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Thread: A New Dawn [Dorn Force]

  1. #1

    Reb A New Dawn [Dorn Force]

    John Glayde carefully manipulated the controls of the Astral Queen, on loan from her owners once again. Lieutenant Luka had been somewhat reluctant to allow the ship out of his sights again, given the unfortunate effect that the exposure to Raxus Prime's atmosphere had on the ship's hull last time it had been borrowed, but Amos had gone to bat for him, and for that Glayde had been greatful. Unfortunately, the burly Sergeant had declined the invitation to join him on this particular endeavour; if nothing else, it would have been more reassuring to have Amos sitting in the navigator's seat behind him, rather than the irritatingly talkative Oran Jsorra.

    Fortunately, the Corporal had finally taken the hint that Glayde wasn't in a particularly chatty mood, and the last few hours of their Hyperspace voyage had been blissfully quiet; the fact that Glayde had spent much of it sitting in one of the ship's quad laser turrets might have played some part in that, of course.

    Now however, necessity had forced the both of them back into the cockpit. An ominous dial ticked away on the display in front of him, counting down to what the nav computer informed him was the optimum safe distance to drop out of Hyperspace. The calculated route jarred with the military instincts in his mind, which wanted him to push the limits of safety and manifest back into real space as close to the planet's gravity well as possible: slip in past the bulk of the planet's defenses. Unfortunately, their mission called for them to be discreet: their cover called for them to appear as if they were a harmless civilian freighter - one of the reasons that borrowing the Queen had been such an advantage to them.

    John sighed, and flicked on the ship's intercom. "Reverting from Hyperspace in fifteen seconds," he announced, hearing his voice echoing back at him through the corridor that led to the cockpit. "Stand by." More controls were flipped, switched and otherwise manipulated; silently he mouthed the words of an old Alderaanian nursery rhyme that he'd learned long ago beat out ten seconds perfectly. The console counter reached zero just as the last words escaped him in a breath. A slight hint of a satisfied smile tugged at his lips as he haulled down on the lever that would cut power to the Hyperdrive. Ahead of him, the dizzying swirl of blue snapped and shattered, colours melting into streaks of blinding white before peeling back to reveal the reassuring star-peppered blackness of space. The emerald orb of their destination loomed, the curve of the world just breaching his vision at the base of the cockpit viewport.

    Behind him, he heard the comms come alive with chatter from Ruuria's orbital control; for once, Jsorra made himself useful and handled it discreetly. Glayde meanwhile leaned forward, grabbing into a recessed alcove in the console ahead of him and pulling out an earpiece. Fitting it in place, he toggled on the Queen's auxiliary comm array, switching over to the coded frequency that Intel had prepared. "Echo Niner; this is Delta Niner," he spoke, willing silently that the array of encryptions and countermeasures that the Alliance had put in place would hide their signal from the prying eyes of orbital command. "The kids are asking if we're nearly there yet; are we still go for our dinner date as planned?"

  2. #2
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    Serasai Onashi idly fiddled with the ear-piece that he had been given as Glayde's voice hissed with a slight bit of static through the tiny speaker. The communications device would have been uncomfortable, but due to his background, it was merely a minor annoyance, like a fly that buzzed around him, but could not distract him.

    The A280 he'd been given was definitely battered and had seen heavy combat before. Onashi was not surprised, but got a good feeling from the weapon; it felt as if it wished to fulfil its purpose as he wished to fulfil his. He checked the charge once more, and mentally counted out how many extra packs he was carrying with him.

    Once done with that, he closed his eyes and began to meditate, mentally and spiritually preparing himself for the upcoming battle.

