Admin and RPF Manager

    Administrator
    Member Since:
    Jul 13, 2008
    star 7
    Marneg Polo
    Naboo, En Route to Theed Palace


    I was somewhere in Theed, probably not halfway to the palace, when the Fantazi mushrooms began to take effect. Suddenly the entire capital erupted in a fantastic visual cacophony of colors and lights, a thousand glimmering stars and swirls coming off of a thousand buildings. In the distance I swore I heard someone mention the Gungans. Frog like monstrosities... or maybe lizard like. They were something monstrosities. Not the kind of thing I liked seeing in front of me.

    But that was beside the point, because at the moment I was surrounded by a horde of tangerine and teal snakes, all hissing and rattling like they owned the damn place. Hell if they did! "Get out of here ya damn reptiles!" I barked, waving at them with my blaster pistol. They didn't get the memo, but they were courteous enough to allow me a path to walk through. Still, I had to get out of here - this was snake country, I couldn't stop here. And still the lights going off absolutely everywhere. "I've got to stop taking this ****" I muttered to myself, marveling as my words materialized in front of my eyes, took the time to censor themselves out of some misguided appraisal of my sensitivities, and then melted down into more snakes. Indigo ones this time.

    Of course, I could kid myself about quitting all I wanted. I was hook, line, and sinker for these things, even if they were killing me. Hell, maybe it was good that they were killing me. The death sticks were certainly killing me, and I had like ten of those in my pack. Between that, the Fantazi mushrooms, the giggledust, and a homemade concoction I liked to call a "blast", I was a walking textbook of what not to get addicted to. Bad news all -

    Crap. Shouldn't have taken the time to reflect on the error of my ways. The disorienting lights everywhere caused me to trip over my own two feet - or maybe it was over the snakes - and down, down, down I fell with a dull thud. The snakes wasted no time, slithering all over me. Soon I was pinned beneath their combined weight, almost completely unable to move. A passerby stopped and stared.

    "Don't just sit there, you rat bastard!" I shouted. "Get these snakes off of me!" The man took a step back, and then I swear to god he hissed and collapsed into a pile of snakes. "You're one of them, you bastard! You're a snake!"

    "I don't kn-know what you're talking about, p-p-pal," he hissed, the mass of snakes writhing as he spoke.

    "The hell you don't! Snake! SNAKE! HE'S A SNAKE!" Why couldn't they notice? Instead they were all stopping, whispering amongst themselves, acting like somehow I was in the wrong. How was I in the wrong? I was covered in snakes! "I said help me you bastards! I'm covered in technicolor lizards over here! HELP!"

    They all dashed off. Well, fine, if that's the way they were going to be. I shot a couple of the snakes with my blaster, causing them all to slither away in fright, including the man-snake fellow from earlier. Content, I staggered to my feet. I wanted a contract that I had to keep if I wanted revenge against those damn snakes, and damned if I wasn't going to be on time! I started sprinting now, the entire vista morphing into some kind of purplish blue haze of insects, but there in the distance was the distinct visage of the palace. Palace meant queen. Queen meant booze. I could go for some free booze. Made it easier to kill things. Took the edge off.

    I hit something, fairly certain that I was still standing up. We're talking sixty-five percent sure, which is quite a bit more sure than I usually am about anything. I felt around on the surface and found myself grabbing something decidedly tangible. A doorknob! So this was a door! Not losing any time, I turned the handle and opened the door to reveal five or six people sitting around a table eating.

    "Palace?" I muttered, no doubt with a half-crazed look in my eye. They shook their heads, their expressions incredulous. Possible snake people? "Corellian ale?" Th
  13. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 4
    IC: Liesl Bridehead
    Issagra Station

    Liesl grunted and strained against the power wrench, trying to get that last bolt to give way. Her face was screwed up in a most unattractive grimace, her eyes squinting so hard they were almost shut?and that was to say nothing of the fact that her arms were totally covered in grease. The engine room of this Action IV freighter, named by some dirty-minded spacer the Lusty Barmaid, was so cramped and had so much heat-producing machinery in it that Liesl had rolled up the sleeves of her beige jumpsuit, hence her brown stained arms.

    ?Give you kriffing piece of Sithspit!? Liesl yelled in frustration as tried to get the wrench to?

    The bolt and Liesl flew in opposite directions, the former ricocheting around the engine room, the latter skidding across the rough metal deck. The mechanic sat there and took a deep breath, running the back of one arm across her forehead to wipe away the sweat that was running down her face. The result was that a broad streak of oil now ran across her face. However, Liesl didn?t much care. She had the sublight drive open and she could finally figure out what was wrong with the Barmaid.

    Liesl snaked her torso inside the drive, a glowrod clenched in her teeth. Oh sure, Liesl thought to herself, This idiot?s fried his?

