SWRPF Archive ?Ge?tal Buy?ce? (The Red Helmet) : A Mando RPG...

Galus sat in the booth immediately to the left of that of three ladies with his boots on the table, sipping occasionally from his glass of Ebla Beer. His back was to them, so they most likely could not tell that he was listening intently to their conversation. When the dark-haired one had mentioned that they were to be looking for an old Null-ARC helmet, his ears perked up immediately. The cantina was not overly crowded, so it was easy for him to pick up snippets of the conversation without straining himself.

"Don't tell me the old man himself is sending us?"

"The helmet is kept in a high-security depository on some obscure planet..."

"we'll leave at sundown today...it's not a good idea to keep the Mand'alor waiting..."

He watched out of the corner of his eye as a young Mando swaggered over to the table and drinks were brought over by serving droids. The discussion became more relaxed, and Galus stopped listening, until the young Mando said:

"Phase-I clone trooper helmet. ARC variant?"

It was interesting when they said Null-ARC, but Phase-I? That thing must be worth a pretty penny to some private collector, and even more if the Mand'alor himself was after it. The young Mando started blathering on about being able to supply military surplus, but Galus highly doubted that he would have what the women were looking for. He had to follow the women, possibly join in their search, if he wanted to get the helmet for himself. However, how was he going to place himself into the equation without looking overly interested?

It was just then that a perfect opportunity presented itself; a Mando drew a blaster on a Devaronian at the bar, saying something about how eavesdropping was rude. Within a second, Galus had his flechette pistol out and trained on the head of the Mando at the bar.

"It is considerably more rude, however, to put a blaster to a man's head."

Galus made sure that he spoke loud enough for the Mando to hear him. He also smiled inwardly at the irony of his statement, as he himself had a flechette pistol pointing at the Mando's head. Galus never was one for social faux pas.

 

((1.Territ never showed any sign of himself listening to their conversation, but oh well))
((2. Territ isnt young and his name isnt Tog))
((3. Territ is a Devorian))
Territ sighed and set down his jawa beer, he turned in his seat and looked at the mando that was pointing the gun at him. Territ sighed again.

"It is considerably more rude, however, to put a blaster to a man's head." A man said from a booth. Territ looked at the man, he had a pistol pointed at the mando. Territ chuckled.

"Kid, min' your own business." Territ said to the Mando. Territ pulled out his pistol and aimed at the Mando's head. "You go' two gun on ye kid, put yours down."

 

((Devaronian, Devorian: it's a big red guy with horns either way. You say potato, I say potato.))

A quickdraw; Galus liked the Devaronian already. He chuckled lightly at the man's nonchalant attitude as he almost casually took the upper hand.

"The guy's got a point. However, I'm shocked he caught a Mando off his guard. Didn't your mother ever tell you to always wear your buc'ye?"

He figured now was as good a time as any to offhandedly demonstrate that he understood Mando'a. He wanted to do anything he could to catch the attention of the women in the next booth without looking like he was trying to do so; an offworlder with knowledge of Mando'a would be at least unexpected.

"Now then, why don't you just put the blaster down and tell us why you're so trigger happy with this guy?"

 

CHARACTER SHEET / PROFILE

Name: Sol Gonsar
Age : 23
Species: Human
Home/Planet: Mandalore

Physical Description: 4'7" 137lb. Short and thin, but very densely built. Black hair that hangs down through his helmet as a thin ponytail

Any other relevant info (Weapons, ships, armor, whatever...): Carries two rather out-dated DL-44 blasters, and a small vibroaxe. He lacks the Jetbackpack of other Mandos, and his armor is severly worn. His ship, The Sleeping Krayt, is an old Z-95 Headhunter armed with a single concussion missle launcher.

Background: Sol left his home planet at 16 to become a Bounty Hunter and has struggled at the bottom of the hunting ladder, getting stuck with the cheap messy jobs and un-paying employers. All of his equipment has been passed down through three generations of Gonsar's, and is therefore prone to overheating and breaking down in the middle of a hunt.

(This is my first forum RPG ever, so if I messup please point me in the right direction, and I'll do the best I can. I'm not sure where to jump in, so I might wait til I can find an easy place to slip in before posting.)

 

?Sounds tempting...? Nora replied, taking a sip of her ale, ?Perhaps we could take a look at your inventory after lunch, I promised to buy my daughter a decent meal.?

