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The Areta: Never A Dull Moment (CLOSED \ Scrapped Thread, See OOC)

Interacting with: No Crew Members --- in transit
Out of Range: [member="Lyla Quinn"], [member="Ghorua the Shark"], [member="Saul Ferasi"], [member="Aryn Teth"], [member=Dewbacca], [member=Tin'tinag'], [member="Saoirse Flynn"], [member=Fidelis], [member="Irma Olanthe"], [member=Meira]

The Force was a topic that piqued Kip's interest over a number of years. While never a disbeliever, he considered himself a healthy skeptic into the nature of such an entity. His travels often brought him in contact with force-sensitive individuals, each with his or her own dogmatic views. The most common answer to the questions into the nature of the force was typically that it cannot easily be explained, only felt. But Kip remained perpetually dissatisfied with such vague answers, as the problems were numerous. For one, feeling was subjective. The only consistency in the 'feeling' that the force provided was a connection. One Jedi presented the concept to him this way: all things are wrapped in a network of very tight ropes, both directly and indirectly. When one strand of the rope vibrates, every strand feels it. Force-sensitivity, she explained further, is the awareness of the rope and sometimes, the ability to vibrate and even tug parts of the rope in a direction of your choosing.

Kip found this to be the most adequate response, but it still left numerous and troubling questions: what was the purpose did such an entity serve? Was it conscious? If it is conscious, what is its agenda? To Kip, the easily confirmed existence of an entity like the force left two very real options: either all life is connected to each-other in an ungoverned network that is ripe for the taking by the most powerful, or that the network governs itself and all life is subject to predestination.

The show...is not the stage.

Kip's diplomatic failure gave way to opportunity. A chatty, down-on-his-luck driver of an ironically-named ComfortRide had taken up Kip's call. The driver, a balding man in his forties who had played the markets all wrong and was on the verge of divorce, had taken up a career in taxiing as a last hope for some financial stability in unstable times. But the ComfortRide itself provided a less-than-optimal travel for the passenger, who regarded the talkative man with a cheery smile while contemplating metaphysics and determinism, as cynics most often do.

"She's not much to look at," said the driver, whom Kip would come to know later on as a man named Sohl Ghennon. "But a little bit of love and care and I'll turn her around into the finest taxi in CoCo town."

"You can start with some seat cushions," replied Kip, who was bracing himself from the rattles and shakes of the vehicles, "and maybe some aerodynamic stabilizers."

The driver laughed as the vehicle gave a heavy lurch, "You know what that is? That's actually sound. The vibrations of the air running through the cracks in the hull at a frequency that resonates with the metal body. That rocking you're feeling is the rhythm of my baby's song." He gave the side of the vehicle a couple of proud thumps, which the vehicle seemed to respond in turn with its own sort 'musical' chaos.

Kip displayed a very obvious and deliberate gaze of bewilderment at the driver. Here was a man who was on his last leg, who started a taxi business with a single vehicle that was clearly not fit for taxiing, and who still managed to find it within himself to find goodness and humor in the world. "She's a hell of a singer," Kip replied with a grin.

As the ComfortRide pulled into range of the Airhub, Kip drew out a datapad from his coat while activating his Com Link. "R3, do you have that list of ships I asked for?"

After some delay, there was a series of confirmation beeps and several listings appeared on Kip's datapad. While scrolling through, the driver named Sohl glanced back at Kip. "We're coming up on the Airhub now. Is there a specific port or ship you'd like me to take you to?"

In all of the years that Kip had searched into the nature of the Force, he had never felt the connection. But as a blurry list of names scrolled on the datapad, a single one stood out quite sharply that made him feel at least cognitively aware of the network of ropes, as he would come to call it. It was a name that bore a sort of coincidental humor that served a cynic such as he. It would be the same sort of cynical humor that would bring him back to this moment sometime in the future, reflecting on his time with driver. Sohl Ghennon: a man who lost nearly everything and turned a 120% taxi fare into a reputable and well-distinguished transportation business not just in CoCo Town, but across Coruscant.

"Areta", Kip replied with his characteristic grin, "that's a nice name."
 
Glaring from his new post on the opposite corner of the cargo hold where he'd previously stood, Fidelis allowed himself a small sigh of relief as the last of the large cargo boxes was fastened to the deck. No further mishaps with malfunctioning droids and a newfound haste from a pair of Zabrak errand boys meant that the ship could finally begin takeoff preparations. Rather, it could whenever Irma and Meira returned from their mission. With the pair of them, it could be nightfall before the engines warmed up.

Fidelis approached the Iridonian Zabrak again, taking care to maintain an approachable - but nevertheless firm - posture. He was no good to any of the crew if he gave the contact's man a case of trigger-happy jitters.

"You and your assistant," Fidelis said, making sure to enunciate the last word and saying it just loud enough for the Dathomiri tryhard to overhear, "can secure your weapons in the locker behind you. Passenger berthing is on the second deck, towards the stern. You and your assistant will be assigned the last berth on the starboard side."

Fidelis finished his statement with a firm nod - the Iridonian returning one in kind - before turning to make his way back towards the main loading ramp. He stopped for a second at the cargo hold's console, pushing a lever and raising the cargo elevator back into the ship before pressing a small button to re-engage the mag locks. He took a quick survey of the cargo hold again before continuing his short march, stopping his scan only for a moment to consider a large crate that looked for all the world like it had moved to hide one of the hold's few small nooks. Fidelis dismissed the thought as soon as it came to him; with all the new materiel they were taking on, something was bound to be moved.

