Roaming Ravelin [The Primeval]

[Boethiah]

Since conquered, denizens of Ravelin lived today like they did any other. The markets were busy, the bustling of merchants resonated amongst the banter of common folk and the laughter of drunkards could escape the music of corner cantinas. So to some it was odd that this capital of the holiest would be the least pure of their worlds in essence.

There were changes, however. For one there were disappearances... People were gone, Bleeding Sun agents would find any safehouses for resistance and deal with them. Cantinas were discreetly being shut down; brothels, drughouses, and other illicit facilities too found themselves victim to these inquisitors.

So as each day went by the unknowing people of Ravelin were slowly being pulled into the fold.

The Palace​

​

Anja couldn't help but ponder on their recent conquests...

Although these several worlds were now theirs, star systems of wealth, mystery, and some less amazing. But what secrets lied in them? What potential power could she achieve by studying them? The Primeval had only just begun to consolidate themselves and establish a foothold. Their only true opponent are the Mandalorians who contest these zealots expansionism.

Footsteps approached the throne, "Your Worship, forgive my interruption.." A rather old man with grey hair and a long thick beard took a deep bow. He was the administrator of Ravelin and local who knew the people well. Anja employed him as her eyes and ears within the city.

The Host Lord moved a hand under her chin before sitting up. "What is it?" Her questioning was short; he would spit it out soon enough.

"I -- The people," he paused and cleared his throat. "They're wondering why two cantinas were closed this week by your..."

"If they're asking questions then tell them the truth. Those who ran them were sinners and harbouring resentment towards the true Gods." In all honesty she knew well enough that this approach would cause the citizens to panic. She did not fear a revolt at this point but that is not why she said so.

The man was clearly anxious towards what she said. "The wrong answer could lead to catastrophic consequences for the people of Ravelin." He protested.

"Then do what you think is best... I want to see what you think should be done about the situation."

Just as the man was about to speak the doors opened once again. This time her own soldiers entered...

And to think today would be boring.

Spoiler: ooc

There is no objective to this thread. Simply do what you'd like, wander about Bastion's capital city and create your own mini-stories. If you'd like to plan one with fellow members go ahead and don't shy away from crossing paths with other characters.

Spoiler: ooc

Let's see where this takes us, shall we?

​

​

 

[Lucullus Lacar]

The boarded windows of the cantina mocked Lacar as he swirled his now empty hip flask in mid air. Standing idly in the street, the pilot twisted his mouth into a frown, the unhappy expression looking out of place on his face - natural beauty superseded by the ugly look.

Don't be mistaken, this wasn't a regular haunt of his, certainly not a favourite spot, and definitely not even one he liked - the cantina was a dive, even by most cantina standards. It was a kriffing wreck, frequented by, for lack of a better word, scum; but it was the only one in Ravelin he had found so far to keep a regular supply of Hapan gold wine, his poison of choice. Likely a ruse by the landlord to portray an air of elegance about the place by stocking something that wasn't derived from paint stripper. Reasons aside, Lucullus had downed a sizeable chunk of credits on procuring some barrels to keep on his bridge, so at least he had his own supply now, but he didn't wish to dip into his private reserve so soon.

Following a brief shrug, the Hapan turned tail and walked down the street, casting his gaze here and there, briefly alighting on each citizen he shared the road with - distaste evident on his unhelmed features.

 

[Armand Temi]

Perla Pirjo sent a communication to the Imperial Palace from [member="Orick T'ane"]'s freighter.

//incoming transmission...

To: Imperial Palace Operations

This is Perla Pirjo. I'm headed to Bastion with Xana, a bull rancor. Please make sure that customs is alerted to the unusual cargo.

Pls send animal handlers to the docking bay to help me get Xana into the Imperial Dungeon.

Over and out.

//transmission ending...