  3. #3
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    "You have a natural talent. Got to be one of the Force-damned best shooters I've ever seen. I could drill a thousand men over and over again, could run them by the book until the end of time and they wouldn't be half as good as you are. But you aren't a soldier, kid. You have no business being here and even less business even trying to get into the 5th."
    "I can do it! Just give me a chance! I swear to you...sir. I can help the Alliance. I-I
    need to. For Corellia."
    "....fine. You want in, I can get you in. I can teach you what it takes to be a soldier. The rest though, will be up to you. Just don't go mouthing off to the wrong people. I'm putting my ass on the line here."
    "..."
    "Tur'enne..."
    "Sir?"
    "Don't frak this up."
    "I don't intend to."

    A breath of air was let out sharply as her eyes opened and moved around the room as the earpiece came to life with Glayde's voice - something which tore apart the strange memory she was experiencing. The interruption dragged her out of the half-sleep Charles had allowed herself. No point in letting a good flight go to waste, after all. It took a few moments to brush the cobwebs away mentally before silently cursing herself for letting it get that far in the first place. The hell was she thinking about that old stuff for anyway?

    Charlotte forced herself to relax upon realizing the tenseness that was starting to form in her shoulders. Her mind was shoved back away from the past and more towards the task at hand, going over everything once more as the ship shook ever so slightly again. If anything she was determined to not let herself doze again.

  4. #4
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    Onashi had finished meditating by the time Tur'enne had awakened.

    He never attained that state of 'emptiness' that the warriors of legend attained, in all the years of his trying. Even so, he always focussed on his breathing, and patiently dismissed the thoughts that buzzed through his mind like flies, or the even more distracting tiny little ka, which came during the wet, hot summers and dined on one's blood. He killed each thought: picturing them as little ka, and metaphorically smacked them until they died.

    Thoughts of his mother and father, aging and listless; thoughts of his wife, who had at the time of his leaving had not begotten him a son to carry on his name; thoughts of his mistress, and her lithe form and dark eyes; thoughts of Tur'enne; thoughts of the men he had killed. Each one was ruthlessly crushed by a fist of wilful indifference until the only thoughts running through his mind were of the feel of the blaster rifle in his hands, the beating of his heart, and his part in the mission he was taking part in.

    He opened his eyes, and saw Tur'enne asleep, or in a state close to it. There were a few men back home in the mercenary companies who slept before battle, though it was frowned upon due to the fact that it could make one sluggish. She then opened her eyes quickly as Glayde's voice once more sounded through the speakers, and glanced about the room, as if to make sure none had seen her.

    "Sleep well, Tur'enne?" he asked, his mouth quirking up into the familiar smirk. He knew the expression made his question seem more caustic, but he had called upon it so long and so many times that it was always the first one on his face. Despite that, the question was an honest one. He wanted her to engage her mind to brush off the last vestiges of whatever had caused her to drift off.
    Last edited by Serasai Onashi; Aug 13th, 2009 at 10:15:48 PM.

  5. #5
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    "Not when I can help it."

    The comment, and even the wink that followed weren't exactly characteristic of her. In fact the moment they were let slip was quickly followed by another that instantly was chiding her for it. She wasn't one to shy away from flirting, heck, given the right circumstances it could be downright fun. But typically it was reserved for someone she actually meant to move on with...or the occasional closer friend, just to watch them squirm a bit at the awkwardness of it. Maybe it was just another side of her antagonistic nature, some part of her being overly curious to see just how many not-so-subtle pokes and prods she could direct at Onashi before the mercenary cracked. It was a challenge. She liked challenges.

    Challenges were good at keeping everything else from taking the main focus in her mind. She half wondered if Onashi had picked up on all of that during the short time the squad had been together and maybe that's why he'd said something in the first place. Nah...

    "But since you asked...no, not really. Hyperspace and nap time don't quite make a great mix for some reason."

  6. #6
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    The egg that was Lieutenant Onashi did not crack, this time. In fact, his only response to her flirtatious retort was a slight upturning - a twitch - of the corners of his mouth. One side (the left) more than the other, of course.