"Excuse me, Captain," Fidelis said as he approached the Twi'lek and her potential fare, "but the cargo's been loaded to specification. We can make ready as soon as our pilot returns, ma'am."

Line of Sight: Lyla Quinn / Ghorua the Shark / Saul Ferasi
Area of Operation: Saoirse Flynn / Dewbacca / Aryn Teth / Tin'tinag
Out of Range: Kip Ridel / Meira / Irma Olanthe
 

Lyla Quinn

24 Karats Of Rose-Gold Trouble
Finishing Up (For Now) With: [member=Ghorua the Shark] and [member=Fidelis]
Now Interacting With: [member=Saul Ferasi]

Up Next (If Still Interested): [member=Aryn Teth] and [member=Dewbacca]
Nearby: [member=Saoirse Flynn] and [member=Tin'tinag]
Out Of Range: [member=Irma Olanthe], [member=Meira] and [member=Kip Ridel]

OOC Note: Sorry for the wait! I sound like a broken record. Sorry for that, too. And for the quality of this post. Lots of sorry. Feeling better, shouldn't be so long between posts now, thanks for sticking with me. <3 I'll get us in the air ASAP, I know you're all waiting for something to go wrong so we can get to the shooting and the screaming and stuff.



Nodding before he'd finished, Quinn pulled up her passenger manifest and tapped at the screen. "Way ahead o' ya," she assured him with a half-smile, filling in a few fields with some sneaky nerfshiet 'basic information'. For her own part, all she needed was a name (real or not, it didn't matter, was more of a placeholder), the number of passengers and when they were aboard, but just in case they ever had to tango with dock security or convince the local enforcement everything was kosher, Quinn liked to add a few details to flesh it all out a little.

Whether those details were legit or downright fake as feth wasn't a concern. She could talk her way through most questions.

"Alright, here we go." The Twi'lek flipped the datapad around and held it up above her head for his approval, angling the screen towards Ghorua's line of vision as best she could so he could see the roster. "Welcome aboard, Mr… Genrix Tokani, private weapons dealer, enjoyer of fine seafood and…father of three, wow. Congratulations on your busy life, dunno how you manage it all." With an impish smirk, Quinn tucked the datapad under her arm after he'd had a good look and hiked a thumb over her shoulder at the lowered ramp just as Fidelis was making his way towards them. "Make yourself at home, I'll have one of my crew show you around, see if we can find you a space away from all the action. We'll get you where you need to go. As for payment, I usually collect half after take-off and the rest upon arrival, but I'm open to shifting that around if you need it—Hey! Fidelis, right on time."

Speaking of time, Quinn checked it, giving the soldier an approving nod. With the cargo loaded they were almost ahead of schedule on this end. Leave it to Fidelis to get things done with time to spare. "Yeah, well, you know how those two love to shop, but I'd like to be burning sky before anyone with a nice uniform and official badge comes knocking… Not that we have anything to hide, I just hate red tape and too many questions," she finished quickly, flashing a reassuring smile at the Herglic and the stranger slightly behind him. "Anyway, Fidelis, this is Mr. Genrix Tokani, he's headed to Selvaris and we're gonna do our best to get him there as comfortably and quietly as possible." There wasn't any noticeable emphasis on the word 'quietly', but the trooper would understand the meaning: don't ask too many questions and give him his privacy. Quinn gently clapped Fidelis on the arm and swept a gesture at The Areta. "Show him around? Hopefully there's enough room in the hold. I'm thinkin' that corner near the back, the one we can close off for sensitive cargo? If not, wait for the Wonder Twins to get back, I'm sure they'll have some creative ideas."

The movement near the edge of The Areta (Flynn) had not gone unnoticed by the Twi'lek, but the last thing she wanted to do was draw too much attention to the situation, especially when she didn't know what (or who) it was. For all she knew, it was a stray cleaning droid. That huge stain on the hull near the landing gear always drove them nuts. "And, hey, would you do a quick perimeter sweep when Mr. Tokani is settled? Think we're a little ..heavy on the port, could use your sharp eyes." He'd get the meaning. The man caught on quickly, and once he learned something it was never forgotten. "I'll finish up out here and see you two on board in a few."

As human and Herglic headed for the ramp, Quinn acknowledged the man and the Wookie (Aryn Teth and Dewbacca) standing a few paces away with a casual, friendly wave and shifted her attention towards the mysterious stranger (Saul) waiting patiently in front of her. Datapad tucked under one arm, she propped her other hand up on her hip and cocked her head a little. "You look like a man with a question! What can I do for you, Mr..?"
 
Always Watching, Sometimes Canon
It went pear-shaped after about three minutes.

Irma all but fell out of the door, struggling to keep the box tucked into her jacket hidden as the grumpy Rodian followed her out. It was a little too big to fit comfortably, however, and popped out onto the street. The Rodian started shouting obscenities at her as she bent to scoop it back into her arms.

"I swear," she yelled back, "I never even met the guy! Shooting him wasn't personal, a bunch of mercs don't get to be mad about that!"

The Rodian wasn't even listening to her. Rather, he'd moved on from obscenities to simply brandishing an activated stun baton, swiping its electrified tip within inches of her neck. Irma yelped and skittered backwards, turning to run back to the transport and praying that his buddies inside had thought twice about opening fire in a crowded marketplace. The Rodian wasn't far behind her, though, and he was fast for one of his kind; he was already halfway across the street by the time she made it into the cockpit.


"[member="Meira"]!" she yelled, already gunning the engine to get the kark out of the market. "Meira, I hope you're nearby, because the captain would be pissed if I finished our shopping and left without you!"