    ?You okay?? a sudden voice boomed in Sarkese inside the engine room, causing Liesl to start and knock her head right against a coolant tube so painfully that she let loose a sharp exclamation of pain through the glowrod in her mouth.

    Carefully, Liesl swung out of the sublight drive to face the Sarkan who was the proprietor of Lusty Barmaid. Since leaving home Liesl?d learned enough of several languages to understand them when spoken at her, but she could never get her tongue to form any of their foreign sounds. Luckily, she?d grown up learning Basic, a language that pretty much anyone worth talking to in the galaxy could understand.

    ?I was okay until you caused me to jump like a scared varactyl,? Liesl said crossly. She sighed inside and made her attitude a little more conciliatory. Unfortunately, you had to be nice to even the customers who gave you nasty bumps on the head. ?But since you?re here, you blew out your deceleration equalizer like nobody?s business. That would explain the lurch you mentioned getting.?

    The Sarkan clapped a hand to his head in realization. ?Of course! How could I have been so stupid??

    ?You should have had it replaced lightyears ago. Have you ever even paged through the manual for this thing?? Liesl asked. She knew the answer. None of these spacers ever did any preventative maintenance. Those who wanted to didn?t have the credits. Those who had the credits either blew them at the nearest cantina or they hoarded them miserly, disdaining maintenance as an ?unnecessary? cost of business?and then moaned and complained when they had to pay triple that when something went wrong. Liesl didn?t complain. It kept her very steadily employed.

    ?I must ashamedly admit I have not. But I shall commission you to do a full diagnostic of my beautiful vessel!? Liesl prudently decided not to tell the Sarkan that this hunk of scrap was not beautiful and only borderline qualified as a vessel.

    ?Great,? Liesl said with only slightly more enthusiasm than she felt?which wasn?t much, ?I?ll tell Boss Scaggs.? Boss Scaggs was Liesl?s current employer, leader of one of the many mechanic crews on Issagra Station that saw to all the achy ships that docked there.

    ?When you do, allow me to give you a personal show of thanks over dinner. You have worked so hard and so well that I feel compelled to treat you.?

    Translation: You are the best looking thing I have seen in weeks, even though you are covered in grease. Please allow me to bed you tonight in my desperation for female contact. Liesl had stopped counting how many times she?d been subtly propositioned by lonely, starved spacers. She?d also stopped counting the number of times she?d been
  14. s65horsey Otter-loving Former EUC Mod

    Member Since:
    Jun 24, 2006
    star 7
    IC: Zenie ?Covy? Covell
    Imperial Star Destroyer

    ?COVY!!!!!?

    Covy?s medium brown hair bounced around her shoulders as she jogged out of the mess hall to the sound of someone yelling her name in frustration. She grinned to herself and kept jogging. It was difficult to be a female in a male dominated world, but Covy did everything she could in order to fit in. Another pilot had been giving her grief lately despite her ability to beat him in the sims so she had taken things to the next level and started making his life miserable out of the cockpit too. Situations of this nature had occurred in the past and usually when she pressured back the males would back off. Covy knew how to play it rough.

    Lieutenant ?Manny? got his nickname for being the epitome of a male chauvinistic pig. He knew it. The other pilots knew it. And Covy knew it. She also knew that she needed to get him to back off or request a transfer. Manny had no idea why Covy would reject his advances on her and since she rejected him he had made it his mission to make her life miserable.

    The hoarse scream she had earned was because she had put a very hot spice onto his food while he wasn?t looking and then excused herself from the table. Most likely his mouth was burning a lot right now and he was attempting to find something to soothe it. This gave her more time to escape. She made her way through the various hallways and to her quarters. She was lucky enough to have her own quarters aboard the Imperial Star Destroyer because she was the only female within her TIE unit. Covy keyed in her access code and the door swooshed open.

    Her boots clicked on the shiny floor as she entered her room. The bed sank as she settled her short frame onto it. She gripped the bottom of her boot and tugged it off. The boots thunked onto the other side of the room as she quickly took off her uniform and slipped into workout clothes.

    Covy quickly checked for messages on her data pad and after seeing none stepped out of her room and headed down the hall to the gym. One of her personal goals was to keep in top condition physically. Even though most of what she did in the Imperial Navy was to fly, she never wanted to limit her options when it was something she could control so she frequently hit the gym. She alternated between lifting weights and running.

    An hour later she was dripping with sweat but feeling good about herself. She grabbed a bottle of water from the stock kept there for the pilots. She sighed in relief as the cool liquid hit the back of her throat and looked around for someone to talk to.

    Tag: Anyone on the ISD
  15. greyjedi125 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 29, 2002
    star 4
    Grim
    Shantytown, Merson

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
    There was smoke and fire everywhere. Majestic statues were toppled, valuable vases broken and priceless tapestries burned as blaster fire rang through every room and corridor. There was chaos and panic unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Screams and shouts of combat filled the halls, but most of the voices were those of children and youngsters. Green and blue flashes of light illuminated the growing darkness. Red bolts of death were reflected once, to be simply followed by a showering stream in response.