Evaar perked up again at the reminder of food and reached for a menu.

?No matter how old they get you still feed them, eh?? the huntress joked, but gave Evaar a doting smile just the same.

Saviin seemed pleased that Koyle took a polite interest in Edee. Most people, Mando or not, were usually repelled by the animal. ?I?m Saviin, and this is my cousin Nora,? she said, taking the liberty of introducing her little group. ?And that?s Evaar there with her nose in the menu...?


(OOC: Welcome Tiborax and Sol! I'm kinda confused about what's going on with Galus and Territ though...)

 

((DarthBrutus' char pulled a blaster on Territ. Galus saw this and pulled a flechette pistol on Derman (DarthBrutus). Then Territ pulled his blaster on Derman. The only reason Galus got involved was so he could catch the attention of the three ladies (Fettish's chars) in the booth next to him, whose conversation he had been eavesdropping on. He's also interested in gaining the ARC Helmet, albeit for personal reasons.))

 

BTW: I should have described the girls' armor better.

They all wear black armor, its a family thing.
Saviin's is trimmed in purple, Evaar's is trimmed in green, Nora's is solid black.

I meant to explain that before and forgot. But that's what happens when you write things late at night...

 

Sol finished his third drink and set it back on the table. What was the drink called again? Oh well it was strong and he felt like that would be a good thing. He scratched the stuble under his helmet. He hadn't shaved since his last, failed, job.

And now he was back on his home planet, spending his few credits in the Lararyc Strill.

Jawa juice, that was the name...

Random thoughts kept drifting through his foggy brain, the juice seemed to have a rather soporific effect on him, but everything came into focus when a conversation filtered through the fog.

The group of three sitting at the table across from his were talking about Fett, and a mission he had given them. Mission meant credits, and Fett meant more credits.

Sol liked credits.

But he also knew that people who stuck their nose in Fett's buisness, generally lost it, and more. Still if it was just people working for Fett and not Fett himself...

Sol decided to wait, and listen.

((I kinda jumped back in time a bit, but I couldn't think of where else to stick him. Hope its not a problem))

 

A helmet....

Fett must be going senile. The greatest bounty hunter that the universe has ever known, and he's paying others to get him a helmet...

Sol Gonsar was done listenening to their conversation. As much as anything related to Fett should interest him, there had been no mention of any large quantities of credits, and therefore his attention wandered. Of course, he smiled under his red helmet, there were always interesting things happening on this planet. Three guns had been drawn across the cantina.

Even if there were no credits involved, Sol always enjoyed a good fight. He stood up and swaggered over to the the trio.

One versus two, with the two being a devorian and a non-mandalorian. His choice of sides was obvious. He drew his dual DL-44s.

"I dunno what the trouble is boys, but this looks unfair." He stuck his blaster in the non-mando's face. "How about I even things up?"

 

((Double post?))

"Not your business Mandolrian! This Mando right 'ere drew his gun on me!" Territ said. While he was talking his free hand was punching in commands to NT on the Inferno threw a small box on his belt. "Listen Mando peoples, I got a ship over us in about tree seconds wit big guns, put jur guns down." The roaring of a ships engines could be heard above the tavern.

 

?I?m Saviin, and this is my cousin Nora,? she said, taking the liberty of introducing her little group. ?And that?s Evaar there with her nose in the menu...?

Koyle smiled and nodded to Nora and Evaar as they were named. Mother, daughter, and cousin, then. That explained the hair. He was beginning to wonder if it was cosmetic. It seemed that Koyle had stumbled upon a mini clan moot. That could mean a lot of things. Hopefully, it meant work for Koyle.

It also meant Koyle would keep eyes and hands off Evaar. Mando mothers were strange creatures. They could arrange your death as easily as an impromptu marriage ceremony. Both involved a blaster.

"Well, don't let me interrupt your lunch--"

That's when all the unpleasant shouting and blaster pointing erupted. Koyle turned slightly at the waist to watch the commotion. The sleepy look never left his face. You'd think he was trying to find the source of an offending scent.

Three humans, one Devaronian. Lots of hand weapons. Not just their's, either. This bar was situated in the capital city of Mandalore. The other bar patrons may have been miners and laborers instead of bounty hunters, but that didn't make them any less Mandalorian. Hold-out blasters and daggers were appearing from sleeves and boot cuffs by the fistful. Mando'ade don't like being threatened with air-strikes.

