NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This is a closed thread, so only members of the InterGalactic Adventurers Guild may post here. Thank you. Also, since this is our first thread I thought i'd stage it in my system, but in future if you're making your own threads feel free to stage them wherever you want. Ahem, on to the RPing...

Space. The vast inky blackness which billions of people call home. The bustling cities are full of people, too many to count. But now, one man will become more important than any of them...

Planet Hydria, Ustio System

A man with a scraggy beard dressed in a brown overcoat sprinted down the empty street. It was raining, and his footfalls kicked up splashes of water. He looked back over his shoulder, looking for any sign of his pursuers. The bright moonlight illuminated the street, but there was nothing. He ran around the corner and into an alleyway, slumping against the wall with a sigh of relief.

Then, a splash came from the other end of the alley. The man looked up, but saw that there was no-one. He looked around, checking the street again. Empty. He breathed deeply, glad he was safe.

And then they came for him.

From out of the rain, seemingly from nowhere, two figures grabbed him. A hover-van pulled up next to the alley entrance and he was quickly bundled inside it, and it sped away into the night.

InterGalactic Adventurers Guild Station, Orbiting Planet X, Deep Space

The station (http://image.wetpaint.com/image/1/bZ4vZER-e9zyxYLmXSqbcw33782/GW400H250) hung above Planet X. The planet itself was uninhabitable, so the station provided everything the budding adventurer would need: Ship repair and refitting, amenities, places to rest, job boards - the works.

A small yellow and grey ship (http://www.igorstshirts.com/blog/conceptships/desantis_spaceship_yellow.jpg) floated slowly into one of the station's docking bays. It touched down with a soft thump, and once the inner doors were closed, the cockpit opened. A woman with blonde hair, wearing a brown leather jacket over her cream shirt, jumped down onto the metal floor. Her brown fedora landed on the floor as she jumped, and she grabbed it as she left the bay, tossing a credit to a waiting valet. She proceeded down the silver corridors, coming to a room labeled "J. Grayson". She pushed it open, and entered, closing it behind her and slumping down on the bed in the room. She picked up her holo-sheet, and began checking the jobs board.

OOC2: Feel free to jump in at any time, guys.

SU082 had long since come to the station, having arrived their as soon as its orders were issued. It had two different lists to look over, the one provided by the station and the one provided by its masters. It was a being used to working alone but seeing as it was in a guild, there was a good chance those days were over. It didn't mind working with others, it just wasn't used ot the idea. It wasn't aware of Jenny's arrival, as it had locked itself away in its room shortly after arriving at the station. It was anxious, wanting to begin work as soon as possible... the only thing to do now was wait.

"Cyn, Why are we here?"

No it wasn't a rhetorical question more directed at the universe. It was definitely directed at the vibrant woman across from the speaker.

"I had a feeling" She looked up from the book her nose was buried in.

Sinjin rolled his eyes. Cyn's feelings had gotten them into more than merely rhetorical trouble more times than not. But he'd never think to question her feelings. They were too good to pass up.

His sister's lips curled up into a tiny cat's grin as he took a deep pull of his one hundred percent Terran grown coffee. One of his few vices - albeit perhaps the most expensive - out in the back of nowhere, and anywhere not in the Empire was the back of no-where - the 'fide thing was more expensive than capitol missiles. She preferred herb tea herself, and the herbs she preferred were easily grown in the extensive hydroponics garden that the ship boasted.

And that turned her thoughts..."Bro, you need to see if there are any weapons dealers about. The ship-killer's a dud." Their hold out, emergency use, last resort only, had developed a system alert, and Zen, the Damn Thing's C.S. had been unable to find the cause of the faulting. And a big expensive missile with an untraceable failure was nothing more than really rather useless paperweight. "We're going to have to dump it and get something that will fly."

Sinjin grimaced, a faint frown creasing his forehead. As he contemplated a major outlay of funds "That’s not an expense I want to think about just now." And replacement missile that met their specifications was not likely to be found here.

"Well, this system is not one likely to see trouble. We could wait" Cyn mentally reviewed the entry on the system they were visiting. The InterGalactic Adventurers Guild Station orbited an uninhabitable planet, and the system held little of value in the way of other interesting features. "But it never hurts to check, and besides I want to eat out. I'm tired of your cooking."

Not that Sinjin was a poor cook, he was a great cook as a matter of fact. The hydro- garden was another of his pleasures. But Cyn wanted to mingle a bit, see if there was anyone new and interesting to be met. She was more a people person than Sinjin. He was closer to a monk than a hitman, though he’d been both.

"I think I'm insulted" Sinjin snorted "Oh go get radical and I'll escort you and keep you safe from the good, the bad and the ugly"

"The good are usually smart enough to leave her alone, she can take care of the bad herself, and the Ugly...I resemble that remark" Came a oddly rolling voice. Sinjin's partner (http://perigrinemoore.googlepages.com/sphinx.jpg/sphinx-full;init:.jpg), formally named Men' dhek's himmone' aur Navris - better known to all and sundry by the much more pronounceable moniker of 'Nervous', jumped lithely up on to the table that the Damn Thing's mess centered around. The starcraft was bigger than it seemed, having accommodations for fully a dozen crew and passengers.

"Oh Ner, you are too cute to be the Ugly" Cyn teased with a light laugh as she leapt from her seat to dodge the claw laden paw the Grendel omnimorph swatted at her. "You are going to have to be faster than that"

The Grendel took a swipe at his shoulder with a rough tongue. He looked, at the moment, for all the universe like nothing more than roughly ten pounds of hairless feline. But then again in mere seconds he could look like a Wookie if he chose. The siblings had seen him assume the shape and manners of a Tanaran Kodiak Maximus - a ton of raging fury with claws that would give a Raptor nightmares. But then again Nervous's normal attitude generally scared the pickens out of any one who didn't know him well. But Grendels were like that. Sinjin privately suspected that as bad attitudes resulted in more fights, and if there was anything Grendels loved more than a good fight, they'd never mentioned it to the rest of the universe, it was deliberate. But he'd never put that suspicion to the test.

She all but skipped off to her suite to change into something suitable for an evening of good food, dancing and flirting - the last two where hopefuls, - given that they'd never been here before all three were hopefuls really, but surely there'd have to be some one that would catch her most discriminating eye. That made raise an eyebrow at herself as she put on just the barest touch of makeup. "I've got to quit kidding myself. Most of the distaff side of the universe isn't worth bothering with. I don't know why I keep on looking."

Then she answered herself "Cause my hope factor is too darn big. Or I'm too much of a glutton for punishment" She figured it had to be the second. Romance was not a part of her life and never would be.

Twenty minutes later she met Sinjin coming out of his own suite, dressed nicer than he had been and smelling faintly of his favorite cologne. It was one she enjoyed him wearing so she kissed him on the cheek and settled his duster’s collar a bit better with a pleased smile. The duster was as much a part of him as his Ogre Mark V blaster. It was an expensive, custom tailored piece made of supple, butter soft but thick Daraggone leather. He’d hunted the dangerous Midgardian predator the old fashioned way, and had the faint scars to prove it. He wouldn’t let the Healers erase the scars entirely, he considered them the evidence of his rite of passage. Cyn, didn’t have outward scars, and would have felt no need to have kept hers had she been wounded during her own trials.