    Jarlen held his lightsaber in a defensive position as he ran. What in the world was going on? why were the clone troopers attacking the Temple. All the training he'd received as a 10 year old padawan had not prepared him for something like this. His eyes were wide with fear, and his brow dotted with sweat. His heart raced furiously within his chest and felt as if it would burst. The Force in him registered fear, death and even anger from all directions. Where was the calm within the storm he was supposed to know.

    A sound behind him caught his attention, and Jarlen whirled about with lightning speed, lightsaber raised, just in time to deflect a blaster bolt from a clone trooper behind him. Too late did he realized that he'd fallen for the bait. A clone trooper several meters to his left had his blaster rifle aimed at his head. He would be dead in a split second, without ever knowing the reason why. But the shot never came, as a flashing blue lightsaber slashed through the troopers weapon, then a hand force pushed him down the corridor.

    "ZETT!!" Jarlen yelled in surprise at his friends timely intervention.

    Like Jarlen, Zett Jukassa was an 'orphaned padawan' and was also here at the Temple. Jarlen noticed the expression on his friend's face and instantly knew what was happening. Without even thinking, he blocked three shots from the clone trooper in front of him. Zett used the Force to disarm the trooper, and Jarlen, in a rage, rushed the clone , who was going for his side arm, but was not fast enough as the padawan drove his lightsaber deep into the trooper's chest.

    Both padawan's looked at each other, but no words were exchanged. A battle cry rang through the halls, followed by what sounded like a barrage of blaster fire. Both padawans could sense an extensive use of the force.

    "Master Cin Drallig..." Zett breathed out tremulously.

    Both padawans towards the sound of the commotion, jumping over fallen pillars, statues and the bodies of fallen jedi and troopers alike. They reached a large reception room where they beheld a sight that would sear itself in their memory forever more. There, over a dozen clone troopers fired on Battlemaster Cin Drallig, who blocked and deflected with superior expertise before he exploited openings in the line of firing troopers, but had not been fast enough in doing so before Master Anakin Skywalker sliced several padawans with contemptuous ease. More clone troopers came, quickly replacing the ones felled by Master Cid, others fanning out into other areas of the temple to continue their slaughter.

    The clones raised their weapons and about to fire at the tiring battlemaster, but Anakin stopped them but with a gesture. The pain and grief etched in Cid Dralling's face was one that could barely be described, but when Jarlen beheld Anakin's face....the sheer contorted hate blazing in his countenance, that image was one that he would never forget.

    For a moment, both Masters gazed at each other. Dead clone troopers were at Cid Drallig feet while dead padawans lay beneath Anakin's. Skywalker smirked then, an evil twisted smirk and his gaze fell on Jarlen and Zett. Jarlen thought his heart would stop right then and there. Master Cid looked over and seemed surprised for a moment, almost as if he'd noticed the padawans for the first time. Smirking still, Anakin signaled his clone troopers to take the padawans, even as he took a step towards Master Cid, lightsaber already
  16. BLemelisk Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Aug 19, 2003
    star 4
    IC: Kol Arantis
    Theed Spaceport, Theed, Naboo

    ?Confiscated contraband, Captain Oska,? said Kol under his breath as he pulled up a chair just inside the door of the small Imperial Customs office along the main concourse of Theed?s massive spaceport. ?One of my ensigns will be bringing it along shortly with some loading droids.? He pulled a cigarra and lighter from his pocket.

    ?Well what do you have for me lieutenant?? said the captain looking up from his flimsiplast-strewn desk.

    Kol exhaled a cloud of bluish gray smoke, ?Spice mostly. But we also boarded a YT-1210 near Chommell Minor loaded with a very large cache of unregistered blasters, armor components, concussion grenades, etcetera. If you ask me it was probably headed here anyway, but who knows. I?d keep it extra secure.?

    ?Don?t worry lieutenant we?ll take every precaution.?

    ?Noted. It seems like this place is locked down pretty good. The capital, I mean. But I hear there?re locals out in the outlands raiding our installations.?

    Oska shifted in his seat. ?The Gungans,? every word dripped with contempt, ?I?ve lost plenty of good men hitting their stores. But it?s not just the frogmen anymore. Seems like they aren?t having trouble finding help.?

    Arantis had finished his cigarra even before the captain was done speaking and lit another from the first?s still-smoldering stub. He tended to over indulge at the end of long patrol assignments considering how smoking was forbidden on Imperial warships. ?Well the Impinger and crew are all yours for 48 hours, until we get our new orders.?

    ?I?ll try not to use ?em, I know how they could use the break.?

