No good deed... (open thread)

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TalRaimi
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No good deed... (open thread)

Post by TalRaimi »

Staggering to the top of the dune, the Shistavanen wiped a paw against his mouth, feeling the grit and sand of the Tatooine desert scrape against his glistening white fangs. Above him, he felt the burning heat of twin suns beating down upon him, slowly cooking him even though he was swathed head to foot in layers of protective desert camouflage. God how he hated this dry desolate world, a world no Shistavenen had ever been meant to walk; fur coats and excessive heat did not mix well.

He paused atop the dune, panting, and stared into the distance. On the horizon he could just about make out the city of Mos Tesra, the towering stone walls of the city shimmering in the heat haze created by the desert.

Finally he thought, a grim smile creasing his wolf-like features, if he had had to spend another night out here, scrubbing a never-ending stream of sand from his coat he would have gone mad. Tonight though he would find a hotel, a decent establishment – or as near to one as Tatooine could provide – where he would have a bath; expensive as such a thing would be on a planet that was all but devoid of water.

“Over there!” a shout from behind him pulled his attention back from the present.

Ven Killik turned and stared back down the dune to the half a dozen beings gathered around two weathered looking speeders at its base. A low growl of annoyance escaped his throat, what now? His dark eyes looked to where a short squat Rodian was pointing off to the east, at least he thought it was the Rodian, and not the Bith. Underneath the khaki robes that they were shrouded in, protecting them against the desert, it was hard to tell sometimes.

His pupils narrowed to slits, as he strained to see against the glare of the mid afternoon sun, and at first he could see nothing of interest, but as his eyes adapted he was suddenly able to pick out a large shambling shape silhouetted against the base of a nearby dune. No, make that two shapes he amended; Desert Wraid.

Blast, he thought to himself as he started back down the rise, kicking up sand as he went, no doubt they were going to want to hunt the Wraid, and no doubt it would delay him from his bath. Killik sighed to himself, wondering not for the first time why he had agreed to this madness; agreed to lead this seemingly suicidal safari across the desert?

“Killik!” a tall human bounded up to him, a large hunting rifle slung over his broad shoulders. “Wraid!”

“I know,” the Shistavanen guide answered, just as he knew why he had agreed to take this job. Money.

“Finally a worthy prize,” the human, a dark haired middle aged businessman from Corellia called Nathen Ross crowed. “Finally something worth displayed in my trophy cabinet back home!”

Killik merely nodded, his eyes drawn to the scattering of smaller desert predators that lay in the back of one of the flatbed speeders. Up until now his ‘clients’ had been disappointed in their expedition, the fact that just surviving five nights out in the desert was a feat in itself had not seemed to have occurred to them; for them it was all about the hunt.

The hunt. Yes, that was something Killik could understand, it was a primeval urge that all of his species still possessed, it was something simple, something pure; it was the survival of the fittest. A glance to the high powered hunting rifles that the group all carried however cooled his enthusiasm; this wasn’t a hunt… this was a slaughter.

“We’ll leave the speeders here,” he announced as the six ‘hunters’ clustered around him. “We’ll move in on foot. The Wraid seem to be moving north, so we’ll aim to cut them off just before that second dune over there.”

The group all nodded enthusiastically, and busily began to gather themselves together while Killik went to retrieve his own rifle from one of the speeders. As he hefted the custom weapon, tracing a claw over the well worn butt of the rifle, he had second thoughts about taking the weapon. After all, why would they need another rifle along, the group already had six between them. Gently he returned it to the speeder, and motioning for the group to follow, set out across the desert after the Wraid.

I guess that bath will have to wait, he mumbled to himself as he fought the urge to claw his itching skin from off the bone…
'Would you do it with me, heal the scars and change the stars?'