    And then, she replied, somewhat seriously. Onashi wasn't really interested in the conversation, but knew that in the absence of emptiness before battle, a warrior should simplify their thoughts to as few as possible, to lessen distraction. He'd been particularly good at doing so, enough to be picked to give lessons in meditation and self-control to the newer recruits in the companies. They'd hated him; he was the only one who made them fast, drinking only one cup of water and eating one fish and one bowl of rice only, and then would send them off to train. More than a few fainted due to hunger, until they learned how to control their minds on the tasks at hand and ignore the grumbling, gnawing feeling in their bellies.

    Onashi didn't say anything in return immediately, but quirked an eyebrow at the woman in a show of bemused curiosity as if to ask her, Indeed?

    "Then why do you fall asleep while in Hyperspace?" he asked finally.

  7. #7
    "Alrighty, campers -"

    Glayde's voice played vanguard, preceeding him down the corridor that connected the cockpit to the main body of the ship. As he walked, he plucked the power pack from his blaster, holding it up so his eyes could scan the power indicators. A few shots shy of full; that'd be enough for the bar fight he dreaded his team dragging him into. Hopefully, some miracle would allow them to skip over that particular eventuality, but from what he knew so far, the group hardly played well with others even at the best of times.

    He stepped into the recreational area, gaze settling on two fifths of his teammates. Where's O'Hurn? his mind thought instantly, mere nanoseconds before it concluded that he was probably in the cargo bay, tending to his blaster rifle. An almost habitual preparation for the Pathfinder it seemed, no doubt he'd opted to engage in the activity there to avoid the scrutinising observations of Serasai Onashi. Even Glayde, who prided himself on being a pragmatic and accomodating man, found the mercenary's presense, and choice in literature, to be a little creepy.

    No doubt the final member of their team - a Corporal and Urban Combat Specialist, named Natan, or Nadal, or something like that - had sought refuge elsewhere in the ship as well. Since his attention had already been drawn towards him, Glayde chose to direct his orders at Onashi specifically. "Find the others," he instructed, coming to a halt, "And get them to help you unload the speeders." In order to avoid the awkwardness and complexity of having to obtain transport - or, Force forbid, walking - upon their arrival, SpecForce had managed to source a quartet of speederbikes to help them move around the planet; two single seats, and a pair of twins. Between them, the six members of the team would be able to get where they needed to go: and hopefully when they showed up at the rendezvous, they'd look like a bunch of mercenaries rolling into town, rather than some military contingent showing up. Unfortunately, though their was physically space within the Astral Queen for all four vehicles, moving them in and out was a little more complicated; hence the team effort required.

    Glayde's sudden halt had compelled Jsorra, following dutifully at his heel, to collide into the back of him. He unleashed a sigh, rolled his eyes, and then swallowed his frustration before turning to their resident technician. "Finish locking the ship down, but perform all the pre-flight preparations that you can. If we have to leave in a hurry, I don't want to be wasting any time."

    He span back to the remaining member of the team. "And, uh -" His mind stalled, searching for a task to assign to Lieutenant Tur'enne. "You. Come outside and -" He frowned. Shrugged. "Help me supervise?"

  8. #8
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    Protocol, both in his native companies and in the Rebel Alliance, had the soldier of Onashi's rank stand and salute the officer of Glayde's rank. Onashi used to follow that rule stringently. Now, however, he merely listened quietly as the man handed out orders.

    "Alright, alright," he said, standing and stretching. For good measure, he rotated his shoulders, twisted his head into a number of rather painful looking positions (as if he was going to twist it off), and then rotated his torso sideways as far as it would go; first to the left, and then to the right. Each movement elicited a number of pops and cracks from his body, the joints realigning themselves loudly. With a satisfied grunt, he pulled his pipe from a hidden pocket along with a small pouch, and sat down while he filled it.

    "What should I do if I don't find them?" the Lieutenant asked while stuffing the last bit of leaf into the bowl. "Other than unload the speeders myself, of course."