    ?Don?t do me any favors,? Arantis said flatly as he ran his fingers through his slicked hair, ?But enough official stuff.? He reached into his tunic and pulled out a small silver flask etched in elaborate geometric designs. Holding it up so Oska could see it clearly from across the room, Arantis removed the cap and took in a long whiff. ?Zairona Ale, uncut. Got it from the captain of that 1210. Hell this little bit practically set off the bioscanners when I was walking here from my ship.? He cocked his arm back as if to toss the flask to the captain.

    ?Now you?re talking my language,? Oska said with a grin, holding out his hands.

    Distilled in parts unknown, the liquor was illegal all throughout the Empire, and most members of the Customs agency turned a blind eye whenever they ran across some. Occasionally that one huge shipment would be seized, but no one ever really knew where it would all end up anyway.

    Arantis held up a finger, like a father reminding a child. ?I want the latest and greatest on Naboo. Legit or no, I?m game.?


    TAG: Sarge221, Anyone at the Spaceport
  17. NickLitYouAFlame Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Feb 27, 2007
    star 5
    Aubrey Daviau
    Corellian Orbit, Shipyards

    Aubrey Daviau was becoming one of the most respected starship thieves in the Core Worlds. Typically believed to be fearless, people knew Aubrey for her heroics. She never left a crewmember behind, and her earnings always benefited whatever form of resistance had appeared.

    Today, she didn?t have any serious concerns. Obviously, there was always a certain level of risk being taken when stealing from the Empire, but the value of her target shouldn?t warrant any dangerous resistance. This was largely irrelevant, however. Aubrey had been preparing for weeks. That was what it took for safety in her field. She had brought together a team, had staked out the location, and was moving on an Imperial service day.

    In one heavily modified YV-664 light freighter, Aubrey and six others, after the two pilots, huddled in spacesuits, by the rear blast door. Tailing the freighter, was a V-19 Torrent and a Cutlass-9, to provide support in the unlikely case of Imperial pursuit. Despite her certainty that the day?s activities would proceed as planned, Aubrey couldn?t stop her heart from pounding as they took their first run past the shipyards. This preliminary pass was designed to make last minute adjustments to the plan. On the second pass, the YV-664 broke off and the two fighters began to circle the station.

    The blast doors opened abruptly and Aubrey and her crew leapt into action. As they left the YV, they threw themselves at the space station. Aubrey spoke into the group?s comm. system.

    ?We?ll take the Corvette on the right. Get to it. Damian, Ruuj, watch for resistance.?

    As the rest of the crew began their breach of the CR-90, Lersia Narth, the team?s Givin ship expert, stopped Aubrey.

    ?Our surveillance of the station was incomplete. There is a new addition to the docks. A DP20 frigate. They retail for an estimated 1.3 million credits more than the Corvette. However, the suggested minimum crew is 10.?

    Aubrey followed Lersia?s arm to her right. Floating gracefully was the crown jewel of the Empire?s frigate corps. Quickly weighing her options, Aubrey directed her team.

    ?We?ve got a new target, people. We?re taking the DP20.?

    Using the spacesuits mini-thrusters, Aubrey and her crew landed on the frigate. Realizing that she had just wasted precious seconds, Aubrey moved quicker than usual. She disabled the ships internal defenses first. Then, she disabled the holocams and tapped into the ship?s doorlock mechanism. If there were any troopers aboard the frigate, they would be alerted that something was happening. So, it was paramount these next movements were flawless. Damian and Ruuj, the muscle and Herglics, were pressed against the outer blast door, followed by Tia, the Twi?lek pilot and Ralil, a Verpine mechanic and slicer. Aubrey opened the outer door and shut it a second later; just enough time for all four to get into the depressurization chamber. Aubrey quickly balanced the pressures in that room with the rest of the ship, and opened the next doors.

    It was now up to Damian and Ruuj, but Aubrey did all she could to help by deactivating the lights on the ship.

    Tag: Sarge
  18. GrandAdmiralJello Moderator Communitatis Litterarumque

    Manager
    Member Since:
    Nov 28, 2000
    star 10
    Okay, here?s introducing a younger version of my character from AFAS, to fit the time period?

    Name: Lieutenant Victoria Banjeer Holt
    Gender: Female
    Age: 17
    Species: Human
    Homeworld: Anaxes
    Known Languages: Basic, High Galactic

    Appearance
    ---Height: 1.7 meters
    ---Eye Color: Blue
    ---Hair/Fur Color: Brown
    ---Skin Color: Cream
    ---Clothing: Officer?s dress uniform (double-cuffed shirt, uniform jacket and skirt, boots) or fashionable Coruscanti outfits with the Canted Circle pendant
    ---Other: Flawless complexion

    Personality: Polite and mannerly, educated and elegant, superior but magnanimous
    Habits: Chewing on the ends of styli while thinking, tapping fingers impatiently
    Likes: Keffi riding, museum openings, gala events, Naval service
    Dislikes: Disorder, barbarity, and lawlessness
    Talents: Riding, swordplay (real metal, thank you), Court intrigue, command
    Weakness: Though well used to the military, she?s a little pampered
    Limitations: A bit cosseted and sheltered, from a Core upbringing
    Racial Attributes: The ability to look down on all other species