So far Xana had been pretty calm on the trip. Sure the witch initiate had heard the rancor claw at the door which separated the ship's main corridor and the cargo hold but well, hyperspace even spooked her sometimes. Also Perla figured that once they reached Bastion, the creature would be hungry again. Luckily she brought along a couple of spare pygmy goats she had hunted. The smuggler Orick, had complained about the smell and the goat's blood staining his ship. But Perla would not double-cross him in the end. He would get his credits that were owed to him as long as they landed safely on Bastion.

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"] [member="Lucullus Lacar"]

 

[Saran]

As typical of one with little to entertain themselves with, Saran was bored. Unlike what most would do, she didn’t choose to read, perhaps walk the planet, or, perhaps most logically, actually find something to do. No, she did what anyone who was a pilot, slicer and something of a mechanic would do: she tinkered with whatever personal technology of hers she could get her hands on, and perhaps something of The Primeval’s if she was allowed. It really was a bad habit, having to occupy her hands when not on this or that assignment or otherwise on the battlefield. It was a wonder those in charge of the faction decided to keep her around for any amount of time. Besides her certainly useful skills when it came to slicing, piloting and mechanics, she wasn’t really all that good for much else.

Well, much else besides perhaps accidentally improving something. That was always nice.

Sparks flew, and she blinked once in surprise, frowning and muttering a curse in Cheunh. But still she continued to work with a quiet determination, her focus on nothing more than her personal datapad, something that she had taken apart and pieced back together countless times over the years, not really paying attention whether she put everything back where it was supposed to be, only caring if it functioned again when she had everything settled. The rest of it was merely consequential, and she couldn’t say that anything more really concerned her. Compared to the others that called themselves members of The Primeval, she was fairly easygoing. Which was both a benefit and not so much of one. Where everyone else was so straight and serious she was quite the opposite, preferring to keep things relatively relaxed even in the most stressful of situations.

"Vun'bicn hah..." Her lips pursed thoughtfully, and with an artful twist of her fingers she clicked the final component into place, cracking a triumphant smile. For better or worse everything was assembled as it was supposed to be, and it was as good as it could get. She halfway considered calling through the comms to see if there was anything better to busy herself with, but decided against it, her better judgement for once kicking in early. So, adjusting her position, she settled in for more fidgeting with this or that piece of technology, already becoming antsy with having to stay in one place for so long. However entertaining the slicing was, waiting around had a way of getting awfully boring.

[member="Perla Pirjo"], [member="Lucullus Lacar"], [member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

 

[Micah tol Powl]

"...and coming into the third lap, Ki-yo Marr is lobbying for second with local favorite, Pritek Jett."

"Hang on, Gore, we've got some motion from back in the pack."

"Oh, that little Kushiban has lost his mind!"

"And his front stabilizer."

"There goes our contestant from Lothal, too. Medical crews are already out on the track."

"Sprinting out from the wreck, Orto Plutonia's on the map."

"Looks that way, Br'ar. Moving up from number seven, now in fourth position, Boo Chiyo."

---

Don't think, feel.

Pitching his weight to the left, the boy pitched the speeder to the side as a hunk of flaming debris went rocketing wildly. He could feel the heat as the jagged metal passed within an inch of his head. The roar of the repulsors drowned out any sound from the wreckage, as the young monk shot past the wreckage without ever even being aware of it. Just a blur in a landscape of color.

At seven hundred kilometers an hour, a mistake wasn't something you recovered from. The shielding, the protective clothing, the padding in the helmet... prophylactic pleasantries that were meant to reassure the mind even while offering almost no protection against serious bodily injury at these speeds. His visual reflexes weren't fast enough at these speeds so, in actuality, the boy spent a great deal of the race with his eyes closed. With the ear protection and the drone of the repulsorlift engines, it created a pocket of utter serenity in which the boy had learned to simultaneously feel the Force and pray.

He could feel the road beneath him. The other drivers. Even the air moving in to the engine intakes. Everything in motion. Everything connected. Cyclical. Actions, reactions. A cascade of events, playing out in his mind's eye. It was in this moment, surrounded by so much noise as to have heard nothing, that Boo experienced a feeling which he likened to hearing the voice of Halrormalenth. Suddenly, nothing was important and everything made sense.

