Public Rattataki Roulette

[Kal]

It was a dingy establishment much like any other. There were untold thousands more scattered across the Outer Rim; this one was notable for only one thing, the infamous game of life and death currently being played by some of its patrons - Rattataki Roulette.

One dated slugthrower, a so-called 'revolver'. Six chambers. One slug. A whole lot of credits on the table.

Kal was hovering in a corner, (in)visibly perplexed. There was no way it was actually loaded... right?

---

RULES OF THE GAME:

1. Any character or writer account may participate so long as it meets the following requirements:
   1. The character must be associated with a bio posted before the start time of this thread.
   2. The character must be capable of dying from a gunshot wound to the head.
   3. The writer must not be participating with another character.
2. All participants must roll a d6 (six-sided dice) in their post. On a roll of one (1) the character is the 'winner'.
   1. The 'winner' is expected to die. Failure to do so is defined as 'chickening out'. 'Chickening out' will be sanctioned with mild teasing.
   2. Once a 'winner' has been selected, no further rolls may be made on account of the gun in use being emptied.
3. All participants are entitled to five (5) thousand UCs from yours truly. The 'winner' receives twenty (20) thousand.
   1. The 'winner' voids their claim to a prize if they, to put it in legal terms, 'chicken out'.

AMENDMENT#1 - Rolls are only required for participants, watching IC is allowed. Each participant only rolls once unless otherwise stated.

AMENDMENT#2 - Arcturus Dinn may not participate.

AMENDMENT#3 - All participants consent that 'winners' may have their body parts used in a submission by yours truly.

There you have it folks, we have a winner.

 

[Milou Ishkal]

Perhaps going out this way was befitting of someone like herself. Feth, maybe this game would finally help her feel alive for once. If everything ended immediately after, then that's the way it would go.

Wordlessly, her expression blank, Milou picked up the gun and put it to her head.

Then pulled the trigger.

 

[Mato Kejak]

Trust the man from Rattatak to show for the Rattataki Roulette.

Times had been tough, credits hard to come by; for the itinerant master, there was not much available to him for work, but his philosophical difference with the Ashlan Crusade, Silver Jedi, and New Jedi Order prevented him from taking advantage of their resources, even if he would step in to aid them in the endless struggle against the dark.

So, seeing that a game of roulette had been decided upon in the cantina he was in, and knowing that there was little else left for him to complete on this planet...

"I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me," he muttered to himself, picking up the weapon, pointing it to his temple with quick surety and an utter lack of fear, and pulling the trigger.

 

[Roth Likonis]

Joblessness, a fatal syndrome that there was literally no cure for; at some point in time, it was rather inevitable that Jashin would try to off himself. Why not today?

The gun pressed to his head, his eyes wide; all there was, was a wild (near manic) grin. "Witness me!"

 

[Arcturus Dinn]

As Mr Manic Crazy Man put the revolver to his head and pulled the trigger, resulting in a decidedly boring click, Arcturus stepped into the establishment and gave him a very perturbed stare. What on Denon was going on here?

Stepping over to the table, momentarily oblivious to the presence of his unseen friend through the Force, he picked up the slugthrower and turned it this way and that in mild fascination. He knew what one was, of course, but not why they were turning them on themselves.

Had they gone mad?

Were they under the influence of mind control, or drugs?

Were---

Arcturus blinked and suddenly found himself in a local Atrisian fast food joint, the revolver was gone from his hand, and the wacky denizens of the establishment were nowhere to be seen. His mind was hazy, though the smell of the greasy food soon stole his attention away from whatever had just happened.

There was something lingering beneath it though, an all too familiar scent which clung to those who tended to inhabit suits of living clay...

Brows furrowed he sat down at the bar and ordered some noodles, wondering where Kal was and why he couldn't remember walking to this place with him.

 

[Velok Brokentusk]

I'm sorry, Suture, said Velok to himself for the first time, and knew the Sithspawn ghost could hear. He felt her satisfaction as he picked up the revolver. He twisted off the trigger guard — he couldn't use the trigger otherwise, not a fun designed for tiny clever human hands — and put the muzzle to his head.

The slugthrower clicked. A gasp tore itself from his chest. He set the weapon down.

Was Suture satisfied?

No answer came. But he knew what he'd expected, and he knew he would have deserved it.

 

[Mato Kejak]

Mato looked over at the others around the table with him, his lips pursed. One of them...one seemed simply a fool. Perhaps he was as well, for joining in, though his surety in the Force had proected him yet again. Guaranteed him another day. These other two, however...Something seemed off about them, to his senses. The large Wiphid especially.

"It appears luck is with us all on this day," he said calmly. There remained more spaces open around the table, and he doubted the audience would appreciate a show of bravado in picking up the revolver and trying his hand again...just as he doubted the Force would protect him against such overweening pride and foolishness. "Or was it?"

The Wiphid's gasp hadn't gone unnoticed after all.

Velok Brokentusk Milou Ishkal Roth Likonis Kal

 

[Inanna Harth]

Things weren't looking too good for Arlo Renard. Time to tempt fate.

Slugthrowers were nothing new to him, a common enough tech in his neck of the galaxy. After taking a last sip of his drink (one of several he'd been nursing), he raised the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.

