Tell me a Fable

[Mornhun of House Marr]

His black booted feet whispered across the rooftops as he searched while rain fell around him. The deep dark of the clouded night was perfect for the hunt. He did not hate force users. No, not all were bad but he never knew what scent he had caught until he found them.

He could feel the vibrations in the force of a sensitive nearby and thakan'dor hissed from its scabbard in anticipation. He moved on, drawing ever closer as back hair stuck to that eyeless face. It was time to test and see if this one should live.

 

[Fable Merrill]

Hunting was absolutely a thing people did. Fable, were she invited, might be inclined to give it a try, but hunting usually involved being left alone for extended periods of time, being able to calmly examine evidence presented to you, and out-think your quarry. Either by deficiency or fate, Fable could really do none of the above. That she was being stalked by a spooky zombie ninja was as much an impossibility in her mind as the chances she'd even notice such a thing. Even if she didn't have her hands full, as she did now, the clone was far from aware of her surroundings when it came to things that weren't immediately threatening her.

And things were quite often immediately threatening her.

Since Razelle was out of town doing things and Fable had had a little extra coin, she'd decided to treat herself to a date night of sorts. It was a flimsy excuse to load up on carbohydrates and go to the bar, sure, but nobody was perfect. Like any conscientious citizen, Fable knew she was in no condition to fly her speeder home, and had opted to take a shuttle - rationalizing that she could just go get her vehicle in the morning. Unfortunately, the driver of that shuttle was a hapless messenger of a local band of ruffians, who had laid a devious trap to send a message about their ruthlessness; if the shuttle did not travel at high speed at all times, the fuel cells would detonate and kill everyone on board.

To make it worse, members of two OTHER rival gangs happened to be on the shuttle that night, and in the ensuing panic, were on the verge of launching into a gunfight. Fable didn't know how to pilot a shuttle, and she was by NO means a mediator, but regardless, she stood in the middle of this terrified, break-neck mess trying to keep violence from erupting on a runaway shuttle.

 

[Mornhun of House Marr]

[member="Fable Merrill"]

The force user was approaching and at far greater pace than calculated. He hissed in frustration as he realized she was on a shuttle. He began running for the edge of the roof as rain pelted him on the head. Lights from the buildings and traffic signals cast multicolored hues across his black clad form. His foot planted and he leapt, turned a quarter turn and landed face first on the back of the shuttle.

THUD.

He held onto an air vent for the internal scrubbers as he tried not to fall off. After a short distance he crouched and began moving to the pilot cabin. He couldn't pilot but he could cut through the door lock. He paused as he heard screaming and threats of violence over shouts of people in fear. Maybe, just maybe, he would have to go through them to get to the forcie. What a nice day he was having.

 

[Fable Merrill]

Fable should have been surprised by the desiccated appearance of a spooky, sword-wielding mercenary leaping from roofs onto a moving shuttle, but she had her hands a little full. Specifically, she was holding an infuriated Rodian gangbanger in a headlock, trying to keep his human opponent from capitalizing on this with an outstretched hand of warning. "I'm sorry, please calm down - things are bad enough-"

The shuttle hit a slight bit of turbulence, causing the human gang leader to stumble a couple steps toward Fable. He accidentally knocked her off balance, which allowed the Rodian to throw off her captor, knocking the hapless clone to the shuttle floor. In seconds, the Rodian and the human were at each other's throats, and their fellow gang members eagerly jumped in to participate. A swift kick to the side was enough to spur Fable back onto her feet, and she wasted no time in trying to break up the fight.

She primarily accomplished this by yelling 'STOP FIGHTING' as she threw as many punches and kicks as the cramped quarters allowed. Nobody had ever accused Fable of being particularly bright, after all - especially when it came to solving issues that were not normally solved with violence. At some point, Fable tackled a burly human out of the mosh, pinned him beneath her, and took him out with a hard elbow across the temple.

Finally, she noticed the guy with the sword advancing on the cabin. He didn't look like a peacekeeper, and although her observational skills were somewhat lacking, she was pretty sure he hasn't been on the shuttle when it left the station. It took her a moment of gaping - her black eye and split lip really competed the 'thinking so hard it hurts' look - before deciding that, no, he hadn't been on the shuttle and no, he wasn't up to any good. "Ay! Leave that pilot alone, please!" Fable cried out, pushing herself up off of her felled opponent. "If this shuttle comes to a stop, it'll blow up!"

 

[Mornhun of House Marr]

[member="Fable Merrill"]

He stopped and turned to look at the person with the voice and the speaking things. Blow up? If it stops? Why didn't he pick the other force chick to hunt? Two reasons: one, he has terrible luck (see current condition), and two this one was closer.

He turned himself around and squared off to the girl and began emitting pheromones. These pheromones could cause fear and even insanity in strong doses however as he was still learning to use them the results were somewhat unpredictable. He began walking closer noting the rival gangs he decided to make things a bit more crazy, he turned off the lights. Now, in the dark, with only lights from outside sources, on a transport that couldn't stop without exploding, filled with rival gangs and civilians, he ran forward slashing at gang members like a kid swinging at a piñata.