The pair didn’t look much alike, they were fraternal twins, and their mother, one of the best geneticists in the Empire had made sure that while her eldest had different fathers they both had outstanding genetics. The best of their genesires and her’s genetics along with some that weren’t human but added to her children’s ability to not only survive but flourish.

Arm in arm and laughing low over some private joke they left the Damn Thing and headed though the spacestations various corridors to the unimaginatively named Adventurers Club.

VS Idle Victory, high orbit , Artemis, Ophelia-Kadrin, Ventish Empire

There is a certain sort of chap who manages to look at home in a peculiar mix of environments, from the gentleman’s clubs* of St. Lysander in Venmouth to the savage plains of Roxecajubrian IX or the diamond cities of Ophelia-Kadrin. A certain sort of chap whom you just look at and know is from an old fashioned paternalistic imperial background with an impeccable pedigree, an expensive private education, and very, very little in the way of common sense.

One of exactly this sort of chap was reading a datasheet uploaded with the current edition of The Cosmos, a Ventish magazine for aficionados of space sports. He was dressed in a checked pyjamas and a dressing gown with one hand holding the datasheet and the other a cup of Darjeeling tea with just a drop of milk.

“I say, Meadows? Some chap’s trying to sue the Wretley over some sort of health and safety thing!”

The other man in the cabin looked up from where he was placing folded clothes into the seated gentleman’s wardrobe.

“Really, my lord? I cannot imagine it will get very far, there was a similar case four years ago and the law lords through it out.”

“Jolly good, not my spin of course, but they’re some decent chaps. Adventurers’ Guild today I think, lay out something appropriate would you?”

So saying the young man put down his datasheet and the now empty cup of tea and strolled through to the washing cubicle attached to his cabin.


Deep space, approaching Planet X

“Looking rather smart eh Meadows?

“Indeed sir.”

Harry “Feathers” Ferrers looked at himself in the mirror and gave his moustache one final comb. He was dressed in a rather nice morning suit set off with a white-striped navy blue waistcoat and a matching cravat. He shrugged on a navy blue double-breasted overcoat after ensuring his watch and monocle were securely attached and extended an arm. Meadows handed over the top hat just as they arrived at the station of the Adventurers’ Guild.

“Right-ho, let’s go.”

Feathers plucked a plain wooden cane out of the umbrella stand and, followed by Meadows (carrying a couple of small bags and with a gun case slung over one shoulder), crossed into the station and called out;

“I say, anyone about?”





*That would be an actual gentleman’s club (such as P.G. Wodehouse’s Drone’s Club, or London’s White’s, East India, Carlton, Reform Clubs, et cetera) and not a strip club. Although he would manage in one of those somehow...

the unimaginatively named Adventurers Club.

OOC: Ouch! :( BTW Ventuus, the station is quite big. That blue dome in the middle would be some sort of Solar Shield for the main city area.

Jenny sat up as the holo-sheet bleeped. She picked it up, tapping the icon that said "New Jobs"

"One New Job" said the automated voice "Posted Thursday, 0945"

A news report then played, reporting on the dissapearance of Colonel Dr. David Irlov, from the Planet Hydria in the Ustio System. Jenny sat up at the mention of Ustio. It had been some time since she had been in the system, opting to flee from both Tau and Imperial Forces fighting for control of the snowy wastes of Antoben. She sighed. It was ten years since the war had begun. Ten long years. She looked down at the sheet, then clicked an icon labelled "Interested"

"Thank you for registering your interest" said the automated voice

She put the holo-sheet down, took off her hat and decided to get something to drink and ask around for rumours. It was the best way to gain info without breaking some sort of law.

She headed out of her room, down the corridor and into the novely named Adventurers Club. She sat down at the bar

"Bottle of the best, Barkeep" she said to the man behind the bar

"Wine?" he replied, without turning around

"No, water" she said

The bartender turned around slowly, glass in hand

"Hello Eddie" she said

"Well i'll be!" he said, a look of relief on his face "I was sure you weren't coming back from that last job"

"Ah, it was a little more dangerous than I made out" she told him

"What did I tell you?" he said, handing her a clear plastic bottle

"Yeah, I know - do your research" she mimicked his voice, then returned to normal "That's why i'm here"

Eddie looked at her, an all knowing look on his face. He didn't say anything, just stood there thinking a moment

"Irlov?" he said eventually

"Damn!" she replied "How do you do that?"

He tapped his nose, then changed the subject "Col. Dr. Irlov - well, there was a guy in here earlier. Trader - of sorts. Said he knew a bit about Irlov. Supposedly involved in some sort of research group - TouchDown he called it"

"TouchDown?" she asked

"Yep, but that's all I know. This Irlov guy is a ghost. No-one seems to know anything about him"

Bumpski

“Hmm, all quiet on the station front eh Meadows?”

Harry spun his topper on one finger and tossed it up, took a pace forward and permitted himself a wry smile as the hat landed perfectly on his head. He squared his shoulders, lifted his chin and strode through the entry corridors of the space station with his cane tap-tapping in between the echo of his leather-soled shoes.

“Been a little while since we were here, what?”

“Indeed my lord, I spoke to the station’s keepers and our quarters are in the same place as usual, no one has entered them since we left.”

“Jolly good. You go on ahead and sort it all out. I’ll go and take a quick peek at the list of maidens to be rescued, aliens to defeat and tribesmen to civilise.”

Being a proper gentleman of course no one would ever dare hint that he sought any sort of ‘work’. Some things are far too vulgar to be countenanced, almost as if someone were talking about a chap’s income!

“Very good my lord, shall I lay out our evening wear?”

“Hmm, don’t know if we’ll be staying that long old chap, but carry on, best to be prepared and all that.”

As Meadows glided down a side passage his employer strolled through into the city proper, twirling his cane idly. He brought the monocle up to his eye for a moment before tucking it back into a pocket. He plucked a collapsible datasheet out of his pocket and slid it open to its full size, a thumb touched the “upload” button and the station’s news flashed up. Meadows had intelligently pre-programmed the device to register anything described as a ‘job’ as saying ‘adventure’. He tapped ‘New Adventures’.

“Oh, I say...mad military scientist goes missing! Sounds like just the ticket.”

Another thumb tap.

”Thank you for registering your interest”

A finger moved up to the back of his ear and touched a hidden device.

“Wentworth? You there old boy?”

”Reading you loud and clear m’lord”

“Reading? How ar- never mind. Dig up whatever you can on this chap, David Urlov, some sort of colonel and doctor, vanished from some foreign planet called Hydria in the Ustio System. While you’re at it, make sure the Idle Victory is refuelled?”

”Very good m’lord”

Harry strolled along through the city for a few more minutes, glancing at the odd thing that had changed. Finally he came to the club and, more importantly, the club’s bar.

He removed his hat and pushed open the door to see Eddie the barman, one of the staples of the club, and a young woman whom he had not seen in the building before. He touched his forehead and nodded at this example of the fairer sex but, not having been introduced, made no remark except a polite “My Lady” until he turned to Eddie whom he knew well enough to be certain of a proper Terran single malt whisky and soda.

“What’ho. My usual I think.”

So saying he slid onto a barstool three down from the woman who looked strangely like the daughter of a certain Timelord with a blue box.