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Post by TalRaimi »

It was several hours later that Killik finally emerged from a tub of what had been not so long ago, scolding hot water. Dripping wet he padded across to the fresher station, clawed fleet clicking across the bare stone floor of the Refuge Arm’s Cantina’s guest bathroom. Letting out a contented sigh, the seven foot tall Shistavanen decided to forgo the blow drier, and instead began to towel himself dry; it was already hot and muggy outside and he saw no reason to exasperate the situation. Idly, he reflected that sometimes having fur was a bit of a curse, and that it would be much easier if he were bald. Especially on this sand rotted planet.

Roughly a quarter of an hour later, a very slightly damp Killik sauntered into the cantina common room and immediately headed for the bar. Like most of the cantinas on this dust ball, the ‘Refuge’ was a small low ceiling affair, what some might call cozy, but most would call cramped. At this early hour of the evening though it wasn’t too bad, a handful of patrons were scattered across a dozen tables, and the most exciting thing going on seemed to be a game of sabacc in the far corner.

“Enjoy your bath?” cantina’s landlady asked as he approached the bar.

“I did,” Killik affirmed, his voice coming out a bass growl. And at the price charged it was a good thing too, he added silently, before ordering the most expensive ale on offer. While a small part of his mind chided him for his extravagance, he was content to indulge himself this one time; trekking through the desert with a group of novice hunters – bored business men trying to spice up their humdrum existence – had been a taxing affair, yet he had made enough from this one trip to support himself for a few months at least.

Such is my own existence he thought dryly, drifting from one job to the next; a club lost in the forest. Killik grunted, and therein lay the problem. Where was his life going? He was a hunter with nothing to hunt, an explorer with nothing to explore; his species two primeval urges and he could satisfy neither one.

Taking a large swallow of his ale he turned his attention to the card game, perhaps he could distract himself for a few hours; perhaps he could avoid having to contemplate his existence. “Room for another?” he asked as he approached.

The four beings around the table looked up, their expressions ranging from simple curiosity to outright hostility. “Sure,” a slim human female smiled up at him, “pull up a chair and throw a few credits in the pot.”

From across the table a green skinned Rodian shot her a nasty glare, but the human women either did not notice, or paid it no mind. Killik suppressed a grimace, he held Rodians in contempt. Supposedly renowned hunters and trackers on their homeworld – much like his own people – he had encountered little sign of such a trait in those Rodians he had met during in his own travels, and as far as he was concerned it was a boast that they could not back up. Sniffing the air his nose wrinkled in distaste, as the musty sent of the Rodian ticked his nostrils.

“Name’s Karlin,” the human women supplied as he tossed a handful of credits into the center of the small wooden table.

“I am Killik,” the Shistavanen replied, watching the game that was already in progress.

“A pleasure,” Karlin gave him a wry smile, before introducing the tables other three occupants with a sweep of her hand. “The Gotal there is Valan, the Bith Mortarad, and the Rodian with the slightly sour expression on his face is known as Patch.”

KIllik nodded to all three, even Patch, although it pained him greatly.

For the next hour he lost himself in the game, the cards flowing almost as freely as the alcohol, and while his luck was not exactly outstanding, he managed to win almost as many hands as he lost. Karlin it turned out, was actually quite good company – for a human that was – and Killik found himself warming to her dry sense of humor and cynical outlook on life. Yes, he thought to himself, not a bad way to kill some time.

Killik had just drained the last of his glass of ale, when suddenly the mood at the table changed drastically. Killik glanced across at the Rodian and Bith opposite, and saw their expressions stiffen, their eyes gazing over the top of his head to stare at something behind him; Killik’s fur began to bristle. Slowly, he craned his neck around and his dark brown eyes immediately picked out the source of the tension, a tension that was not just limited to his own table, the entire cantina seemed to have fallen under a dark shroud; at the centre of which stood four white armored figures.

The four Imperial Stormtroopers stood just inside the cantina entrance, their black armored visors scanning the interior of the room, gazes steadily roving from table to table… until they settled on Killik. Instantly two of them detached themsevels from the others, and began to weave across the floor, weapons held casually at their sides, but ready to be brought up to firing position within a moments notice.