    Affiliation: Galactic Empire
    ---Profession: Imperial Navy officer, Order of the Canted Circle initiate and member of the Court of Courts
    ---Primary Weapons: ELG-3a diplomat?s blaster

    Background: The Holts?yes, the Sirpar Hills Holts?are synonymous with naval service, having served the Republic for millennia. Victoria had impeccable breeding and a superb education, and attended the Imperial Naval Academy as every generation of her family had. Indeed, her connections allowed her to procure an appointment as a flag lieutenant, despite the fact that newly minted officers were rarely assigned as aides to flag officers.

    She still holds a lieutenant?s commission in the Navy, but she would very much like to serve the Palace as a Court representative. Her birth and breeding go a long way to impressing officials in the Core, although some of the harder frontier types sometimes either call her ?little baby blue blood? (if they?re the experienced sorts who don?t care for nobility serving in the armed forces) or a ?well bred filly? (if they?re the chauvinistic sorts who also don?t care for women serving in the armed forces). She has a mind to bring civilization to the Rim, and naturally, this is best accomplished by hobnobbing with local élites at country clubs.

    [image=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v258/grandadmiraljello/spoileddebutante.png]



    OOC: I don?t know the name of the ship, so for now?

    Imperial Star Destroyer Redacted, flag secretary?s stateroom and boudoir

    Lieutenant Victoria Banjeer Holt


    She felt the telltale thrum of the massive Sienar I-a2b reactor?s power cycle before she ever received notification of the ship?s sudden jump into hyperspace?which wasn?t terribly difficult, considering her blood flowed thick with the Tradition of the Anaxsi Citadel; of course, it helped that she hadn?t been notified of the hyperspace jump at all. Her commanding officer, Admiral Den Craebar, had assigned her to inspect the command of Captain Adrian Fulock. Though she had yet to meet the man, she knew that there was no reason a hyperspace jump should have been scheduled without her knowledge.

    Her accommodations onboard were vast, larger than would usually be assigned to a lieutenant who wasn?t an admiral?s representative. Victoria Holt, though, simply took it as her due??special treatment? only existed in the vocabulary of those who weren?t used to deference by virtue of pedigree. She had been seated in the living areas of the stateroom, reading over the latest articles from Coruscant Daily Newsfeed and the Human Events Network concerning cultural happenings in the Core and was consequently planning to spend her evening being amused by the solecisms of New Order technocrats attempting to act as if they belonged in good society.

    Now her day was simply ruined. The admiral would be greatly put out if she did not inquire of that irksome captain just why the ship had made an unscheduled hyperspace
    />
  19. Morkai Jedi Knight

    Member Since:
    Mar 29, 2005
    star 3
    IC: Culain Macshael
    Issagra Station

    Culain stalked down the crowded thoroughfare, his eyes scanning the crowd as he weaved through the throngs of citizens going about their business legal or not on the notorious station. The fugitive had managed to nurse his damaged ship into the station through what he could only say was the force mixed with a healthy dose of luck, leaving the battlescarred ship in a small docking bay, the black clad figure made his way into the station insearch of someone who could repair the ship as discreetly as possible, several street hustlers made to approach him, but a look at his face as he strode intently forward set them looking for easier targets. Passing through the banks of neon lights he checked several cantina's, until he heard of a atleast partially reputable mechanic by the name of Boss Scragg's.

    The noise and evident moral decay of the place irritated the weary Jedi, he longed to find a quiet place to center himself and come to terms with what had happened only short days ago. Culain stared cautiously down the dusty street, fingering the handle of his saber he eached out with the force...nothing. This was worrying...it was like he was blocked, "I feel it too" his friend and former master said "our contact is late" he gestured down the street, "we should leave... better safe than sorry", as he said that several explosions echoed down the street, sending dust and debris into the street. Even before the dust , settled shapes in white armour poured through the holes "STORMTROOPERS!" Culain yelled as he ignited his saber, The two Jedi leapt into action sabers a blurr as the two form IV masters carved into their attackers. Spinning horizontally Culain carved through two troopers and spun kicked a third, the two Jedi seemed to move in a dance as they leapt, spun and flowed through their enemy. It seemed they were almost clear when Culain was suddenly hurled back down the street to crash through a small wooden stall, lying in the shattered debris he shook his head, as his vision returned he saw a dark menacing shape looming over him.