Ratcheting back the throttle on the bike, the boy punched the speeder on further.

 

[Boethiah]

A commotion came from within the Imperial Palace as beast handlers, guards, and other assorted hands rushed towards the docking bay. One of the Bleeding Sun has brought back with them a bull rancor... Not the most common pet in the galaxy, fearsome rancors had numerous applications as a pet. They could be used as a warmount, a guardian, or even entertainment. It took very talented individuals to train -- let alone tame such a beast. When Anja heard of this she began to feel impressed by the woman's feat.

"Invite the one who captured the creature to have lunch with me." The Host Lord commanded of her aide who swiftly ran off towards teh docking bay with the others.

If someone could capture a rancor... What else could they capture? This was a perfect time to meet a rising star within the Bleeding Sun's ranks.

Hopefully it wasn't a fluke.

[member="Perla Pirjo"] [member="Lucullus Lacar"] @Saran @Boo Chiyo

 

[Armand Temi]

The smuggler wasn’t Force sensitive or used no magic which wasn't surprising as she hadn’t felt any signs of the Force emanating from him, but it never hurt to ask. He admitted he didn’t use magic and had no connection to it. Perla saw the planet Bastion finally visible on the radar of T’ane’s freighter.

She checked her datapad and gave a little yelp of happiness, “Customs has cleared us. We’re good to land. Set your coordinates for the docking bay closest to the Imperial Palace.” She noticed how nervous the smuggler was at the mention of coming into land.
“Don’t worry, you be out of here in no time. I have your credits. Now let’s bring this big girl home."

[member="Orick T'ane"] [member="Anja Aj'Rou"] [member="Saran"] [member="Boo Chiyo"]

 

[Orick T'ane]

He frowned at her comments, of course he was worried, he was on a planet run by zealots and they wanted him parked as close to the imperial palace as he could get. " I'm sorry if I seem a bit nervous, but you guys have a reputation for no tolerance for criminals and the like" She had been honest and up front with him from the beginning, so he was trusting her as far as he could. He eyed the small hatch by his heat and could just see the hand to the shotgun inside of it. He really didn't want to have to use it, he sure didn't need the trouble that having a whole empire of zealots on his tail.

" Coordinates are locked in, we should arrive in half an hour at latest. Then you can take spot out for a walk. I trust you to hold our end of the bargain, it's your people i'm worried about" He adjusted course and headed into the planetary atmosphere, for a second the cockpit windows were washed in flames. The planet itself seemed to be just like most habited planets except the streets seemed a bit less full, the people seemed like they were avoiding the streets. The palace was a huge and gaudy spire that rose high into the sky. He smirked as they approached it, it was obscene in it's opulence and he couldn't help but think that it was important to some god or another.

" Final approach now, strap in and lets meet the locals." He brought the ship down with a jerky landing and a bit of a drop as the legs groaned under the weight of the old freighter. Here we go, he thought as he glanced at [member="Perla Pirjo"].

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

 

[Lucullus Lacar]

The wrist-mounted data pad flashed up a display detailing a location, date and time that had been read, re-read and meticulously memorised by the operator. Lucullus knew what the screen said before he had even opened the memoir, but he was a wary man and he would not risk missing an invitation from the Host Lord, certainly not on any account of forgetfulness - never an excuse. He needed to decide what to wear.

For now, however, the Hapan pilot was uncharacteristically casual-looking as he walked the near empty streets of Ravelin, navigating by ear to the sound of a crowd; a market, he assumed. His helmet was off, left behind in the shuttle he had flown himself and some crew mates down from the Takyon as it rested in low orbit, and his flight suit was unzipped from neck to belt, sleeves tied by the elbow about his waist, a solid green short sleeve t-shirt revealed beneath it. His aforementioned, sadly empty, hip-flask lay dormant tucked loosely into his waistband on one side while a case of thin cigarras was tucked into the other, missing one of its cargo. The escaped cigarra fizzed, white-blue smoke trailing into the planet's atmosphere as its owner idly smoked it. A lump of ash had clung on tenaciously until this point, where it got too heavy and gravity took over, pulling it off its roost and then giving the reigns to the wind, who did its part of snatching it away and letting it drift lazily off to the side and onto the road.

