Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos
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Never Trust a Witch
- Thread starter Cyrilla Ky'lik
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Vanir
Lightning-Struck Angel
Aurum drank out of [member="Hadraas"]' cup, leaving a bit of a mess on the bar, where liquor came flying off the feathers on his face.
This isn't that strong, Morrigan. But at least it tastes good.
"Glad you like it, Aurry. Don't get yourself too dizzy."
I smiled at Hadraas.
"Funny little guy, ain't he?"
This isn't that strong, Morrigan. But at least it tastes good.
"Glad you like it, Aurry. Don't get yourself too dizzy."
I smiled at Hadraas.
"Funny little guy, ain't he?"
Hadraas
Hardass
"I suppose. Can't say I've 'meet' any other birds for reference"
Tired of actually holding the glass, not disturbed much by the mess he left it there being held up to the winged companions mouth by the force, as he crosses his armed and leaned back onto the bar.
"So what brings you to this world? Me I go everywhere at least once...what Im trying to do anyway."
[member="Morrigan"]
Tired of actually holding the glass, not disturbed much by the mess he left it there being held up to the winged companions mouth by the force, as he crosses his armed and leaned back onto the bar.
"So what brings you to this world? Me I go everywhere at least once...what Im trying to do anyway."
[member="Morrigan"]
Vanir
Lightning-Struck Angel
"Where I can go, I go. If I'm pleasantly surprised, I have fun and get drunk. If the surprise in question is not so pleasant, I have a different kind of fun. More... Bloodthirsty fun..."
I grinned.
"But most of the time I'm just a girl who walks into a bar, and drinks a lot. With wings and a bird."
[member="Hadraas"]
I grinned.
"But most of the time I'm just a girl who walks into a bar, and drinks a lot. With wings and a bird."
[member="Hadraas"]
Hadraas
Hardass
"You are Sith?"
He asked a provoked question she seemed the part.
"Perhaps we share the same goals... and two bodies are better than one..."
A not-so subtle proposal to become traveling companions... as long as he didn't have to pick up after that bird,
"I'd be lovely to have something as gorgeous to look at while I work as well.."
he rubbed his chin, as he did so the glass started to drop.. him clearly distracted, yet before shattering on the ground his mind caught it again lifting it, slowly.
[member="Morrigan"]
He asked a provoked question she seemed the part.
"Perhaps we share the same goals... and two bodies are better than one..."
A not-so subtle proposal to become traveling companions... as long as he didn't have to pick up after that bird,
"I'd be lovely to have something as gorgeous to look at while I work as well.."
he rubbed his chin, as he did so the glass started to drop.. him clearly distracted, yet before shattering on the ground his mind caught it again lifting it, slowly.
[member="Morrigan"]
Hadraas
Hardass
"What gave it away? Me being on a world within the Republic's space?"
He placed the drink on the counter. He forgot what he's told her thinking maybe she already knew to much about himself... remembering what he's told he relaxes.
"Can you fly?-Starships I mean."
[member="Morrigan"]
He placed the drink on the counter. He forgot what he's told her thinking maybe she already knew to much about himself... remembering what he's told he relaxes.
"Can you fly?-Starships I mean."
[member="Morrigan"]
Vanir
Lightning-Struck Angel
"I can't fly anything really big.... I crashed a frigate into a Star Destroyer, once. But I can fly corvettes, freighters, airspeeders... Fun stuff."
I took a pull at the whiskey I was holding, my second one. It was a bit saltier than the last, but I liked it.
"Why? You have a ship for me to fly? I was about to go get one with my employer's money..."
[member="Hadraas"]
I took a pull at the whiskey I was holding, my second one. It was a bit saltier than the last, but I liked it.
"Why? You have a ship for me to fly? I was about to go get one with my employer's money..."
[member="Hadraas"]
Vanir
Lightning-Struck Angel
"The Moross. Crazy bunch of fanatics, for the most part. But they have money and power, and let me throw some of said money around. Not a bad number, as gigs go."
I finished off my second drink and reached for the third.
"Now, if you were going to buy me a ship, it'd have to be really nice. Amazing handling, nice lines, and really fast. If you could fly by yourself, I'm sure you wouldn't take anything less."
[member="Hadraas"]
I finished off my second drink and reached for the third.
"Now, if you were going to buy me a ship, it'd have to be really nice. Amazing handling, nice lines, and really fast. If you could fly by yourself, I'm sure you wouldn't take anything less."
[member="Hadraas"]
Geneviève Lasedri
Fascists hate her!
