The Morning After

[Gaen Rhade]

Aboard the Jaggalor
Location: Somewhere in space


A sharp push and a sudden drop upon hard surface was how Gaen woke. The glacier cold floor paralyzed his body making the realization that he was nude but his eyes were blurred and could not make out exactly where he was. He could hear the familiar hum of the Jagg's engines purring with life. Which was odd, for his last memory of his ship was it docked at Nar Shadda and he sure as hell didn't remember having taken off.

"Ahh!" He sighed cringe-fully, his head pounding as if a tap dancing rancor was performing her recital with in the confines of his skull. His mouth was dry as the deserts of Tatooine and every time he tried the open his eyes they would close shut from the piercing pain given off by the minimal light in his proximity. He could smell corellian spice ale and taste it with in his parched pallet. Obviously there had been some drinking and marry making, problem was..... Gaen could not remember a lick of it.

Not true, he could recollect that he ended up at a cantina to end a night proper. Was no stretch of the imagination that the Corellian smuggler was prone to the drink and was not above the party life. Just puzzling for he knew he could handle is alcohol and blackouts were rare indeed.

"Get up!' he whispered to himself, though the very thought of moving made his stomach turn..... " Or not!"

That was when her heard soft breathing close by. He was not alone.

OOC:

OOC The Morning After
Pretty open on the story. Gaen Rhade and your Characters seemed to have partied hard which seemed to have continued on his ship "The Jaggalor".

roles that need to be filled:

1. Who the bloody hell is flying the ship?
2. Who woke up in Gaen's bed
3. Who Spiked the drinks
4. Who the fek are the rest of ya?

 

[Bengalo Chergari]

"This." The Ryn started, having some trouble finishing the thought hovering just under the surface of her mind. "Thizz izn- This i'nt my ship. S'not Kheres. Handles like a bantha. Like a bantha wit'ginger shoved up its rear. Where th'kark is m'ship?"

It occurred to her that not only did she not know what ship she was on, how she'd got there or where her own ship was, but that she seemed to be flying this one, and couldn't remember anything since the first few drink in a cantina the night before. Hopefully it was only the night before. Someone had definitely slipped her something. She knew she should be upset. She definitely could have killed herself flying while apparently blacked out, and her own precious ship was MIA. Still Benny was having a hard time summoning up anything other than a faint nausea and the urge to curl up somewhere and sleep.

Instead, licking parched lips, she flipped on the comm that, if this ship was wired even half traditionally, would broadcast her voice through the ships internal speakers.

"This's Captain Chergari, wonderin' what th'fethin kark I'm currently Captainin'. Any insights into this would be greatly appreciated."

She switched the comm off. Thought for a moment and then switched it back on.

"Also a kriffin' drink wouldn't go awry."

That seemed to about cover it. Half her attention on the view in front of her she started trying to figure out how to use this obviously much worse than hers ships controls to figure out where she was. She started to be aware of an unpleasant warm dampness soaking into her leg. Looking down she saw some sort of.. thing. Medium-sized, squished face and drooling it stared up at her with beady, soulless eyes.

"Urgh."

[member="Gaen Rhade"]

 

[Lynnori Cruz]

The Jaggalor, Unknown Location, Undetermined Time | Pillowtalk

---

Giving a young birthday girl enough free time and enough alcohol to drown someone with is a dangerous thing to behold. Much like a natural disaster, it sweeps through cities and lays waste to lives.

Lynnori was many, many things. Attractive (At least she thought so). Popular (Well, her alter-ego was, at any rate). Impressionable (Vehemently denied, yet obvious to anyone). One of the few things she never was, however, was hung-over. She'd built up an early age tolerance to anything thrown at her, the partygoer lifestyle was in her DNA quite literally. So why did her head feel like someone had decided to use it as a punching bag? Despite the fact she was very much conscious, the Zeltron refused to move or even open her eyes. If she remained still, things felt much more solid. Solidity was good. It made the swimming feeling she got whenever she considered getting up go away. So she simply laid there and tried to squish her body into the delightfully comfortable bed she'd found. The lack of memories from the night before wasn't overly concerning; not her first blackout drunk episode, though perhaps the first that ended quite like this. Her location wasn't overly important, though; she could find her way back if need be.

Movement to the immediate left of her was annoying, though. Chit.

"Ey, quit rolling around. I saw the bed first." Despite her voice sounding like sandpaper, Lyn managed to muster up a joking tone as she boldly cracked open a golden eye, inspecting whoever she had unwittingly joined last night.

---

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Spoiler: Interacting With

[member="Gaen Rhade"]

 

[D'vok Windroamer]

Spoiler

For atmosphere an stuffs. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zt51rITH3EA

D'vok's eyes shot open and stared at a dull metal ceiling. Where was he? Not prison, it wasn't cold enough, and he still had his clothes, at least he hoped so. He looked down and saw that his blaster was still holstered safely in his belt. His jacket was missing though, leaving him in a worn white dress shirt, olive cargo pants and black combat boots. He sat up. He was on the floor. That would explain the cramp in his neck. It looked like he passed out in the cargo hold of a light freighter. Not his though, which was unusual. With a slight wobble, he stood himself up, and was greeted with a splitting headache. He stopped and rubbed his temples, leaning against the door frame of the hold, wondering why the maker had given him such a "fun present". A quick glance to the half empty bottle of Corellian whiskey rolling along the floor in the adjacent corridor told him everything. He gathered the strength to move, and walked along the circular corridor, picking up the bottle and taking a swig. He may have forgotten how he got here, but he hadn't forgotten his vice. He started to hear voices, and immediately went into high alert. He flipped his grip on the bottle so he was now holding it neck down, like a club or bat, and walked quietly against the wall. Suddenly he heard [member="Bengalo Chergari"]'s "Pleasant" broadcast over the intercom. Great more people with no idea o' what happened. He found the cockpit, moving quickly inside, before sipping the whiskey again.
"Hiya."