With: Meira

Out Of Range: Lyla Quinn, Fidelis, Saul Ferasi, Ghorua the Shark, Aryn Teth, Dewbacca, Tin'tinag, Saoirse Flynn, Kip Ridel
 

Meira

Mechromancer
Laid out atop the hauler, legs crossed and fingers laced together behind her head, Meira was lost in a world of her own. Had been for a good fifteen minutes before Irma charged back in and fired up the repulsors. Well... Not entirely a world of her own. Technically it was a competitive holonet sim so there were just shy of a dozen others sharing her bandwidth in the match. Regardless, she'd already finished three matches and was well on her way to winning the fourth when the door slammed and pulled her back into the real world.

A world where blaster bolts started streaking past (and impacting) the hauler.

"Kriff!"

Didn't bring a gun. Why the kriff do I always forget to bring a karking gun? Every karking time!

If they got close she'd have options, or if she could have abandoned the hauler and just taken care of them herself. But as it was, she couldn't do much more than throw things at them, and they needed all the supplies she'd loaded. Dropping down onto the side of the hauler away from the thugs, she glared through the side window at Irma.

"The captain would be pissed? So nice to know you care."

Irma didn't wait any longer, and the hauler surged forward to a clattering of supplies in the back.

"Oh, and we forgot to bring tie-downs. Go easy on the corners."

She didn't.

Which, fortunately, meant they made it back to the hangar in half the time it had taken to get to the market. The hauler eased to a stop in front of The Areta, and Meira hopped off the side and strode up to the small gathering as Irma presumably backed up to unload.

Hey Cap'n, Flightstick over there... She hiked a thumb over her shoulder at Irma. ...got a little throttle-happy on the way back. Not sure how much cargo survived. We're probably gonna sta... whoa."

Her eyes had been wandering as she spoke, and when they settled on Ghorua her sentence trailed off into the exclamation of wonder.

"You're... big." The towering figure was literally more than twice her height, and she had to crane her neck up just to look him in the chin. "You gonna hitch a ride, Shark-tank? Cuz if so, I'm gonna need to make some adjustments to the repulsorlift alignments. How much do you even weigh?"


[member="Irma Olanthe"] - [member="Lyla Quinn"] - [member="Ghorua the Shark"]​
 
Always Watching, Sometimes Canon
Now that they were finally out of the market (and well out of sight of any ticked-off Rodians), Irma could relax again a little. "Hey, don't blame me for getting the car back in one piece," she said, intent on defending herself. It wasn't her fault mercenaries were so sensitive these days. "That sort of poodoo is why I ordered remote delivery."

Of course, Meira no longer seemed to be listening. She'd already moved on to what seemed to be the same Herglic as before, who had apparently had signed up to be their next--and largest, to date--passenger. Irma's eyes followed the mechanic's, a glint of the manic energy from before their trip to the market returning. Her mind was already racing through the calculations she would need to make to adjust for a big guy like that. They'd have to make sure to adjust the cargo to account for his ballast, their live load numbers would have to be tweaked, and if he required aquatic sleeping arrangements, she'd have to deal with the liquid weight to boot. Although, where the Captain would even have a tank large enough to fit the guy, she wasn't sure.

...Unless she was planning on using the ship's aquifer.

Irma shuddered at the idea of it. Just behind them, the delivery carts were pulling up with their groceries--two carts piled high with enough fresh food to last for at least a month. Irma waved at the Captain, who was still busy gladhanding the potential fares, and trotted over to direct them to the hold. It wouldn't help to give them a little direction before slipping back into the cockpit.

Besides, she wanted to check on their booze stash...just in case she had to swear off drinking water between here and the Herglic's destination.

Nearby: Lyla Quinnhttp://starwarsrp.net/user/16817-lyla-quinn/, Meira, Saoirse Flynn, Tin'tinag, Ghorua the Shark, Fidelis, Aryn Teth and Dewbacca
Out Of Range: Kip Ridel
 

Tin'tinag

Life is a queen, if not it would be to easy
Nearby: @Saoirse @Flynn [member="Aryn Teth"] [member="Dewbacca"] [member="Ghorua the Shark"] and [member="Fidelis"] [member="Lyla Quinn"]
Out Of Range: [member="Irma Olanthe"], [member="Meira"] and [member="Kip Ridel"]

Tin gave a light shrug as the wokkie and human she tried to converse with ignored her, each talking with one another, perhaps hesitant to approach the ship, not that it mattered, she did not really want to dawdle around any longer then necessary. With a very casual move in her step the orange Twi'lek approached the old freighter, catching the sound of people talking as she approached the entrance, 'hmmm they seem to be busy, probably won't mind another tag along though'.

With a sly and playful grin Tin knocked against the outside of the ship, "hellooooooo, anyone home, well I know you are home.. never mind, is this ship by any chance taking on passengers"? she kept an ear out for a response. From what she saw the freighter was taking on people, non looking to fancy to give the impression of private transport, besides if was common practice for smuggler or freighter captains to take on passengers to make up for minor cost that may come up.

(soz for short post was not sure how this thread was going)Current outfit
 
A Togorian in a foul mood is a bad day for anyone.

Maur was in a foul mood. She snarled as someone brushed past her on the crowded walkway, hair bristling just a touch. Her last employer had just screwed her over, sucking every last credit he could get away with out of her pay for the slightest offense or stupidest reason. What had started out as a guaranteed fat paycheck that would pay for half of a new vocoder ended up being a tenth of what had been offered. But the Coruscanti pretty boy had his entire security team with him; Maur was good in a fight, but not that good. Perhaps his worst transgression was his final act before they parted: he smashed her datapad when she showed him the copy of the contract they both signed. Maur could just picture his smug little face. It made her want to punch something.