Jenny smiled as Harry tipped his hat to her, but said nothing. She continued to search the GalacticNet for some more information on Irlov, but Eddie was right. Nothing. Even his Wiki entry had been tampered with

Eddie moved back to her, having served Harry his drink

"No luck?" he asked her

"Nope. Not on the Net at least" she said "You're right, Irlov is a ghost. I guess i'll have to go to Hydria and ask around. I'm sure i've still got some contacts who might know something"

SU082 looked over the update and, while not actually signing up for the assignment, put it on hold, simply stating some interest. It didn't know who else had seen the update, and to that end who else it may have to work with, which wad the main reason it didn't outright sign up. SU082 decided that it had best see who else had seen the update, and for that matter who else was on the station. It decided the bar would be the best place to possibly meet any others who had joined the guild since most biologicals seemed to gravitate to bars for relaxation and sometime to get information. With that, the agent left its quarters and made its way to the bar. It walked in silently, not greeting the others as it did so. It quickly grabbed a seat, noting the others at the bar and shooting them a few quick glances from behind its mask.

Chitra Nirvana looked around, taking in her surroundings like she was taking in oxygen. She thought the construction of the place was a little plain, compared to where she came from, as she walked towards the entrance of the Adventurer's Guild, which was a name that could have been thought up by a six-year old, she thought, snickering to herself.

Before she came in, though, two men accosted her. "Your money or your life!"

Censored due to extreme violence

As the walked away from the unconscious men, lying in 3 pints of their own blood, she thought with full malice-

That might need a few years of genetic reconstruction.

The two Deadly Sins* sat in the most dimly lit, private, back to the wall, corner and -of course - totally clichéd booth the Adventurer's Club possessed. It was, seemingly, always available when they visited. The luck of the Force of course.

The roving serving wench - What other sort of woman would be working the tables here -unless it was a droid, and that was just too impersonal for the Adventurers club? And there was nothing wrong with wenches - they were nicely saucy, had their ears to the vine and would, for the dropping if a few credits, be willing to answer an amazingly wide range of questions concerning what said vine was chattering about. Such as what was going on of interest of late?

But that was a digression. Cyn ordered her favorite hard cider, and Sinjin his preferred Romulan Ale. It was hard for either of them to become inebriated, as their nano packs converted al most all alcohols, or other injected neurotoxins into harmless organic substances almost immediately. So they tended to drink purely for taste - but they had the ability too look highly intoxicated down to a fine art.

Nervous was keeping Cyn in stitches – and even Sinjin grinned now and again - with his sotto voced, running commentary on those already in, or just entering the club. Though his drop dead perfect Dame Judith Dench imitation for the gentlemen and his gentleman's gentleman had both sister and brother laughing aloud..

“I mean t’is a toff, and what is a toff doing here? This isn’t a gentleman’s club, it’s an Adventurers club. He should be back in jolly olde… Say wot!”

He’d already dubbed the blonde at the bar “Genki Girl”. But both of those were fairly tame for some of the labels the razor tongued Grendel had dubbed, or was that drubbed, others with in the past.

* Don’t blame me for this…

“Errant? Errant? Err! Twenty minutes until reversion.” A sweet toned and comforting voice insisted from the door way of the cabin.

Errant Mira’ade rolled loose of the cocoon of sheets he’d made for himself in the night. He sat up and waved a hand. The lights came up slowly automatically as they were programmed when someone flipped the switch on. Errant looked at the person in the door.

Well, most wouldn’t consider her a person per se. She was leaning around the jamb of the cabin’s hatch, two of her arms on the door jamb itself and the other two crossed over the skin of her soft brown chest. Yes, she had four arms and wasn’t wearing any cloths. That’s not too weird. She is droid, you dirty, dirty sort. Stop trying to envision female bits on her.

Errant rubbed his hand across his face. “Remind me why we’re going out here?”

“Largely peaceful back home, jobs drying up…” The feminine droid leaned away from the door jamb and brought one of her hands up to touch a finger to her lips as if she was thinking. “…and oh yes, the Imps released a nanovirus keyed to Fett DNA signatures of which half your DNA is.”

Errant nodded and swung his legs out of the bed. “Oh yeah, nanovirus, die horribly, now I remember, Etin…Bob’ika bless his heart…if he’d just been more civil maybe the chakkarla Imps wouldn’t have run off every shiny son off the rock. As it is, we, the Skirata, and the other ol’GAR orphan allts were lucky to be off planet or get sealed in beskar’gam and then off.”

Etin, well E-10 in alphanumerics, nodded along and stepped into the room as Errant grumbled about the most recent slight and set back against him. Errant stumbled towards the mirror to take a look at himself, and E-10 went to his closet and started getting out get out some clothes. The past months had been hard on Errant, E-10 noted. She swiveled her head about to look back at him.

He’d just begun to settle in to enjoy a bit of rest on Mandalore amongst his aliit, his clan. Then the war between Jacen Solo’s jackbooted thugs in the Imperial Remnant finally turned their eye towards the Mandalorians. To upset and disrupt the Mandalorians, they’d hoped to kill their leader, Mandalore, who just happened to be the indomitable Boba Fett. They’d released a genetically targeted cloud of nanites that would kill anyone with Fett genetic markers. What was meant to kill one man was a danger to untold and uncounted numbers of Mando’ade.

After the Clone Wars like the worst and cliché of stories, not all the Jango Fett clones were terminated by the Empire as they became ‘obsolete.’ Some managed to escape the Empire and found roots in one of few societies willing to take them in, the Mandalorians. The Skirata aliit had taken in a great number, hiding them in their frosty northern fortress. The Mira’ade had taken a few, including Errant eventually. The other aliits had taken in a few here and there and following Mandalorian tradition, those clones had children and they might have children. The Fett clan, if Boba ever got weepy and in a family mindset, could be rather large…also if any of the clone off spring felt any compassion towards the ugly old barve. When the nanovirus was released and word got out that all Fett descendents were in danger, the once repopulating Mandalore became a tad emptier again. No clone descendant could be on Mandalore for the indefinite future.

That included Errant.

Errant finished saying hello in the man in the mirror. He took that serious, E-10 knew, from an old adage from a friend, “When you can’t recognize the man in the mirror, it’s time to find where you lost him.’ Errant leaned over and hugged E-10 around the shoulders as he left the room and turned in the direction of the refreshers. E-10 finished laying out his plain black trousers, a white shirt, his besbe’kama or kitbelt, and his leather jacket.

She stood back and looked around the room, his room. She tried to suppress old programming, but it wouldn’t hurt. She moved around and straightened up his things. She’d been his nanny at one time. She was TDL-X1 Lioness nanny droid. Her model was the one that the most rich and paranoid purchased to watch after their offspring. She knew how to take care of over two hundred species’ young, entertain and teach the same number, and she was equipped to defend her charges. In her lower two arms, she had two repeating blasters. Her capacitors did not allow for a long or continuous burst, but she had enough to burn through the armor of team of kidnappers and just enough chassis armor to shield her charge at the expense of her own existence.

She supposed she still was Errant’s nanny in a way. She’d ceased being it in reality a long time ago, but her purpose had changed as her relationship had changed. She’d gone from nanny to chaperone and tutor and now she was his partner in crime and mischief. This last primary function had been her longest, the past four decades, and she enjoyed it. She did love Errant, she’d found what that word meant and approximated if not felt the emotion that corresponded, and to tell the truth she enjoyed the new data and experiences that went with following in his whirlwind life of adventure.

