Star Wars STAR WARS: INTERVENTION (A story-telling style OT starfighter game)---Always taking new players!

Hal Crawford
Aces' Club

Hal smirked knowingly as Winterkill request that the Mercs stay away from the match for their own good. He'd heard that request a thousand times, and a thousand times the people who had been asked to stay out of the way checked their blasters and followed. He knew this would be no different - these Mercs were good people and they wouldn't let a comrade walk into a trap alone.

As Havah Jeth moved out to shadow Winterkill and Mira T'saaren followed him, Hal gave the rest of the Mercs a big, toothy smile. "C'mon, folks, what are we waiting for?" he said with barely contained excitement. While the reactions to the match were mixed among the Mercs, Hal was a brawler. He was also no stranger to violence, and growing up on Nar Shaddaa he had even seen a few death matches before. Even though this was no bar fight and he hadn't even had a chance to drink anything yet, he could feel the adrenaline start to pump through him. Even if nothing happened, it would be a match to remember - that would be certain.

Following right behind Mira, Hal exited the bar, stood to his full two meter height and walked off down the street.

TAG: Mercs, etc.

 

Chris Streets, Jason Lasso, Terrel Vacks, Havah Jeth, Mira T'saaren, Hal Crawford, Dernan Vask & Winterkill
Port Haven, En route to the Octagon

By the time Jason Lasso returned to The Aces Club, he ran into Mira T'saaren who'd already been exiting the club. The towering Hal Crawford was only a few steps behind her. The trio was now by the entrance and most likely blocking the incoming traffic of patrons.

"Back Already." Jason declared.

Of course, there was no doubt that Mira would acknowledge him, though her focus would be more on Havah Jeth, whom she would lose track of if she lingered at the entrance a moment longer. The Arkanian was moving smoothly and swiftly through the incoming crowd, most likely matching Winterkill's pace. There wasn't a moment to lose if she expected to keep up with the two members of the Mercs strike team.


Elsewhere...

Chris Streets checked his weapons and re-adjusted his duffel bag as he moved swiftly through Port Haven. He wasn't far from where he needed to go. The Chiss knew the layout of Port Haven and could easily visualize the path Winterkill would have to take.

The Octagon was a combat arena that was located at the East End of Port Haven's central district and lay conveniently eastward of The Aces Club. Winterkill would have to veer into Hocker's Hill which was the point of origin for both the black market district and Free Trader's Alley. Travel-wise, the outdoor 'alley' was the most direct way to the Octagon, and probably the most dangerous when taking 'exposure' into account, but not its denizens, since they mostly comprised of low to mid-end merchants. The laws of supply and demand is what really gave the Free Trader's Alley its life's blood.

Winterkill would have to travel the narrow and crowded path for about 200 meters. Low rise buildings no taller than 4 floors paralleled each side of the alley, turning it into a chasm of sorts. The path dipped ever so slowly, until one finally reached Brigand's Bend. This was the spot where the alley forked into two paths. The top path turned into an upward slope that lead to the Octagon itself for another 20 or so meters, and the other path turned south and led to the south-eastern districts of Port Haven.

Chris Streets shook his head slightly, already seeing the possible trouble spots in his mind. The Merc knew exactly what to do. His first order of business was to get to the free observatory on top of the Lenders and Creditors Commission Building at the top of Hocker's Hill. This was the tallest point on this side of Port Haven and offered a nice vantage point.

As he neared the building, Streets was unsurprised not to have seen one Port Haven Security officer. This was understandable, since absolutely nothing outside of the ordinary had occurred and Port Haven itself was not under any threat. These thoughts were quickly dispelled as the chiss came about and saw someone standing by the entrance to the observatory. Luck was on his side as the human was looking away at that very moment. The dark brown cloak the man wore gave very little away as an identifier at the moment, though streets had a good idea of things. In a split second decision, streets rushed the human who was just turning around. The look of surprise on his face as he saw the chiss nearly upon him bought Streets another precious second. The human tried to reach for his side arm, but was too slow on the draw. Deftly, the chiss struck the human on the side of the neck with enough force to knock him out with one blow. Streets caught the fallen man, looked about and saw a nearby dumpster.

Not hesitating, Streets dragged the man towards the large dumpster, but silently cursed himself for not checking for cameras first. He noted the time and made a mental note to ask one of the Merc slicers if they could do something about that. Now at the dumpster, Streets quickly checked the man first for identification and keycards. Hmm. No ID, though the uniform underneath the cloak was a dea

 

IC: Havah Jeth
Port Haven, en route to the Octagon

Free Trader?s Alley was as bustling with life as one would often expect, bolstered as it was by those fresh faces of returning groups that had their freshly coined creds and wares from their runs to buy and trade with the local merchants. To the common or wilderness tracker it was a nightmare of epic proportions, especially when one took into account the one he was tracking.

Winterkill was a notorious fighter and tracker of his own right, with survival skills and instincts sharpened and honed from such a hard past that Havah had a hard time recollecting instances of him speaking of it. Add to that his training by Mandalorians and Winterkill was far above anything common when it came to warfare.

The best way to track such a creature, be it sentient or not in such a bustling environment, was to follow the wakes and eddies made from its passing. Never look directly at it or stare at a reflection of it and never glance more than once every several blocks, even then not without cover and indirectly, as well merely already being able to predict where it was going is a good thing to. Keeping a speed for all body parts constant or similar to one?s surroundings also played a part as any species that came from predators or nervous/aggressive omnivores tend to develop eyes that are more sensitive to such motions, with shapes, patterns, and colors second.

Something he already knew and was to his advantage as he merely kept the pace and destination as Winterkill to Brigand?s Bend, if any disturbance occurred he would be able to know. React. Assess. He also had the second visual recognition of shape, color, and pattern taken care of.

After starting into Free Trader?s Alley he had dropped a cred coin on a vendors table as he picked up and put on with his other hand a large brown cape-like robe with hood. Stepping behind the kiosk he pulled it over his helmet and forward incasing his face in shadow, and his armor hidden beneath the billowing folds. Recognizing some forms coming into the Alley he extended a gauntlet blade and wiggling it at waist height reflected light off of their faces until they noticed him. Then resetting the blade he turned with a hunch as he continued to follow Winterkill.

Hopefully, he would be unnecessary and the journey merely a peaceful one, well as peaceful as a mission to a fight to the death could be anyways. Making his way he could tell that other?s were coming as well, and he kept an eye out as well as a recursive helmet visual algorithm scanning beings in the crowd and alleyways for members belonging to the Coruscanti Aces.

TAG: Grey, oreotragus, bterrik, Bravo (All Mercs involved)

 

IC: Mira T'saaren
Port Haven, en route to the Octagon

The reassuring weight of her holstered DH-17 blaster pistol bumped against Mira T'saaren's right leg as she made her way to the entrance of the Aces Club. Weaving amongst the tables, she smiled internally as the thought of her mother disapproving of her carrying a blaster came to her mind. Mira, it's just not ladylike, she would probably say. Being ladylike was something Mira hadn't bothered with for a while now.

It was bright enough outside the Club to make her squint slightly as her eyes adjusted to the change in light. As she exited, she ran into Jason Lasso, who was just returning. Not surprisingly, Hal Crawford came up behind her as she stopped in front of Jason. She wondered how long it would take the rest of the group to follow - they didn't strike her as ones to just sit around.