Geneviève raised her eyebrows as the babbling Cathar provided too much information on her personal health issues. Some people just do not know where to draw the line--or when to not get riled up about a passing comment.
Also, inviting strangers to sit with you was quite out-of-line to someone like Lasedri. While she was a rebel in nearly every sense of the word, the stuck-up Chandrilan personality was still prominent. She liked her peace and wished everyone could maintain their own without holding their hands. But in the context of being in hiding and attempting to blend in, now was not the time to set herself apart. So she laxly tucked her little black book into her trenchcoat and slid into the booth, next to the robot.
"You realize you can set him to just agree with whatever you say," Gen commented, unconcerned with whether she 'offended' the droid. "I always do. Artificial personality never did anything except make them a pain in the rear."
[member="Cyrilla Ky'lik"], [member="LE-X1"]
Also, inviting strangers to sit with you was quite out-of-line to someone like Lasedri. While she was a rebel in nearly every sense of the word, the stuck-up Chandrilan personality was still prominent. She liked her peace and wished everyone could maintain their own without holding their hands. But in the context of being in hiding and attempting to blend in, now was not the time to set herself apart. So she laxly tucked her little black book into her trenchcoat and slid into the booth, next to the robot.
"You realize you can set him to just agree with whatever you say," Gen commented, unconcerned with whether she 'offended' the droid. "I always do. Artificial personality never did anything except make them a pain in the rear."
[member="Cyrilla Ky'lik"], [member="LE-X1"]
LE-X1
Lexon
Lexon glanced at the woman who slid into the booth next to him. "Mistress Ky'lik does not own me. She rescued me," he commented. The artificial tone in his voice almost sounded tight, but "offended" wasn't the right term. He was not a protocol droid, so interpreting and transmitting language was not his primary function, and he was not very good at it. Programmed emotional responses--or spontaneous ones, on account of his age--fell more in the range of fear and courage, panic and calm, rather than offense and pleasure. "Besides, emotional reprogramming would necessitate a memory wipe, and my memories are presently too valuable to proceed with that course of action."
He paused a moment, thinking, then added, "I calculate a ninety-three percent probability that such a course of action would result in loss of finances, should Mistress Ky'lik continue in her intended course, and an eighteen percent probability for loss of life, under the same conditions." He faced Cyrilla, with his unblinking visual sensors glowing their eternal, almost effervescent green. "To follow her suggestion would be unwise, mistress."
[member="Cyrilla Ky'lik"], [member="Geneviève Lasedri"]
He paused a moment, thinking, then added, "I calculate a ninety-three percent probability that such a course of action would result in loss of finances, should Mistress Ky'lik continue in her intended course, and an eighteen percent probability for loss of life, under the same conditions." He faced Cyrilla, with his unblinking visual sensors glowing their eternal, almost effervescent green. "To follow her suggestion would be unwise, mistress."
[member="Cyrilla Ky'lik"], [member="Geneviève Lasedri"]
..N..O..N..L..E..T..H..A..L..
Nar Shadda was not the ideal place for mechanical difficulties on a ship, but one could hardly choose when such things came about. Rather, Ivy thought to herself while kneading gloved hands at her temples, it was all a matter of luck. For some time the Merc had thought herself rather un-fortuitous with most things in life, and it was things like these that made her all the more certain of it.
Un-for-tui-tous.
Was that even a word?
It didn't matter and it wasn't going to fix her ship. Credits would - not currently an issue - but it was a set back she wasn't planning on.
"Looks like its bare bones until we get home, Lye," the woman muttered to her hound presently lolling on the floor. He didn't seem to care, but he'd also just devoured an entire bantha haunch, the stench of which had permeated nearly every nook of the pilots den. Nose wrinkled, with a heavy sigh she pushed herself to her feet and stepped over the lazy beast. Two hours might be enough time to air the bird out.
Ivy pulled her traveling cloak over the bulk of her armor and nudged the tuk'ata with her booted foot.
"Get up, you're not messing on the ship again after that meal."
Moments later the mismatched pair stepped out into the sunlight and a short while later they walked through the entrance of the cantina. Under normal circumstances, in a civilized part of the galaxy, this might have warranted alarm. Tuk'ata were certainly not known for their lap-dog demeanors, but this was Nar Shadda, and Ivy had a smart little rhetoric prepared for anyone who might have a complaint. A short glance showed her there were already a small collection of beasts present, including a winged woman with a large bird.
"That," she tapped on Lye's snout, "is not food. Don't even think about it."