Her mouth servos tweaked up into a grin. She’d also become something of a cardshark, infamous enough to be banned from the casinos on Bespin.

“You get on me for my grins, but that one’s bad vomin when it finally shows…mostly for the rarity and what it takes to get it.” Errant commented as he walked around her, still toweling off from his shower. “I still can’t go to the Red Sector because Jiblia wants to have you scrapped for cheating.”

The quite life-like droid sneered. “I don’t care what that Nar Shaddaa slug thinks. That Idiot’s Array came up within statistical probability.”

Errant looked back at her. “Yer still not protesting about being called a cheat. Ya need to work on that.”

E-10 stuck her tongue and him and received a towel to the face for it. E-10 clawed the towel off her face and neatly folded it. “What kind of work do you think you’ll find on a station for an organization so unoriginally named the ‘Adventurer’s Guild’? Exterminate the rats in some tavern basement? Find someone’s lost puppy?”

“It’s not unoriginal. It’s classically named. The Explorer’s Club. The Coruscanti Institute for Xenobiology. They’re probably the first guild of its type out here. They reserve the right to call them something so simple, plain, and to the point. Every other schmoe after them has to think of something more complicated.” Errant looked down over his ‘casual’ wear. “Casual, eh? Good choice.”

E-10 nodded. “No need to alert these people that you possess the Business Suit. It’s not like you’ve made a poor impression yet and absolutely need to intimidate or impress. You can attempt and fail with your normal self and come back for the other suit later.”

The man turned his head just enough to glare at the droid out of the corner of on icy blue eye. “I am damned impressive on my own, thankyouverymuch.” He turned away from her and towards the mirror. He was after a fashion. He wasn’t ripped or over two meters tall. He was of average height. He had the muscles of a person who did physical labor for a living but the lines and grace of a dancer. His skin was a pale red like blush all over his body. His looks were largely a legacy of his mother, one of the few things she left to him.

She had been beautiful. The holos he had of her were stunning, and he took special offense against anyone slobbering over those holos, which is why he largely keeps them hidden away. His mother, Lalynn Duton, had been a Zeltron, a near-Human species made physically distinctive by their skin and hair which came in different shades of red. They were also distinctly different from a base human in the fact that they possessed empathy and powerful, controllable pheromones.

The former allows a Zeltron to feel the emotions of others around them as their own. As such, the Zeltron developed a hedonist culture with a high importance on ‘positive feelings.’ So heavy the importance on making sure that other around them feel good that to do pain and suffering to others is seen as a mental disorder and subject for exile from the culture. The latter is the main means of defense. As they abhor pain and causing it at all but the most desperate times, Zeltrons evolved the ability to released targeted pheromones. A Zeltron can choose to affect one person or many, and it has served them well through their history. Since there are but two species in galaxy that have shown a resistance to their pheromones thus far, the Zeltron have been able to defuse countless invasions or threats against their people by concerting mass releases of pheromones that transform even the most stalwart and celibate of warrior monks into drunken, randy hedonists…which the Zeltron more rightly prefer.

Errant shook his head. He looked good, not as good as a full blood Zeltron. He was a halfbreed, and the other half was pure Mando ugly he joked to make him look like simple a good-looking human. While he had full empathy, he only had limited pheromone production. He knew he exuded a little at all times, all Zeltrons did, but his pheromones were weaker and only enough were produced for one concentrated targeted release a day if he needed.

He looked at the laid out clothes again. He was missing something. “Etin…you forgot the underwear again. I appreciate the help…I can dress myself ya know, learned that in the past fifty years….but I’d really appreciate at thorough job if ya are going to.”

E-10 laughed a melodic giggle. “That is why I asked what sort of job you expected to find at our destination. I didn’t know if you wanted any. I know you had a lead on Cyn.”

Errant closed his mouth and thought for a moment. She was right. Not all his jobs or preferred activity required underwear. Some of his clients liked the surprise when he undressed, that scandalous quality. “I hadn’t thought about looking at the carafel board, and I'm not even sure Cyn'll be here.”

E-10 smiled. “I thought so, or you wouldn’t have contemplated the Business Suit. Haven’t taken any carafel contracts lately and you’ve been quite alone, Errant. It’s not like you.”

Errant looked down at his underwear-lacking set of clothes. It was true he hadn’t been pursuing one of his more enjoyable professions lately. He was by birth and training a carafel, a class of Zeltron courtesan much desired for their reputation for “fulfilling any physical desire a being might have.”

Yeah…it was good marketing but not entirely true. Some things are an impossibility and some things only a select few carafel could hope to accomplish. Those carafel were legends in their own right. Errant was not one of those, but he was among a select few. Male carafel were a rarity, outnumbered by females almost twenty to one. Errant’s…skills and presence could be high demand when he chose to take contracts from the quite eager clients who desired them. Errant was also amongst even more select group male carafel with a sensitivity for the Force, which made his skill even more…interesting.

Oh, forgot the mention the Force? Sort of mundane and usual on this side, but not for anyone else…well, Errant’s mother Lalynn had shown a talent for the Force at a young age and been take by the Jedi for training prior to their spectacular failure, but Lalynn was an even more spectacular failure. She simply wasn’t Jedi material. If they could have court martialed her for ‘conduct unbecoming a Jedi,’ they would have. As it ended up they tried to shuffle her off the Rimward farm planets cared for by Agricultural Corps so they could get her and her rather amorous ‘healing’ practices out of public light and out of mind.

She’d run away from that’s squalid existence and run off to be a carafel, a much more suitable profession for someone of her talent. She did however pass her talents in the Force down to her son, and after the Jedi’s fall and then her death at the hands of Empire, those talents became a death mark at best and an all too great a prize at worst. Errant kept them hidden until Luke Skywalker and his sister Leia Organa Solo brought them back out of the shadows.

Anyways back off the spoonbending and to the story, Errant decided to forego the underwear and slipped on his pants. He had been lonely. At first, he couldn’t have contact because he needed to get as far away from Mandalore as possible, running for his life. Then the enormity of it all hit him, being driven from the security and normality he’d been able to construct the last thirty years.

The alit had relocated to his sister’s place. They’d been safe aboard Rea’s Acclamator II-class assault ship. She was under-crewed and sedentary after an armed disagreement with Galactic Alliance forces as to the independence of her homeworld, Corellia. As it was, it proved to be a good time to take it offline and overhaul the ship, which was nearly as old as Errant. That was another purpose for Errant doing jobs again. He’d agreed to funnel money to her as an investor. He’d tried just to give it, but she’d insisted on the investor status so he’d get a cut of her future ‘earnings.’

By ‘earnings,’ she meant prizes. His sister was a pirate queen after all…or at least self-labeled, but three hundred pirate crewbeings heartily agreed…and no, it wasn’t with a chorus of Arrr’s.

Errant finished dressing, putting on his shirt and slipping on his belt. He made sure his MerrSonn DeathHammer heavy blaster pistol was secure on his left hip with the butt forward for an unusual draw. Coiled on his right hip was a long decorated whip which wasn’t meant to be used in his proper carafel duties but sometimes was. He leaned down and strapped his ankle holster with his holdout blaster to his right ankle and the sheath with his vibroblade to his left ankle before slipping on his soft leather boots.