    Vader...it was more a growl than a whisper, as he flipped up to his feet, saber flying into his hand as he spun into a frenetic attack on the dark lord. Sabers clashed in blazing light several times almost to quick to see, then Vaders hand shot out and Culain was lifted struggling off his feet. His vision almost dimmed to black when he was suddenly dropped, cough he looked up to see his old master attacking Vader, his lightsaber seeming ablaze with the force. Culain struggled to a knee, his matt black clothing torn and dusty as he sought to rise, he moved to help but got a "RUN!...or we will both die". He lifted his saber ready to hurl himself at the traitor, when blaster fire tore into the street around him, turning he deflected them but more and more fire was directed at him till he was forced down a side street. He could sense the troopers beginning to cut off their escapes, he knew what was happening and with a last agonised look at the man who had helped raise and form him to the man he was today, he leapt up over the nearest rooftop and ran hard for the spaceport and their ship. All the way there he engaged in a running battle with stormtroopers as he leapt and rolled across the rooftops, Killing the troopers set to guard his ship in a blaze of blue light, he started it in short order and in a blaze of following blaster and heavy blaster fire he burned his was out of the spaceport. He didnt seem to notice the tears in his eyes as he sped for the nearest hyperspace point, just before he jumped the voice of his master echoed ghostly in his head "go with the force my son"


    Culain shook his head, as if to shake away they memories, having found out the location of Bss Scragg's shop he went back to his ship and nursed it the short distance to the workshop. He found aunused landing pad adjacent to the workshop and, casting a wary gaze at his surroundings, he entered. The workshop was a chaotically ordered site full of ships in various states of
  20. Ktala Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Sep 7, 2002
    star 6
    Striker
    A Lowlife Cantina, Merson

    One she got her drink, she looked around, tying to gauge the mood in the place. So far, so good. She began to eye the place, looking for something interesting.

    A pleasant enough place. But she was not here for the atmosphere. She heard the door open a few more times, as she stood near the bar, holding onto her drink. A few more folks headed towards the bar. A human even, Striker noted briefly. The human went to the bar..but didnt order. After a few moments, he headed for a area of the cantina. Striker let 'his' eyes follow, and noticed that there was a board the man went over to. Excellent. Striker was glad the goggles were still on. Reaching up, she adjusted them. Better.

    Striker walked over towards the board as well, taking care to MAKE some noise. Didnt want to startle the other human by coming up behind him, so she came up towards his side. Far enough to give him room, but still allow her to read the board. So, she wasnt the only one looking for a job. She just hoped it would be something worth her wild, and not some fool bounty hack, or another annoying job. Her hand rested on her hip, near her weapon, but not on it. In these parts..it was more mutual respect... Respect that you could get your head blow off, if you werent careful.

    Striker gave a soft snort, as she began to read the board, keeping a close eye out on anyone else who might come up to read the board as well. She needed to hurry up, and grab some food, before Daks made her displeasure known all over her room.

    Striker pulled out her datapad, to tap into any hopeful jobs...



    Tag: Sarge, greyjedi125
  21. greyjedi125 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 29, 2002
    star 4
    IC: Grim
    Lowlife Cantina, Merson

    As he looked over the notices on the posting board, Grim did need his eyes to warn him that someone was coming up alongside him. The sentient had been tactful enough in making some noise on approach in order to announce himself, not that many beings could get a drop on Grim. Oh, it wasn't an impossible task, but it definitely was not easy, given his gifts.

    As a courtesy, Grim moved slightly to the right, allowing for more comfortable viewing. For a moment, He became aware of his lightsaber resting in the inside pocket of his trench coat, which was a constant source of inner confidence. Not that he would be foolish enough to use it in such a public place, but it was there in the event he should need it.

    Without seeming too obvious, Grim gauged the being that now stood next to him. Though short in stature, the being appeared to be a male human. Young-ish and clean shaven, dressed in coveralls and a jacket, with a cap and goggles. Grim also noticed the blaster side arm. Smart. Didn't seem like the mercenary type though, a spacer perhaps... so Grim probably didn't have to worry about competition in the 'mercenary' arena. Casually, the youngster pulled out a datapad, which almost made him smile. Almost. Then he noticed something else that made him raise a dark eyebrow. Grim forced himself not to look over, and reasoned that he might be hungrier than he realized, which often lead to him imagining things. Nonetheless, he made a mental note, just in case.

    The unspoken rule was that folks looked at the board, took down their info and went about their business. Idle chatter was not really encouraged. That bit was for the bar and the rest of the cantina. Grim actually liked this rule, since it meant less interaction with possible charlatans, but for some reason, he found himself breaking the very rule he seemed to always observe.

    Eyes still on the board, he allowed himself to speak.

    "Didn't notice any dancing Twi'leks tonight, not even on vid. Too bad. This board better have something good to look at then..."

    It was a neutral enough statement. Idle chat indeed. He didn't really expect an answer, though he did listen carefully should there be one given.