The off-duty pilot exhaled; his wine may be out of atmosphere without him, but at least he had one of his vices.

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"] [member="Perla Pirjo"] [member="Saran"] [member="Boo Chiyo"] [member="Orick T'ane"]

 

[Armand Temi]

As the freighter's landing gear came down, both smuggler and witch would hear a deafening roar from the cargo hold, loud enough to compete with the noise of the ship's engine. Perla shot Orick T'ane a look that said, here we go again and she suddenly unstrapped herself from her seat, dashing out of the cockpit. Making her way through the ship and to the cargo hold, she began reaching out with the Force to soothe the bull rancor even through the durasteel hatch that separated the two. She could feel Xana's resistance lessening already. With a fluid motion, Perla slipped into the hatch, but without warning the ship lurched and she lost her footing on the rancor spittle which now lined the floor of the cargo hold like a wet, slimy rug. The witch hit her head as she fell and was promptly knocked unconscious.

Orick T'ane would now be able to see the reception he would be getting on Bastion. Primeval guards lined the entrance to the docking bay and a huge makeshift wooden cage was also being dragged out on ropes by various animal handlers. The cage looked frightfully inadequate to hold the giant bull rancor but it was the best that the Primeval armory had under these unusual circumstances.

The rancor in the cargo hold, upset that Perla was not moving, began to howl mournfully and scratched her enormous dagger-like claws into the ship's interior hull.

[member="Orick T'ane"] [member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

 

[Orick T'ane]

Orick hear the rancor roar as the ship descended onto the landing pad, looks like big girl is awake, he thought as he saw [member="Perla Pirjo"] dash out of he cockpit. He turned his attention to landing and frowned as he saw the welcoming committee that was waiting for them outside. The large cage looked like it was just big enough to piss the rancor off if they got it inside. Guards, lots of guards, kriff me, this could be one quick stop. He sighed and stood as the ship landed, he unstrapped his pistol belt and dropped it in the chair he just vacated. He didn't want to provoke the guards into thinking he was anything other than a freighter captain and the best way he found to do that was to keep customs agents and guards from thinking he was more than that.

He shook his head and sighed heavily, he wasn't looking forward to what was coming but he trusted the woman to get him out alive. " Hey, what's with all of the ...KRIFF" His question was cut off when he saw her laying on the floor of the cargo bay, the rancor was standing near by wailing loudly. He dashed back towards the bridge and grabbed the small medkit he had there. He returned to the cargo hold to see the beast tearing great chunks of the deck up as it wailed and moaned. It's still got it's hands chained together, so that's keeping it from doing any serious damage, yet. OK She said that while it's hands were like that it wasn't stable and it would walk awkward. He eyed the small crate in the corner and then judged the distance to it. Too far to run, no matter what happens. He threw the medkit on the floor and punched the wall. " This is the kind of chit I get, isn't it." he asks to no one. "Fine, you want me to do the impossible, lets do the impossible."

With a sigh he set himself and glanced at the large rancor that was shredding another deck panel in an attempt to get out of the ship. I have a bad feeling about this. He takes off at a sprint and shoots through the door to the cargo hold. He managed to get halfway to the small crate before the beast noticed him. He ran as fast as he could, hoping that it would be just fast enough to make it all the way to the crate. He could hear the roar of the rancor right behind him as he slid across the floor the last few feet to the crate. With a grin of success he hit the release button and the crate fell open, revealing the last of the pygmy goats that they had on board. The goat shrank back in fear and took off in a straight line away from the rancor.