He stood and looked at himself in the mirror. He wore the ‘rakish tramp spacer look’ well and only part of it was copied from an old friend who wore it better than anyone else. No one topped Han easily. He owned rakish tramp spacer and held onto the bill of sale with a tractor beam grip. Nodding at his image, he pulled on his nagahide jacket. He smiled remembering the fight that ugly SOB had given him but served him right to be skinned and made into a jacket.

You don’t abuse a carafel. That was another of Errant’s jobs which made him an even rarer still carafel. He was a male carafel firaxi. A carafel firaxi was the enforcer amongst the carafel population. It was a sacrifice and a devotion. Even with the empathic sense of the pain cause, firaxi took it upon themselves to punish beings who abused or murdered fellow carafel. The carafel, being mostly Zeltron, were mostly nonviolent and devoted to pleasure. They did not think about or take well to doing violence. The firaxi did it for them, took pleasure not in the kill or punishment, but in knowing that others would not suffer such pain themselves or eat themselves up trying to avenge loved ones.

Errant took a breath and straightened his jacket’s collar. It was time to go land his ship. Sure, Viper, his R2 series astromech droid could do it, but he’d always made it a point to take the yoke when they came out of hyperspace. There was always an uncertainty of what waited for them, and Errant’s Force-revved instincts had kept them safe all these years.

He gave E-10 another brief hug as he left the cabin, running his fingers through his hair. Unlike Han however, he didn’t diss the ‘scruffy look.’ It had its wild, rough appeal. He walked to the cylindrical cockpit of his ship and stepped around Viper’s squat trashcan chassis, leaving an affectionate pat on its dome as he passed. Errant edged around the rearward co-pilot’s seat to the forward pilot’s seat and sat down. He belted into the crash harness and checked over the readouts.

The Cerulean Dream, his pride and joy, was a YT-2000, in the same model line as Han’s famous YT-1300, the Millennium Falcon and built by the same company Corellian Engineering Corporation. It shared the YT-1300’s distinctive saucer hull but shifted the cockpit from the odd starboard side arm to an amidships configuration that was more natural and made the ship easier to fly. A YT-2000 was so much easier to fly through tight spaces. Errant will never know how Lando managed it, having to hug the right wall of the Death Star’s innards while having to keep in mind that the bulk of the ship was to his left.

He shook his head as he slipped on his headset. Lando and Han were wild men too lucky to die. Lesser men would be atoms by now. Errant didn’t have that sort of luck. He instead had the Force and forethought. He brought the Dream out of hyperspace, starlines elastically contracting back into dots. He brought the ship around and added power to the considerable sublight engines he’d put into the Dream. Again not as good as Han had put into the Falcon, but that ship and that man were divine objects no mortal being would replicate.

He contacted the station, identified himself…well mostly…they knew the ship as the IFF beacon he was squawking presently, the Gale Doria, he was none too careful…some people didn’t see eye to eye on his charm and good nature. He received clearance to land, did so, and left the rest of the shutdown to Viper with another affectionate pat.

He opened his jacket as he walked back down the companion way and checked a hidden pocket. There over his left breast was the long silver hilt of his mother’s lightsaber. It wasn’t something you could carry openly without questions and assumptions…Jedi weren’t that popular nowadays either…actually Mandalorian, Jedi, and himself could about make him quite unpopular all around, or dead, in some places.

Errant liked to keep things hidden about him. Sure, a head shrinker would have a field day with it, but Errant didn’t go and see them. He liked himself mysterious. It was marketing scheme and a survival strategy.

“Going to check the boards before you go?” E-10 asked, coming out of her cabin, very violet room.

Errant shook his head. “Cabin fever, Etin. I’ll check’em after I’m in the cantina, if I can’t find something...a someone...face to face.”

“Got your datapad? Your commlink?”

“Yesss…motherrrr…” Errant rolled his eyes and walked down the ramp as it lowered down to the hangar bay deck.

“Maker help you, some needed to be.” She yelled down after him.

He had a happy smirk. He did love her like a mother, just as he as he loved Rea like a sister even though they weren’t related. He put his hands in his jacket pockets and walked through the bay’s airlock and out into the concourse. It wasn't much to see, a very old space station it seemed. It wasn’t like the gilded stations like Danari’s back home, purposefully built and modeled for grandeur.

The halfbreed got directions to the cantina and made his way there. He got some second glances, some stunned stares from females and males. He didn’t mind, that was half the point, but he was happy that he made it to the cantina without any scuffling problems, which were a frequent, trifling matter for him….again, he was unpopular in some circles.

He stepped around a pair of potential lovers who must have lost the will to drink just as they’d gotten to the entrance of the place and decided to exchange flirts and deep-eyed stares as they tried to decide whether to take it further. Errant rolled his eyes. People these days…and nudged them both with the Force. His empathy allowed him to feel emotions. In conjunction with the Force, he could make people feel emotions. These two were thinking purely of a little fun. He couldn’t feel some deep darkness like one was a predator or hiding an affair. They were just teetering on the edge of naughtiness.

Carafel translated as ‘architect of love’ in the Zeltron language, and Errant thought he could give them free relationship counseling…just once. The two crossed the line between each other and kissed. Aw….his heart just felt all warm and fuzzy.

He scanned the cantina as his sarcasm filtered into his grin. It was your average motley collection that you’d expect in a spaceside bar. There were the few flamboyant members…but hey this was an adventurers’ club. Flamboyance was marketing amongst adventurers. He passed them over. They were too wrapped in themselves to be fun and certainly weren’t going to have a paying job for him.

It was slim pickin’s all around, he decided and was about to pull out his datapad when he felt and then spotted a familiar and alluring person in the crowd. He focused in on her to make sure he wasn’t confusing himself, but there she was and with her brother. He made his way over towards her slowly and he opened himself up to the Force, so that she could get advance warning about him. It wasn’t kind to surprise those with extra senses, just made them jumpy. He slid up next to the woman and leaned on the bar. He let a wide, wolf’s smile cross his lips. “Been a while, Cyn, and this is the last place I’d’ve expected to find you, or myself for that matter.”

There were two Deadly Sins* here, but he was only interested in one, not for the lack of trying but also because he didn’t date siblings unless they both wanted it. That was a mistake that could get you killed. No, he was after just one Sin, and he called her Lust.


*I’m the one to blame for that and proud of it.

The saucy wench was busy, the club having grown crowded as they sat chatting among themselves and so when refills had been needed Cyn had volunteered to get them. Waiting at the bar Cyn's head whipped around when Errant made his presence known. She knew his signature without the need for visual confirmation but she so liked looking at him. As she looked towards him the normally remote aspect of her features vanished as her face and eyes came alive with a smile that was totally female, and pure uninhibited seduction

"Been a while, Cyn, and this is the last place I’d’ve expected to find you, or myself for that matter.”

Cyn was in his arms in an instant, offering him a passionate, lingering kiss. Shivering with pleasure as their bodies touched, before pulling back slightly to give him another ever appreciative once over - she could never get enough of looking at him. "Errant! The universe is gifting me with unexpected delights. And yes, it has been too long!" Sloe dark eyes held a sparkle that was for him alone. She took his hands in hers, her long slender fingers - so very strong for a human, but normal for a Nietzschean -caressing the palms of his hands ever so teasingly, before they moved with tantalizing lightness on to the inner side of his wrists. Her mother had taught her well, but then again Perigrine Omega of the Kararsu was always thorough.