    Tag: Sarge, Ktala
  22. Draco_Drake Jedi Knight

    Member Since:
    May 21, 2010
    star 3
    IC Zephyr
    The Frozen Fire
    On route to Naboo


    ?Oi, Dad! Pass me fusion cutter; would ya.? The voice came from behind an ancient Republic War Droid, being worked on methodically by a man wearing a hollowed out shell of a droid?s head. The Zabrak, whom the young man barely past any rite of passage to be a man, referred to as Dad stood up. His horns had dulled with age, as the old Zabrak walked over to his son, with an item hurriedly pulled out of a nearby droids chest. Handing the tool to his son, the Zabrak sat beside him, groaning as he sat down, as the son hurriedly worked on his favorite ancient relics that were currently in his possession. ?Dad, you don?t have to groan to get me to change the uniform out of suspenders.?

    This got a quiet laugh out of the Zabrak. ?O Zeph, Nihil Larrs changes his uniform evertime you comply to his demands to change the uniform. As such I can change when I want to, as well. Besides, this uniform is rather slimming.?

    The War Droid stood up, its armor shimmering in the dim light, of what use to be an escape pod chamber some 3 or 5 years ago. The Droid marched off; to the otherside of the door to await orders. The boy took off his helmet, revealing the head of the young captain, with only his youthful eyes and blond streak seen in the dimness of the room. The Captain stood, helping his father in the same task and pulling and letting go on one of his suspender?s strap. Smiling the youth answered his father, ?I suppose so dad.? Rolling his eyes as he turned from his father, Zephyr left the room containing his Zabrak father Draal Durr.

    huh, Father Draal is getting old. He might not last long without that rumor of a med-droid.

    The halls of the CR90 were long ago painted black with luminescent gold paint upon every bend in the metal. Still it was dark as Zeph walked down the halls, toward the bridge. Dark enough to hide a 9 year old Twi?lek named Lola; who without faltering pounced upon her brother, wrapping her arms around his neck and legs around his chest, blowing him a kiss on the way up.

    ?Lola, what did father say about sneaking around??

    ?I?m sorry Zephy.? The little girl looked at him with those big eyes, easily getting out of trouble. Zephyr placed his little sis on the floor as she scurried back off to The Mess. Zephyr continued on his way to the bridge, accompanied by 3 Droidekas that were impossible for him to lose, without his fathers? permission.

    Good, Lola is going back to the mess. She?ll be out of the skirmish. Father Nihil should have the ship coming over Naboo soon. We scan for the droid. Go in. Get out and now one is the wiser. Although the Empire may track the ship?

    Zephyr entered the bridge, upon which a red robed Givin nodded him a greeting with his arms spread out to hold a staff and legs more like a frog?s ready to jump. Zephyr inquired of the Givin ?Father Nihil Larrs, how much longer till we reach Naboo??

    His throat old and worn responded absent mindedly, as the advanced calculations were done in his head, like it was nothing in the world, ?about a couple of minutes? Why??

    ?Change the ID codes to that Imperial Corvette we encountered recently, just so the Imps don?t get suspicious.? The Givin smiled his empty smile that would creep out any normal human, but Zephyr was not exactly normal.

    Coming over Naboo, the codes had been changed in time, the ship?s sensors began to search for their target, as the ship entered the atmosphere unnoticed.

    TAG Cheeseywob1337 or curious Imperials
  23. Ktala Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Sep 7, 2002
    star 6
    Striker
    Lowlife Cantina, Merson

    As Striker moved to copy the information on the board, she noticed the other person casually, now that she could get a closer look at him. Dark spacer clothing. Big overcoat. Could hide a lot of weapons there. So she stayed hot. The man moved slightly to the right as she came close. Striker gave a slight grin. Most tended to try and block the board, being inconsiderate gundarks. That was something.

    As Striker scanned the board, looking for something that might add some credits to 'his' pocket, she was nearly shocked when the being next to her spoke. She wasnt expecting that. He didnt look at the person, nor was the person looking at her. But he spoke no the lest.

    "Didn't notice any dancing Twi'leks tonight, not even on vid. Too bad. This board better have something good to look at then..."

    Almost no one spoke at the board...unless they were boasting or bragging on how they were going to get the job. Small talk? Nah. For a moment, she thought it might be code, like maybe the guy was looking for someone. Then again, it could simply be one human, looking for another human to talk to. Striker gave a nod of the head. She dropped her boy a bit, making her sound a bit like a young boy. "Yeah. Slim picks. Like this board."

    Striker didnt say anything else, but kept reading, hoping for something interesting.


    Tag: Sarge, Greyjedi125
  24. Sarge221 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Sep 9, 2006
    star 5
    GM Note: Alright, so far the postings are going good. A nice, quick response from many of our players though I hope that the rest will be making their own posts soon.

    Meetup and socializing between characters is also another plus that I'm seeing with a good number of you so far...but I'm also seeing a few things that I would like to point out. It's not a big problem at the moment, this is just something that I want to address early, but, like I said, a good portion of the fun that I hope to see everyone experience in this RP is character interaction. As you can see from the CS's, we have a lot of characters, all from different walks of life (or insanity as you can see from darthramza's :p ), and thus make interaction interesting.