Koyle put his buc'ye back on. He undid the holster strap on his pistol, but didn't draw it. Instead, Koyle palmed a flash-bang grenade from his belt. It disappeared in his hand. Just another trick learned from playing pazaac all night with Jon'buir.

"You three seem like very nice ladies," Koyle's voice rasped quietly from his helmet emitter. "So, I'll be a gentleman and stand here as a meat shield until you get your buc'ye on."

 

(OOC: I'm note sure if it's still possible to join, but I followed this RPG from the beginning on, and it's developing pretty pretty cool... I never played an RPG before, but I think I'll give it a go. Be sure to tell me when I'm doing something wrong. Also, I live in Germany, so I won't be able to post too regularly)

CHARACTER SHEET / PROFILE

Name: Dagon Cadoc (originally Dagon Karr)
Age: 51
Species: Human
Home/Planet: Concord Dawn
Physical Description: 5'10'', 200 lbs, buzz-cut grey hair (nearly bald), http://img147.imageshack.us/img147/6659/borshd8.jpg
Ship: Heavily modified MandalMotors M3-A Scyk interceptor
Weapon(s): BlasTech DT-57 heavy blaster pistol, a Tehk'la Blade and various vibro-knives
Armor: traditional Mandalorian Supercommando armor torso and leg protectors, but without gauntlets and arm protectors; Dagon wears a tunic and wide trousers to conceal his protection; manly brown and olive colors
Background: Karr is not the average Mandalorian. In the first 30 years of his live, he was proud of his origin, had a family and made his living as a bodyguard and gun-for-hire, always trying to get a job with the highest bid while he wasn't working on his farm on Concord Dawn. It is said he had even been Journeyman Protector for roughly more than a year, but all of the sudden, a gruesome event changed his life completely. When he left Concord Dawn, he did not only leave his home and family behind, but presumably also his legacy as a Mandalorian; he became a Dar'manda. Or at least that is what others tell you about Karr; he doesn't talk about his past, and you better not risk ask him in the first place. The only thing that is known is that he settled on Mandalore with a changed name and opened his own security firm, with him as the only member. Although nobody knew he was a Mandalorian himself, he got lucrative jobs and made himself a name in the low-life in Keldabe. He is a good friend of the owner of the Lararyc Strill, his favorite pub.

 

"There was a time..." Dagon Cadoc said contemplatively and took another sip from his mug. It was best net'ra gal with a good shot of Bakurian Namana liquor, and he wondered how many mugs he had drunken, yet.

"There's the chrono," the barkeeper said and pointed at the chrono on the wall behind him. "If you're not able to read it any longer, than maybe y'should consider leaving."

"I wasn't asking for the time," Cadoc grunted back. "I was just thinking... times have been better, and so has business." He was a bit irritated that not the owner himself was serving today, but one of his annoying, overweening employees.

"Aye," said the barkeeper and nodded at something behind Cadoc. "Would you mind doing something about those jumpy pistoleros over there? Y'know that Norr'n doesn't like weapons in his pub, and despite his efforts forbidding them, the city says you can't ask a Mandie to put down his gear - they say it's an insult for them. Terrific race, those Mandies, eh?"

In former times, Cadoc wouldn't have hesitated grabbing the Duros by the scruff of his neck and smacking him in his ugly blue face, but in the past twenty years, he nearly had forgotten that he used to be a Mando'ad himself. Keeping a low profile and hiding is true identity had worked pretty well for the past twenty years, so he suppressed his anger and did nothing about the barkeeper's comment.

He turned around and spotted three men--a Devaronian, a Mandalorian and another human--each with his weapons drawn. The Mandalorian seemed to be the one in trouble, with two guns--one from the human, the other from the Devaronian--pressed on against his head.

"Terrific, indeed," Cadoc said scornfully, sipped the last drops of his favorite drink out of the mug and put the mug forcefully on the bar. Meanwhile, another Mandalorian had joined the round, his blaster aimed at the human. Cadoc looked around and noticed that some of the other bar patrons had already drawn their various sorts of weapons. Just in case, like he used to act in his times as a merc.

Without further ado, Cadoc stood up and placidly paced over to the group. The Devaronian barked out something in a weird slang and an instant later, Cadoc could hear the bluster of ion engines above the pub.