  9. #9
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    Captain Glayde had interrupted her from being forced to actually answer Onashi's question. She almost may have considered thanking him for it, but then again, this was Glayde and Charles pretty much would have rather shot herself in the foot with her own rifle than ever thank him for anything.

    She listened to the orders being given, half insulted that she wasn't expected to be helping move the heavy stuff but in the same moment finding that supervise thing to be overly amusing. So when Onashi asked his little question she couldn't help but respond before the Captain had a chance to.

    "What? Didn't bring one of your novellas to keep you entertained?"

    The smirk she gave him was one of those kinds only females ever seemed to be able to pull off. Every man must have known the type...the kind that were mixed with playfulness and that genuine hint of cruelty. Charles delivered it perfectly before spinning around, letting the smirk drop for a moment enough to deliver a nod to their commanding officer and then went to wait outside while the speeder bikes were unloaded.

  10. #10
    The whine of the engines died with a sigh as the speeder bike came to a halt; Glayde vaulted from the saddle, and kicked down the stands that would hold the bike out of the dirt before he killed the repulsorlift generators. The bike would hardly be a challenge for a determined enough group of thieves to steal, but at least disabling the anti-gravity cushion that lightened the craft might serve as some small deterrant.

    Their motley crew was a mildly amusing sight; Onashi had somehow managed to call shotgun on the remaining single-seat speeder - probably some threat related to his favoured literary style, Glayde was willing to bet - forcing the remaining members to wrestle over who got to drive, and who rode pillion. Despite losing out on control, the gleeful expression on Tur'enne's face - no doubt a direct reaction to the dour and disgruntled expression on O'Hurn's - suggested that she was making the best of it, and was enjoying the frustration that having her clinging to his back was clearly causing the Sergeant. The other pair looked as miserable as each other: the Na-something Corporal irritated at the constant fretting and panicking in his ear; Corporal Jsorra pale, shaking, and looking somewhat ridiculous in the large pair of goggles he'd insisted on wearing, "In case I get something in my eye, go blind, and am then incapable of completing my part of the mission."

    Glayde crunched his shoulders, and cocked his head from one side to the other. The rendezvous point was a dim and dingy cantina; the sort of place where the odds of being overheard were slim, and where you could get away with shooting the eavesdropper involved if you were. Fortunately, the arrival of six apparent mercenaries wasn't an uncommon sight, and was likely to only attract attention if one of the other crowds of thugs was in a particular mood for an altercation.

    Keeping his voice low, and his instructions minimal, Glayde turned to his team. "Stow the bikes," he instructed, to no one in particular. "I'll find our contact and meet you in there. Blend in, but -" He winced, imagining the kind of trouble they could wind up with if his teammates attacked the cantina's alcohol supply with the expected SpecForce gusto. "- don't get too blended, alright?"

  11. #11
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    It was funny, Onashi decided to himself. It seemed the worse conditions got during missions, the better he reacted; the more things to distract him, the less he actually became distracted. It wasn't reasonable and didn't make sense at all, but that was the way it was. The muggy tropical weather of the planet enlivened the mercenary, and he parked his bike with an equanimity that he rarely showed; either he was sarcastically depressed and/or rude, or he was sarcastically cheerful and/or abrasive.

    Glayde's orders were something he welcomed. The mission had started, and he didn't really need to play a mercenary. He was one already, after all, and he had brought something to pass the time while in the cantina: a datapad with a book he had coveted for some time, but for various reasons had not been able to get: Uueg Tching's Sayings.

    The galaxy was a font of wisdom and information, and he was going to soak up as much knowledge as he could while he still lived. But he also loved to read, and would read anything he could get his hands onto.

    With a smooth motion he pulled the datapad from a pocket of his armour and tossed it absently into the air, whistling a tune he had heard somewhere, but hadn't cared enough to actually listen to. After a few steps, he turned back and levelled a beckoning look on the others.

    "By the time you all get into the cantina," he said with his usual smirk somewhat muted, "All the alcohol will be gone. And what will we do to pass the time then?"