The hound sniffed, eyed the thing, and moved on with his belly gurgling. She took a seat at a vacant table not too far from where a cathar, a droid, and a woman inhabited a booth. Lye sat, smacked his maw and idly looked about, eyes settling upon [member="Cyrilla Ky'lik"]
"Nn, fried talip," Ivy said over a grunt as she perused the table menu, "I should have stolen a bite from your meal."
Un-for-tui-tous.
Was that even a word?
It didn't matter and it wasn't going to fix her ship. Credits would - not currently an issue - but it was a set back she wasn't planning on.
"Looks like its bare bones until we get home, Lye," the woman muttered to her hound presently lolling on the floor. He didn't seem to care, but he'd also just devoured an entire bantha haunch, the stench of which had permeated nearly every nook of the pilots den. Nose wrinkled, with a heavy sigh she pushed herself to her feet and stepped over the lazy beast. Two hours might be enough time to air the bird out.
Ivy pulled her traveling cloak over the bulk of her armor and nudged the tuk'ata with her booted foot.
"Get up, you're not messing on the ship again after that meal."
Moments later the mismatched pair stepped out into the sunlight and a short while later they walked through the entrance of the cantina. Under normal circumstances, in a civilized part of the galaxy, this might have warranted alarm. Tuk'ata were certainly not known for their lap-dog demeanors, but this was Nar Shadda, and Ivy had a smart little rhetoric prepared for anyone who might have a complaint. A short glance showed her there were already a small collection of beasts present, including a winged woman with a large bird.
"That," she tapped on Lye's snout, "is not food. Don't even think about it."
The hound sniffed, eyed the thing, and moved on with his belly gurgling. She took a seat at a vacant table not too far from where a cathar, a droid, and a woman inhabited a booth. Lye sat, smacked his maw and idly looked about, eyes settling upon [member="Cyrilla Ky'lik"]
"Nn, fried talip," Ivy said over a grunt as she perused the table menu, "I should have stolen a bite from your meal."
Cyrilla Ky'lik
Character
OOC: Just realized that if cathars are obligate carnivores, the lack of fiber issues probably doesn’t make much sense. Their digestive tracts would be well suited to a diet of high fat and protein.
Gross.
IC:
“I’m not reprogramming you,” Cyrilla growled at Lex’s often times annoying habit of spouting off the probability and statistics of events, which while vexing often proved accurate and useful. “You also forget that I don’t do mechanics. I can repair an organic, but not a droid. I have no idea how to begin that memory wipe.”
The cathar glanced to her left, both natural and supernatural senses tingling. She spotted the woman with her pet. The stench of the creature was unique, something she had never smelled before, but the way it leered at her with its gaping maw broadcast its intentions. Cyrilla glared at the tuk’ata before turning back to her table guests.
“Great, and now some hound is probably eyeing me as a meal. Anyways, the droid and I were discussing ways to get off this world. As you can tell by his great math skills, Lex isn’t one for creative thinking. You’re human, you’re organic. Do you have any suggestions that don’t involve useless numbers and endless calculations?
OOC:
Sorry, this is the best I can do. Muse is dead after sitting through all that conference material. Though, maybe we can get Lex to count cards or predict gambling odds as a way to generate funds….
[member="LE-X1"]
[member="Ivy Lasranae"]
[member="Geneviève Lasedri"]
Gross.
IC:
“I’m not reprogramming you,” Cyrilla growled at Lex’s often times annoying habit of spouting off the probability and statistics of events, which while vexing often proved accurate and useful. “You also forget that I don’t do mechanics. I can repair an organic, but not a droid. I have no idea how to begin that memory wipe.”
The cathar glanced to her left, both natural and supernatural senses tingling. She spotted the woman with her pet. The stench of the creature was unique, something she had never smelled before, but the way it leered at her with its gaping maw broadcast its intentions. Cyrilla glared at the tuk’ata before turning back to her table guests.
“Great, and now some hound is probably eyeing me as a meal. Anyways, the droid and I were discussing ways to get off this world. As you can tell by his great math skills, Lex isn’t one for creative thinking. You’re human, you’re organic. Do you have any suggestions that don’t involve useless numbers and endless calculations?
OOC:
Sorry, this is the best I can do. Muse is dead after sitting through all that conference material. Though, maybe we can get Lex to count cards or predict gambling odds as a way to generate funds….
[member="LE-X1"]
[member="Ivy Lasranae"]
[member="Geneviève Lasedri"]
Geneviève Lasedri
Fascists hate her!
Hounds. Lasedri was no cynophobic, but those who brought such animals around with them were usually magnets for trouble. Geneviève preferred to avoid trouble when she was solo.