Anger and rage can do many things to an animal, but the natural urge of food and prey were hard to resist for most, and the rancor was no different. It saw the goat take off and instincts took over. Orick had been forgotten and the goat became the center of it's world. It turned and stumbled in haste to follow, leaving him a free path to Perla. He scrambled back to his feet and rushed over to her, scooping her up in his arms and taking her back into the corridor outside of the cargo hold.

Once she was in a safe place he began to assess her injuries. She had a nasty looking welt on her forehead just above her left eye, but she seemed unhurt other than that. He grabbed for the medkit and pulled out a small bag that he began to shake vigorously. It took only moments for the chemical compound to mix and become cold. He placed the small bag on her head as he began to talk softly to her, "Perla, can you hear me. Come on girl, the rancor is going wild. If you don't wake up, she's liable to end up getting killed." he really hoped she woke up soon. This little adventure was turning out just like the story about the beauty and the beast, if he remembered the tale properly, it ended in the beast going on a rampage through a major city and ending up dead.


[member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

 

[Armand Temi]

Perla heard a faint male voice through the fog of her concussion. Her eyelids fluttered open and she lay there looking up at who was that again… oh yes, the smuggler named Orick and she was on his ship with Xana. Xana! Perla tried to stand but it felt like boulders were banging around in her head. She clutched at the welt on her temple, and using T’ane for support, rose to her feet. When she finally got the rancor safe in the Imperial Dungeons she planned to make her way to the nearest spice den to rid herself of the headache in the most gloriously chemical way she could think of - with glitterstim.

"Fething hell,” she muttered and she marched to the cargo bay, still holding the ice pack to her head. “You just aren’t going to make this easy for anyone aren’t you, Schutta,” she said, holding up her hand in a fluid motion that signified she was trying to connect to the beast using the Force. The rancor settled only slightly but was still too enraged for either of them to approach. Perla saw the damage to the cargo hold. Oof that was going to hurt her credit account if T’ane decided to charge her for the damage.

“We need to radio the animal handlers. She’s too angry and they are going to have to stun her,” she shouted, her head turning back to look at the smuggler. Perla finally sounded about as sick of dealing with the rancor as T'ane was.

“You go let the guards know and I’ll open the back cargo hatch when you say when.”

[member="Orick T'ane"] [member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

 

[Orick T'ane]

He watched her walk deeper into the cargo hold and threw up his hand in frustration, " How the hell am I supposed to radio the handlers? I don't have their com channel?" He shook his head and turned back to the cockpit. He toggled on the outside speakers and hoped for the best. " Bring the beast handlers around the the back of the ship, rancor is enraged and needs to be stunned." He watched as the guards and handlers stood there looking at the ship before a couple of the beast handlers began moving to the back. Several of the guards were moving forward as well, towards the small hatch near the cockpit. Wonderful, lets hope they have come to help.

He heard metallic banging on the small hatch near the cockpit and he sighed in frustration. Somehow he wasn't surprised. He only hoped that [member="Perla Pirjo"] was voice enough to get him a pass back off of the planet. He stood and slowly walked over the the small hatch, carefully he punched in the access code and the door popped open. As quick as he figured it would be, the door was yanked open and the barrel of a blaster rifle replaced it. Orick knew this drill fairly well, 4 years as a Republic marine had taught him all about combat tactics. He stepped back and raised his hands to about shoulder height, palms facing forward with a smile on his face. The first guard came on board quickly and pushed him onto the wall. " I'm not carrying any weapons, there's a pair of blaster pistols in the cockpit. The corridor to the left will take you to the cargo bay, and one mad as hell rancor. " He stated calmly as the guard patted him down. Several other guards entered the ship while he was being patted down. two went towards the bridge while the other two went to the cargo area. He shook his head as the first guard pushed him to his left and towards the small hatch.

