Sergeant Omen
Arc Trooper Sergeant of the 41st Elite Corps
Wearing:https://i.pinimg.com/originals/19/4b/7c/194b7c9213289da552462fb12c40e1df.jpg in all black.
Equipment: Datapad under clothes, Mando butterfly knife and Bes'bev in his arms,a wallet and a ID card.
Omen walked through one of Coruscant's great plazas with his hands balled into fists and his head held low while his thoughts were filled with curses and expletives. What are those spaceport staffers playing at, telling me that there is a backlog of ships waiting for fuel because of the talks going on. There can't be that nerfing many if you're sitting on your rear ends!" Needless to say, the trooper was not in the best of moods today but maybe that was soon to change. As the ARC rounded the corner, he saw a medium booth with a small crowd of people around it. The call of "Come one, come all to the Peace Lottery! See if you can win the first prize of today! All you need is an SJC or a GA ID card to enter!" echoed around the square, coaxing anyone that came near it with its siren call.
The trooper was one of those coaxed into coming to have a closer look at the booth. He could see that many local commercial business icons with ties to both the GA and the SJC were printed on the as sponsoring the lottery and that made sense. No business wanted a war that their trade ships would be in the middle of and no business wanted their facilities burned to the ground by an invading army. As he stepped up to the desk where a male light green-skinned Twilek was vetting the participants to see if they were actually from where they said they were. As the young Alien looked up, he smiled his automatic "This job wasn't worth it" smile at the Arc. "Here for the raffle? ID card please sir." Omen handed it over his ID without a word and as the Twilek looked at it, a chuckled ran out from his tired throat."Its funny, you look like one of those clones from..." He quickly stopped in surprise as the grumpy Omen took his mask off showing his full face. "Oh..." Omen ran his two fingers across his forehead in frustration, he was not in the mood to play the "Look at the 800-year-old clone" game today. "Just give the card back..." The Twilek stuttered from shock as he handed the soldier his card back plus a raffle ticket. "Here sir... the... the number on the ticket is yours. A ball with your number on it will... will be placed inside the ball roller and two balls will be picked for roll. If you get picked, you and another person from the GA both get a chance to win the same prize... All... all in the name of peace between the GA and the Silver Jedi. I... I wish you luck sir..." Omen rolled his eyes as he snatched both the ticket and the card before walking away. "Yeah, thanks..." He didn't mean to be hard on the kid but his patience level just was not there to play the "OMG, YOU'RE A CLONE!" game today.
"Hello folks, the first roll of the day is starting so keep an eye on those tickets. We will be picking the SJC winner first as their host in these current talks. Here we go!" the red Nikko crowed as he started to roll the ball machine. "Let us see if SJC member wins the chance at the Grand Prize of taking part in a dinner for two at the pillar of culinary Coruscant cuisine Goodvalor's Little Bivoli. The Nikto gave the crown a playful wink, "Only to talk Diplomacy of course." As the first ball rolled out of the machine, the Nikto grabbed it up like a greedy monkey before calling out "88, 88 is the first number." Omen took a look down at his ticket. "Probably not even close. What is it... 88? And my ticket says... 88..." The trooper's eyes could only go wide in shock and horror as his mind couldn't help going "I'm nerfed... I'm really nerfed... I'm totally nerfed..." as the Nikto started rolling for the GA participant.
OOC: Just a lottery for a dinner. Anyone who can claim GA or SJC citizenship/ the possibility to have an GA/SJC ID card can jump in.
Equipment: Datapad under clothes, Mando butterfly knife and Bes'bev in his arms,a wallet and a ID card.
Omen walked through one of Coruscant's great plazas with his hands balled into fists and his head held low while his thoughts were filled with curses and expletives. What are those spaceport staffers playing at, telling me that there is a backlog of ships waiting for fuel because of the talks going on. There can't be that nerfing many if you're sitting on your rear ends!" Needless to say, the trooper was not in the best of moods today but maybe that was soon to change. As the ARC rounded the corner, he saw a medium booth with a small crowd of people around it. The call of "Come one, come all to the Peace Lottery! See if you can win the first prize of today! All you need is an SJC or a GA ID card to enter!" echoed around the square, coaxing anyone that came near it with its siren call.
The trooper was one of those coaxed into coming to have a closer look at the booth. He could see that many local commercial business icons with ties to both the GA and the SJC were printed on the as sponsoring the lottery and that made sense. No business wanted a war that their trade ships would be in the middle of and no business wanted their facilities burned to the ground by an invading army. As he stepped up to the desk where a male light green-skinned Twilek was vetting the participants to see if they were actually from where they said they were. As the young Alien looked up, he smiled his automatic "This job wasn't worth it" smile at the Arc. "Here for the raffle? ID card please sir." Omen handed it over his ID without a word and as the Twilek looked at it, a chuckled ran out from his tired throat."Its funny, you look like one of those clones from..." He quickly stopped in surprise as the grumpy Omen took his mask off showing his full face. "Oh..." Omen ran his two fingers across his forehead in frustration, he was not in the mood to play the "Look at the 800-year-old clone" game today. "Just give the card back..." The Twilek stuttered from shock as he handed the soldier his card back plus a raffle ticket. "Here sir... the... the number on the ticket is yours. A ball with your number on it will... will be placed inside the ball roller and two balls will be picked for roll. If you get picked, you and another person from the GA both get a chance to win the same prize... All... all in the name of peace between the GA and the Silver Jedi. I... I wish you luck sir..." Omen rolled his eyes as he snatched both the ticket and the card before walking away. "Yeah, thanks..." He didn't mean to be hard on the kid but his patience level just was not there to play the "OMG, YOU'RE A CLONE!" game today.
"Hello folks, the first roll of the day is starting so keep an eye on those tickets. We will be picking the SJC winner first as their host in these current talks. Here we go!" the red Nikko crowed as he started to roll the ball machine. "Let us see if SJC member wins the chance at the Grand Prize of taking part in a dinner for two at the pillar of culinary Coruscant cuisine Goodvalor's Little Bivoli. The Nikto gave the crown a playful wink, "Only to talk Diplomacy of course." As the first ball rolled out of the machine, the Nikto grabbed it up like a greedy monkey before calling out "88, 88 is the first number." Omen took a look down at his ticket. "Probably not even close. What is it... 88? And my ticket says... 88..." The trooper's eyes could only go wide in shock and horror as his mind couldn't help going "I'm nerfed... I'm really nerfed... I'm totally nerfed..." as the Nikto started rolling for the GA participant.
OOC: Just a lottery for a dinner. Anyone who can claim GA or SJC citizenship/ the possibility to have an GA/SJC ID card can jump in.
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