Then again, maybe that was something she should have considered. She had barely gotten here and already she was looking for trouble - not only was she unfamiliar with the layout of the city, but she was similarly unfamiliar with the tactics of the group that had challenged Winterkill.

Just try not to get yourself killed before you get a chance to show your worth, she thought to herself, unintentionally flashing an image of her brother's funeral in her mind. She shook away the thought.

"Hi, Jason," she said, not bothering to hide the fact that she was following the two others on their way to the Octagon. Mira was shorter than Jason (and the rest of the Mercs), so she had to rise onto her toes slightly to peer past Jason at the retreating form of Havah Jeth. She didn't know the way to the Octagon, so she was counting on following the Arkanian in order to provide any necessary backup fire if the other group - the Coruscant Aces she had heard them called in passing - had anything up their sleeves besides the match.

She looked at Hal, and back to Jason, and back over the taller man's shoulder. There was no need to say what she was doing - it was obvious. So, she slipped past Jason and quickened her pace to catch up with Jeth, who was almost out of sight. "See you later," she called over her shoulder. Her hand rested against her blaster as she glanced expectantly into every alleyway she passed. Her senses heightened, she smoothed back a stray hair and tried vainly to look oblivious.

Tag: All Mercs involved

 

OOG: Hey everyone, the below Storyline Post won't affect anything you're all doing now, so don't feel rushed by it.

Just note that Rally_Fan_84, Lord_Lahmien, and Kimblee haven't posted yet, so keep that in mind as you advance the current events. We're going at a good pace right now.


Storyline Post Four


Public Government Palace, Republic of Watava, 1 B.B.Y.


Investigator Hilick Soal really hated this. It looked bad, very bad. Emperor Palpatine had told him that much and Soal felt anger burn deep within him for letting his Emperor down. If not for his loyalty to the Emperor and the New Order, the Investigator would have been replaced by now...and being replaced usually meant being dead in Imperial terms.

But the Emperor realized that it wasn't Soal that had let the Marauder-Class Corvette escape, but Admiral Wat of the Imperial Assault Fleet, who had arrived before Hilick Soal's Royal Red Squadron. That was why Admiral Wat, and not Hilick Soal, lay on the ground at the Investigator's feet, a blaster bolt in his head by Soal's blaster pistol.

Failure in the Empire, espcially when the Emperor himself had an interest in things, was not allowed.

As he sat back down on the king's throne, looking at the display of holo imagines and news in front of him from a holoprojector built into the floor, two white armored Imperial Stormtroopers dragged the Admiral's dead body out of Hilick's sight. No doubt the Emperor was being informed of the Investigator's actions by his Imperial Royal Guardsmen, one of whom stood to the left and behind of Hilick.

And no doubt the Emperor was pleased with his loyalty. There was no hesitation on the Investigator's part to do the Emperor's command and release the Admiral of his command which, Hilick knew, would gain him favor again with the Emperor.

Information had been attained by Commander Top on the details of this Marauder-Class Corvette through the interrogation of one of the Watava soldiers who had reported the government had a mercenary team here on planet---which was new news to the Investigator, which meant more Watava government officials would have to pay for their lack of loyalty to the Empire---and that one of their members, a teenage boy the soldier had said, was bragging about searching outside the airfield for some items.

Given what the specialized equipped the Storm Commandos had used told them about the Red Rock's travels from that hole, it would indeed put the Red Rock inside the airfield's buildings.

So, with a lead now, Hilick had devoted all his time to researching up any and all mercenary groups who owned or operated a Marauder-Class Corvette. Acourse working on Watava, the mercenary group would not had used their official name, as was evidence when Hilick Soal had done any research into the name of the mercenary group on official Watava government paperwork. His searches came up with nothing. He had dispatched his Observation (Observ) personnel to go through each and every soldier, sailor, pilot, technician, and government official to find out the mercenary group's true name.

Most of the reports coming back to him were of a group called The Mercs. Such a search into Imperial records and news feeds took him as far back to the Clone Wars records. Now displayed before him on various separate hologram screens were each and every Merc member, they're last known residence before joining the Mercs, last job, and criminal record if they had one, as well as Imperial records on how long they had been with The Mercs, and---what gave Hilick Soal the wild card in this game---was all of their immediate and close family members and where they lived and what they did for a living.

If The Mercs were reluctant to show their heads, then using their own families as bait was acceptable...it usually worked in most cases the Investigator had found out over the years.

Other articles of information kept coming up as he moved from me

 

Dernan Vask
The Aces Club

Dernan grinned but said nothing as Winterkill asked the Mercs not to interfere, but he did let his hand brush against the blaster resting on his thigh, just to make sure it was still there.
As soon as the Nagai was out of the club several of the others got to their feet and made their way out while Dernan went over the betting office.
"C'mon, folks, what are we waiting for?" he heard Hal Crawford call to the group.
?Be along in a sec, just putting a bit of cash on the match. I?ll catch you up quick enough.?
He quickly placed a hundred credit bet on Winterkill, then another for twenty credits that the Coruscant Ace would draw first blood. He grabbed his receipt and exited the club at a quick jog to find with the others.
It only took him a minute to catch up to Mira and Hal once he got outside and he quickly fell into step with them.
?Any sign of violence yet?? he asked, not even trying to restrain the wistfulness in his voice.

Tag: bterrik, oreotragus

 

IC: Jason Lasso
Aces Club, Port Haven


"Hi, Jason," she said, not bothering to hide the fact that she was following the two others on their way to the Octagon. Mira was shorter than Jason (and the rest of the Mercs), so she had to rise onto her toes slightly to peer past Jason at the retreating form of Havah Jeth.

She looked at Hal, and back to Jason, and back over the taller man's shoulder. There was no need to say what she was doing - it was obvious. So, she slipped past Jason and quickened her pace to catch up with Jeth, who was almost out of sight. "See you later," she called over her shoulder. Her hand rested against her blaster as she glanced expectantly into every alleyway she passed. Her senses heightened, she smoothed back a stray hair and tried vainly to look oblivious.

Before Jason had a chance to say anything, Mira was gone, following Havah Jeth to the match, "Have fun!" Jason called back. The Merc had no intention of going to the fight: what role model would he be giving his fellow Mercs to watch his fellow comrade, Winterkill, get the stuffing's beat out of him? Jason had been on quite the journey the last two years and although he had had more slip ups then success it seemed like, he was determined to try his best to change his ways and get back on track with his life.

Plus, the mercenary thought, Someone has to watch their backs.

Dernan Vask jogged past Lasso on his way out of the Aces Club to catch up with the group.

All too soon however, the bar was empty, all of the mercenary pilots making their way to the Octagon. Although two other people remained: the bar tender and Hunter One.

"So," Hunter One said aloud in the quiet bar, so quiet that you could have heard a pin drop as the bar tender nervously wiped a glass dry after cleaning it, "They say you're the kid with the natural hands. No real starfighter experience before this," Hunter One took a sip of his drink and stayed looking at the row of bottles on the wall behind the bar table, not turning to Jason.

Jason was where the Mercs had been, finishing his water and replied as he looked at Hunter One, "That's right."

"My father had hands like that too," Hunter One said, looking 'beyond' the wall into a distant past of memories, "He was a natural behind the cockpit," The man smiled fondly of something the memories brought up, "I guess he passed it on to me."