He squinted as the sun beat down on his face, the air filed with the tang of chemical torches and engine fuel. He could see a handful of guards standing outside still as well as the last of the handlers as they began their movement towards the cargo doors. He heard the familiar sound of the hydraulics on the cargo doors and then the now very familiar sound of a bellowing roar of rage from the rancor. He turned slightly towards the guard that was guiding him to the small cluster other guards and he noticed well dressed being standing at the back. Looks like someone is getting a show today he thought as he saw them looking on with interest.

He was finally told to stop and he turned to look back towards the Ranger. He could see the cage being brought forward slowly and he wondered how many of the handlers would suffer trying to get that big monster into it. He turned to the guard and smiled, " You guys taking bets on how long it takes them to get that thing in there?"

The guard wasn't amused as he gave Orick a stiff jab in the ribs with the stock of his blaster rifle. "Quiet you." Orick decided that it wasn't worth the trouble of responding and decided to just watch and see what was going to happen like everyone else. His eyes drifted towards the small hatch of the ship as he wondered what the rest of the guards were still looking for. He didn't have any other cargo on the ship, the only things left were his personal weapons, however many there were and his gear. He never kept anything illegal on board between jobs.

All he could do now was wait.

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"] [member="Boo Chiyo"] [member="Saran"]

 

[Armand Temi]

Perla was distracted by how the Primeval guards and animal handlers planned to contain Xana who was distraught and had broken through half of the chains which bound her large arms together.

“You there,” she said to a nearby guard. “Hand me the stun baton.” The human female guard looked around nervously and said, “Miss, I’m not supposed to give this weapon to anyone not authorized to use it.”

Suddenly one of her fellow guards was snatched up by the bull rancor by his head. The reptomammal crunched down into his temple and lifted him up off of the ground, his helpless legs kicking in the air. She shook the guard viciously as a hunting dog might shake a rabbit. Then she tossed him away to land with a loud bang against the wall of the docking bay, his crimson blood leaving a trail down the surface. His body lay there motionless – clearly she had broken his neck with the thrashing. The rancor looked around at the other guards almost triumphantly as if to say, who’s next?

Wordlessly the guard handed Perla the stun baton and she stood firm on both feet, pointing the baton directly at the rancor who roared at her now in defiance. The witch let out a banshee scream and charged forward with the baton, striking the animal and sending a huge electric shock through her tough hide. It cried out in pain and withdrew. The Dathomir exile sensing fear in Xana, tucked the baton under her arm and then began a Force ritual to sooth the creature again. Both witch and rancor were extremely tired after the long journey and it took all of Perla’s effort to finally get the beast under control. When Xana was calmer, flopping over with exhaustion, the animal handlers all circled around her immense body and pushed her into the wooden cage under the witch’s direction.

Now that it's done, where is Orick T’ane, she thought? She wanted to honor her word and pay him for his trouble and for handling the job as professionally as he could manage. And honestly he had been quite resourceful when the unexpected happened, especially during their landing. She spied him near the front hatch of his freighter and marched over with the stun baton in both hands.

“What in the Emperor’s Black Bones are you doing with him?” she shouted at the guards who held T’ane at gunpoint. "Let him go now or I’ll use this on you next!”

Perla didn’t care if the Captain of the Guard or the Host Lord herself wanted to stop her. The witch had betrayed a long line of people across the galaxy throughout her young life, but she wasn’t about to betray this smuggler today. In a warrior’s stance, she held out the stun gun and and shook it like a bevii'ragir at anyone who dared come too close.

[member="Orick T'ane"] [member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

 

[Kyten Nejj]

Kyten wandered through the market slowly, he had no idea what he was looking for. he had ended up with the Primes and he didn't exactly know how. He remembered the last couple of years very well, He had been a broken man for some time, but now he was focused now on the future. The Primeval had offered him a future that would see him in a position that he wanted, a powerful position. He stopped at one of the small fruit carts and pulled one of the small fruits out of the pile. He flipped a cred chip to the vendor; He wanted power, but these were farmers and merchants, he gained nothing by being a tyrant around them. He adjusted the hood of his robes to keep his face hidden on the shadows, He wasn't a fan of letting everyone know who he was, his charity didn't include small talk.

