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last online Jul 11, 2018 23:15:20 GMT -5
Knight
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Jan 2, 2011 21:27:12 GMT -5
Post by Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice* on Jan 2, 2011 21:27:12 GMT -5
The stench of the bar was fetid and revolting. A commoners bar; packed with smelly workers drowning their daily troubles in liquor and finding only deeper misery at the bottom of the frothy mug. A perfect place for Graffion. A planet where nobody knew him, not even by his tell-tale hair and face. Here he was just another rugged looking person passing through a major trade planet. It was great. No cowl, no cloak, no disguise.
He downed the rest of his drink in one gulp and slammed it down, along with his fist, acting like a drunk. In truth, it wasn’t a liquor at all, it was just a cider, and he was being very convincing. Before him, at his table, were three or four tough looking fellows. One was a dock worker, one an ex-soldier, and there was a pair of Rodian merchants. Graffion laughed at the tale of the ex-soldier, telling a humorous war-story in which he was in great peril.
His slurred head nods and uproarious laughter was just another voice on a rowdy tavern night. The only thing that truly stood out was that Graffion didn’t look as rag-tag as everybody else, though he’d let his hair down so that he would blend in a little better.
Every time he broke into laughter, he would use the convulsions of his body as an excuse to get a glance at the real reason he was here. His target stood at the bar quietly, sipping their drink and enjoying the mirth of the atmosphere. The man was a guard for a local trade-center. His investigations were getting in the way of some smuggling operations. Graffion was to kill him. It wasn’t a big job, but Graffion just needed -any- job to get his mind off of things.
Tesa. His thoughts drifted toward her. She had been a little spider, crawling into his life for whatever twisted purpose. A force user, who was manipulating things that he…what? What was her goal? Was it amusement? Was that her only purpose? To use him? It was his choice to follow, but she was like his shadow. She showed up wherever and whenever she wanted. Now he was gone. If he saw her again, there would be trouble.
But even with that resolution he felt the sting of pain and regret. He didn’t know what he wanted. He didn’t know anything anymore.
No, he knew one thing. He knew how to kill. He knew how to make money. He knew-
“Are you Okay, man?”
Graffion looked up at the dock-worker, flustered, “Hm?” He asked, forgetting his slur.
“Well, it’s just that you suddenly…looked…dead inside.”
“What?” He asked, confused and a little bit angered now.
“There was no lights on inside.”
Graffion looked over to see that his target was gone. His eye snapped over to the front door, and he saw the back of his target’s coat fluttering as he left.
“Shit!” Graffion cursed, “I have to get some air.” He slurred, leaving, pushing people gently out of the way.
He left the building. It was raining, very lightly. A slight drizzle, nothing more. He scowled, there were no signs of rain earlier when he entered. But that had been four hours ago.
Graffion did a quick scan. Luckily, he caught his target, walking down a main street. Graffion rushed to catch up, having no qualms now about shoving people out of his way.
Once again Tesa had interfered. Inadvertently, yes, but once again she proved to be a nuisance. Thoughts of her distracted him. He couldn’t afford distractions.
He pushed another person out of his way. Up ahead, Graffion saw his target move into an alleyway.
“Perfect.” he mumbled to himself.
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Squee
The Keeper
2,286 posts
95 likes
I am Deception, and I defy your holiest moralities.
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last online Oct 24, 2016 0:33:56 GMT -5
Master
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Jan 9, 2011 5:06:05 GMT -5
Post by Squee on Jan 9, 2011 5:06:05 GMT -5
It hadn’t been easy to forget her failure. She’d had plans for Graffion. Intricately thought out. What to do when if certain conditions were proper. Everything plotted according to reaction and carefully altered to reset the path of success. The attract, draw, and bind. She’d had to play catch up a couple of times, but it had been proceeding just as she’d thought it would. Until… that.
Too many events had happened that had been unplanned. Strae Arst, for example. Merely thoughts of that midget woman vexed Tesa so much that she wanted to randomly yank a stranger off the street and tear the brain into pieces from the inside out. Leave a walking shell of a person to stumble mindlessly into the crowd, dead to the world and yet continue to live. Constant pain. Ceaseless fear. She hadn’t expected Graffion to come, rescue her, and take her to that fish doctor. That one had been a pleasant surprise, and she should have analyzed the path more. Maybe she could have prevented… that.