The Togorian paused by a public access holonet terminal, leaning her arm against the wall and trying to cool her temper. Getting arrested on Coruscant for assault on a random passerby when she couldn't verbally communicate would not help things. So the credits she'd earned barely covered the expenses she accrued from her last job. The only thing that would fix it was a new job. One that would actually pay this time. Maur rubbed her eyes and looked over the shoulder of the more diminutive sentient currently using the terminal. Classifieds scrolled along the bottom. None were quite so obviously mercenary jobs. Several sounded shifty, and would probably end up with the poor saps in jail. Several were recruiting for crew members. Maur grunted—as best she could without sound—and made a mental list of the crews hiring. It wasn't a personal favorite, working on ships, but she'd done it before and she could do it again. She pushed off the wall and stalked off towards the spaceport, leaving behind a very relieved human.

The spaceport was just as busy but now that she had buried the rage against the snobby kriffer, she didn't mind it so much and kept her focus on the hangar numbers. First up on her mental list, the Areta. The hangar was filled with quite a few sentients speaking with a Twi'lek. The Twi'lek moved and spoke with a good deal of authority so she was either the captain or the first mate. Either way, someone to talk to. Maur stood off to the side of the entrance, waiting until she could speak with the Twi'lek herself.



Nearby: [member="Irma Olanthe"], [member="Meira"], [member="Ghorua the Shark"], [member="Lyla Quinn"], [member="Fidelis"], [member="Tin'tinag"], [member="Aryn Teth"], [member="Dewbacca"], @Saorise, @Flynn
 
Always Watching, Sometimes Canon
Thank the gods, the booze was safe. Irma patted the tiny bottle she had squirreled away into her jacket, next to the Captain's special order, and made a mental note to add it to her personal stash next to Spot. The rest of the delivery was well on its way to Fidelis, who seemed to want his hands on everything that went on the ship's manifest. If he weren't such a stuffed shirt, she would have wondered why the Captain didn't suspect him of skimming off the top. Now there wasn't much to do but to get back onto the ship, rev up her own 'special order', and get the launch calculations underway.

...Except in the last minute or so, a Togorian had made their way between her and the ship's entryway. A big one, too, with a thick ruff of silver fur that marked her as in her prime.

Kriff. Irma didn't have the best record when it came to Togorians. This one didn't seem to be looking for a fight, though--if anything, she was being quite polite, rather than barging her way to the front of the line and demanding to be catered to like some Togorians she'd known. It wasn't too likely that just trying to sidle past her would cause a problem, right?

Right?

At any rate, Irma didn't let herself think about what those big arms could do to her vertebrae as she stuffed her hands in her pockets and made her way towards the ramp.
"Not every day you see one of your sort looking for a ride," she said as she put her feet on the incline, keeping her voice light. There was no point in ticking off the big kitty unnecessarily by being rude, right? Heck, she might even come off as helpful for once. " If you want to speak to the Captain, you'll have a hell of a wait if you don't yell for her. She's a busy woman."

Interacting with: [member="Maur"]
Nearby: Meira, Ghorua the Shark, Lyla Quinn, Fidelis, Tin'tinag, Aryn Teth, Dewbacca
 
[SIZE=11pt]Breathe. Remember to breathe[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]. Farishta reminded herself as she sped past the merchants in the Bazaar. Normally, she loved running. The feeling of air brushing past her fur, the ability to move and get anywhere quickly, and the adrenaline rush.. that’s the best part. Running around climbing walls was a skill the Farghul picked up long ago. It was a survival skill, usually running away from the target. She and her friends survived by pickpocketing travelers who would stock up on supplies. Well, at least they used to before they were all killed. If she didn’t continue running, she would be too. She couldn’t climb as fast since the blaster burn on her left arm would make it difficult.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]She was able to reach the spot where her gang of teenagers would hide. She jumped down in the sewer hole. Once she made it down, she could her the shouts of men still pursuing her. [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]All this for a data chip? [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] She ripped off her soft pink hip scarf and tied it around her wounded arm. As she used her mouth to pull on one side of the cloth to tie it she gulped back down her tears. It hurt. She’s lost people before in the past, but this was too many. Too fast. [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]Crying is not going to help you stay alive.[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] Keep moving[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]She arrived at the “room” where her little gang would stash their loot till they were able to sell it. [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]There must be something useful here.[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] She needed to get as far away from here. And definitely take this chip with her. There were too many people willing to kill too many of her friends for this one tiny kriffing meaningless chip. Must be important to them though. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Ugh… where to go?[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] One of the sewer lines goes right to the port. Unless those men followed her down here, she would be able to make it safely to the port. But she didn’t have enough credits to buy a ticket on board. And there is no way she can go to the market again to sell this loot. As her eyes searched through the loot, almost going to brink of hopelessness, she finally saw the edge of a belt. She loves accessories, but she has never loved seeing a belt as much as this before. It was a stealth field generator. [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]Why the kriff did we not use this when we pickpocketed our last target. Maybe my friends would still be alive if we had seen this…..[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Can’t think about this now. [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]Farishta grabbed the stealth field generator and made her way to the port. She turned it on right before emerging from the ground. She wasn’t sure how much power was left in this generator, so the closest ship that looks like it’s about to leave would need to do.[/SIZE]
 
Maur looked down at the diminutive female that addressed her. Human? No, the eye color was wrong. Another one of a thousand human-like species then. Not a child, though she looked frail enough; Maur was sure her palms were bigger than the female's face. The female walked with too much swagger to be childlike but seemed too skittish to be a simple braggart. Maur found it wise.