For a man who's reputation was second to that of Darth Vader, Lasso found that Hunter One had a very human side to him that many didn't see. Or at least that's what the young pilot wanted to think.

There were a few moments of awkward silence in the bar before the empty glass that Hunter One held in his hand came down again to the bar tender's table top and the pilot got up. When he reached Jason, he looked down at him and said, "Be careful of you're Captain, Rick Taller. He's not everything he seems to be," With that, Hunter One started his way towards the exit.

"Why's that?" Jason asked, turning around in his seat to look at Hunter One.

Hunter One stopped in the doorway and turned his head to the side as he spoke, "He killed his best friend. His best friend was my father."

Jason just sat there as Hunter One left, unable to come up with a reply.

"Do you want another water, sir?" The bar tender asked, breaking the silence.

Jason shook his head as he got up and looked at the bar tender, "No thanks. Have a good one," Leaving Aces Club, Jason made his way to the Johnny Boy and down into the starship's hanger. With most of the crew on shore leave, the ship itself was pretty much empty except for a skeleton crew and the security droids, which meant the hanger was equally empty. Two techs who had drawn the short straws for shore leave ship duty were outside the office playing sabacc at a table.

When Jason entered, one of the techs asked, [color=oran

 

Chris Streets, Jason Lasso, Terrel Vacks, Havah Jeth, Mira T'saaren, Hal Crawford, Dernan Vask & Winterkill
Free Trader's Alley, Port Haven, En route to the Octagon

It all begins with one shot.

"Put your hands in the air or I'll blow your head-off!!"

Chris Streets was rather surprised how truly convincing he sounded as he lied to the sniper who was about to take a shot, presumably at Winterkill. Why else would he be here at Hocker's Hill Observatory, pointing his weapon into Free Trader's Alley.

The chiss may have lied about shooting the man in the head, but not about shooting him. As a Merc, he knew that 'you never point a weapon unless you intend to use it'.

But, apparently the sniper was used to having his life threatened on a daily basis, given his lack of reaction. Either that, or he was a deaf-sniper. At this point it didn't matter which. Streets saw...knew the sniper was about to squeeze one off, so he beat him to the punch and squeezed the trigger.

Or so he thought.

Two red flashes lit the observatory as two simultaneous shots were fired. The sniper and his weapon went down clattering on the observatory floor. Streets cursed and rushed to the man who was unconscious. The Merc checked the sniper's pulse and sighed in relief. The man was still alive, though wounded and unconscious. Fortunately for him, the sniper hadn't looked his way since he was so intent on his target. At that thought, Streets quickly got up, and even before he came to the railing, he could hear pandemonium already unfolding down below. Damn it! Now he had no idea if the sniper had hit his intended target or not.

The chiss licked his lips as his mind swirled through options.

The best plan of action would be to find something to bind the sniper, and perhaps take position here...just in case. Yeah, that's what he would do.

Ten seconds ago.....

"You! you're the one who sold me those faulty motivators!!" Winterkill accused the toydarian angrily.

"What?? Me...? I don't even sell..."

The toydarian vendor didn't even have a chance to finish as Winterkill snatched the sample tray, sending the toydarian's wares flying all about.

"Nooooo!!!"

In the same instant that Winterkill moved away to snatch the tray, a blaster bolt flashed by right next to where he was standing, effectively singeing his hood.

"SHOOTER!! SHOOTER IN THE ALLEY!!" someone screamed.

Needless to say, chaos and pandemonium followed as both vendors and buyers sought some kind of cover, but little was to be had. Vending wagons were not made for sheltering purposes. A stampede ensued as panicked sentients sought to escape with their lives from what was perceived as a personal threat.

Winterkill quickly moved against a wall and crouched low. Even in these conditions he was able to move through the crowd better than most. Dark eyes peered through the panicked patrons fleeing the scene as he spotted one of his shadows, futilely looking for him. The other one...was nowhere to be seen for the moment. That needed to change quickly. Before he moved to 'take out' his current target, Winterkill held his position for several heartbeats and looked towards the throng bottle-necking Brigand's Bend. Why was he not surprised when he saw two figures at either end forcing their way 'into' the alley, literally going against the flow of the escaping crowd.

The nagai snorted his contempt and moved off. At least those two would be slowed down and quite tied up for the moment. This one however....

His shadow was completely looking in the wrong direction when Winterkill rose next to him. The nagai already saw that the weequay was armed with a blaster pistol, which was held low so it would not be too obvious to the crowd. Since the weequay was not too responsive to the sentients bumping him as they fled the scene, Winterkill actually had to tap him on the shoulder. The weequay tried to turn, as he probably realized that he'd been had, but never got to do so, as the tray Winterkill had procured was slammed loudly and forcefully again

 

IC: Havah Jeth
Free Trader's Alley, Port Haven

From the first shot to the moments of Winterkills relocation he noticed a few extra bodies that weren't going with the crowd. A couple were vendors trying to save their wares or themselves behind them, others were just those furtively tried to head the opposite direction of the crowd for a few moments before succumbing to the will of the many pressing bodies all around them...

Six stood out from among the rest, Winterkill if he had read the last motions he had observed correctly was moving to deal with the two nearest him, that left four, the one on this side of the alley, the one opposite, and the two buffoons who couldn't defeat the crowd but stubbornly kept trying to at least not loose ground.

Deciding quickly he headed to the same side as Winterkill, true the Nagai could probably take care of himself...but three against one was rougher odds. As he moved uncertain if another sniper shot would ring out ending Winterkill he knew he had to end this quickly and get him to cover once more. After all what a sniper can't see he can't shoot.

Then of all things he watched as he closed in as a part of the rushing crowd Winterkill take the wrong one down first! Of all things to do, he had thought Winterkill better then that. Stepping out of the stream and to the small eddying side he brought his Stohkli spray stick up in a fluid motion to point out of his robes.

The nozzle as he took a step forward was but a short distance behind the head of the man now talking to Winterkill, definitely not pro's of his calaber than but still well positioned mid-levels. Quickly he signed with his free hand in their silent ops language as quick as he could, every second was one the sniper may be using to get a better bead before killing Winterkill, Sniper-behind + 4-move into crowd on one...one!

Pulling the trigger the hiss filled the air as his body performed a small wave from the recoil, the thin stream of expelled string flew by the shooters ear. The sound behind and close proximity motion to draw his attention for a second as the string flew expanding as it crackled mere meters before the end of its fast flight with raw energy wrapping and dropping the one assailant coming down this side of the ally with enough energy to take down a fighting wookie. Needless to say not getting up anytime soon.

Next in a fluid motion he dropped the back of the stick by his legs, moving the two steps forward to swing and use the stun pad located on that end...that is so long as Winterkill hadn't made an end of the being or the sniper decided to shoot him instead during the interim.

TAG: oreotragus, bterrik (All Mercs involved)

 

IC: Mira T?saaren
Free Trader?s Alley, Port Haven (en route to the Octagon)

?SHOOTER!! SHOOTER IN THE ALLEY!!" a voice screamed.

Any attempt at looking casual and oblivious ceased for Mira T?saaren when the shot burst into the ground in Free Trader?s Alley, just as she had entered the wide, bustling avenue and gotten her bearings. She had just caught sight of Winterkill next to a Toydarian vendor, In an instant, the crowds had mass-panicked and were leaving the area as fast as they could, shoving and pushing to get away from the danger. Wares and shop tables were overturned in the rush as screams punctuated the somewhat dusty air.

