Welcome to the RPF!
Discussion in 'Star Wars Role Playing Archive' started by Ornen, Mar 31, 2003.
"No, haven't started yet... I was waiting for you."
Selia nodded and stood there...waiting. "Are you going to invite me in?"
OOC: Ornen...your one for short posts huh?
IC: "Thanks." Selia entered the small apartment, taking in its appearance. It looked like a guy lived in it and thats all she could say.
OOC:Not really in an RPing mood at the moment. However, I'm keeping this thread pretty high up. And hey, it's dialogue. When I do dialogue, I make it quick. Just my style.
IC:"It's a little messy, kinda small, but it'll do," he led Selia over to a holocomputer, and he sat down, pulling an extra chair up for her. He brought the holonet up, and typed 'bespin' in on the search bar.
OOC: okay...dont get mad. you sound mad
OOC:If I were mad I'd post a mad smiley.
I always like to use smileys to portray my mood. IMO, it's what they're there for.
OOC:Now you're making me get all cautious with smilies and my mood...
^You feel lucky this isn't VGF.
Alright, guys. Let's actually play... all of this OOC posting is a great way to get this locked.
Yeah, I think the OOC is done now though.
As the three continued to talk, Slaiden's friend entered the room.
"Hey, Slate, I wasn't able to find anything, and I was thorough; chances are, whoever was chasing you was just after your buddy, and you just got in the way. But take better care of her, would ya? I'm getting tired of these six month overhauls happening every two weeks."
"Alright, thanks Breaker; I'll keep that in mind," Slaiden replied, grinning slightly.
He motioned to the girls, "C'mon; you can continue this conversation in my cab. I'll get you back to the University, and then home."
TAG: CorrellianChic and Crystalrain
Xarre stood up and stretched. "Alright. I hope you have a nice couch, man. I'm exhausted."
She walked out of the office and over to the cab.
tag: crystalrain and coota
Selia sat down next to Relar, and leaned on the desk. The site loaded up, and links popped up. "Whick one looks the most reliable?"
"What is . . .," Pax said with little confidence. He allowed himself a second to regain some bearings and stated, not so firmly, "Who . . . what are you, you . . . "
The Old Man cocked his body slightly, bringing his ancient face into the light. Pax took a handful of seconds to study this creature. Its head was somewhat longer than a normal human head, that was obvious. And yet, there was something comforting in the eyes. Some warmth that radiated from the Old Man. Pax left its face and regarded its clothing. The Old Man wore a mantle of miss-mass browns and reds and grays and blacks. The cloak seemed to be alive with colors and at times seemed to even move about the Old Man's body.
The Old Man continued to move his body until he was seated, yet Pax could not, despite much effort in trying, imagine where the chair had come from.
"Does that really matter? I am what I am. The question is, 'who are you?'"
Bewildered, Pax closed his eyes and rubbed them vigorously. He felt that the sun had sunk below the horizon. Darkness had enveloped the yacht.
He opened his eyes, but the Old Man was gone. Pax stood alone in the middle of the Silver Sea, land not in sight, darkness everywhere, a deathly chill breeze cutting through his body. Alone in his thoughts. Alone in his yacht. Alone on his planet. Alone with no where and no one to turn to. No one to help him. Nothing. Nothing consumed him.
All alone at the edge of the world Pax Dellos stood, crying.
Slaiden took the young lady back to her dormitory first, and dropped her off. He left her with his card, which had his com number on it, and told her to call him if she ever needed any help. Then he took his new found roommate back to his own apartment, further away from the university.
"Welcome to my humble abode; it's not much, but there's booze in the cupboard and a couple cases of ale in the fridge. There's your couch, there's the holoprojector, and there's the bathroom. I am now going to hit the sack, since its been a long day. I'll talk to you in a couple hours."
He entered his bedroom, dropped down on his bed, and fell into a deep sleep almost immediately.
Slaiden dreamt of darkness encroaching, of light and of perfection... perfection that could destroy all darkness. He dreamt of battles, of fighting against the tides of evil... and then he heard a voice, a voice clear in the dream.
"Slaiden... you are a protector. You are both greater and lesser than our servants, for you must ensure they survive against the violence of our enemies. You are a warrior, but a warrior for good. You must find the perfect weapon, and protect it. It is the only way to save the galaxy."
"But... what is it?"
"All will be revealed in time."
And then he awoke, to the beeping of the holocomm by his bed. His eyes were wide, his sheets soaked with sweat. He shook his head to clear it, then tapped on the comm, which illuminated into a fuzzy image.