Killik tensed at their approach, his mind desperately searching for a reason they could be after him. Sure, he hadn’t exactly left the Empire’s employ in good terms, but as far as he knew there hadn’t been a hard feelings on there part… he hadn’t mattered enough for that.

It seemed to take an age for the two Stormtroopers to reach the table, but when they did they ignored Killik completely, and a white armored hand reached out to land in the shoulder of the person sitting next to him. “Karlin Deshler?” a metallic voice enquired.

The short, dark haired women at his right stiffened at the Imperial’s touch, but managed to compose herself before answering. “Yes, that’s me. What can I do for you… officer?”

“You will accompany me back to Garrison headquarters,” the masked Imperial told her; it was clearly not a request.

A look of genuine confusion blossomed in Karlin’s eyes, “Why? What’s this all about?”

The hand on her shoulder tightened, pulling Karlin to her feet.

“Hey!” the Bith across from her rose, indignation clearly evident even on his nondescript features, “Leave her… Ugh,” a groan escaped him as the butt end of the Stormtrooper’s rifle slammed into his face, driving him back down into his seat.

Now the two rifles were no longer pointing down, they were aimed to cover the table; evidently no more interference would be brooked. “Move,” the lead trooper ordered Karlin, pushing her chair out of the way and spinning her around whereby he roughly began to manhandle her towards the exit, all the while under the guns of the other three troopers.

“Wait, I haven’t done anything!” Karlin protest as she was ushered out of the cantina, “Someone help me!”

And then they were gone.

Seconds passed. Killik stared at the Bith, stunned and bloody, staring wide eyed towards the exit. A low growl formed at the base of his throat, growing steadily louder under it became a rumble. Killik stood silently, and without another word headed towards the cantina’s exit…
'Would you do it with me, heal the scars and change the stars?'

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VagueDurin
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Post by VagueDurin »

ooc: looks good so far... might be interested... did you ahve anything in mind?

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TalRaimi
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Post by TalRaimi »

OOC: To be honest no, i havn't really got anything in mind, just thought a try an old fashioned see-where-it-goes thread, and hopefully pull a few people in to rp with me.

If you have any ideas feel free to throw them around.
'Would you do it with me, heal the scars and change the stars?'

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VagueDurin
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Post by VagueDurin »

ooc: cool

IC:
Lucky laid as still as humanly possible as he waited. He was dressed in all off-white clothing, and was wearing a white mask. His blaster rifle was similarly covered in white. And on top of all that he had a sort of blanket covering all but his rifles scope. The blanket was professionally made to impersonate snow-covered ground.

His breathing was slow, and rhythmic. His index finger resting very gently against the trigger. He squinted, and once again slowly adjusted the scope to get a better view of the ground below. There was a large crowd gathered on the snow-covered ground, in front of the crowd was a podium, and several chairs. Public officials and politicians occupied the chairs, as the president of the Daltiin sector spoke from behind the podium.

The speech was nearing its close, and Lucky had his shot lined up. Squinting just a bit more, he set the cross hairs slightly above the mans eyes, and gently stroked the trigger. The blast suppression equipment made the shot sound less than a twig being snapped, and absolutely no one saw the blast coming until it struck the president just under his nose. His face exploded gruesomely, and he jerked back slightly before crumpling to the ground. Not even a second later, another shot was fired from a location directly kitty corner to Lucky's. This one hit the police commissioner in the chest, and he dropped to the ground next to the now deceased president.

Lucky wasted no time, taking advantage of the crowds panic, and his great camouflage, he stood, and quickly made his way back to his Craft, and blasted out of the planets Atmosphere, moments later, he leapt to hyperspace on already programmed coordinates, to meet with the people who would be providing him and Borris their credits.