Seems like it's the Devaronian who's in trouble. And if he isn't, yet, he'll be any moment.

He looked around and spotted a blue-armored Mandalorian in the corner drawing a flashbang, that suddenly disappeared a moment later.

Cadoc had now arrived at the group, and even though he hadn't drawn a weapon, yet, he seemed to get their attention.

Just like in the old times, he thought, inwardly smiling.

"We don't want to make a habit of things here, lads, do we?" he said in a rigorous tone, his glance frozen on the Devaronian. "You have everyone in this cantina against you, so call your ship off if you want to see the next day."

 

((Statement: Galus is still sitting at the table. I don't think the bar is close enough to the table to have a gun pressed to his face, due to personal space issues alone. Of course, pointing makes total sense. Also, nice Slevin reference, there.))

 

((OOC: My bad. Wasn't reading closely enough... since it's only a minor factor, I hope I doesn't matter so much, since I can't edit it any longer. As for the Slevin reference... was it so obvious?! Okay, maybe because of my sig, eh? I figured it'd take longer for someone to figure out. Anyway, why don't you continue with the actual 'game'?))

 

(("Double post?"))

((Yeah, sorry about that. I had to leave my comp and when I got back the edit time was up.))

 

((Doesn't matter, I was just putting it out there))

Galus still hadn't lifted his feet off of the table, in spite of the tense situation at hand. Everyone seemed so serious, but all Galus did was grin.

"It seems that we're caught in a bit of a Mos Eisley Standoff."

He then shifted his pistol so it now pointed at the Devaronian.

"I suggest you do what the man says. While I know you didn't start this, I'm not really a fan of how you're planning on ending it."

He glanced down at his pistol, then back at the Devaronian.

"Now bear in mind that while you may feel safe from blaster fire in your armor over there, I'm not pointing a blaster at you; what I have is a flechette pistol. Back in the day, this used to punch through stormtrooper armor like a lightsaber cuts through bone. While that may not have the same effect on your fine Mando armor, it would still feel like getting kicked in the chest by a rampaging bantha."

He tilted the pistol upward slightly so it now pointed at the Devaronian's head.

"However, I could just shoot straight for your face, and make pulp out of those nice shiny horns before you can say 'glitterstim'. So I suppose the question you should be asking yourself is: Do I feel lucky?"

 

I spy another man pointing a gun at me, I bring up my Charric in my other hand and point it at the newcomer. Ever been hit by a disruptor before?

 

((OOC: Darth_Brutus666, you're handling a bit out of timeframe... as of now, no gun is pointed at you any longer. However, I interpret the situation with you aiming your gun at Galus (Tiborax) now)


"It seems that we're caught in a bit of a Mos Eisley Standoff," the voice of the non-Mandalorian came from the bar. The man looked like a Corellian with his black pilot's jacket, his overdeveloped self-confidence and the fact that he was sitting there in his seat as if he was having everything under control. Apparently, he also was the only non-Mandalorian in the pub, apart from Cadoc himself; who, of course, wasn't really not a Mandalorian, either.

What the shab is a Mos Eisley Standoff?! he wondered, but didn't say it aloud.

The other man was now moving his gun's aim from the Mandalorian who had apparently started it all to the Devaronian.

"I suggest you do what the man says," he said. "While I know you didn't start this, I'm not really a fan of how you're planning on ending it."

Well put.

"Now bear in mind that while you may feel safe from blaster fire in your armor over there," the man continued I'm not pointing a blaster at you; what I have is a flechette pistol. Back in the day, this used to punch through stormtrooper armor like a lightsaber cuts through bone. While that may not have the same effect on your fine Mando armor, it would still feel like getting kicked in the chest by a rampaging bantha."

Definitely a Corellian. So much boasting is unique in the universe.

The Corellian lifted his flechette pistol to aim at the Devaronian's head, now. "However, I could just shoot straight for your face, and make pulp out of those nice shiny horns before you can say 'glitterstim'. So I suppose the question you should be asking yourself is: Do I feel lucky?"

Now, the Mando who had only recently been aimed at by both the Devaronian and the Corellian, took action and drew another gun, aimed at the Corellian.

"Ever been hit by a disruptor before?" the Mandalorian asked.

Osi'kyr! This is seriously getting out of hand!