Mira had immediately drawn her blaster pistol and crouched beside the nearest wall for whatever cover she could get. The bare wall offered little protection. Keeping low, she hurried to a doorway recess in the wall ten feet away and squeezed up against the inside edge. She peered carefully around the edge, and noticed a few individuals that were not fleeing with the rest of the crowds. This obviously betrayed their intentions, and Mira wondered if it was confidence or plain stupidity that influenced this.

She raised her blaster vertically beside her face, ready to snap off a shot if needed. Her gray eyes scanned the roofs of the surrounding buildings ? no apparent threat. Looking out again, she watched as Winterkill and Havah Jeth took out two of the assailants. That Stohkli spray stick was certainly interesting, she noted mildly. Never seen one of those in person.

It appeared as though her two fellow Mercs could handle themselves in a fight quite capably. Her own skills providing cover for them from the wide front of the alley, she tightened her finger fractionally around the trigger of her weapon as she lowered it toward the center of the action.

Tag: greyjedi125, Mitth_Fisto, all Mercs involved

 

OOG:

Here's a link to some information regarding a character used below:

Hallomar


IC: Jason Lasso
Personal Quarters, Johnny Boy, Port Haven


Jason Lasso watched as the information scrolled down before him on his console:


Information Unavailable


"WHAT!" Jason all but blurted out. He rushed through doing a series of searches again on the HoloNet, then tried other search methods. Still, everything he knew to search was coming up with the same title of Information Unavailable. He scratched his chin as he stared at the screen. His history side of him was in full swing as it was with a downed fighter, a dead pilot who had a red gem in his flight suit pocket, a red gem that turned out to be something more then it appeared (it was odd as it was to have a dead fighter pilot carrying a red gem anyways), and now someone had the same interest he and Nick had.

The race was on...history style!

But who was racing them and what did they know that Jason and Nick didn't know? And what did Jason and Nick know that they didn't know?

Before Jason could go any deeper into his thoughts, Vacks pounded on his door, "Lasso, we have blaster fire in the alley way!"

"CRAP!" Jason said, scrambling to his feet and on his way out, grabbing his E-11 blaster rifle on his way out. Meeting Vacks outside the door, the soldier was already in his black Storm Commando suit, his helmet at his side. Jason wore his standard ground operations clothing...it was a nice bet to always be ready at any Spacer's bar, even at Port Haven. "What do we have?"

Vacks started walking down the corridor and Jason fell in step at his side. "Winterkill has got himself into some trouble. Sniper in the alley way. Streets was headed up that way, haven't heard from him since. Other Mercs are in the general location as far as we know."

"Coruscant Aces?" Jason asked.

Vacks shook his head, "Negative. Its too sloppy. Plus, however much Hunter One may hate Captain Taller, he won;t kill him in cold blood or attack one of our squadron members...unless a contract calls for it."

"So, no contract?"

"No, Aces Club rules are simple and straight forward. In order to be part of the club and share in the benefits of protection, funding, and support that Aces Club offers to its members, all of you're missions have to be public information to other Aces Club members. If you take out a contract on another mercenary squadron---which is frowned upon---and you don't report it, you're kicked out of Aces Club, no questions asked. Hunter One may be a Hutt's son, but his status in Aces Club is too important to him to risk being kicked out."

"So who?"

Vacks looked at Lasso, "We don't know."

"Okay, so what's the plan?"

Vacks and Lasso headed towards the hanger bay and the two techs were already busy getting the Tac Assault ready, with other techs flooding in from shore leave into the hanger as the two mercenaries entered, "We have special ops directly from Taller. The Captain feels that the current Mercs can handle what's going on, so we've been dispatched to a mysterious shuttle that landed outside of town just a few hours ago," As Vacks and Jason stepped up into the LAAT/i Repulsorlift Gunship, the older soldier grinned at Jason, "We're going to go say hello."



Tag Anyone


**************************

IC: Rick Taller
Johnny Boy, Bridge


Hallomar shook his head, "Look Taller, whatever is going on out there in Port Haven is involving your mercenaries. And whatever is going on, I don't like it. We haven't had any trouble here in a long time outside of bar fights. Because I respect you and you're Mercs, you can handle them. But once they're handled with, they're mine to deal with. And you better h

 

OOG: Doing a GM thing.

Here's some spice to the Winterkill storyline Grey.

Just so everyone knows, if you want to throw in a storyline arch for you're character that affects the whole game (like Grey is doing), just ask Grey or me first. Grey broke the ice for the character storyline arch's to begin and I hope some of you follow his lead and start throwing PM's our way.

Here's some links to some info found in the below post:

Whendyll System
Duelist vibrorapier
CR90 Corellian Corvette
Republic light assault cruiser


IC: Captain 'One Eye' Lock
Red Destroyer, CR90 Corellian Corvette, Out-skirts of the Whendyll System


Captain 'One Eye' Lock really hated his last name Lock. It was so...normal. Although he was human and Corellian at that, the Pirate Captain still felt that his last name was boring. And although it cost him an eye at Rick Taller's hands three years ago, One Eye, as he was known around his peers and his enemies alike, was almost grateful to Rick Taller for taking his eye. His name was now so much more...scary.

He had light-colored skin, a thick black beard and mustache, and long black hair with gold earrings in his ears and a gold chain around his neck and a black patch over his right eye, his left eye being green in color. He wore black pilot boots in which wine-red pants were tucked into them; a black blaster belt hung low around his waist with a blaster holster and DL-44 Blaster Pistol on his right hip; a Duelist vibrorapier was attached to his other side of his hip opposite of the blaster pistol, supported by its own black belt that rode slightly higher then the blaster belt. He wore a white sleeveless t-shirt under his wine-red tunic shirt with puffy wrist ends. His trench coat was a deeper blood red in color and the collar was smoothed out around his neck.

As he stood on the bridge of his flag-ship the Red Destroyer, the Pirate Captain went through his orders in his head from his employers. They were quite simple and he liked simple: make sure Winterkill doesn't escape off-planet and protect his employers if they had to escape. From what One Eye could gather, his 'employer' was trying to kill this Winterkill and if they had failed planet side at Port Haven, it was his job to make sure Winterkill was dead. But in the case that his employers had to run from Winterkill, well, his orders were to stop any pursuit.

And any pursuit would come in the form of the Mercs and the Mercs meant Rick Taller. And once he had Rick Taller in his sights, the two foes would find out once and for all who really had the better starfighter pilots and capital ships on an even playing field.

Three years ago Taller and his Mercs were called on to protect a civilian luxury liner from One Eye and his pirates. The engagement had cost One Eye most of his fleet, pilots, and his eye in a one-on-one duel with the mercenary captain. One Eye was furious after the fight, vowing to have his revenge after what he called a 'surprise and unfair attack' by Rick Taller and his mercenaries.

As his three CR90 Corellian Corvettes, each loaded with four starfighters, and his two Republic light assault cruisers moved ever closer towards Port Haven, Captain One Eye could taste the sweetness of revenge in his mouth already...


No Tag

 

Sorry for the wait folks. Was waiting on a few others to post, but perhaps we've all waited long enough. I'll move things along then. Here goes.

*******************************

Chris Streets, Jason Lasso, Terrel Vacks, Havah Jeth, Mira T'saaren, Hal Crawford, Dernan Vask & Winterkill
Free Trader's Alley, Port Haven, En route to the Octagon

From where he was Streets had the perfect vantage point. The chiss saw it all unfold his very eyes as he looked down on Free Trader's Alley from the observation deck high on Hocker's Hill.