  12. #12
    Maxx Elgrin
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    Currently inside The Arthoped...

    Ruurians were insectoid creatures that grew like any ordinary insect, except these grew into 1.1 meter tall mindless drones that like nothing better to do then fly around for a mate to screw and then have a nice bowl of leaf later. In this particular established, the mindless Wing Fliers were banned since all sorts of beings in the galaxy could partake of refreshments and food who really didn't need a dinner show of two bugs frelling. People tend to loose their appetite.

    The highly intellectual and creative Larvae, who also happened to govern this planet, were the only members of their species allowed inside. They could converse as civilized beings.

    It was here that a boyishly handsome human sat to share some blue liquid substance with a native Ruurian. They spoke as old friends would after being separated by at least 5 standard years. To the regular observer, it was nothing out of the ordinary. Yet to a well trained spy, the sentence structure, body language, and word play meant an exchange of information. The seemingly random twitching of the Ruurian's antennae were actually directions, a quick scratch of the nose was a query to how many guards... But it looked so simply ordinary and none present took notice or cared.

    Rager'ith would be Elgrin's last contact to speak with before the rest of his team came for the briefing, and this Ruurian was quite helpful in securing loyalists inside the Imperial processing plant to gather Intel on security, troop movement, and layout of the surrounding area and inside. As supposedly loyal Ruurian was to the Empire, quite a few sympathizers have cropped up since the increased Imperial presence.

    Another drink was bought by Rager'ith and slid over across the table. Elgrin had to shake his hand free from the sweating glass, but all the untrained eyes in the room missed the Rebel palming the access card into the duster's sleeve. With a pleasant smile by mouth or by bulbous eyes, the Ruurian stood up from the flattened stone slab that were used as seats for his species and shambled out of the cantina - which left a quite cheerful, but introspective Elgrin, sipping his drink and checking his wrist chronometer.

    A dramatic sigh came. "Where the frell are they?"
    Last edited by Maxx Elgrin; Sep 14th, 2009 at 04:36:51 PM.

  13. #13
    Glayde battled his way through the crowded cantina, negotiating his way through the swarm of people that had collected between the entrance and the doorway; apparently too lazy to shuffle around to the perimeter of the establishment for fear of making the distance to the bar too great to effectively stumble there for a refill. He adopted an objective tactic, steering closer to the less desirable and more pungent patrons. The Ruurians in particular seemed to be avoided by many of the more human-like species; in most places, the outsiders tended to keep away from the locals where possible, but here the visual disparity between the two groups made the divides even easier to spot; and navigate. Unfortunately, the plan did not come without its risks: the elbow of his jacket already carried a film of some sort of sticky, mucus like substance that he'd collected when it brushed against an unpleasant part of a Ruurian's anatomy.

    A surge in the crowd knocked him off course yet again. He threw out an arm for balance, which unfortunately landed in an inconvenient position atop the chest of a somewhat rotund and portly Twi'lek. He snapped it away in an instant, wincing. "Sorry," he muttered.

    A twinkle sparked in the green-skinned woman's eye. "No need to be, handsome," she purred, her tattoo'd brows arching in an attempt at seduction. Her mouth curled in a smile. "You can touch me as much as you like."

    Glayde responded with a thin-lipped smile of his own. "Uh, no thanks."

    Her expression changed in an instant, morphing into a scowl. Her voice changed too, harsh and agressive all of a sudden. "What's that supposed to mean?" Glayde recoiled from the sudden sound of her voice, and found himself with a shoulder pressed against the firm chest of an apparently quite muscular man. "You some kind of jumped up, non-human hating Imperial scum?"

