destiny is all
OOC: Post up a quick IC summary of intel/rumors/gossip that may be useful to the OPA, beratna. Go nuts.
IC:
Jude: ...swear this better been my last undercover stint, chief. Ain't nothin' out there worse to blow my cover than booze and ladies.
Bossman': To the point, J.
Jude: Fine, fine...sheesh. Y'all bein' stiff as that navy jock cap'n Drake. So...got hooked up with some red haired babe - Lady
Ingrid L'lerim
-something, something, Baroness of Vengard. I got her name on the report. Don't gimme that look, chief man. You seen that beaut', you'd be droolin' like a hutt at a Klat' paddy frog and dry humpin' the nearest table leg. As a matter of fact, ya ain't gonn' be needin' them pills-
Bossman': To. the. point.
Jude: A'ight, a'ight. Got some match on her at some cracked CIS data. Nothin' too certain, no photo, no info. Just a name in CIS records. Could be coincidence, could be not. Shit was tough to crack, far as I understood that geek's techy talk. My instinct talkin'? She's got 'em certain...skills ya don't get born 'ith. Only taught. Besides, y'all ain't thinking that edge lord of an emperor's gonn' invite some randos at his wedding. Man's gettin' married! Let me tell ya, it's a big thang. All of 'em bad emperors out there ain't tossin' weddings left 'n right, they got 'em concubines and whatnot. Ain't got time for no weddin's, no?
Bossman: Tell us about...uh. Yeah.
Vyra Silara
. The Queen, now Empress. Mentioned in your report somethin' about rebel connections with 'er.
Jude: Tskt. Nah, ain't nothin' but rumors, chief. Extrapolated that shit I heard from a highly unreliable source, see if it gets red hair shifty. She ain't flinch.
Bossman: What's your instinct sayin'?
Jude: Eh, ain't sure. Had to bail quick, barely got a glance at Ma Lady the Empress. But if y'all insist. She ain't givin' me them bad impy vibes we all used to. Might be something but y'all ain't tossin' me as a chamberlain undercover next. Emperor's undie' drawers last place I'd like to be.
--
(plagiarized from
Jend-Ro Quill
's Jedi Mission Logs)
IC:
Jude: ...swear this better been my last undercover stint, chief. Ain't nothin' out there worse to blow my cover than booze and ladies.
Bossman': To the point, J.
Jude: Fine, fine...sheesh. Y'all bein' stiff as that navy jock cap'n Drake. So...got hooked up with some red haired babe - Lady

Bossman': To. the. point.
Jude: A'ight, a'ight. Got some match on her at some cracked CIS data. Nothin' too certain, no photo, no info. Just a name in CIS records. Could be coincidence, could be not. Shit was tough to crack, far as I understood that geek's techy talk. My instinct talkin'? She's got 'em certain...skills ya don't get born 'ith. Only taught. Besides, y'all ain't thinking that edge lord of an emperor's gonn' invite some randos at his wedding. Man's gettin' married! Let me tell ya, it's a big thang. All of 'em bad emperors out there ain't tossin' weddings left 'n right, they got 'em concubines and whatnot. Ain't got time for no weddin's, no?
Bossman: Tell us about...uh. Yeah.

Jude: Tskt. Nah, ain't nothin' but rumors, chief. Extrapolated that shit I heard from a highly unreliable source, see if it gets red hair shifty. She ain't flinch.
Bossman: What's your instinct sayin'?
Jude: Eh, ain't sure. Had to bail quick, barely got a glance at Ma Lady the Empress. But if y'all insist. She ain't givin' me them bad impy vibes we all used to. Might be something but y'all ain't tossin' me as a chamberlain undercover next. Emperor's undie' drawers last place I'd like to be.
--
(plagiarized from