The shooter reacted in surprise as the thin stream of expelled string shot from Havah Jeth's Stohkli flew past his ear and sailed on to take down one of his fellow conspirators several meters beyond. THAT was all the distraction Witerkill needed to put a hot blaster bolt between his opponent's eyes. Winterkill understood that Jeth was being non-lethal, but he simply wasn't in the mood to play nice. In the same motion, the nagai swung his arm and shot several times at the target opposite from the one Jeth had taken down, with the same result, except that his target would not begetting down.

More screaming ensued in the alley as patron panicked, intensifying the need for escape. Winterkill took notice of the ones bottle necked at the mouth at Brigand's Bend and rushed forward and into the crowd. As far as he was concerned, they were sitting ducks. Which was something Chris Streets was thinking at the same moment.

After picking up the sniper's rifle, Streets positioned the weapon on the gyro-stabilizing tripod and targeted the two incompetent targets caught at the entrance to Brigand's Bend. His shots were merely incapacitating, so he brought them down fairly easily, except that his two shots really turned things chaotic down at the alley. Seeing from the scope how a few of the braver and more level headed vendors began pointing in his general direction, Streets decided it was time to depart.

Bolting quickly for the emergency exit, Streets used his com to quickly relay what had happened up to that point to Terrel Vacks. The chiss spoke quite rapidly and clearly in what seemed to be a single breath. Once he reached the bottom of the stairs, he paused and began to put away his weapon in his duffel bag. That's when he heard voices outside.

"Got company. I'll have to call you back, Commander."

Streets disengaged the call and took a deep breath. The voices outside had that 'military' sound to them. Probably Port Haven militia or something. Once again, Streets mind was going into overdrive, everything he thought of seemed too complicated, when a simple idea struck him. It was so simple, it might just work.

Before anyone entered from the outside of the emergency exit, Streets bolted through the door affecting the manner of a panicked drunkard.

"Heeesh Upshstaairrs! shooot-or, upshstaaaairrs!!" he said in a quavering half intelligeble yell, even as he ran in a zigged-zagged from the observation tower. Streets didn't look back nor heeded the demands for him to halt. He was simply to 'drunk and frightened' to listen to anything else but instinct.

Down below, Winterkill saw the two cloaked figures at the entrance to Brigand's Bend go down after being shot. They didn't appear dead, but he figured they would get trampled just the same. A sudden idea came to the nagai, which he enacted immediately. Using one of the falling enemies as a stepping stool, Winterkill trampolined off the man and lept high enough to run on the shoulders of the fleeing masses. The nagai exploited this new avenue of movement and swiftly made it through and out of Bandit's Bend. Now free of the throng, he did not slow, but kept running until he made it to the Octagon Arena.

Wintrkill slowed and caught his breath as he entere the building proper. He moved gracefully through one of the many archways that lead inside and navigated himself towards the 'Match-coordinators.' He could help but noticed how crowed the Octagon Arena seemed.

"I'm claiming a superior match. Red and Black. Me again

 

OOG: Lets keep those posts up everyone!

I can only imagine everyone is kind of lost right now at what is going on---this post will hopefully start to bring the picture into focus.

And here's some link information for some characters below:

FIII Footman droid

To clear up the colored posts I do, I'm going to assign major NPC characters a personal color. This will help clear up my somewhat over colorized posts. All other characters will have whatever color any player gives them for that post.

Rick Taller (Indigo)
Terrel Vacks(Purple)
Chris Streets (Orange-red)
Dak (Royal blue)
Ler (Sky blue)
Flight Lieutenant Patty Sand (Sandy brown)
Tac One (Burlywood)


IC: Jason Lasso
Tac Assault, Port Haven


Jason Lasso hung on to the above hand strap for dear life as the LAAT/i Repulsorlift Gunship named Tac Assault speed through and danced around the mid-air explosions on its way towards the dirt clearing just outside of Port Haven. Black puffs of smoke exploded all around the Old Republic-era gunship, giving Jason first-hand experience of what it must had felt like to be a Clone Trooper in one of these craft during a battle in the Clone Wars.

The Tac Assault was named after the four Tac-Spec Footman droids that crewed the gunship. All four droids had been upgraded with shuttle and starfighter piloting programs as well as maintenance and repair programs; this enabled the droids to fix some problems in-flight and assist the hanger crews back on the Johnny Boy when things got busy.

"Man, they're pretty mad," Jason observed from the starboard side, yelling over the roar of battle, as he looked over to Terrel Vacks.

The old veteran nodded from the other open side door, "That looks about right. That Lambda is trying to take off and in a hurry. They're leaving their ground support behind. Whoever it is, they don't like us and they must have failed they're mission to be leaving in such a hurry," The Storm Commando armored soldier leaned forward towards the pilot seats and shouted, "Fire some rockets into that Lambda-class Shuttle. Don't let it escape."

The co-pilot droid, Tac Two nodded, "Yes, sir," He then flipped a few switches and rockets shot forth from the gunship, impacting the white shuttle, tearing holes through the then-shieldless craft and forcing the shuttle to veer off to the side of its ground soldiers and into the jungle, smoke and flame following in its wake. With the would-be escapees shuttle all but disabled and in a not so friendly jungle, Vacks nodded approvingly.

"Pilot, give us covering fire and drop us off," Vacks ordered.

Tac One nodded, "Right away, sir!"

As the two Composite-Beam Turret gunners provided covering fire on the final approach, destroying E-Web emplacements and scattering the soldiers from their positions, as well as knocking out the two anti-aircraft laser turrets that were giving the gunship crew such a hard time, Vacks moved across the troop bay to where Jason stood on the starboard side of the gunship as it slowed down and came lower to the ground (although remained in the air); the starboard Composite-Beam Turret gunner laid down a thick covering fire of green lasers of death as Vacks looked at Lasso.

"You ready?" Terrel asked as he put his Storm Commando helmet on.

Jason grinned as he put his black sunglasses on over his eyes, "Ready to rock 'n roll!"

Both Mercs jumped clear of the gunship, landing on the cleared dirt area as the gunship retreated behind them, the starboard Composite-Beam Turret still providing covering fire as the gunship banked away.

Almost as soon as they hit the ground, the two Mercs had th

 

Mira T?saaren
en route to the Octagon

It seemed that as soon as the action had begun in the marketplace, it died down just a quick. Mira T?saaren had barely drawn her blaster pistol and sought cover in a tight doorway before her Merc companions had taken care of their attackers. A tight half-smile grew on her face as she holstered her blaster and stepped out from the doorway she was providing cover from. Her new companions certainly knew how to handle themselves. The dust was beginning to settle, and most everyone had cleared out the general area by now. A few men scattered the ground, along with vendor trays and abandoned repulsorlift tables.

She watched as Winterkill had gone into the quickly retreating crowd. She guessed he was heading to his match, so she skirted the outside of the alley and followed the way he had gone out. It wasn?t hard to find her way out ? she just followed the maddened throngs of humans and aliens abandoning the alley.

Winterkill was out of sight by now, and the crowd had begun to dissipate as it filtered out between streets and into various buildings, some looking less than reputable. She looked around, unsure of what direction to go, when a noise of chanting voices reached her ears, just faintly.