    Glayde glanced over his shoulder, his periferal vision catching a glimpse of the Twi'lek standing behind him. He swallowed, hard, his hand straying towards the blaster at his hip. Still, it wouldn't do to back down; not if the appearence of mercenaries they'd gone to such pains to cultivate was to be maintained. He squared his jaw, gaze turned straight into the beady eyes of the seductress. "Not in the least," he replied in a casual drawl, allowing a quirk of smile to form at the corner of his lips. "I just have a rule against a close encounter with anyone who'd exceed the cargo capacity of my ship."

    The Twi'lek's eyes widened, rage twisting her emerald features. Her gaze switched to the other man; her son, it seemed. "Did you here what he called me? What are you going to do about it."

    A smile began to break on the man's features, a deep chuckle emenating from his lungs. A hand clapped Glayde on the shoulder. "I suggest you run," he offered, in a loud whisper, "Before she decides to eat you."

    A shove propelled him in the right direction and, under the cover of the domestic dispute, Glayde swiftly made his escape. The crowd had fortunately begun to thin, allowing another sweep with his eyes to land upon the familiar, battered old duster that Captain Elgrin had worn the last time the two had met. His shoulders sagged a little in relief as he paced over, easing himself carefully into the seat opposite. He gestured towards the jacket. "You should really think about getting that cleaned."

  14. #14
    Kyran O'Hurn
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    Kyran stowed his bike with the others. Close enough to the bar to be quickly accessible, but out of sight from anyone who might want to take them for a joy ride.

    Lagging behind the rest Ky was the last one into the cantina, and as soon as he entered his senses went to a heightened state, taking in everything he could while maintaining a relaxed look about him that came from years of experience. It was training that allowed him to spot the subtle hand off that was occuring in one corner of the bar, probably the purchase of some local narcotic for a few creds, and the overly amorous couple in another corner.

    As he made his way to the bar he started to keep track of the various things he noted and assigned them a threat level. For the moment nothing was jumping out at him, too the degree that the couple in the corner was highest on his list. It wouldn't have been the first time an intelligence unit had used the idea of a couple looking for privacy in a dark corner as a rouse.

    Stepping up to the bar he waited until the tender walked over to him.

    "Ale... Whatever's cold."

    The bartender nodded and Ky caught the extra look that he was given, a look that was directed toward the left side of his open jacket. Whether it had been exposed or if the bartender was just looking for a weapon, Ky adjusted his jacket to ensure that the DC-15s blaster pistol in it's shoulder holster was safely out of sight before the beer was placed on the bar in front of him.

    Tossing a couple creds on the bar, Ky turned around and leaned against it while taking a long slow drink, his eyes going back to scanning the crowd, while he tried to blend in like a worker after a shift enjoying a beer.

  15. #15
    Maxx Elgrin
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    He looked positively petrified at the insult. Lips puckered in protest as he swallowed back a potential retort - but then eyes brightened with mirth! Arms extended in greeting as one hand slid across the table to shake Glayde's hand. "Good to see you, Mate, but I have to ask what the frell took you so long? I can only dally around here acting bored for so long."

    Elgrin removed his hand and leaned back in his chair a bit to the side so his knee could rest on top of the other. His arm provided enough support so that a hand could comfortably hold up his head. "Luckily one of my last contacts showed up a bit ago. You got that in your favor."

  16. #16
    By comparison to Maxx's relaxed pose, Glayde seemed tense and uptight, like some kind of Cadet under the scrutiny of a ranking superior. Then again, even a Hutt would manage to look a little stiff under that comparison, and Glayde wasn't even sure they had spines.

    "You know what its like," he offered, tone casual and offhand. "Finding somewhere to park on a rock like this is like trying to muscle in on a Gamorrean buffet."

    He offered a wry hint of a smile, but it didn't last long. While meant as a complaint at his personal inconvenience, Elgrin touched on a particularly valid point. Hanging around in a place like this for a protracted period was bound to attract attention: particularly from the locals. Anatomy aside, even on a human world it was easy to spot who didn't belong, if you kept your eyes open long enough. Here it was perhaps worse: the way things had been going on Ruuria, chances were that anyone who wasn't a native was either a spacer, or an Imperial. Local authorities tended to pay a fair bit of attention to those.