Errant had attracted her from the first moment they'd met, but not at all due to genetically gifted abilities. Nietzscheans were immune to the effects of pheromones unless they chose not to be. It was part of the survival package. No, her response was purely physical nothing more. It was very much like the old song - and yes her pulse was racing as she leaned back into him, matching him in height, but slender and firmly female. "You must understand though the touch of your hand makes my pulse react -That its only the thrill of boy meeting girl" Cheekily she grinned at him - Void but I am playing with fire! but she couldn't help it. He drew her as surely as the flame did the moth. It is purely physical, but oh what a wonderful physical. He would break my heart in a heart beat if I had one to break.

"And now you're glad you didn't wear any underwear" She leaned in close, her breath soft and warm on the tender velvet of his earlobe.Let him wonder how I know

And across the club Sinjin didn't bother to hide a smile. He liked Errant, and so did Nervous oddly enough. How Cyn felt was anybody’s guess, save his. They may have had different fathers, but he was her twin.

Fire analogies abound, but Errant had always thought of the two of them as old, undying flames. It wasn't an on again, off again relationship. It wasn't ever off, always ON, but always brief and passing.

Her kiss and touch were electric, and the shock shivered through him, snapping him out of his nostalgia. When she pulled back to look him over, he did the same. Her top was a tube top of soft, sensous velvet that sported a veed cut out which revealed her cleavage nicely. Her pants were something special a deep purple like her top and fitting like a second skin. As if hinting to the dangers of her curves that her clothes barely concealed, her heavy blaster pistol and ornate lightersaber hilt were prominent on her belt.

Cyn was pure sex with afterburners. (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v35/jedierrant/Cyn-8.jpg)

Having her close, so close, again was exhilirating. Whatever problems had followed him from home were forgotten. He loved her, but then again he loved a lot of people. He was sure she loved him after a fashion, but they both know that they didn't own the others heart. She claimed she didn't have one to own. Errant's was already broken and spread through the stars a part left behind with everyone he loved and cared about.

Okay, that was mostly bantha poodoo. Mostly but not all. It was good marketing, but the inherent challenge had attracted the both of them at first. They were both so used to wrapping partners around their fingers that running head long into one they couldn't, consistently couldn't, presented a challenge that couldn't be given up.

That might have started it, but it hadn't kept it going over the years.

They'd run into each other time and again, running in the same circles. They'd never worked for, with, or against each other before. Mostly running into each other in bars, cantinas, taverns, and the rare and occasional ball they were both working for different reasons. Each time they found each other, not a hard feat since they were both Force sensitive and outgoing. It was physical, so enjoyably physical.

Cyn might believe, tell herself, tell him it was purely physical, but Errant didn't believe that. Okay it was a major part of it, but their connection was a bit more than that. However, they were again two flames with too little time behind them, too little fuel. They were both fast burning, they needed the next excitement, thrill, and new love. Put them together too soon and they'd burn each other up quick, too quick. When they had some more fuel behind them...that might be a pleasantly warm fire to cuddle by.

But that day was a long way off. Zeltrons lived long and didn't get clingy, weepy, and monogamous until the last fifty years of their lives. That might be another hundred and fifty years for Errant. By all reckoning she'd be around then as well, owing to her genetics. He'd look her up then and see if she'd found her heart, help her if necessary.

Right now, he wanted some fun.

Errant closed his eyes and smiled as he took a deep breath of her as she leaned in. Her dark hair smelt spicy, peppery, with a hint of cedar underneath. She smelt so warm, felt so warm.

"And now you're glad you didn't wear any underwear."

He didn't have to wonder how she knew. She knew how he was. He'd talked about being a carafel with her. It was just a fifty-fifty chance to figure if he'd wear underwear or not...well, perhaps maybe not fifty-fifty.

"Mmmm...mayhaps my walk was a bit...cocky?"

"Actually I was going to say with such a swagger, more ballsy." Her eyes twinkled wickedly as they fell into one of their favorite pasttimes, Innuendo Overload, a 'game for two' "I mean you always carry yourself so ...errect"

Butter wouldn't melt in that prim mouth of hers, as one hand slipped into his jacket to stroke feather light along the botton edge of his ribcage.

Across the room Sinjin just shook his head and fished out his datapadd. "I think we need to find our own entertainment for the rest of the evening."

"When those two are together all they can see is the sparks they strike off one another." Nervous agreed as he hopped up on Sinjin's shoulder to view along with his partner. Sinjin, having all the literally non human strength of a Neitzschean - that species was fully pound for pound five times stronger than any homo sap - was not discomoded at all by Nervous's current weight of roughly ten pounds...

The latest news concerned the disappearance of one Colonel Dr. David Irlov, from the Planet Hydria in the Ustio System. A tiny icon flashed in the lower right hand corner, indicasting that there was a job opening posted that attached to this information.

"Oh Void I hate missing person gigs. Most of the time the flake is off on a bender and just wants to self destruct in peace and privacy" Nervous complained as Sinjin contacted Zen and in a low voice asked the C.S. to check around. Zen wasn't quite as good as his 'parent' but he was far better than most.

OOC: Assuming that the only ones taking part in this thread are those that have posted, let's kick it into gear here.

Jenny headed into the hangar bay with her stuff. She pushed the bag into a small storage compartment on the wing, opened the cockpit and climbed in. She spent a few moments flicking switches absent mindedly, thinking about what it would be like back home, before finally deciding to close the cockpit and go. She gestured to the valet to vacate the bay, and he did so, sealing the door behind him. Once it was closed, the outer doors opened, revealing the darkness of space. Jenny slowly flew her ship out of the station. She moved a good distance from the station before cutting her engines.

Flipping open the device on her wrist, she punched in some co-ordinates and hit the go button. A few seconds passed when nothing happened, just the sound of the engine running.

And then it was gone.

Nova Ice Cloud, Eastern Edge Of The Ustio System

The little ship appeared in the ice cloud. Jenny looked up to see little pieces of rock float past her ship

"Damn" she said to herself, taking the stick and engaging the engines "Thought i'd got it then"

As she emerged from the cloud, she saw the difference immediately. A huge Exterminator Class Battleship floated by, followed by another and then two Invador class assault ships. They seemed to have not noticed her, so she waited for them to pass a bit further away, then she punched the throttle forwards and the little ship zoomed off towards Hydria.

Errant had a glint of mischief and glee as he moved his free down her side. "Mmm...just like always, first stab yer always on top and with such sweet lips." Errant pulled her close to kiss her again. "The sweetness is just flowing out of your lips I'll bet." He across the hair's breadth between them and kissed her briefly.

"I'm so glad you told Jail y'all were going to be here." He said.

"Oh but I was trained never to go for one shot kills, the pleasure is in le petit pas de morte" A frisson of purest sensual pleasure raced up her from where his hand touched so lightly as their lips met in a brief almost teasing kiss.

Being in Errant's arms was a heady sensation and sometimes - she'd admit it but not to him - keeping her mind functioning sharply was so very hard. But her mother had trained her very thoroughly in how not to let any partner dominate her entirely. Control was not something to be given up.

Then her head tilted slightly and her eye brows went up. "Jail? We didn't. Oh we told a few that we were taking a break and where but that shouldn't have gotten to him, unless he's made some new friends" She shook her head negatively.