?KILLSHOT! KILLSHOT!? she barely made out from the noise. It could have been a sport match of some kind, but she followed the sound anyway down a street ahead and to the right. She walked somewhat cautiously now, with her hand resting on the butt of her pistol. She peered down side streets and alleyways suspiciously, but the growing sound of a crowd chanting drew her closer. Two scruffy men, middle-aged and in dirty, dark blue mechanic?s uniforms, walked with a Duro in a matching uniform. They strode up from behind her left and were talking amongst themselves as they passed her.

?Ruo, I told you to put 50 credits on Killshot! Why?d you put it on that Nagai??

?I just got a hunch, man. And I heard he's good.? The other human shrugged.

Mira quickened her pace to follow the group of three mechanics who, she gathered, were heading straight to her destination ? the Octagon. She glanced behind her to see if the other Mercs were on their way as well, and checked her blaster?s power level.

Tag: Mercs involved with the Octagon storyline

 

IC: Nick Skysand
En route to the Octagon, Port Haven


He would show them! Nick Skysand thought proudly---and maybe a little block headed---as he rushed down the roads of Port Haven to the Octagon. He had come out of his personal quarters during all the noise before Jason Lasso and Terrel Vacks left on a mission. Naturally, he was ordered to stay on ship. Also naturally, he disobeyed those orders. It wasn't like the Mercs were going to leave him at Port Haven---he was their man with the news!

Already upset that he had arrived after the battle was over, Nick rushed through the wondering and stunned crowd as slowly, but surely, those that had fled were coming back to look at the damage. In a bind to have his holo recorder ready in time, Nick wasn't looking when he ran sideways into Mira T?saaren. After such an impact, Nick was expecting Mira to yell at him, but instead it was a strong hand pulling him to his feet.

"Hey, who do you think you are!" Nick complained as he was ruffled up to his feet and a blaster pistol's nozzle was pushed up against his cheek, "Rick is going to kill me for leaving the ship now!"

A Gungan and Rodian stood before Mira, the Gungan holding Nick at bay with the blaster pistol while his partner the Rodian held a blaster rifle across his chest and stood ready at his side.

"You, MERC!" The Gungan boomed at Mira, "You will hand Winterkill over to us now, or the boy gets it!" With his shuttle destroyed, the Gungan knew that him and his partner had little to lose. Hallomar would soon be after them and the least his partner and him could do was capture or kill Winterkill and try to make it off planet with their bounty.

These guys were the back-up for the failed attempt to kill Winterkill. At least they showed up, better late then never...


Tag Mira, Mitth


EDIT: Grammar

 

IC: Havah Jeth
en route to the Octagon

To say that he surprised at the turn of events would be akin to saying a monk is shocked when another monk makes a joke...during the readings of course. For some of the most humor-beset have often had a background best thought of lacking.

Death was dealt by so by he who's battle cry was 'No Mercy!' as if even a babe could yet forget. No mercy for the bragard with his home bare, no mercy for the seller that yet has no wares, no mercy for the tailor that is yet out of string, and by the law no mercy for mercinary lest they forget to fall.

Crouching forward he advanced using his stick as merely that to keep the pushers at bay until he came upon his task, like a spider to it's web insnared he did advance and whack once yet like a bite to insure that it would not rise with any might throughout the day lit night it had been blessed. So readily he made his way with the crowd kept at bay as if ordered by the sight of one dragging another and gag as if by webbing, the prone form still had the weapon strapped against it, giving many to believe the shrouded figure had taken one of the shooters. Though if any truth be told he had merely tooken one before it could start, and one in such a position liable was to know little but yet he could not neglect what little might be added yet to tip the scales.

So, he hated being in command, it ment you had to think of such things, and when others couldn't be found...you had to drag a prize by yourself. With his artificial birth and down turned face he went with the crowds through the bottle neck stepping carelessly over a prone figure that had long been trampled by the crowd.

He made his way silently to the Octagon, until a small chirp from his helmet alerted him to suspicious figures by one of his flight crew. Lifting his eyes slightly, as the chanting for one called KillShot filled the air, he tugged on his load, "You remind me of compost gnats, as soon as you squash a swarm fat one's come to lay eggs while your not looking."

Shaking his head slightly he moved forward toward a Rodian and a Gungan from the side, he reached for his Westar but paused his hand and rethought to grab his Stohkli-spray stick when he recognized a second face...too young for such a situation.

Then again hostages rarely had age range or preference beyond being large enough. Moving he hefted the body and shoved it into a passerby's arms, "Hold my snack for a minute...hold my snack or replace it." He gritted out, the stunned Chagrian merely gapped, grabbing more by reflex then will standing there dumbstruck unknowing of the hooded figures species but certain that he wouldn't loose his charge lest he had to take it's place.

"Sorry kid." He whispered as he raised his stick, quickly setting the dials for distance, strength of stun, width and height of the webbing. Once all was set during his approach he fired for the Gungans waist knowing the wrapping would topple, trap, and stun both the would be hostage taker as well as hostage. Both were annoying things to be certain, he just hoped that Mira could deal with the Rodian, or at least hold him at bay until he got closer to take care of him.

TAG: Mira, Gm

 

OOG: Grey is having DRL jump down his back and another of our number is having internet problems at the moment. But fear not, we're still going up the mountain!

Grey will be getting his post up ASAP he told me.

 

Havah Jeth, Mira T'saaren, Nick Skysand & Winterkill
Port Haven, the Octagon Arena

So, this is how it all went down, how it was from the inside. It almost felt like a controlled mob scene.The betting booths surged with all kinds of last minute patrons trying to cash in on the results of the duel while simultaneously, many more were drawn to the spectators circle because of the fervent chanting. The lights around the bleachers dimmed, and all the while, Winterkill seemed oblivious to everything but his target.

The lights within the fighting pit brightened up, and the entry-gates were lifted. An announcer came on and tried to speak over the noise the crowd was creating. Winterkill's dark eyes narrowed and never ceased to target Killshot as they both entered the fighting pit. Both of them moved with deliberate movements, as they eyed each other.

Winterkill reached for his Tehk'la blades in one swift and graceful motion, while Killshot drew a wookie Ryyk blade with his main hand, followed by a quick and sudden throwing motion of his off-hand. The nagai pivoted, easily dodging what was thrown, which seemed to be some kind of bola meant to ensnare him. As Winterkill turned, the sudden rise in pitch of the crowd's excitement came as a warning. Something 'else' was happening.

That's when his peripheral vision caught Killshot trying to end things quickly as he came in with a vicious slash! Winterkill used the momentum of his already moving body to throw himself into an evasive cartwheel... and just in the nick of time.

The nagai felt the burning sting as Killshot's maiming attack grazed the back of his arm, slicing through the fabric of his gear and leaving a thin red line in its wake. Killshot's second swipe was easily deflected by Winterkill's trailing blade as the nagai made some space between them.

Winterkill landed smoothly and performed a vicious low slash as he did so, but Killshot was savvy enough not to pursue the nagai, at least not yet. His initial attack had not been a complete failure, as he drew first blood, much to the delight of the roaring crowd.

"I'm going to cut you into little pieces...." Killshot promised with a wicked grin.

Unimpressed, Winterkill simply spat on the floor before him to show his contempt for the human's trickery and twirled his blades in response.

The crowed cheered them on, delighting in the face-off thus far.