    "I trust that, if that was the last of your contacts," he mused, directing the flow of conversation directly towards its main point, "You have everything we need for the mission?"

  17. #17
    Maxx Elgrin
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    His well known wide, toothy smile said it all. "It's me. What do you think?"

    As a waitress shambled by, Elgrin scooped up a drink and left quite a generous pile of creds to make up for its loss. It was frothy, green, and quite vile looking.

    "Here! It's on me!" As the Rebel slid the six inch mug over, the palm of his hand was covering up the data chips he had acquired during his meetings. "Layouts, sympathizers, access codes... you name it's there."
    Last edited by Miranda Tarkin; Sep 29th, 2009 at 01:51:34 PM.

  18. #18
    "I don't know about that, Maxx." A flash of lopsided smile spashed onto his features.

    His words hesitated as he regarded the drink that Maxx had procured for him; John couldn't be sure if his selection of the most disgusting-looking beverage was mere coincidence. It probably wasn't. He jabbed a finger at the glass, the vibrations disturbing the congealed ooze that lurked in the drink's depths. Was that a raw egg floating in there?

    He raised the glass, palming the chips that Elgrin passed over as he did so. His nose wrinkled with reluctance as he breathed in a hint of the ale's obscure odour, and with a wince he settled the ale back on the table, slipping the data device into an inner pocket of his jacket.

    Effort renewed his grin. "I have a pretty creative imagination; I'm sure I could name something you haven't managed to find out, given enough time."

  19. #19
    Maxx Elgrin
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    Maxx waved that comment away with a roll of his eyes and crossed his legs, loosely settling back into his chair. "You wound me," he jested. "If I didn't know any better, you were trying to hurt my feelings."

    The lackadaisical smile faded away since he and Glayde could do this verbal repartee could go on for hours, because it has.

    "Don't you have to go save the galaxy or something?" he commented, tapping his wrist chronometer with a wide eyed grim expression, that was merely playful mocking. "You know my code in case trouble ends up finding you."

    The Smuggler uncrossed his legs, sighing as he stood, "And I know it will."

    It always did. Gladye and his company, if he had to place a number to it, 9.999 ad infinitum to 10 - they had to call Elgrin to bail their asses out of various messes. Incarceration, their getaway ship wouldn't work, they were pinned down, Grygor the Imperial Spy that broke out of his holding cell and tried to choke Onashi to death... It was never dull.

  20. #20
    TheHolo.Net Poster

    I'm here for war. I'm kidding! I'm here for your sister!
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    Serasai Onashi's Avatar
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    Onashi absently rubbed his neck as a memory of Grygor ran through his mind. That had been fun until the violence had started. The violence had been fun too, but was over far too quickly to be really enjoyed. It wasn't his fault that the man couldn't even stand hearing about blood and gore, despite the fact that he was an Imperial spy. Once Onashi had heard that snappish command to stop speaking about one or another certain battles, he was like a krayt dragon on the scent of its prey and kept going, curious about what the man would do when he finally snapped. His curiosity was finally satisfied when the man's hands wrapped around his neck and began choking him.

    'Oh,' he'd thought at the time. 'He'd choke me. This is uncomfortable.'

    Life was never dull, he thought, once more in the present. Not in this line of work anyway. He downed some more of his ale, absently wishing that he'd been able to drink something harder. But not before a mission, or else he'd get lectured again by the Captain. And then likely he'd have to deal with Colonel Dalgas and his damned intuitive eyes; that man didn't even need to say anything, heck Onashi didn't need to have done anything, and the Colonel could still make him feel guilty.

    Wishing to think better thoughts, or at least, less troubling ones, Onashi turned to the nearest member of their team. He could see them out the corner of his eye, but he wasn't sure as to who they were exactly, and didn't care who they were anyway.

    “How long has it been so far?” he asked.

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