The two hit men sat in a corner booth of a Cantina in Mos Eisley. Impatiently awaiting their contact. Finally, The Rodian ducked through the entrance, and, after ordering and paying for a drink, walked past their booth, giving a barely perceptible signal, and then headed out the back. The two casually followed, and after about a 2-minute walk, were boarding a gleaming black Lambda Class Shuttle. The Rodian never spoke a word to them as they sat in the passenger cabin of the ship, and it was highly unnerving. Although it didn’t seem to affect him at all.

After a few quick jumps through hyperspace, the ship finally landed on a private pad, in a very secret location. The two were then escorted by the Rodian to a small Cabin like structure on a Sandbar, just below a beautiful waterfall. They were directed to sit at the long conference table in the center of the main room, and did so, accepting the offered wine goblets from servants dressed in Scarlet robes. As Lucky looked at the chair at the head of the table, which was facing away from them, he couldn’t help but feel a slight chill run down his spine. Behind the chair were two bodyguards, much larger than Lucky was. They seemed to stare off into nothingness, but Lucky knew they saw his and Boriss’s every move.

The chair spun to face them, leaving a faint trail of Ciggarra smoke above it. And there she was. Milie. Sitting there in all her glory. She was dressed in a close fitting deep red leather suit, with a black cloak wrapped around her shoulders. She smiled slowly, her deep brown eyes slowly measuring up the two assassins. She exhaled slowly, a small moan escaping her lips as the smoke rose up into the air, she grinned mischievously as the two hit-men squirmed a bit in their seats, resting her four arms on the table gently. “Welcome to Naboo, gentlemen.” She said, in her silky, seductive tone, as she spread her upper arms out in a sweeping gesture. Lucky simply nodded his greeting.

“We’re here for our payments, Milie.” He said, and took a quick sip of the wine.
“80 thousand credits, correct?” She asked, taking another quick drag of the ciggarra.
“Try 120.” He snapped back.
She smiled slowly, yet the smile lacked even the slightest hint of compassion. “Very well.” She said, and snapped her fingers in the air once. Doors opened on either side of the room, and two more servants in scarlet robes walked forward, each carrying a briefcase, which they set down in front of the men.

Lucky and Boriss each opened their cases cautiously, and took several long moments to inspect the contents inside them. They nodded to each other slowly.
“I trust that this satisfies you?” Came Milie's voice from the head of the table.
“Very much so.” Replied Lucky, and the two stood, Lucky leading out the door.
“Boriss? A moment of you’re Time please?” Asked Milie. Boriss stopped, and nodded, nervously returning to his seat at the table. Lucky continued on and into the shuttle. Milie shook her head slowly, but showed no reaction to the small, dark cloaked creature silently making his way behind Boriss. He was so close he could breath down the hit man’s neck. “Boriss, Boriss, Boriss… What is a girl to do with you?” She asked, her tone mocking. She snapped her fingers again, and a flimsi was placed before him. His face went pale as he read it.

He moved quickly, so quickly he toppled over the chair, but not quick enough as Drakhohin, in a dark blur that only a trained eye could see, did his job. The Noghri assassin then bowed, and left the room. Milie sat for a moment, looking in disgust at the blood splattered all over her furniture, and floor. Then she slowly stood, and walked over to Boriss’s dying form. His body writhed sporadically, and his neck was spurting blood out profusely. Milie got down on one knee next to him, and looked the dying man square in his eyes. “Don’t miss next time.” She said coldly, then stood, and walked out of the building, out the back, her two bodyguards following closely behind her. Two servants set to removing Boriss from the room, and another two began to clean up.

The Rodian made his way back into the shuttle, but he didn’t need to say anything. Lucky knew how business went, he had known since Milie had asked Boriss to stay behind he was a dead man, and he sat back, waiting in the silence as the shuttle lifted off, and returned him to Tattooine…

Lucky sat in the corner of a less than comfortable jail cell. His back up against the wall, shoulders feeling a touch light as the dark blue nerf hide jacket that normal would be on them was ten feet away on some pompus imps desk with Lucky's other belongings. He ran a pair of cuffed hands back through his brown hair. The scar that ran up from his right eye caused the very front of his hair to be colored a brilliant white, a deep contrast to the dark brown of the rest of it.