Images of the match were being shown on every single jumbo-sized monitor screen inside the Octagon as well as a direct feed transmitted directly to The Aces Club, where fellow pilots and blood sport enthusiasts could follow the match as it happened, blow for blow.

Ironically, not all the Mercs could follow Winterkill's match at the moment.

Havah Jeth, Nick Skysand and Mira T'saaren were busy tending to their own issues of the 'mercenary' kind.

Chris Streets managed to dodge scrutiny by local security, and also managed to position himself on a high enough perch to lend support to Havah Jeth, Nick and Mira, should they need it, though he was not one to press his luck. At the moment, the red-eyed chiss wished he'd had the forsight to brandish a Stohkli-spray stick, just as Havah Jeth had done. Such a weapon would make things alot easier on them, but there was no going back now. He had to make the best of his situation with what equipment he possessed at the time, for it did seem that trouble had followed the Mercs to Port Haven all the way from Watavah.

But then again, trouble is what made the Mercs shine brightest.

Tag: Oreotragus, Mitth_Fisto, Bravo, anyone else that wants to be involved.

Co-GM's Note: I'll try to update again before Friday, since I'll be very busy next week.

 

Mira T?saaren
Port Haven alley

The Rodian stood in front of her, his blaster rifle held across his chest. He was just slightly taller than her, but the Gungan that was holding the young Merc Nick was over a head higher than she was, Mira noted, as she sized up her opponents. They stood close, an arm?s reach away.

A number of options and scenarios flashed through her mind like a multiple-choice question with only one correct answer. Screw up, and she could get Nick or herself shot. Or both.

She held her hands up, away from the blaster at her side. The Rodian seemed to ease his stance just slightly. ?Whoa there, now just hold on a second.? She said, immediately taking on a sweet look. ?Now you boys must be mistaken? I don?t know any Winterkill and I don?t know who this boy is. You?ve got me mistaken for someone else.? Her voice practically dripped with innocence as she feigned oblivious surprise.

Obviouly not expecting that response, the Gungan was visibly thrown off for a second, and the Rodian?s eye ridges contorted slightly. Good, she thought, Not exactly geniuses here. Nick?s face was simply blank with confusion. The Gungan paused snarling, and he exchanged a look with his companion. That was the slight moment of hesitation she was waiting for.

Quicker than a Corellian swoop, she seized the second that they were exchanging confused glances. She hooked her left leg behind the outside leg of the Rodian and pulled hard enough to knock him completely off balance. ?MOVE, Nick!? she yelled. As she pulled, she drew her blaster pistol and snapped a shot off in the direction of the Gungan?s legs, just as he released the boy and turned his blaster on her. His gurgled cry of pain punctuated the air as he dropped to the street, clutching his thigh, As he fell, Mira tossed her blaster pistol to Nick and she reached down to pluck the blaster rifle from the stunned Rodian?s hands. Luckily, he apparently hit his head hard enough when he fell to knock him out, which only made things easier for her. With two blasters turned on him, the felled Gungan leaned on one elbow and raised the other hand in the air in surrender. A smoking hole was burned into his right thigh, with the charred flesh visible through his singed pants leg.

?Don?t shoot! Don?t shoot!? he begged pathetically. Incompetent, she thought. The adrenaline of the moment ? all of which had taken less than ten seconds ? made her heart race and beads of sweat to form on her forehead. She kept the heavy blaster rifle trained on him as Nick, who looked rather nervous, did the same with her pistol. The Rodian, she checked again, was definitely out cold.

?What do you want with Winterkill?? she demanded. A trio of passersby turned into the street, and as surprise registered on their faces at the two humans pointing weapons at a downed Gungan and the prone Rodian, they spun on their heels and hurried away. She had better make this quick before local security came poking around. They were probably nearby anyway, checking out the alley where the first shots had taken place.

The Gungan spat at her feet. ?You worthless Merc!? he snarled in heavily accented Basic. ?You just wait till our boss hears about you! Then you will be hunted as well!? he let out a halting, gargling laugh, cut short by a wince as he clutched at his badly burned leg. Her anger boiled up slightly and she restrained the urge to kick him in the gut. ?Listen, we better get to the Octagon and watch Winterkill's back,? she said to Nick. ?There may be more of these guys around. We?ll leave these two here.? She took a small, strong gray cord out of one of her utility belt pockets and pointed the rifle at the Gungan again.

?Get over next to your companion there,? she said, her voice taking on a deeper, hard-edged tone when she spoke to the Gungan. She had to make up for her lack of apparent strength and size with intimidation. The Gungan complied, inching his way over. ?Sit up, and don?t move a musc

 

OOC: Excuse me, I'd like to enquire about the open Hangar Tech position. If you so desire, I can provide character references.

 

OOG: Its all good, oreotragus. Its good to have you back.

Kartanym, a PM is sent you're way.


Hey guys, pay attention to the briefing room. You'll be spending some time in there quite a bit during the game.

We need other parts of the ship 'designed'. So, if any of you want to design part of the interior of the ship, here's you're chance. Its a free-for-all, so first come, first serve (just post it, you don't have to PM Grey or me). But you only get one part of the ship (at least to start), so everyone gets a chance. Here are the 'major' areas and you may add any areas you wish as we go along in the game. I want to gather all of these posts of the ship's interior and post them all together, so when someone views the Johnny Boy, they get the complete picture. Everyone gets to design their own quarters as well, so consider that as a place to design as well, so everyone gets two places to design really at first.


Mess Hall
Hanger Bay
Medical Bay
Engineer Area (Engines)
Starfighter Ready Rooms
Gym
Personal Quarters (everyone)



IC: Jason Lasso
Briefing Room, Johnny Boy, Port Haven


Jason Lasso stood up along the back of the wall of the briefing room, his arms crossed over his chest, as he listened to the comm chatter between Christ Streets and Rick Taller. Both Jason and Taller had been ordered into flight suits and both Mercs stood by in their flight gear, waiting for the call to go. They're respected starfighters were already being fueled and armed, in case the enemy 'boss' who tried to kill Winterkill, whoever that was---no one really knew yet, tried to escape off planet. Terrel Vacks would naturally take over command at that point if the two pilots got the call to go.

Terrel, Taller, and Jason all stood in the briefing room, Taller and Vacks standing over a circular hologram projector in the front of the room, a hologarpic imagine floating above it; the briefing room was a circular room with a set of double blast doors leading out into the corridor outside at the back of the room. At the front of the room, a few feet in front of the front wall so one could walk all the way around it, sat a circular hologram projector in the 'middle' of the front of the room. Between the back wall and double blast doors and hologram projector in the front of the room were a series of seats bolted to the floor in four rows deep with each row having twelve chairs each. The four rows curved inward on either outward edges of each row, as to make the chairs a half circle facing the hologram projector. The floor was standard Imperial gray carpeting with white walls with small circular built into the ceiling lights along the edges of the wall and ceiling all the way around the room. A large main light sat overhead attached to the ceiling, giving more light to the whole room.

Lasso for his part stood along the port wall, waiting and watching the two command staff officers. A live footage of where Chris Streets was at was being recorded through a mini-holo recorder built into his scope---and displayed over the hologram projector for all to see---and a comlink connection was set up between the sniper and the briefing room's loud speakers.

"They're going into the Octagon," Chris Streets commented on as his scope followed the action, "Orders, sir?"

