Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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The Great Double Act

Hal Terrano quietly simmered.

The stoic Jedi Padawan strode through the streets Coruscant with his eyes directly pointed at the ground, the act of putting one foot in front of the other simply becoming another automatic process.

He had been instructed to leave the temple for a few hours, to unwind and perhaps even socialise as if Jedi had the time for such frolic. Naturally he had attempted to object, stating that his time was better spent upon training and improving himself so he could defend the weak and defenceless from the evils of the galaxy to the very best of his abilities. It was a very dramatic spiel let me assure you of that but I won't go into the gorier details.

In response the trainer sighed and clasped a firm hand upon the stocky man's shoulder:

“You need to relax, Padawan Terrano.”

Thus he was sent forth into the streets for some forced down time, with his staunch respect for authority keeping him from rebelling in any way, shape or form. So with a face of thunder the Jedi had decided he would indulge in a glass of water and perhaps even a cracker or two. Caught in contemplation of just how ridiculous the situation at hand was Hal finally glanced upwards to find that perhaps he had wandered too far. These were not streets that he recognised. Directions were definitely needed.

Ca'an's Candles and Candle Accessories

The shop looked wholesome enough, they would know the way back.

Upon entering Terrano was immediately hit by a wall of incredibly unsavoury smoke. There were no candles here. It was a front. A den of sin disguised in plain sight. The credits flowed, the drinks flowed and even the spice flowed (as it must).The ambush of the intoxicating smog illicit a few loud coughs from his throat as he folded his arms across his chest.

“This is illegal,” he declared bluntly, like a proper pillock.

@[member="Triko"]
 
Silence fell across the esteemed establishment of Ca'an's Cnadles and Candle Accessories.

An Aqualish in the back looked up, and tapped the Ithorian next to him with a murmur. The Ithorian did the same to his Twi'lek friend, as did he to the Hutt residing at the back, shrouded in thick grey smoke. The Hutt stirred with a vomit-worthy sound, distant yellow eyes analyzing the pillock.

With another disgusting sound, he swallowed, tongue slowly slithering across the distance of his lips.

"Go."

With that he settled back into his wide alcove, returning to smoking his grimy hookah pipe.

@[member="Hal Terrano"]
 
As if it were that easy.

If we could just tell all the force users in the galaxy simply to leave whenever they were causing problems then it would have been transformed into a utopia. Unfortunately for Ca'al (if that was even his real name) there would be no such luck. His mind had now been set to justice and as plainly stated before, this was illegal.

The Padawan took a step forward, blatantly refusing to just back down and leave, if he did that, who would be left to stand for honesty and integrity.

With his arms still folded across his chest he stared back at the disgusting lump of a hutt. Naturally Hal was very aware that this was a situation that had the potential to go south in the blink of an eye. Could he survive this room full of unsavoury sorts? Perhaps. Or perhaps he would go down quicker than a gold digger in a sultan's palace. An anti-climatic end. No matter. He would not bow to criminals.

“I'm going to have to inform the authorities, you are all under arrest.”

@[member="Triko"]
 
A very tall Devronian slipped behind Hal and pushed the door shut, completely blocking the exit.

"We are under arrest?" The Hutt chortled. "Very funny."

He leaned over to the Twi'lek by his left again, and murmured something that solicited a few laughs from the group around him.

"Everyone! We are all under arrest! Best hand over our money and leave!" He laughed, revolting head bobbing up and down with each chuckle. Eventually his amusement died, and he waved his hand dismissively. With a sound that was unmistakably the pumping of a shotgun, another Aqualish hovering about a pazaak table beckoned him forwards, his left eye completely missing.

It was probably a wise move to follow his instructions.

@[member="Hal Terrano"]
 
Any natural light that filtered in through the haze of smoke and filth was blotted out as the door, and more importantly his escape was shut behind him.

Thankfully his stance on their blatant law breaking was taken with a dollop of hilarity rather than with gravity. Hal's face creased in displeasure as they blatantly mocked him, this was his duty, his very basis for existence and there they were, scum of the world, laughing at him. Any exasperation that brewed was swiftly pushed back down but the expression that lingered upon his face still gave the game away. There is no emotion.

Incredibly aware of the shotgun that was primed and no doubt eager to blast him away Padawan Terrano complied with the criminals, stepping forward to where the grizzled Aqualish indicated. The tension in the air was pulled tight, threatening to snap at a moment's notice.