Keeping her good eye on the epicanthix, the woman of dark wardrobes maintained aural attention on the comedy club. While the cathar seemed a little disorganized in thought, she could have been taken absolutely seriously if it had not been for the stale rebuttals by her metal companion. There was a holochannel, once upon a time on Chandrila, on which this sort of slapstick show was beamed at all hours of the day--an entire channel dedicated to that dreadful programming. Gen wondered if her father's company still offered that frequency. Who watched it? Wookiees?
"You just ate that... something," she muttered as the cathar distressed over the hound. "I'm sure he's figured out it will be a while before you're safe to eat." How biting she could be.
"As for a way off this planet... People do it all the time." Gen, in fact, had her own mode of transportation already arranged and needed not deliberate over how to get off this world herself. But she kept quiet about that little detail. She was alone. Never show your hand. "Stow away. Grab a hostage. Sell your soul. Or... all of the above." That dog could even come in handy...
She gave great advice.
[member="Cyrilla Ky'lik"], [member="Ivy Lasranae"], [member="LE-X1"]
Keeping her good eye on the epicanthix, the woman of dark wardrobes maintained aural attention on the comedy club. While the cathar seemed a little disorganized in thought, she could have been taken absolutely seriously if it had not been for the stale rebuttals by her metal companion. There was a holochannel, once upon a time on Chandrila, on which this sort of slapstick show was beamed at all hours of the day--an entire channel dedicated to that dreadful programming. Gen wondered if her father's company still offered that frequency. Who watched it? Wookiees?
"You just ate that... something," she muttered as the cathar distressed over the hound. "I'm sure he's figured out it will be a while before you're safe to eat." How biting she could be.
"As for a way off this planet... People do it all the time." Gen, in fact, had her own mode of transportation already arranged and needed not deliberate over how to get off this world herself. But she kept quiet about that little detail. She was alone. Never show your hand. "Stow away. Grab a hostage. Sell your soul. Or... all of the above." That dog could even come in handy...
She gave great advice.
[member="Cyrilla Ky'lik"], [member="Ivy Lasranae"], [member="LE-X1"]
..N..O..N..L..E..T..H..A..L..
Unencouraged by the selection of eats, Ivy settled on an overdue glass of whisky. Food was never quite the motivator with her, which was just as well - she spent enough money on the tuk'ata's stomach. The beast gave a grunt and slowly settled all 990lbs of its roughly scaled bulk to the floor, beady eyes trained on that cat in the booth. When her drink arrived, Ivy eased back into her chair and settled her boots on the hound's back, watching him as he watched the cat.
Much like any rude person, she inevitably became engrossed with listening in on the conversation.
Seemed the group was stranded, potentially in trouble, and Ivy's maternal instincts were buzzing.
"No need to dirty your morals," the woman interjected, voice gruff, "just your hands. I'll give you a lift off-planet if you help me find some droid parts in one of the junk yards 'round here. If nothing else, I can get you some place where you won't have to sell your soul for a working shuttle."
A long stem of drool stretched from Lye's muzzle, drizzling to the floor where it began to pool.
[member="Cyrilla Ky'lik"]
[member="LE-X1"]
[member="Geneviève Lasedri"]
Much like any rude person, she inevitably became engrossed with listening in on the conversation.
Seemed the group was stranded, potentially in trouble, and Ivy's maternal instincts were buzzing.
"No need to dirty your morals," the woman interjected, voice gruff, "just your hands. I'll give you a lift off-planet if you help me find some droid parts in one of the junk yards 'round here. If nothing else, I can get you some place where you won't have to sell your soul for a working shuttle."
A long stem of drool stretched from Lye's muzzle, drizzling to the floor where it began to pool.
[member="Cyrilla Ky'lik"]
[member="LE-X1"]
[member="Geneviève Lasedri"]
LE-X1
Lexon
Lexon turned to Cyrilla. "If you insist on carrying out this plan, mistress, then I suggest taking the lady's offer. I am well-equipped to identify functioning droid parts, given the appropriate specifications, and I would much prefer doing so to kidnapping." His voice was even, but something about him seemed excited to be returning to space. His eyes almost seemed brighter at the prospect; after centuries in the swampy wasteland of Drongar, and one long flight in a jury-rigged vessel, he was eager to spend time in the habitat for which he was programmed and designed.
[member="Ivy Lasranae"]
[member="Geneviève Lasedri"]
[member="Cyrilla Ky'lik"]
[member="Ivy Lasranae"]
[member="Geneviève Lasedri"]
[member="Cyrilla Ky'lik"]