Velok Brokentusk Milou Ishkal Roth Likonis Kal Mato Kejak

 

[Jaded]

Jade watched as person after person pulled the trigger. The tension built at each click of an empty chamber. She was next, but when it came time for the gun to be passed over--

Boom.

Jade blinked, blood spraying across her face.

"..."


Well that answered that.

 

[Kal]

It was one thing to watch strangers throw their lives away, but friends - free will ended there.

Unaware that Arcturus Dinn was merely curious, Kal slithered past his mental defences and left a powerful impulse to be elsewhere. He had come to this establishment out of hunger, but suddenly fast food seemed more appealing.

He would have to have a stern conversation with the Sith later.

Turning back to the spectacle at hand, he only barely had the time to recognise the Mystic that had been accompanied an overdosing Chaldean to his abode for treatment before the man perished with a bang. Literally.

Damn. So it was real after all.

 

[Mato Kejak]

Distracted as he was by Velok and Milou, Mato registered the approach of the final competitor far too late. Allow those whose taint he could recognize to destroy themselves, but others...he had been hoping to manipulate events, perhaps. Cause the cylinder to slip away to an empty chamber with the Force, or use it to hold the hammer back. No such luck this time. Blood sprayed against his face—an all too familiar feeling—and he looked at the body that landed upon the floor.

"Well. That's that, then."

Kal Velok Brokentusk Milou Ishkal Roth Likonis Jaded Inanna Harth

 

[Velok Brokentusk]

Sudden death blasted the angst and self-destruction out of Velok's head. He jolted to his feet as Inanna Harth died.

The scarred, leathery human looked unappetizing, but he wore a feathermane around his neck, iridescent reptilian hide for armor, and several daggers. All too small for a Whiphid, all reasonable candidates for alteration.

Without pause or compunction, Velok began looting the corpse.

 

[Mato Kejak]

Mato stepped forward, one hand reaching out to grasp the Wiphid's wrist and stop him from his looting. Even as large as he was, he still looked small next to Velok...but with the Force on his side, his strength could more than match, even without drawing the sword at his waist.

"Dead though he may be, his belongings are still his own," Mato growled coldly. "The proper authorities will take him and deal with his items. Not you."

Velok Brokentusk

 

[Velok Brokentusk]

Mato Kejak got a flat, incredulous glare from the nine-foot-six, nine-hundred-pound Whiphid Force adept in question. He flicked his wrist, intending to shake Mato off like a glob of condiment, splat him against a wall if necessary. With his other hand, he grabbed the feathermane scarf — a decent whip if, as was becoming more likely, he needed to beat this humankind's scrawny ass.

Such were, at least, his expectations.

 

[Mato Kejak]

Expectations and reality were different things. Velok flicked his wrist, and Mato's arm moved with it—but not as hard as was expected, and his heels dug into the floor. Aided by the Force, he would not be so easily dissuaded. His other hand fell to the hilt of a sword at his waist, though he did not draw it yet. His patience was not entirely consumed.

"You can have my portion of the bet on the table," he said, dismissively referring to the credits he'd earned for even being willing to participate. "But I will not allow this man's corpse to be dishonoured, even though his demise came from foolishness rather than worthiness."

Velok Brokentusk

 

[Velok Brokentusk]

Velok straightened up as far as the ceiling would allow. He sneered, but something about the pale little humanoid suggested that wrangling him in close quarters wouldn't end well. Instead he grabbed half the cash as offered and shouldered out through a door that wasn't quite big enough for him.

Bad day, good day, bad day, ambiguous. Suture's ghost clearly had a direct line to the fates, and an unslaked appetite for revenge.

 

[Mato Kejak]

Mato released the Wiphid's wrist, though he kept one hand on his blade as Velok left. Not just in case he did decide to turn around, but...Mato knew what the Outer Rim could be like, and he knew that multiple others in the bar alone would be just as willing to try and loot the corpse as the giant tusked man had been.

So it seemed his duty for the day would be to guard the body until the proper authorities arrived to take it away, or else he would take it to the morgue himself.

Kal Velok Brokentusk enjoy your extra 5k my friend

 

[Velok Brokentusk]

Glancing back over his mountainous shoulder, Velok surreptitiously unwound the raggedy fur-and-feather scarf from his fist and stuffed it in his pocket with the credits. The whole affair had a nice crunch and jingle that lightened his step as he left the cantina behind.

Granted, the ruined scarf had a market value of...close to zero. But like any tiny little symbolic triumph over a Jedi, this bit of corpselooting satisfied him.

It was the principle of the thing.

 

[Mato Kejak]

On a whim, Mato glanced down at the corpse and realized he hadn't gotten the scarf returned. Still, one item gone from the rest of the man's body was little to be bothered by, but it left a sour taste in his mouth...especially knowing he couldn't rightly hunt down the Wiphid.

"Fuck."

But he would remember it.

 

[Milou Ishkal]

Well, that was that. She lived, the other man died. While two other patrons argued about the body, Milou quietly got up and took her cut. Whoever had looked away for even just a moment would find her seat empty the next, as though she had never even been there in the first place.

Fate wouldn't let her go just yet, it seemed.