Yelling though. Yelling was less wise. She couldn't blame the little female though. It's not like she could look at Maur and know the Togorian was mute. And yet, Maur also couldn't help herself. She turned to face the female and made a sign as she mouthed "Thank you."

Polite and, more importantly, pointed.


Interacting with: [member="Irma Olanthe"]
Nearby: [member="Lyla Quinn"], [member="Meira"], [member="Ghorua the Shark"], [member="Fidelis"], [member="Tin'tinag"], [member="Aryn Teth"], [member="Dewbacca"]
 

Lyla Quinn

24 Karats Of Rose-Gold Trouble
Now Interacting With: [member=Meira] (briefly at the beginning), [member=Aryn Teth] and [member=Dewbacca]
Up Next: [member=Tin'tinag] (will be approached by [member=Fidelis] | [member=Maur] (interacting with [member=Irma Olanthe])
Nearby: [member=Saoirse Flynn] (being sneaky) | [member=Farishta] (also being sneaky)
Out Of Range: [member=Kip Ridel] (on his damn way, for sure!), [member=Ghorua the Shark] (inside ship, please refrain from interacting too much directly before writer returns from LOA)


"Uh uh, hey." Quinn paused her discussion with her prospective customer, pointing a finger at Meira with eyebrows raised in warning as her old friend spilled her snarky (but harmless) banter all over 'Mr. Tokani'. "Manners, M. He's booked a ride sans the Famous Meira Shakedown, so just…no probing, 'kay?" The Twi'lek threw a mock salute and a tight smile at her pilot as Irma headed off to help guide the deliveries. The Herglic disappeared into the Areta with Fidelis, who somehow managed to direct the majority of the cargo and guide their new passenger to his 'quarters'.

"Sorry," she mentioned, turning back to man waiting on her information. What had he mentioned his name was? Sol? Saul? "Always busy. Now, where were we…"
After a short discussion and some quick investigations into her nav charts, it turned out to both their disappointments that Mr. Saul Ferasi was headed in the opposite direction and on a bit of a tight schedule, too tight to allow the time it would take to deliver their cargo and ferry the Shark to his destination. So she sent the man on his way with contact information and directions to a handful of other crews in the area that might be better suited for him, wishing him the best of luck. Maybe next time? Who knew, this life was so fluid and unpredictable. Either way, she hated watching potential passengers walk away.

But she did love seeing them approach.
Especially in numbers.

Irma had engaged the Togorian for the time being, and it looked like Fidelis was about to handle the lovely orange-skinned Twi'lek approaching, so for now, the cap'n took a few steps towards the two beings a few long paces from the Areta, turned her honest charm up to ten, and gave the distinguished-looking man and his Wookie friend a friendly wave. "You two just admiring the view, or are you lookin' for a ride? Maybe some work? Got plenty of room for you on The Areta either way!"
 
23mrbdj.jpg
R3-A2
A sprawling desert (871.15A6) of dust (4x319.15) and pollen (19F42.97) stretches across a twisting, hilly (41x827 - 43x169) landscape. The moons of silicon (33x909) and cheese (51x983) hang high in the sky with their serene stillness juxtaposed against the chaos of war. A ballet of death and carnage continues to play out between the three-legged Ragnaewoks (SPE.1567571221-SPE.1557499991, CHAR. 669241) and the furry, winged Porancors (SPE.9981234517-SPE.3417905542, CHAR. 813700).

Dominagus Rhur (669241.DRx66) towers over the field, cleaving away at the Porancor army, rending their various limbs askew and coating the landscape with a river of molten (STATE: 1x005) gelatin (3e782387715.510). Confident in the tide of battle, Dominagus raises one of his six arms to the sky, brandishing his mighty pink (FF69B4) hammer (B015RM5HXU) for all to see. The Porancors freeze, fearful of the mighty weapon. It is here, at this moment, that they soon realize the inevitability of defeat. As the mighty hammer strikes down upon the ground, the Porancors let out a deafening scream and their world becomes shrouded in darkness.

--------------------------​

One day ago...


"Kriff!", the word of the day for many of the workers in CoCo town's loading docks, resonated among the various shipping crates. The source, a wiry young man in his very early twenties, threw down his Sabacc cards onto a makeshift table and kicked away the bucket he was sitting on. He paced frantically while the other men divvied up the spoils.

"Kriffing Kriff!" he shouted again, tugging at his stringy, curly black hair. The other men paid him no mind and continued dealing another hand without him. "I can't lose all that! I'll have nothing to eat. ANDI have to pay Jeoff the credits I owe him by tonight!"

He paced again, breathing heavily, eyes bulging as he tugged harder on his hair. And yet for all of his protesting, the game continued. Already, the young worker could feel his stomach growling. He was desperate. "Please," he pleaded to an unsympathetic group, "Let me keep at least five percent. That might be enough to hold Jeoff over..."

Finally, the men around the table stopped. The largest one picked his head up and scowled, speaking in a low and threatening rumble. "You can keep the bucket, kid. Give Jeoff our regards."

Dejected, the young worker turned away from brief chorus of throaty laughs that arrhythmically bellowed behind him. He strolled over to the bucket, which had rolled several meters down the docks and came to the stop in front of a powered-down, gold tinted astromech. This wasn't terribly unusual. Most astromechs in transit usually found a spot to wait in the docks until such a time as the owner could score a ride. But typically, the astromech would be secured. This one simply stood in a corner, unbound and powered down, as if it had been abandoned.