“You're only making it worse for yourselves. Surrender peacefully.”

@[member="Triko"]
 
The Hutt let slip a grunt of amusement and went back to his hookah pipe without a word.

Unfortunately, the Aqualish was less tolerant.
"You sit." He pointed to a chair by the pazaak table. As if the shotgun wasn't enough, he unholstered a blaster of his own and pointed it in Hal's general direction just to make his point extra clear.

"No talk."

@[member="Hal Terrano"]
 
You know what I think is a great idea?

Taking a break from speaking. Let's just cool our jets on the curt statements regarding the surrender and arrest of these criminals, shall we? Yes, I think that's a sound piece of advice right there.

Not wishing to be shot full of holes Hal complied with the demands of the Aqualish, or rather he complied with the blaster pistol that hungered to scorch flesh and end his life. The Padawan's face remained locked in stasis, a grim stare tinged with an element of disgruntled owl.

He sat at the table, finally unfolding his arms and for lack of a better place to put them he laid his hands flat down upon the table.

This time Hal said nothing.

@[member="Triko"]
 
Across from the table, through the thick smoke, two orange eyes stared at Hal. Over time the black cloud dissolved, pooling around the pair at the table to act like blinders on a horse.

This convenient motion of the smoke left them appearing almost alone, save for the constant sound of the other gamblers, thugs and other such lowlifes chuckling and laughing with eachother- for a creature of such small stature, the jawa across the table sat with a definite air of confidence, his unreadable face betraying nothing.

He analyzed the human for a while, wondering how to best proceed.

"What your name, Human?"
 
Initially he failed to even pick up on the creature staring at him through sin's smog.

One of Hal's failings came from his blatant suppression of emotions. At times the Padawan found himself so caught up in trying to achieve this perfect and fabled serenity that it impacted heavily upon his awareness. Small details and subtle movements were completely lost on him.

This made it understandable when the Jedi was quite startled upon finally noticing the Jawa opposite him, naturally he tried to hide this but it was too late for he had jolted slightly in his chair.

“I am Padawan Hal Terrano,” the pillock replied stiffly, now refusing to take his eyes off of the small being.

There was a pause. He dared to socialise.

“Who are you?”

@[member="Triko"]
 
"Who is Triko? Triko is Triko."

He dared to lean forwards slightly, placing one of his hands flat on the table in a similar fashion to the Padawan. "Hal is Jedi, yes?" It'd been a while since Triko'd seen a Jedi. Those types tended to avoid him, or perhaps he tended to avoid them- either way, this was an unusual encounter, probably as much for him as it was for Hal.

"Does Hal like games?" An invisible eyebrow raised inquisitively under the Jawa's hood. "Triko like games."

"How about we all play game?" He grinned wildly, bringing another blaster into the picture and aiming it squarely for Hal's gonads.

@[member="Hal Terrano"]
 
He didn't mean to.

However a side-effect of declaring yourself the right and true justice of the galaxy was, well, a tendency to look down upon others, no matter how many blasters were pointed in your direction. The look that he gave this Triko was one of revulsion, or perhaps mild disgust. Naturally this was the same look that he would have reserved for any of the patrons here, but it was the shortest shopper that got the look.

"Yes, I am."

So much for impartial stoic Jedi.

With his hands still flat on the table the Padawan was about to respond to the Jawa with a resounding, 'no, I do not like games' but that train of action was derailed immediately. Terrano stiffened. Chastity vow or not, that was a part of his anatomy that he would have preferred to keep.

“I don't know how to play pazaak," he stated plainly, not taking his eyes off of Triko.

@[member="Triko"]
 
"Hal no play Pazaak?" He titled his head to one side in mock curiosity. "No problem!"

"We no play Pazaak then." A nonchalant shrug was followed by the placing of the blaster on the table, the boxy thing hitting the table with a bang that was probably too loud for comfort. Triko looked down and drew another blaster, then placing that on the table also before taking the Aqualish's gun and forming a line of the three guns.

"Hal needs to look away for a moment, or these blasters hit him in more places than just his privates." The jawa hissed.

@[member="Hal Terrano"]
 
We...we can't just teach him how to play pazaak?