The Sins were the Empress's Hands out here in the Back of Beyond and had been for eight years Though that was information no one out here had, or ever would, that was too dangerous a packet of data to be allowed out. Hands, the Empress's personal trouble shooters, were also the Tanaran Empires long arm for getting things done that couldn't be any other way.

To the universe at large the siblings were primarily smugglers - who did other things both legal and illegal -when runs were not plentiful. General rapscallions with large numbers of aquaintances and few freimds were all they were as far as any one could suss out. They also tended to keep the circles they moved through seperate. And while that was possible there were places they over lapped. But Jail hadn't previously fallen in to any of those.

She started to dismiss it. Then looked at Errant with that questioning til to her head still evident. Damn she had the from bad to worse feeling that their fun was going to be spoiled.

[OOC: In order to coalsce the character into a party with shared experience and reasons for working together...and give us reason to actually leave and go on the mission right now...Tanaara and I came up with a little situation...]

Errant pulled back as he felt the confusion rolling off her. He cocked his head to the side as well. "Jail? He was up to his dewclaws in rewiring when I left the Venture." Jail was his sister Rea's first mate aboard her Acclamator II-class assault ship. The wily old Trandoshan was personally overseeing the extensive upgrades and repairs to the aging Rise of the Empire pocket-cruiser. "He doesn't have time to make enemies much less friends."

He stared at her as he tried to focus himself. Zeltrons and their derivatives suffered...not the right verb because they did enjoy the results...from AAD or Arousal Attention Deficiency. Oh, did Cyn bring arouse and distract...which sort of messed with his otherwise sharp senses....

"He didn't make new friends. I did." Errant's senses finally beat through his hormones, and a familiar but not welcome presence flooded into his mind. He slowly turned, letting go of Cyn's side and used the hand still holding her arm to pull her behind him.

A pack of dockside toughs dominated the entrance way. They held a smattering of clubs, blades, blasters, and yes there was a flachette rifle in the mix. From the middle of the pack of hulking brutes a more sinuous man stepped out. He was dressed in a comfortable suit, his best perhaps, while his 'help' were in faded ships' coveralls from whatever freighter had left them behind and with good reason. The toughs fanned out into the cantina, glaring down at the patrons.

They knew this was an adventurers' bar. They knew most if not all of the patrons were armed. They had the momentary upper hand with weapons drawn and at the ready and the frail suit had paid them enough to dismiss the rest of their concerns. The frail man, he wasn't big or tough but there was strength, twisted but present, glared at the two old flames from his close-set dark eyes.

He looked Errant over hungrily for a few heavy, angry breaths before flicking his eyes over to Cyn. His eyes passed over her briefly, not indulging, simply calculating and disgusted by what he saw. He looked back at Errant locking onto the cold, ice blue eyes. "You cost me a lot, whore."

The halfbreed snarled at the insult. "You got what you deserved, Nomis."

Nomis laughed cruelly. "Deserved? Deserved? I hired you. You claimed you worked under discretion."

Errant shook his head. "You were cheating on your wife, Nomis. I gave you the chance to correct that, and then I refused to accept your contracts when you wouldn't. I warned you that..."

Nomis cut him off. "Warned me? Warned me?"

Errant glared. The Maker...he hated when they repeated back what he said for drama. It usually meant they were psyching themselves up. "Yeah, I warned you. I told you that no carafel would take contracts until you got yourself into sorts. Either you'd tell your wife and get permission or we’d have nothing at all to with ya." He narrowed his eyes. "You went and got a young carafel who didn't know any better..and Nomis, no one deserves to be the outlet for your frustrated sexual identity, not me, not anyone else. That's way against the rules in my book, skippy. Your wife deserved to know, and you deserved to have our activities known."

Nomis returned the narrowed glare. "You ruined me. She was an arranged wife. I needed her to hold that plantation. But when you told her...she was going to divorce me under grounds of adultery and spread word of my perversions with you, whore." Errant seethed at that word again but also at the idea of what he'd done...what Nomis had asked him to do..what they’d both enoyed as being perverse. "I had no more use for her."

Errant's eyes widened. He could feel the weight of emotions and meaning behind those words. Oh sithspit... He could feel those emotions turn towards Cyn. "This is the guttersnipe curbing your perversions? Maker, what she must pay you." Errant's seething became visible as he began shaking.

Nomis looked back into Errant's eyes. He'd liked those eyes, warm and cool at the same time...innocent, willing in every way...but then again so treacherous. "I have no use for her either, but you owe a great deal." Errant's eyes flicked over at Nomis's goons. Most of them, ten, were watching the crowd. Eight were beside Nomis, but then five as three came towards Errant and Cyn. Two had stun batons and the last a vibrodagger.

Nomis watched Errant's eyes follow the weapons. "We can work out a payment plan." He'd come heavy and hoped to surprise them. He knew that Errant was a smuggler of sorts, some dabbling criminal. He always had that blaster pistol prominent on his hip and a few holdouts in his boots. Now there was that ridiculous whip...was that what the...bitch next him liked?

And her, he'd heard things about her...a smuggler, she carried a blaster pistol as well, that he could see. How gallant of Errant to shield her behind him...she had some kind of backing or she was very successful to afford Errant. No matter.

Errant raised his hands up to shoulder height, palms out placating. His voice was quieter, trying to inject a modicum of calm into the situation. "Nomis, hold on. Let's talk." He dropped his eyes from Nomis's. "I don't want her hurt."

Nomis grinned. Oh the bravado...so thin...he'd hoped it would last longer...it would make the 'payment schedule' more fun. The three toughs looked at him for a moment, and he waved them on without answering. This would be so perfect...

Oh, it would.

Errant felt what Nomis was thinking, could pluck the thoughts so easily from the roiling surface of Nomis’s anger opened mind. He gathered the Force up from within him, from around the cantina. He flooded it into his arms and legs. He was already quick that was his Zeltron blood. He was already strong that was optimized clone genes. He just needed to be meaner, and he was getting there.

Errant's downcast blue eyes flicked up. The tough with the dagger stopped cold mid-step. The little guy's eyes weren't blue anymore. They were burning red, the whole iris-thingy...blood red.

Before he could utter a word to his boss, Errant exploded forward. His hands, raised in mock surrender, cracked punishing palm strikes against big mook's nose and jaw. Just as he brought his head back down, blood starting to stream from his shattered nose, the last palm in the flurry carried something extra. As that last palm connected a wave Force energy exploded outward from Errant's palm. The thug came up off his feet and achieved an all too ungainly and brief flight down onto table behind him. Drinks and snacks flew into a cloud as the table collapsed under his dead weight.

His buddies didn't have time to react as their mark shifted unnaturally quick. Errant moved to the one nearest him, spinning his back towards him. The thug tried back up and away from the once prey coming towards him, but as Errant's spin came to a conclusion, he ended it with a harsh stomp to the man's insole with the heel of his boot. He followed it up by driving his elbow in the man’s gut.

The man started to bend over with the pain. Errant couldn't have that. He could feel the other start reacting, starting to come out of the shock of the initial violence. The ones around Nomis were beginning to raise their guns. Errant gave the crouching thug behind him a Kelbade Kiss or in Basic, slammed the back of his head into the man’s now close face. The thug straightened back up and howled. The pain in his foot was forgotten for the moment.