He stopped and bit into the fruit, a small amount of the juices ran down his chin. He could see the palace in the distance and wondered if it wasn't a bit too much, a bit too flashy. He had yet to meet anyone of importance since he had become affiliated with them. He would remember to ask that question when he found someone that could answer it, it seemed like a waste of resources to prove you can live in a large building for no reason.

the fruit was the perfect refreshment for the warm day. Once he had finished with it he tossed the core into a small corner of the street and continued walking. He wanted to see some of the changes that were brought with the arrival of the new leadership.

 

[S.U.N.D.O.W.N]

Kran searched around the Capital of Bastion, he was new here, yes, so he decided to get a feel for the place. He never knew if there would be a bounty here.​

He sat down on a crate in the market, the person selling the fruits didn't seem to mind, though. Kran unholstered his brand new Blaster Pistols, charged up a shot, and fired it into the air, it was just a stun shot, though.​

He was amazed by the work of the producer of these pistols, maybe he'd buy a piloting droid next time he completed a bounty.​

He hoped the shot in the air would attract some attention, he wanted to get to know how things worked around here. He was loving the Tactical Armor, though. It made him feel comfortable.​

​

​

​

[member="Kyten Nejj"] | [member="Lucullus Lacar"] | [member="Perla Pirjo"] |[member="Orick T'ane"] |[member="Anja Aj'Rou"] |[member="Saran"] |

 

[thegreatbeyonder]

Standing in the corner behind [member="Kran Meelan"] a shadowy figure emerged, the shade from the building he leaned against concealed most of his face which only revealed itself in the puffs of his deathstick and the embers that glowed faintly. The man himself was not much of a looker. Rugged? Surely, he could be described as hardworking man based on his physique but he wasn't exactly muscular. The years have been trying and results not as favourable. The doctor said it was from all that smoking and who knew, he was probably right. If there was a fight he could throw his fists but if he had to run forget about it.

Chuckling a bit when he saw a man in armour with fancy pistols, "Careful with those, you might shoot your eye out." He said with a coarse voice, the deathstick hanging off the bottom of his lip.

Pushing himself off of the corner, Daedalus strode towards the target of his intended conversation.

 

[S.U.N.D.O.W.N]

Kran turned to the [member="Daedalus"], seeming almost startled by him, he then answered his comment with,​

"Well, only stun blasts right now, but I guess you could stun your eyes... or something."​

He said, chuckling a bit himself too.​

Kran removed his helmet, revealing another mask and two eye protectors, he hated having them on, but he needed them.​

Kran holstered the brand new pistols, turning to the man as he answered him.​

[member="Daedalus"] |[member="Kyten Nejj"] |[member="Perla Pirjo"] |[member="Orick T'ane"] |[member="Lucullus Lacar"] |[member="Anja Aj'Rou"] |​

 

[thegreatbeyonder]

Daedalus appreciated a man with sense of humor... Although by man in this case it didn't seem 'human' was of reference.

"I bet." He muttered the words before sitting down on the crate next to him, taking the deathstick in one hand he pulled it from his mouth and let out a toxic cloud of whatever it was made of. One charm of the drug was that it gave you a buzz. So whilst it wouldn't hinder his senses it did relax him and made sure that any tension would be that bit easier to walk away from.

Instead of putting the smoke back in his mouth he offered it towards the Kel Dor, "want a smoke?"

[member="Kran Meelan"]

 

[S.U.N.D.O.W.N]

Kran shook his head, he couldn't smoke, he'd have to take his mask off to do so.​

"I can't smoke, my mask must be taken off to do that and I can't do that. I'd die."​

Kran twirled one of his two blaster pistols in hand, the safety on, he didn't want to end up shooting or hurting anyone.​

"I'd take up your offer, though, if I could."​

"What was your name?"​

​

​

[member="Daedalus"]​