The young worker swooped down and picked up the bucket, but his were fixed on the astromech. It was in fairly decent condition. Recently restored. It was impossible for him to tell at any angle what era this particular droid was from. But it was clear to him that it was an R3 series. Though it was the first time the young worker had seen this particular series, it had various distinct features. The can-shaped body and dome top were similar enough to an R2 series that it could almost pass for one. But the gold trim and semi-transparent dome screamed R3.

The droid fascinated the young worker so much that for a brief moment, he had forgotten his situation. He reached out, still bent over the bucket, and touched his slender fingers to the droid's chilly metal surface. The tips of the fingers traced along the golden edges of the chassis. He looked into the dome, checking out some of the internal components before catching a glimpse of his own reflection. With a sigh, he felt himself falling back into the cold hard reality that was his life, and he felt himself fall to a seated position next to the droid.

"What a view, right?" he spoke with a melancholy tone as his fingers drummed on the plastex bucket. He glanced out in the direction that the droid faced, which actually showed a rather nice view of the Coco Town skyline.

"Man, I'm a mess." He griped as he looked down at the bucket. "I borrowed a few thousand credits from this hard-ass to pay for my speeder so I can make it to work. But the work hasn't been paying me enough. So the guys were like, 'Hey. Joel. Looks like you're a bit hard on your luck. Why don't you play a few rounds with us? What do you have to lose?' So you know what I did? I took the money I borrowed from Jeoff and gambled it away. Now I've got a bill for a speeder in the shop, a guy who's after me for a loan, and no money to pay off either."

With a sigh of frustration, he glanced back up at the droid, which stood like a statue against the setting sun's rays. "You don't happen to have nearly four thousand credits stashed away in here, do you?" He laughed in spite of himself as he knocked on the droid's chassis. Immediately, the astromech activated with a high-pitched whirring sound followed by a sequence of bleeps. Startled, the young worker scooted away from the droid.

"Whoa! Whoa, I'm sorry!" he shouted, clutching his bucket. But the droid didn't seem to take notice. Its dome turned from left to right, lights blinking in a seemingly random sequence. "Hey." the young worker said again, inching closer, "You okay? I said I'm sorry."

The droid's light blinking stabilized and the dome turned slowly toward the young worker, who froze mid-crawl with his hand outstretched. What am I DOING?, he asked himself. It's a droid, not a wild animal.

He cleared his throat and regained his composure. "I-I...I'm Joel. Joel Hammond. You're in the loading docks. Uh...CoCo Town."

The R3 unit's dome turned away, then turned back to Joel. It beeped a few times.

"I'm sorry, I don't know droidspeak." Joel said, dejected.

The droid's dome turned away, then turned back again. Its projector turned on with a whine, revealing a rather fuzzy holographic image of an adult Twi'lek. Its voice was choppy, as if the dialog were pieces of other bits of conversation stitched together.

"Don't---worry, kid. Take---me to---credits----loan--er", the projected Twi'lek spoke. "Your---fortunes---are---about to---...change."
 
2ign89d.png
Kip Ridel

Nearby: [member='Lyla Quinn'], [member='Saoirse Flynn'], [member='[/FONT][URL="http://starwarsrp.net/user/17503-farishta/"]Farishta[/URL]'], [member='[/FONT][FONT='trebuchet ms']Ghorua the Shark'], [member='[/FONT][FONT='trebuchet ms']Tin'tinag'], [member='[/FONT][FONT='trebuchet ms']Fidelis'], [member='[/FONT][FONT='trebuchet ms']Maur'], [member='[URL="http://starwarsrp.net/user/16797-irma-olanthe/"]Irma Olanthe[/URL]'], [member='[/FONT][FONT='trebuchet ms']Meira'], [member='[/FONT][FONT='trebuchet ms']Aryn Teth'], and [member='[/FONT][FONT='trebuchet ms']Dewbacca']


The port was buzzing with all sorts of business by the time Kip had arrived. The shaky ComfortRide had made it as far in as it could go. Kip thanked the driver, Sohl, who was very happy to see his account immediately credited for the value of the ride and the bonus. "Hope to see you around here again, my friend!"

Kip tipped his head with a grin after he disembarked the vehicle, "Next time I'm in town, I'm gonna ask for you by name." He gave the vehicle a pat, which caused a hollow ring and shudder. "Take good care of her."

Sohl waved and pulled the vehicle away, leaving Kip within eyeshot of the Areta. a YZ-775 transport that had clearly seen some days. But Kip was not particular on his transports. The ship's public manifest as well as its reputation among various groups was more than enough for his needs. It wasn't lavish or political. It frequented various different locations, irrespective of any alliances. It had a reputation for taking on passengers without getting into their personal business. All of this in addition to the YZ-775's technical prowess.

Kip caught himself staring at the ship for far too long. He shook his head and regained himself, making his way into the crowd. Like the markets, the port was packed with people haggling prices or arguing about minor details such as luggage accommodations. He even found himself bumping into a rather grumpy Rodian, who was too engrossed in searching for something or someone to notice where he was walking.

After breaking through the first wave of crowds, who were waiting to board another cruiser, Kip found an R3 astromech. It stood on its own, waiting in a low-powered state. Even from a distance, Kip could see that it was covered in dirt and soot, as well as a dried substance that looked to be blood of some sort. Several deep scratch marks were raked across the dome. As he approached the R3 unit, he stopped just short and paused, drawing in a deep breath. "Yeah," he said in a cold and quiet manner, "you'll do."

As he walked past the droid, he motioned toward the Areta. "You did good. Let's go. I have a captain to meet."
 