 

[Morgaine deWinter]

One eye green and one eye golden snapped open into the unfamiliar surroundings. She could feel a bunch of bile in the back of her throat, and it took her a few moments to bring it up so she could spit it to the side and wide her mouth on the back of her sleeve. Doing a quick check by petting her body in various strategical places, the woman nodded in relief as she realized all her things were still on her.

With a grunt, she pushed herself up to her feet, head swooning. Some people would call this a hangover. She called it a cue to get more spice into her system. Which was good, because one of the things she'd made sure were still on her was the pack of death sticks. She grabbed one, put it between her lips, and lit it.

And now she was faced with another problem. She wasn't feeling sufficiently incoherent, which meant someone would expect her to communicate. She hated communicating with people. She hated people, in general. And she hated the fact that she was thinking too clearly. How did she know she was? Because she could logically assume that everyone waking up after whatever it was they did previously, would be making their way to the cockpit.

"F*ck that," she grumbled as she walked towards the cockpit as well. Maybe someone would know where she'd left her twenty pound bag of bantha feces. There was business to be conducted.

 

[Savoh Muska]

The cybernetic Ubese laid against the wall, in the ship passed out. Slumped over in an uncomfortable position. Bad for the back. His internal sensors started to go off after the intercom spoke. But he was too out of it. Slowly, one eye lens focused after the other. 'Where am I?' he thought to himself. His mouth piece was wide open, probably downing boozes. Then he realized something awful, he was breathing too much oxygen!

In a burst of pain in his lungs, Savoh began having probably the worst coughing fit of his life. Heaving, coughing, breathing deeply. "Watoh Giatoh!" (Where's my Helmet!) He shouted in his native tongue. Leaning into the floor and scrambling around to find his helmet. Eventually he'd see that it was tossed to his side. Clumsily putting it back on, letting the breathing mask work its magic. "AHHHhhhhh..." he let out a sigh as the burning in his lungs faded, then passed out again.

 

[Gaen Rhade]

Captain's Quarters with Lynnori

The female voice coming from the bed he had just fell out of caught his curiosity. Gaen begrudgingly struggled to his knees, slowly bringing his eyes above the mattress level to inspect who he spent the night with. His imagination ran wild, this person could of been anyone...... could of been anything. Her voice had the familiar seductive ting of zeltronian accent, but his imagination ran wild with stories of spacers being lured by Gammorian sows with translating devices programed with sultry voices. Though his imagination ran wild, his blurred vision could make out the human like form with femine features laying under the blankets.

The naked corellian lifted himself onto the edge of the bed, so he could sit and collect himself proper. He looked over again, seeing the blue hair and the light pink skin. Thank the stars, he thought as his fears were unwarranted. "Hello there!" His brogue corellian voice was etched with confusion and pained with hangover. He rubbed his face "Who are you?"

That was right around the time he heard the Jaggalor's PA system open up with a strange voice declaring herself captain. "Like hell you are!" Gaen growled, his eyes now desperately looking about the room for his clothing and above all his blaster pistol. "This is my fekking ship!" Desperation was turning into panic. His clothing and weapon were no where in sight. This was obviously his quarters but he couldn't find a lick of apparel anywhere.

"Where in nine hells did all my clothing go?"

[member="Lynnori Cruz"] [member="Bengalo Chergari"] [member="Morgaine deWinter"] [member="Savoh Iaht"]

 

[Lynnori Cruz]

The Jaggalor, Unknown Location, Undetermined Time | Pillowtalk

---

Lyn scowled as the intercom turned on, listening with a strained ear at the vaguely familiar voice echoing throughout. The conscious part of her brain was racing with questions-- Where was the rest of Aurebesh, where was the Sulit, where was I --but for the most part her hungover brain was dominant in making her thought process utter garbage. She lett out a long groan and stuck her head under the pillow rather unceremoniously before grumbling in response to the ship-wide announcement, "Feth, that is loud. Really, really loud." Almost too pre-occupied with soothing her raging headache to answer her companion's question, eventually the Zeltron lifted her head again as she heard his panic, which drew her attention. Now sitting up a bit more properly to regard him, it was clear the woman was in a state of half-dress, which was more than could be said for him, "Hmmmmm... Ummmm... Right, name. Lynnori. And I don't know where your clothes are." Right now she was pleased to simply be relatively safe. Priorities, priorities.

"Try your closet, clothes live there." It was easy to hear the layered snark in Lyn's voice as she sat up fully in the bed, but then that lethargic smugness was replaced with her own worry as she glanced around the bare room, scowling as something dawned on her. If none of his chit was here, then neither was hers.

"Hey-- Wait-- I don't even have anything here. Kark." Suppressing a yawn, she rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her palm, that same annoyed expression across her face.

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Spoiler: Interacting With

[member="Gaen Rhade"]