"Everybody calm down already," Cados said sedately. "We don't want this to become a skirmish, so put your weapons down, there's no need to get trigger-happy."

He took another look at the blue-armored Mandalorian in the background who appeared to be protecting a couple of Mando women, and the flash-bang he had spotted in the Mando's hand a little earlier came back to his mind.

With a nod he which tried to make look as casually as possible he prompted the man to take action.




((OOC: I won't be online in the next 20 hours, it's already night over here in Germany, and I don't think I can ask you not to continue with the story too far, can I? I had something in mind for my character to do, but well, I bet when I get online tomorrow afternoon, everybody will already be in hyperspace en route to the Helmet.

So, as I don't want my character to get lost without reason, I'm kindly asking browwiw to have his character use the flashbang. My OC's drunk and will get unconscious by that, and this gives me a chance to catch up with you later. Thanks.))

 

"Dont tink you wanna do tat human." Territ nodded up to the roar of a ships engines."Kill me tis entire place go Boom!" People of the bar started looking at each other, none of them wanting to die, so they couldnt kill the Devorian. "Im not really afraid to die, just afriad of te place waitin for me" Territ let his gun got at ease. "Do all tese people wanna die cause some trigger happy Mando pointed a gun at me?"

 

Galus didn't say anything right away; rather, he simply took a swig from his glass of Ebla Beer and placed his pistol down on the table.

"I guess I'll be the big man here and put my gun down first. I don't really give a damn what you di'kuts do to each other, anyway."

He folded his hands and addressed the Devoranian.

"Now how about you stop chewing the luna-weed and call off the big guns, eh? No one really needs to get vaporized today, and I'm enjoying my ebla beer far too much right now to have my life cut short."

 

"Nt te ship back into te hanger" Territ said. The loud engine roars drifted off and shut off. Territ turned back to the barkeep. "Bantha meat in Correlian rice please"

"Comin up" The barkeep said as if nothing happened.

 

Why of all the people in the bar did he have to stick his gun in the face of one with a flechette pistol...

oh well at least it isn't being aimed at my head.

Sol began to back up and shifted one blaster to cover the Devorian and the other pointed at the flechette man, but not to directly. Any desire he had for a fight had left him as soon as the air strike had been mentioned.

"I guess I'll be the big man here and put my gun down first. I don't really give a damn what you di'kuts do to each other, anyway.Now how about you stop chewing the luna-weed and call off the big guns, eh? No one really needs to get vaporized today, and I'm enjoying my ebla beer far too much right now to have my life cut short." This from Flechette Man.

As much as it pained him to avoid violence, he agreed with the aruetii.

He holstered his blasters, but kept one hand ready on the vibro-axe concealed in his belt, as he walked back to his seat.

 

Galus smiled; the Devaronian had made the right decision.

"Good man."

He looked towards the bartender.

"Hey, barkeep! Another beer!"

He finally craned his head back to look at the ladies in the booth next to his own. He was still grinning nonchalantly.

"Devaronians; you can't trust 'em as far as you can throw 'em."

 

"You three seem like very nice ladies," Koyle's voice rasped quietly from his helmet emitter. "So, I'll be a gentleman and stand here as a meat shield until you get your buc'ye on."

?How chivalrous...? Nora said as she donned her helm. Saviin and Evaar followed suit, powering up their blasters. However, the scene managed to restore itself to some semblance of order, without an outright brawl.

The man in the next booth leaned to comment on the happenings. "Devaronians; you can't trust 'em as far as you can throw 'em."

?Ever actually thrown one?? Saviin inquired, ?....I have.?

Nora pulled her helm back off, shaking her hair in the process. ?Perhaps we should have our lunch elsewhere...? she suggested to the group. The huntress rose from the table, her helm under one arm, ?You are welcome to join us vod,? she offered to Koyle, appreciative of his earlier assistance.

Evaar stood up as well, stepping over Edee on her way out of the booth, ?I don?t really like the food here anyway...? she commented as she swigged down the remainder of her ale. ?We should go to that grill near the market place. Then I can go get our supplies after we eat...?

?Works for me...? Saviin replied as she exited the booth, pushing Edee to his feet with the toe of her boot. ?C?mon, move out...? she ordered the lazy animal.

(OOC: Koyle needn?t worry about Mando-mom Nora, as long as he?s not a brute toward Evaar. )