[member="Kip Ridel"] | [member="Lyla Quinn"] | [member="Maur"] | [member="Farishta"] | [member="Irma Olanthe"] | [member="Tin'tinag"] | [member="Meira"] | [member="Fidelis"] | [member="Aryn Teth"] | [member="Saoirse Flynn"] | [member="Ghorua the Shark"] | [member="Dewbacca"] | [member="Null"]

Let me know if I'm stepping on any toes by sneaking in here.

It was supposed to be an easy hit. Stay hidden while they milled about busy, sneak to the stack of cargo goods on the cargo elevator ramp while they weren't looking, quickly grab something useful and hope it helped Zef survive another day. Thus was the life of ambitious street rats. Of course, ambitious was perhaps a bit too grandiose and reaching of a word for his situation. When you're on the grind daily just to get by, living itself is ambitious.

His plan had half worked. He couldn't make a mad dash, else his stealthy approach be ruined and the plan failed. He had gotten to the stack on the lift just fine. He had ducked down low behind the cargo and quietly grasped for a way to unlock one of them. He'd heard footsteps. He crouched down into a ball, close to the lift ground and hoped they wouldn't walk just far enough to see him in their line of sight. No, it was worse than that. He hadn't accounted for how fast they wanted everything to get moving; how small his window of time had actually been.

The lift began to rise up into the ship and the footsteps stopped. Zef froze with scared indecision, which probably cost him his freedom as he was now trapped in the cargo bay and, ultimately, this strange ship. In here, he could hear a lot more people walking around the ship, their footsteps muffled, yet indicative of the danger he was in.

What was that? Foot steps drawing closer!? Was that his scared imagination or true reality?? Nevertheless, Zef scurried to hide. He nimbly and quietly moved across the room to a semi-nook that might provide some cover if he squeezed in. He pressed himself into that corner, but realized he wasn't small enough. He reached out a hand and managed to slide a cargo container before those footsteps became heavy and clear.



Fidelis said:
stopping his scan only for a moment to consider a large crate that looked for all the world like it had moved to hide one of the hold's few small nooks.
Zef was breathing heavily, but dared not make a sound. He opened his mouth wide to significantly reduce the sound of his breathing and even placed a hand in front of his mouth for added assurance. The footsteps walked about the cargo bay...and then stopped a few feet near his hiding spot. His heart dropped. Surely, the beating in his chest would give him away...but, that was just paranoia.

The sound of boots clunking on metal receded, but Zef remained on alert and in an adrenaline rush. He would keep himself pressed as far into this corner and remain on alert until his body grew exhausted and he was certain he was safe to relax...
 
Fidelis took the liberty of opening with the final sweep. The Areta itself was secure enough; the former soldier had taken pains - as he always did - to ensure security prior to potential new arrivals. Only the common area and the passenger bunks were made accessible while in port, and while one of the Zabraks had a bad attitude about him, Fidelis had no doubt that the older one would keep him in line. Their gargantuan passenger would find only one room suitable for him. Captain Quinn was more than capable of handling the sudden slew of passengers, especially now that the pilot and first mate had returned from their entirely-too-long shopping trip.

The Stormtrooper had barely rounded the ship's main boarding ramp when he heard the sing-songy voice.

Tin'tinag said:
"hellooooooo, anyone home, well I know you are home.. never mind, is this ship by any chance taking on passengers"?
Rounding the starboard corner, Fidelis spotted an orange Twi'lek woman in a rather revealing outfit, especially for CoCo Town. While he didn't level his blaster at the woman - albeit fighting the immediate and ingrained instinct to do so - the Human's cold blue stare would have immediately clued the interloper that she'd better have a bloody terrific reason for poking around his ship.

"It is," Fidelis replied, polite but cold, "but the Captain's busy with other passengers at the moment. Can I help you?"

The Stormtrooper's eyes glanced upward out of habit, and his heart sank. Whatever talk there had been about warrants was more than idle chatter; two of the local security droids were marching towards the Areta with purpose from the stern. Out of the corner of his eye, Fidelis spotted two more approaching the ship's port side. In all likelihood, a coincidence; CoCo Town was no stranger to less-than-legal vessels catering to the galaxy's vices. The police droids could be coming after any of the ships docked in the area. Hell, they could simply be on a routine patrol. If there was any justice to be had on Coruscant, they were investigating that damned loader droid. But the variable in the equation could always, always be them. It was the nature of the business.

"In fact, nevermind, I can't," Fidelis continued, his tone noticeably more hurried, "go 'round and get in that line forming there. I'll be along momentarily."

Fidelis didn't wait for a reply before continuing his checks. Speed, note haste, was the name of the game as he gauged the ship's integrity and disconnected any errant fuel or power lines along the way. Fidelis had rounded the stern, thankfully not seeing any debris in the engine exhausts when the police droids were practically right on top of the ship. They didn't stop. There was a moment when their step hitched, only for an instant, and Fidelis froze. He was behind the two droids now, and could easily dispatch them, but the two that were undoubtedly by the boarding ramp now would be alerted to their presence, as would the entirety of CoCo Town. Whatever warrants might have been filed would then certainly be followed by a few for felonious destruction of public property, an associated charges for harboring fugitives for the rest of the crew. To say nothing of whatever extradition treaties were in place with other interplanetary governments. The First Order didn't take kindly to desertion.

The thoughts faded as the droids continued on their way, however, the small misstep little more than a programming glitch. Fidelis practically sprinted towards the boarding ramp when it was safe to do so.

"Captain Quinn," Fidelis said, perhaps a bit louder than he'd meant, "the ship is clear, ma'am, and our fares just became very, very negotiable."
 

