Jorus Merrill
is mek bote
[member="Julius Sedaire"]
The Force said roll right, and because Jorus' entire focus rested on listening for that kind of thing, he went for it. The table's edge crashed into his left shoulder as he rolled, a glancing but bruising impact, and for about the millionth time in his life he had an 'oh, that's why I was suppose to go that way' moment. Despite the impact, he finished the roll and sprang through the door that connected the bar to the kitchen.
It was a fairly busy night, and the kitchen staff were in full swing. Eight or ten people, some cooking, others moving food, others washing dishes or mopping the floor, all in relatively narrow walkways between prep surfaces and various methods of cooking. The kitchen was a hell of hot surfaces, sharp edges, crowded people, and all things slippery.
Jorus didn't so much as blink. He did, however, close his eyes.
Hop over a broom. Crouch to slide under a cook's arms as she turned with a massive pot of boiling water. Slip between a hot spatula and a sizzling grill. Hurdle a dish-cart. Grab the whirling part of an industrial mixer and slingshot around a corner, ducking to avoid the mop handle he hadn't seen coming. Out the back door, bounce off the dumpster, and blitz for the speeder bikes parked around the side.
The Force said roll right, and because Jorus' entire focus rested on listening for that kind of thing, he went for it. The table's edge crashed into his left shoulder as he rolled, a glancing but bruising impact, and for about the millionth time in his life he had an 'oh, that's why I was suppose to go that way' moment. Despite the impact, he finished the roll and sprang through the door that connected the bar to the kitchen.
It was a fairly busy night, and the kitchen staff were in full swing. Eight or ten people, some cooking, others moving food, others washing dishes or mopping the floor, all in relatively narrow walkways between prep surfaces and various methods of cooking. The kitchen was a hell of hot surfaces, sharp edges, crowded people, and all things slippery.
Jorus didn't so much as blink. He did, however, close his eyes.
Hop over a broom. Crouch to slide under a cook's arms as she turned with a massive pot of boiling water. Slip between a hot spatula and a sizzling grill. Hurdle a dish-cart. Grab the whirling part of an industrial mixer and slingshot around a corner, ducking to avoid the mop handle he hadn't seen coming. Out the back door, bounce off the dumpster, and blitz for the speeder bikes parked around the side.