"Hold you're position and observe and support. Only engage if Mercs are threatened. Keep a watch on those two that Mira tied up. They stay where they are," Taller answered.

Before Streets could answer, Hallomar walked into the briefing room, eyes alive with recent and urgent news to report...


No Tag

 

IC: Havah Jeth
Port Haven alley

Nodding with some approval he watched as his shot flew through empty space to ensnarl...a tree. "Never did research what this does to plants." he mumbled.

He had to admit though that Mira could handle herself really well in a tight situation, now if she could be there for her teammates on time, namely Winterkill he would have to hold her in high esteem. Although leaving her catch behind was a bit unorthodox, especially with one of them awake.

Stepping back he moved over and motioned the Chagrian to come, "Do you two need any help?"

The Gungan looked up, the Rodian meanwhile stayed very loose, "Yah, untie me! Did you see that crazy human female?"

"Women, the root of so many problems..." at this point the Chagrian and his load came into view as the Gungans eyestalk twisted, of course what the Gungan noticed was silk in webbed goon, "Me, I'm hungry and soon to cause more."

With that he moved the pad of the stick forward to the back of the gungans head, causing an interesting display as the eyes bugged out, the ear flaps acted as though they were fighting to detach themselves, and the tongue showed how long and wriggly it really was from an open mouth.

Once the wagging form stopped, and a few passerby's quickened their pace he nodded to the Chagrian. "I'll take these to go."

Pulling back his hood slightly he looked around for a brief moment as the Chagrian bent over, before quickly covering himself again to the shadows of the cloak. "Follow me."

Finding a meat cart near the Octagon it took just a quick payoff, the dumping of the three bodies into the crate with the...well he wasn't about to guess what meat by-product it was supposed to be as he couldn't read the side labels, but it at least came with low grade hover unit on the bottom. So with a quick flip of sixty creds he was able to sufficiently thank the alien before heading on to the Octagon.

Once inside he looked around, he had never really 'been' before to the spot. Well he had watched holo matches as a course of purvue but had never thought to do anything more about it. Grabbing a fellow that looked like he might have a spot high enough...or rather was employed there he asked for Winterkill's side. Next thing he knew he was standing by the grating next to entry tunnel that Winterkill left out of, and he was getting few orders for whatever it was he had brought. Apparently he was being mistaken for a deliveryboy or food vendor.

This could be interesting.

TAG: Merc's at Octagon if noticed

 

Mira T?saaren
The Octagon, Port Haven

The number of people around began to increase as Mira, with little difficulty, found the arena known as ?The Octagon?. An even mix of humans and aliens were there, some who looked a little more seedy than she cared for. A mix of curious smells arose around her as she made her way in, with various vendors catering to the crowd on the fringe of the spectator?s area.

The jeers and yells of the crowd would rise and fall in accordance with whatever action was taking place in the arena below. Mira saw the match on the oversized monitors encircling the Octagon before she managed to push her way forwards. She hadn?t yet caught sight of any Mercs at the match yet, but she knew some had to be here. Her hand slipped to her blaster and felt its reassuring presence in the holster at her side as she looked down at the fight. A man jostled against her from the side, and in annoyance she jostled back just as hard.

Winterkill seemed to be handling himself in his match well so far. His opponent looked quite capable himself, but no major hits had apparently been scored yet. If she was a gambling person, she would have put her money on Winterkill. He had a deadly air of confidence around him that chilled her, and made her glad to be on his side. The crowd jostled and cheered around her, pressing in uncomfortably close.

She turned her gray eyes to the crowd encircling the arena, keeping an eye out for any apparent trouble. With two hangups just on the way here, she doubted things would suddenly go smoothly from here on out. The Corellian woman had only been with the Mercs for less than a week, and as of yet there hadn?t been a dull moment ? at this thought, she gave a tight half-smile and pushed her back through the crowd. Winterkill could handle himself down there alright ? so she began to skirt the arena and the crowd of onlookers to watch for both troublemakers and for fellow Mercs.

Tag: involved Mercs

 

Havah Jeth, Mira T'saaren, Chris Streets & Winterkill
Port Haven, The Octagon

The chiss nodded in satisfaction as he was about to speak into his communicator-headset mouth piece. The service catwalk up by the rafter was unattended and he was able to place the 'out of order' sign he'd found, at the base of the ladder leading up to his position. From where he was, the chiss had a good view of the crowd below and the general happpenings, not to mention the main event.

"They're going into the Octagon," Chris Streets commented as his scope followed the action, "Orders, sir?"

["Hold you're position and observe and support. Only engage if Mercs are threatened. Keep a watch on those two that Mira tied up. They stay where they are,"] Taller answered.

"Roger, that." Streets said, acknowledging his orders.

Streets did a general sweep of the excitable, and for the most part, saw nothing out of the ordinary, all things considered..except for a hooded rodian. It wasn't the hooded part that drew Streets' attention, but the simple fact that the alien kept jumping up and down like everyone else, except that he kept drawing and reholstering his side arm. That was suspect behavior, and it clearly showed that he meant to use it. But the question was, on who?

Streets also thought he heard the rodian shout, 'Kill him, Kill him, Kill him!" instead of "killshot" like everyone else around him. It was ironic that the rodians terribly accented basic gave him away. This one he'd have to keep an eye on.

On his following sweep, Streets was able to pinpoint Mira's new position, and a still figure that very much resembled.....

"I'll be damned. I almost missed him....again."

Chris shook his head and smiled to himself as he was able to make out the form that was Havah Jeth and some hapless alien demanding some sort of service from him, from the looks of it. The chiss gave a chuckle as he thought how'd the poor alien would probably have better luck getting alms from a Hutt crime lord, than eliciting anything not mission related from the arkanian.

Meanwhile, within the Octagon itself, Winterkill and Killshot were circling each other like sandpanthers on the warpath, both twirling their blades, both taunting and looking for an opening, a weakness in either one's defense.

"You know you won't be getting out of here alive, nagai..." Killshot said as he circled and gave a knowing and predatory smile.

Winterkill supressed the urge to roll his eyes. If he had a credit everytime someone said that to him, he'd be able to buy his own resort planet by now, however, he knew exactly what Killshot was refering to, but his opponent was not the only one with hidden surprises.

"I'm taking your jacket as my prize. I need a new throw rug." Winterkill sneered.

"Ahhhhh!" Killshot shouted as he came at Winterkill with a series of slashing flurries. The larger man swung blade over blade with great force, as he was using his skill and strength to overpower the smaller nagai.

The crowd cheered in response to the mounting aggression.

But Winterkill knew excatly what the Coruscanti Ace was attempting to do, so he simply evaded the more obvious attacks and artfully deflected the real strikes.

Bright sparks flew everytime the wookie Ryyk balde impacted against the nagai Tehk'la blade, followed by a distinct and sonorous metallic ring.

Excitement shot through the crowd like a jolt of lightning.

"Get him! Finish him already!!" someone shouted in basic.

For a moment, it looked as if Killshot placed Winterkill on the defensive with his power strikes as he advanced on his pale skinned opponent, but in a blink of an eye, the sparks and ringing came faster and faster as Winterkill turned the tables on the large human with his speedy counters. Now it was Killshot's turn to be on the defensive, lest an apparently errant counter-slash take him. It was during one of those sparking moments that Killshot felt a painful blow to his left knee! courtesy of a surprise low thrust kick by Winterkill.

"Augh!!!" Killsh