His pale green eyes slowly moved over to glance at the Imp. He put his hands up in the air in front of him and spoke, voice smooth. "Are these really necessary sir? I mean, kinda redundant when you take the reinforced durasteel cell you've got me in..."

"Procedure." came the only reply.

"Whatever." Lucky mumbled as he stood and began to pace the cell. He never had gotten used to the idea of being in a cage, no matter how many times he'd ended up in one. Most of the time he couldn't even remember what he did to get into it in the first place... though if memory served, he'd been drinking and playing pazzak, two things that shouldn't be allowed to exist without one another, when he'd been accused of cheating, and he didn't take too kindly to being called a cheater... yeah, that was it.

A sudden scuffle caught his attention and he looked up in time to see a squad of troopers bringing in a rather pleasent looking female...

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TalRaimi
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Post by TalRaimi »

Karlin was unceremoniously thrust through the door of the small Imperial constable’s office, her guard of four Stormtroopers following her in, a large durasteel door slamming shut behind her, cutting off the muggy Tatooine night. She was drawn up in front of a small, dark haired Imperial wearing a somewhat bored expression upon his face. His dull blue eyes flickered across her slim form, drifting upwards to stare at her wide eyed, yet somewhat defiant expression.

“And you are?” he asked, although there seemed real little curiosity behind his question. He was merely following protocol.

“Karlin Deshler,” one of the Stormtroopers put in before Karlin herself could answer.

At this the previously bored Imperial raised an eyebrow, his eyes taking on a burning intensity that had been lacking before. “Really? So you’re our one our mysterious guest is after?”

Baffled, and more than a little scared, Karlin once more tried to reason with the Imps. “Guest… what guest? Look I haven’t done anything; this is all some big misunderstanding!”

The Imperial shook his head. “Oh, I doubt that. Especially considering the officer who signed you arrest warrant.”

“What?” she stammered, “Well, fine… where is he?”

“He’ll be here,” The Imperial told her, “In time.”

Karlin was about to spit out a cutting reply when the Officer made a small, subtle gesture and she suddenly found herself once again in the grip of two of the Stormtroopers.

“Put her in the cell next to brawler,” the officer commanded, “And them report back to your superior.”

Obligingly the troopers herded her into the corner of a small cell, and then a shimmering blue energy field sprang up in front of her, sealing her in. Then without a word the quad of Imperial Stormtroopers turned and filed out of the holding area, leaving Karlin alone except for the bored Imperial, and… the strange man staring through the adjoining cell bars at her.

“I didn’t do it…” she called out to him, suddenly feeling the need to justify herself., “…whatever ‘it’ was.”

OOC: Hmm... i'm presuming Lucky's human, right?
'Would you do it with me, heal the scars and change the stars?'

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VagueDurin
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Post by VagueDurin »

ooc: That is correct

IC:
Lucky watched on with a curiousity that was part his own nature, part the fact that he had nothing better to do as the Imperial Officer spoke to the young woman breifly before she was tossed into the cell next to his.

He shrugged his shoulders lightly, as if to brush off her declaration. "No worries... Karlin is it?" he continued at her nod in the affirmative. "Names Lucky. Round these parts it doesn't really matter if you did something or not, though." he spoke, pale green eyes glancing her over. "Speaking of these parts, what does a lovely dame like yourself happen to be doing on a rough and tumble world like this one?"

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Post by TalRaimi »

‘Lovely Dame?’ Karlin blinked, wondering if she had heard correctly, and for a moment the surrealism of it all overrode thoughts of what was going to happen to her. She shook her head, setting strands of short red hair quivering, was this guy for real? A small part of her mind cautioned her to be mindful of her response, after all, this ‘Lucky’ was in his jail cell for a reason, and all things considered it might be best not to antagonize him.