The Padawan flinched slightly as the blasters were placed upon the table, he didn't have a clue what game they had in mind now but Hal had an inkling that it wasn't going to be snap. The longer he sat at the table the more his courage was gradually chipped away. No man was made of stone, after all.

Slowly he moved his right hand off of the table, keeping it in view at all times as he covered his eyes.

In this moment of extreme trepidation all the man could do was think of the Jedi Order. He rather predictably cycled through the various tenets that he worshipped as if repetition could slay fear. Evidently it could not, and the man began to feel his own heartbeat thud in his ears. What if he just apologised, would they have let him leave?

No. He had to remain resolute.

@[member="Triko"]
 
Despite the fact the jedi was covering his eyes, Triko took good care to shield the blasters from his view anyway- he didn't want to ruin the game.

Then he proceeded to fire each of his own blasters six times at the wall, emptying the clips completely. "Hal can look now." The three blasters were pushed before him, barrel first. "Two of these blasters empty. One of them loaded." A wave of the hand brought the Devronian right behind Hal, the icy cold shotgun pressed to his skull. A second turned off all the lights in the building save for the one above their table, leaving Triko and Hal alone on their own pale yellow island in the middle of a sea of darkness.

"Hal pick one, place it to head and pull trigger. If Hal die, we go back to Pazaak. If Hal live, we let him go, yes?" He leaned back to call excitedly in the Hutt's general direction, his response a grudging harumph.

"Hal pick one."

@[member="Hal Terrano"]

/OOC: So me and Hal's writer agreed that she would pick a number between one and three, and I would decide a number between one and three also. If her choice matched mine, Hal would die, with her permission. Otherwise, he'd live.
 
He flinched again as the sound of the blasters being unloaded punctuated the moment, this time it was a much more visible moment of recoil.

The moment he saw the three pistols laid out before him he was suddenly very aware of the game he was about to play. His head bowed forward slightly as the muzzle of the shotgun nudged against his skull. Sweat began to form upon the palms of his hands. Thoughts of serenity were going to be little help here.

One wrong move and he was dead anyway. His only chance of leaving lay on the table before him.

Hal's right hand hovered over the blasters, his eyes analysing each of of the weapons carefully as if they would be able to tell him anything. After a minute of complete silence and with beads of sweat forming upon the man's brow he picked his pistol.

Most of his composure had been shed by now, his hand trembling as he pressed the blaster to his own temple.

“There is no death, there is the Force.”


Jedi Padawan Hal Terrano pulled the trigger...

@[member="Triko"]

3
 
Triko's nails dug into the table in excited anticipation as Hal picked his gun and lifted it to his head.

He couldn't bear to look away as his finger hovered over the trigger- the Jedi's expression was too priceless.

"Bang!" Triko roared, slamming both fists down on the table with a thunderous crack the instant he heard the click of an unloaded pistol.

"Hal is lucky man!" He smiled, taking the pistols away one by one and handing the loaded one back to the Aqaulish, the other two sitting back in his holsters. "He go now, or he might not be lucky again."

Light returned to the room, the smoke still hovering about the patrons as some grinned and others grumbled over bets and expectations.

The Devronian prodded Hal again with the shotgun.

@[member="Hal Terrano"]

/OOC: 2 was the killshot. Lucky you are.
 
For a brief moment Hal's heart stopped.

However as soon as the little fiend's hands slammed down upon the table the organ was jolted back into action, beating against his chest so hard that it threatened to break out of his chest.

Relief dawned upon his face and the Padawan sank into the chair slightly, letting the breath that he had previously held escape him. Now what does a Jedi think in moments of extreme luck such as these? The same as any religious fundamentalist. He praised the Force. Later on, when he would reflect upon this very moment he would say that the Force guided his hand to choose that pistol.

We'll leave it to the wiser minds of the galaxy to acknowledge that he was simply a very lucky boy.

The muzzle's kiss reminded him that he would not lurk her and appreciate life and that getting out of the supposed candle shop was the best decision that anybody ever made in the history of decisions.

He didn't say a single word, choosing to stand up and slowly walk towards the exit. Keep it together. Just in here. The Padawan cut through the smog and left the unsavoury establishment without even sparing a glance back.

Once back into the light of day he stumbled around the corner and into the nearest alleyway where he promptly hunched over and vomited.

Hal Terrano would not leave the temple grounds again for quite some time.

@[member="Triko"]
 

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