He ended up shielding Errant. Because when the halfbreed twisted out from behind the thug, he immediately had to jerk back when a flash of precognition warned him of danger. He watched a bolt of plasma whine by and smash a bottle of booze behind the bar in a gout of green flame. Errant turned towards the thug to see him jerk as subsequent bolts tracked right and friendly fire burned into the tough’s spine.

He began to sag, and Errant thrust out his in a clutching gesture. An invisible fist closed around the man’s throat and held up onto his toes as more bolts cooked and sizzled his flesh. His eyes stayed open long past the moment his heart was burned to cinder. Errant pulled him closer to deny other gunmen a clear shot.

Most of the thugs were concentrating on him now. The ones in the crowd were turning towards him. Even Cyn was forgotten, she wasn’t the pay-to-play poofter who’d turned into GI gigolo.

Nomis was beginning to think this wasn’t going as he had planned...

NO, this was not going to go as planned - the ones - ten in number - that fanned out through the room hadn't ignored the man and the hairless cat sitting in the back booth, but they hadn't given them any status other than what they gave the other uninvolved bar clientele either...

And they really, really should have.

At the first faint whisper of violence - and for someone attuned to the currents, that whisper had only to be the barest suggestion - Sinjin was a Force Adept, and Nervous - he was a Grendel and they Lived in the Force...

Ten pounds of said 'cat' flew into the air, hurtling towards the furthest of the near by toughs - and transforming in mid flight into a living nightmare. The Tanaran Sentential (http://www.atddm.com/Tsent.jpg) was just about the Phoenix Empires deadliest predator but Nervous didn't even bother with most of it's abilities. It's hypersonic scream, had he bothered with it, would have had the man dropping dead, but that would leave the Grendel without a fight. So he refrained and landed all three hundred pounds on his chosen target like the proverbial ton of bricks, though this ton was furred and with claws that would make a Kodiak Max proud. And as he landed he lit into the man with a buzz saw like attack that brought forth much flailing and screams of agony. That made Nervous very happy.

Sinjin didn't hesitate either - Nervous had left him the one almost in front of the booth, and that one got the entire table tossed directly into his face. The Nietzschean hybrid had ripped it - base and all, from its bolts in the floor with ease, and then slung it disc like into the dockside hire. To say that he want down was to under categorize the utter flattening of the man.

Cyn...

There is a state of being where everything about you slows, and you can move through space and time before anyone else can.

I let Errant put me behind him - it made me seem less of a threat - as I reached for that state...

and stepped into No Time...When Errant moved so did I.

Behind me Errant had laid waste to two, and the third was mine...

Half a heartbeat and the third of the three was dead before he realized that his heart had ruptured under the spear of energies I sent into it as I lifted him off his feet. He flew through the air with the greatest of ease and into the nearest ones - which were...

The five around Nomis that were firing at Errant.

The second half the heart beat and they hadn't had time to turn their attentions to me before I was among them, a whirlwind of destruction. Like Errant I flowed like water though the Force and through the absence of Time.

Each heart beat saw a strike, or a deflection of an attempt to attack me....though my strikes were not necessarily fatal, and every parry meant a strike that could not be thrown...

The female of the species is always more deadly than the male. I made sure to remind them of that, though I left the one Errant had named Nomis alone. He I had reserved for Errant, figuring he would want that pleasure himself. Nomis had called Errant a whore, I would kill him slow for that alone. Errant might be more merciful.

Two fell by the drumming of my pulse, the one with the flechette rifle first. He was the most dangerous, then his closest companion went down for good as the other three all but fell over themselves spreading out. They turned their full attentions towards me as Nomis drew a blaster pistol and blazed wildly away at me...

All told that left eight still among the tables, and four about me...

Chitra walked into the Guild and went to the receptionist, saying, "Chitra Nirvana. I believe that I signed up in advance?"

There are always a few jealous types with chips on their shoulders who find amusement in ridiculing a certain type of chap, rather fortunately these certain types of chaps are rather good at ignoring the ignorant plebeian classes and focussing rather more intently upon the taste of a twenty-year old Islay malt with its flavours brought out by just a dash of soda water.

Harry had watched the exchange between two of the club’s membership out of the corner of his eye with a certain horrified amusement. Honestly, what was the world coming to when a chap couldn’t enjoy a drink without being forced to bear witness to barbaric mating rituals?

Anyway, all this was rather beside the point when a certain chap who was certainly not a gentleman walked in and started being exceedingly rude. Normally private business between two chaps was just that – private business. One notable exception to this is when said private business is aired not only publicly but loudly and, worst of all, in a private club! Being forced to listen to the details of this argument taxes the most patient of individuals, let alone those who are trying to enjoy their Scotch-and-soda. Then one particular line...

"I had no more use for her."

Now really, killing a wife was one thing – some cultures were into that sort of thing, however uncivilised, but killing her over your adultery and then airing the whole bally business! Not to mention bringing armed thugs into a club.

It was at about this point in Harry’s thoughts when two of the thugs bearing guns moved up behind where he was sitting and pointed their weapons toward the small fray that was going on.

“Excuse me...”

A tap on each of their left shoulders with his cane as he slid off his barstool with drink still in hand.

“This club...”
CRACK

There is a certain satisfaction in watching the solid metal top to a cane smack into the side of someone disagreeable’s face, especially when followed by a dancer’s spin and a leg slid in between the legs of this disagreeable character, in turn followed by an elbow into his jaw sending him sprawling over a much more agreeable chap’s leg.

“Is for....”

Feathers’s rather elegant opening move was followed by a sickening crunch as his boot-heel slammed into the fallen thug’s solar plexus at the same time as the pointed end of the cane stabbed into the elbow of the second individual.

“Members...”
[i]Zzt...crACK[i/]

Pulse energy can be so useful, less powerful than the rail rifle technology utilised by the Ventish footsoldier but so much more compact. Fitting into, say, a cane handmade by John Ferret & Sons of Venmouth.

“Only. You appear to be short a forearm sir. Terribly sorry.”

An apology for removing someone’s arm at the elbow, how typically Ventish and, followed by a cane smacking three times into this someone’s temple, not a moment too soon as the individual collapsed in a heap at Feathers’s feet. A small skirmish neatly finished off by a sip from the pale golden drink in his hand, not one drop spilled.

“Ah...”

When you have just effectively disabled two people with guns it often helps to be aware of what the others are doing. Oh well...nowhere to hide, only one thing for it! Take a swig of your drink, face up like a Ventishman and charge!


[[Apologies for the delays, was in France and didn't get as much internet access as expected]]

((Bump?))

OOC: Sorry, i've been pretty pre-occupied with the GWO war. IC post coming soon.

Nervous leapt from the remains of his first target with a screaching cry, still in the guise of a Tanaran Sentienel. There were still six scattered among the other patrons, and one charging toff wasn't going to get them all. The quivering corpse Nervous had left behind hadn't provided the Grendel much of a fight, but then again it had been just a human. There was a hulkiung something or other - Nervous didn't bother to try and figure the species out, but it looked like it might well be fun to tangle with - if one had a Grendles definition of fun.

Sinjin had not bothered pausing to double check the results of his impromptu frisbee toss. He saw it land, saw his target fall and that was all he needed...though he did use the table top, now atop the man as a launching point for his next attack.