Unfortunately, that thought ran though her head at the exact time she opened her mouth…

“Oh, I’m just her for the annual Imperial Correctional Facility Beauty Pageant,” she shot back, putting on her most sarcastic voice. Inside she mentally winced, so much for not upsetting him…
'Would you do it with me, heal the scars and change the stars?'

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Post by VagueDurin »

Lucky smiled as he took the sarcastic comment in stride. He glanced around before making himself more comfortable towards the edge of the cell. "Cute, really." he spoke, an eyebrow raising slightly. "Though, I've got to admit from the crowd that gets pushed through here, you'd have a step up on the rest." he spoke, and he could see her mentally rolling her eyes. "All pleasantries aside, what I said before is true, here on the outer rim, it doesn't matter if you did what they say you did or not, Its not gonna change the fact that you're behind bars."

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Post by TalRaimi »

Killik stalked through the night, slipping easily from one shadowed recess to another, barely making a sound; but always his keeping the four ghostly white stromtroopers within sight or sound. The starry sky was moonless, and long dark shadows draped themselves across this part of Mos Tesra, providing the hunter with ample cover. Killik’s ears twitched at the sound of approaching footsteps, forcing him to duck into the shade of a nearby store front; long since closed at this later hour. Several heartbeats passed, and then two short figures ambled along the street, completely oblivious to the Wolfman lurking in the darkness.

This was crazy, he told himself as he slipped from cover and once more resumed his tracking of the Imp patrol. They were out of sight now, having rounded the corner at the far end of the dusty sand covered street, but Killik could still smell them; that cloying sent of plastaseel armor and fresh polish. They weren’t far ahead. Madness, his mind screamed, what was he thinking?

Truth be told he was long past rational thought, the why of it all having been long forgotten as his hunters instincts had taken over. As he crept silently through the night, the thrill of the hunt took him, brining back long banished memories; memories of happy times, memories that took place before his run in with the Empire.

It was not long before the Stormtroopers reached what served as the local prison, a long low squat building in the centre of the city, stationed on the corner of the main square. A second building off to its left served as the local Stromtrooper barracks, although for the most part troops were drafted in from Mos Eisly, and rarely stayed longer than a few days before shipping back out. Hopefully there wouldn’t be more than a dozen troopers stationed in town.

He watched as they dragged their prisoner into the building, and then only a few moments later reappeared out onto the street. Slipping smoothly out of the shadows, and armed with only his claws, Killik strode towards them…

-------------------------------------------------

Karlin fought for a witty comeback, but the truth of Lucky’s words seemed to have taken that small amount of fight out of her. She’d been around long enough to know that the Imps did what they wanted with you, and worried about whether you were actually guilty of the crime later. If only she knew what they wanted with her?

She sighed, “If you must know I’m a freighter pilot,” she told him, and seeing his eyebrows raise was quick to add, “a pilot; not, a smuggler. I’m legit.”

At least, she hoped she was. Could that be why they’d picked her up, was there something in her cargo hold that wasn’t meant to be there? She glanced at the Imperial at the desk, his head buried in a datapad and decided she wasn’t going to get any answers there. It seemed like she was just going to have to wait for this mysterious Officer to show up and explain it to her.

Settling back onto the rough couch provided, and with nothing else to do, she asked, “So, what are you in for?”
'Would you do it with me, heal the scars and change the stars?'

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VagueDurin
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Post by VagueDurin »

Lucky smiled a bit, relaxing and setting his cuffed hands against the bars seperating their cages. "Um... They used some fancy words to label it at the time... but I'm pretty sure I'm here cause I beat the snot out of some lekku head who decided that he couldn't possibly be beaten by a mere human at pazaak and proceded to question my honesty... I didn't take too kindly to being called a cheater, and let him know about it." he tilted his head a bit to one side as he finished his explaination. "Just happened to be the wrong day, some officer happened to be off duty in the cantina at the time and now I'm here."

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