    Ktala and greyjedi have done a good job with linking their characters together as well as it seems with Morkai and Trieste and Jello and Littledawg for some more examples. Don't lock your character in a private space such as their room and expect another player to come strolling along and find you. I would like to see all players seek each other out, communicate, and have more interesting and fun times.

    There's also the practical reasonings behind all this. I'm one GM, there's about 20 of you here, and thus it will be very difficult for me to hold all twenty separate hands and lead you along through a story. That's not the point of this RP anyway as there really isn't much of an intricate plot for me to lead you through. It's all about choosing what your characters are going to do, actually doing it, and then I'll probably throw in some interference or consequences that will be along the path that you've chosen.

    Poll Alert: Anyway, with all that said, just going to point out to another topic that has some relevance to what I've just said. In the RPR section of the forums we have a poll currently going on concerning the placement of some social threads. We used to have a social thread in the RPF but it and a couple other social threads were either removed or erased and brought to the RPR for an experiment. Now we're having a poll to decide whether to keep the social threads where they are now or move them back to the RPF.

    Me, personally, would like it if we had our social threads back, especially here in the RPF where you can, for example, post in The Imperial Fist and then maybe stop by and chat with the players currently participating in this game or other games. With nearly twenty people playing in this game, I would think that it would be nice to have some place where you can all go to in the RPF section of the forums to chat.

    But the decision is ultimately up to you and, if you really don't care, then you don't care :p I just thought that the subject of the poll would be of interest to our role-playing players and they would like to have a say in the matter because, frankly, the poll is all about you. I actually have chatted with a few people who didn't know that we have a social thread at all in the RPR. So take a look, chat, and vote if you so desire.


    Anyway, that's all for my little announcement for today. I will be making some posts in a bit for a few of our players in a bit. Have fun people! :D
  25. SirakRomar Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Mar 30, 2007
    star 4
    ooc: A mistake from my side. Ciara´s rank is obviously "Captain", which in this case means the army rank Captain which is a lot lower than the Navy captain.

    Cpt. Ciara Voren
    Aboard the ISD Redacted

    Close combat trainign had become boring. A nuisance, actually. When she had been at the academy she had been thrilled by it, trained hard to keep up with the guys. but now she had too much training. She had to beat up the guys everywhere, where she went. Always the same. A woman in military service. The empire had a few of those. Noteworthy examples. But males still smirked when she entered. They still laughed behind her back and gave her names. So she had to beat ´em up. Defeat them on their own ground. Brerak them to be respected. With a final twist of the ankle the Sergant collapsed to the ground as his hand broke and his legs were pushed away beneath him. He yelled out and then gritted his teeth. "gotta work on your speed and balance." Was all Ciara said and she turned to her seat.

    Hell, a Corellian poet once had written, was repetition.

    Assignment, men, fight them all. Always the same. Defeat one after another, some twice, if anybody was better than her fight him until he was defeated, too. Compared to this routine it was combtat that seemed to be her only joy. Well, joy was probably the wrong word. It was where she felt at home. Against her parents will she had given up a career in the navy to join the infantry. the ground troopers. Against her fathers advise she had not even tried to get into the better parts of the force. Walker. Tactics. She had decided it was the thrill she seeked. the fury of battle. The smell of death. A soldier should see the results of his work. That was something she believed in. And as far as she heard, the fist of the Emperor, Lord Vader, shared that opinion.

    "Get the Sergant to MedBay 2 and then let the men rest. In two hours I expect the team to be ready for inspection." She hissed to her 2nd-in-command, she had not yet cared enough for him to find out his name . . . and made her way out. The assignment was still the big unknown. But considering her recent transfer here he was sure it involved her in some way. Shower was short and cold nad her hands took care of the rest. Routine. Like everything in a troopers life she could not waste ressources like thinking or concentration on getting dressed. Her armor seemed to attach itself to her body. Her E-Web repeating blaster, the portable variant, stayed behind. Locked away in her personal locker. Instead her sidearm was attached to her side and then her com activated again. She left and returned to the gym. now in full armor. New arrivals were there. "Pilots." She sighed, as she saw a yougn woman in one of their trademark uniforms. "Correct." 5-55 answered with a firm nod. With barely hidden disgust Ciara nodded and the clone saluted and passed her on his way out. Clones. She did not believe in clones. A soldier had a heart. Not a few million identical ones, filled with "commands". "Thanks." Ciara just said and hissed a "Dismissed" after it. The Clone turned and saluted again. Sloopy. Indeed.

    Walking over to the young woman who had entered the gym she offered her hand. "Captain Ciara Holden. 39th Legion." She introduced herself. Another woman. At least she wasn´t the only one, again.


    Tag: Sey


Moderators: Penguinator, Ramza
Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.