"It's been a busy day," he grumbled, "So whoever this is better have a damn good reason for calling."
The image cleared. "It is important, Major Slaiden. We need you back for a mission, Major."
"General Cracken? Didn't I tell you I was out of the service for good? To not call me? I didn't even leave a forwarding address!"
"You're still a reserve officer, for as long as you're alive, Major. We need you for a mission of the utmost importance."
"I'm not going to ask you what it is, but you're going to tell me anyway, right?"
"Right. There's a team of archeologists and Jedi excavating the Sith ruins at Korriban. They've made it through dozens of Sith ghosts, hundreds of booby traps and other such surprises, and they've found a lot of interesting junk that will look nice in a museum, or will be destroyed as too dangerous to continue in the galaxy. But a week ago, they found something unique in Korriban. Something untainted by the Dark Side; it was a small tablet, heavily guarded and shielded by energies woven by the Dark Side of the Force. It's taken the Jedi and the Archeologists four months to get to it. The New Republic thinks its of great importance, as do I. I need you to get it."
"Why can't the Jedi or the Archeologists just bring it back?"
"Because they're all dead, except for one archelogist by the name of Dr. "Corellia" Antilles. Their convoy was assaulted and destroyed by unknown vessels enroute to a New Republic safehaven in the Krill Sector. One ship escaped, heavily damaged, and crash landed on the planet Ikel. That ship had Professor Antilles aboard. She was able to get a short message to us, and told us to send one man to meet her, because she didn't trust us."
"Why would she trust me?"
"I don't know. But she asked for you by name. You're to meet her on the liner Smooth Hyperlanes, retrieve the item, and bring it back to us. It'll be docking briefly at Vontor Station on the Sisar Run to offload passengers in three days. Get there and board the ship. If possible, find out who or what is willing to kill for that artifact, and why."
"You know I've never met her before, right?"
"I know; I had my people analyze this backwards and forwards. You've never met her, never even seen an exhibition of her findings. Noone she knows has ever met you. But, nevertheless, she asked for you."
"Maybe I'm on the list of most easily recruited heroes in the galaxy or something. Alright, since you'd probably have me ship off to a prison asteroid if I didn't say yes, I'll bite. I take it transportation and everything is up
Xarre was on the couch, an empty bottle in her hand. She was completely oblivious; nothing was in focus and her brain was in sleep mode.
The bottle fell from her fingers with a thud, and she slipped into a drunken sleep.
OOC: yeah, that's one boozed up pilot you have there, coota.
"I don't know," Relar clicked on a link, "This looks good."
A page came forth of information regarding Bespin. He scrolled down through pages of info, occasionally stopping. "Looks like a planet," he said, "A gas giant."
Slaiden entered his living room and grinned slightly; the young free trader was completely trashed. He had left her about six hours ago, but he had feeling she'd been passed out for most of that time; it'd probably only taken her twenty minutes to clear a couple of the bottles that were most effective at producing this effect. He shook his head and muttered, "That's just great; I need a transport, and one presents itself. The only problem is I need to get the transport's pilot out of a boozed up stupor, first..."
He went to his cabinet and took out the can of Soccoran coffee beans, some of the most potent beans in the galaxy. After ten minutes of crushing and brewing, he poured the coffee into a small, small glass; it would be more than he needed.
He walked over to the pilot and poured the coffee down her throat, then stepped back and waited. A moment later, she jumped up on the couch, her eyes wide. Slaiden chuckled. "Yup, the coffees still good. Sorry to disturb your slumber, sleeping beauty, but somethings come up, and I could use your help. You said you're a transport pilot; I need some transport to Vontor Station on the Sisar Run. I can pay you well, and I promise it'll be an exciting trip. You can even bring along what's left in the liquor cabinet."
Selia pointed to the picture. "Hey look, there's a floating....city looking thing. Wierd."
OOC: Sorry for my absence.
Ornen, I am dead now. But, an angel.
Xarre was ripped from her slumber and sat up straight. She blinked a few times and listened to Slaiden.
"Sorry to disturb your slumber, sleeping beauty, but somethings come up, and I could use your help. You said you're a transport pilot; I need some transport to Vontor Station on the Sisar Run. I can pay you well, and I promise it'll be an exciting trip. You can even bring along what's left in the liquor cabinet."
She worked her jaw and rubbed her temple, the alcohol catching up with her. "Vontor Station? Sure thing... we can leave as soon as you need to... after I work off this hang over." She grimaced as her head throbbed.