Tin'tinag

Life is a queen, if not it would be to easy
Nearby: @Saoirse @Flynn [member="Aryn Teth"] [member="Dewbacca"] [member="Ghorua the Shark"] and [member="Fidelis"] [member="Lyla Quinn"] [member="Meira"]
Out Of Range: [member="Irma Olanthe"], and [member="Kip Ridel"]

Tin patiently waited at the bottom of the ramp, able to here voices of others inside and around the ship, the crew and what seemed to be other passengers as well as cargo getting arranged and seated. It was certainly a well arranged crew from what she had seen each with clear orders and able to adapt to sudden change even if it took them a bit to get around to doing their assigned tasks. Finally her little call out was answered by a rather annoyed looking man who had the same stare as every security officer she had met, 'what does he think I'm going to do, steal the thing, ugh, humans and their prejudice'.

His response seemed to be rhetorical from her point, Tin clearly pointing out in her greeting she was interested in seeking a ride, why else would she ask if the freighter was taking on passengers. "Well yes you may be able to help me, I was wondering if I was able to catch a ride on this lovely ship of you- hey you listening to meeeee uh oh". In the corner of her eye she spotted several police droids approaching the ship, 'this looks like bad new, but fun as well', in that small minute of distraction the man talking with her seemed to vanish, leaving Tin standing in the entrance.

"Guess I will let myself on if no one is going to give me an answer", with nothing stopping her the Twi'lek wandered onto the ship, looking around for anther crew member, hopefully one that was nicer. Looking around it seemed the ship was in good working order, no lose wires, decently clean floor, no large objects blocking the door, "hmm I could get used to this".



Fidelis said:
"Captain Quinn," Fidelis said, perhaps a bit louder than he'd meant, "the ship is clear, ma'am, and our fares just became very, very negotiable."
She turned around upon hearing the shouting, leaning against the wall as the man sprinted up the ramp, "Well it is nice to see you back here, was not sure weather I was allowed on so I more of less just let myself in... so whats the riding fee on this thing".
 
Always Watching, Sometimes Canon
Irma blinked. That was not the kind of response she'd expected from the huge Togorian. It was...almost gentle? Irma had always heard that the females of the species were considerably more civilized, but she couldn't deny that it took her off--guard. Perhaps having this one on the ship wouldn't be such a chore after all.
But then...there was the signing. It wasn't hard to pick up why she needed it, especially since she hadn't actually said anything. A mute, then? And one with no vocoder; not even a datapad, by the looks of it. Did the Captain understand signing? Did anyone on the crew understand signing? If not, how was anyone supposed to communicate with her? Irma had to give that a moment of thought. Perhaps something in the cockpit could be repurposed for the trip. Or maybe Meira had something they could use...

Suddenly Irma was aware that the moment of silence between them was stretching out just a little too long. Shab--she had to stop doing that every time an interesting tangent popped up! She plastered a grin on her face, about to open up with her best sales pitch/segue out of this conversation, and let her eyes drift over to where the Captain was dealing with the line.

She only got halfway before spotting the security droids.

Oh, kriff. The Rodian.

The noise that slipped out of Irma's mouth was barely identifiable as profanity. There was no way to say for sure that those droids were sent by the Rodian from the arms shop, but what else could it be? It wasn't like they were here for Meira. Even if it wasn't about the job on Umgul, there was no way she was about to give them an in before she got out of town.

"At any rate," she said without skipping a beat, "You're probably much better off waiting inside. The Captain's a sucker, once your foot's in the door she'll take your money as long as you don't try to shoot anyone, so come on in, I can get you a hot cuppa something and something to talk with but quickly please I'm sure we don't want to stay out here."

Even before she was done talking, Irma had linked her arm with the Togorian's as best she could, spun her gently around, and made her way up the ramp as fast as the height difference would allow. She unlinked her arm as soon as they made it into the cargo hold, and nearly broke into a sprint as she blew past another Twi'lek asking about prices.

"If you have to ask then it's too much. Move aside."

Irma didn't even bother waiting for the Twi'lek to respond. She had a cockpit to get to.



Interacting with: [member="Maur"], [member="Tin'tinag"]
Nearby: [member="Fidelis"]
Outside the Ship: [member="Meira"], [member="Lyla Quinn"], [member="Farishta"], [member="Kip Ridel"], [member="Aryn Teth"], [member="Dewbacca"], [member="Saoirse Flynn"], [member="Ghorua the Shark"], [member="Zef Jalba"]
 

Meira

Mechromancer
"I was literally just asking so I could make the adjustments! I wasn't gonna... Ugh. Fine! You don't want me to ask? I won't ask." She started walking backward up the ramp halfway through her spiel, then turned fully and headed aboard during the last third. "But when we can't get off the ground because of uneven weight distribution and bad compensation algorithms, YOU know who to blame!" A finger shot out emphatically to indicate in no uncertain terms just who that was, aimed squarely at the captain behind her.

"Kriffing sensitivity training," She muttered under her breath. "I can't do my job if I don't know what we're hauling!" Regardless, she was back in the engine bay about the same time Irma would reach the cockpit, and began manually helping the warm-up process get started. Irma could do the whole thing from the bridge if she needed to, but Meira figured out she could cut the time almost in half if she bypassed a couple of less-than-completely-necessary systems and saved them for the end of the sequence.

I mean, how often did you really need deflectors or cannons in the middle of takeoff?



[member="Irma Olanthe"] [member="Tin'tinag"] [member="Fidelis"] [member="Zef Jalba"] [member="Kip Ridel"] [member="Lyla Quinn"] [member="Maur"] [member="Farishta"]​
 

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