The plate was chucked like a Frisbee, shattering against the wall and leaving a food splatter. She whipped around, yanking the cupboard door off with the Force, commandeering all contents out, letting some fall. Plates, bowls, cups… they broke against the table, the wall, the floor. She lobbed some with her hands and tossed others with the Force. Forks, knives, and spoons twisted in the air in a dangerous vortex, metal shrieking on metal. Pots, pans, cupboard doors banged into counters and walls. The Force livid in her body, Tesa stretched upward and crashed her arms down on the table. Anything left in the air dropped immediately. Standing there, her body twitched as if she’d been electrocuted, and she gulped at the air as she silently chastised herself for losing control.
Now there was a mess to clean up… And a dent in the table. A rough sigh burst past her lips and she lifted her arms, noticing the smatterings of blood on the now dented table and knew that her arms had picked up some shards of dishes. To be cared for later…
Though later came the stinging pain that annoyed Tesa a great deal. An almost permanent scowl contorted her face as she wandered among the people nearest the docking areas. The first couple of days doing this resulted in unsuccessful attempts to bargain her ship off. Who wants to purchase a ship from a grouchy faced woman with blood dotted bandages anyway?
By the third day, Tesa decided to make a radical change to her mood. She needed to sell the ship and sell it soon. No telling what that spy had put on her ship. But Tesa was determined to return to the deep shelter of her underground of unknown. She did not feel she would be completely safe until she fell off of Strae’s radar. Probably Graffion’s as well.
The burn of her failure seared through her bones.
She put a clamp on the suddenly combusted anger. No. No more of that. Now was the time to move past denial of wrongness and accept the failure (though it tasted like bitter medicine). Many times flexible thoughts of how to fix this failure worried her mind. Each time Tesa banished them. It was time to pass by. The black cat was gone and that was his choice. Hadn’t that been one of the requirements of the plan? He had to choose? Well he had.
His decision, however, bit like a fierce cold wind. By nature, Tesa questioned her feelings with the word why. She’d grown slightly accustom to Graffion’s presence on the ship after adapting, with much grumbling, to another being on the ship. Since he’d left, the ship had become taboo. Tesa had, of course, removed some necessities from the ship and taken new, temporary residence in a nearby hotel. She couldn’t wait to be rid of the ship, to purchase another, and to put distance between this planet and her. She told herself Strae was the only reason. Another excuse existed, though Tesa denied it – no one would willingly choose to be with her. The later hurt, and so Tesa pushed it off as untrue, not wishing to accept the pain.
Selling around the hotel and gambling areas hadn’t benefitted Tesa in the least, so she’d moved to taverns. Maybe she’d be in luck and some poor smuggler was searching for a new ship. Or maybe someone wished to begin a different life. Not that Tesa cared for the reason behind the purchase. As long as she could pass along that miserable ship.
After yet another day of unsuccessful selling (although, she did have a pending), Tesa had begun the journey back to the hotel. While she’d hoped to sell it to some noble fool with half a brain, she was beginning to wonder about resorting to other means. Sell it for scrap metal. However, that would terminate any bugs still remaining on the ship and Strae would know something was amiss. Tesa didn’t want Strae to conclude she was off the radar. She wanted some idiot to fly around and send Strae chasing across the galaxy.
There was always illegal means. She was half certain the black market needed new ships for their under-the-counter jobs and details. However, she simply wasn’t too keen in making deals with the market. They had continuously pestered a previous master of hers. He’d once had ties within the market, though, which would have contributed. Nonetheless, Tesa didn’t consider the market the brightest and best idea.
“Hm…” she hummed thoughtfully as her eyes spied another bar. She stared down the road leading to the public transport station, then back at the bar. Haven’t checked this one. Might as well see what kind of place it is. The clouds, which had been gathering thickly over the past thirty of forty minutes, decided then to open and release its minions upon her. The guise she currently fashioned herself with included a tanned hood as part of the long sleeved shirt, so Tesa pulled it up to cover the windblown look of her hair. She stuffed her gloved hands into the pockets of the rather silly looking black vest she wore (but it helped the disguise), and crossed the way to the bar.
As soon as she entered, she knew this wasn’t the proper bar. However, she wandered within anyway, keeping the hood up, glancing about and glazing over the surface of people’s minds, just in case some soul willing to buy was hiding from her.
A gasp gusted from her and Tesa turned sharply away, earning the attention of two people sitting across from each other at a table she bumped into with her leg. She murmured an apology, grasping the edge of her hood, and walked a distance away quickly. Tesa cast a glance back, making sure she’d seen the blond hair correctly. Graffion… And he was coming this way. No, no, no, NO.
Tesa, standing by the door, exited and took a sharp left, smashing herself against the building a handful of steps away. She’d yanked out a small, thin cylinder of poison and held it within her fingers like someone would a smoke. Casual lean with a foot hooked over the other, Tesa kept her head turned away from him, but eyes cast down. Moments later, she risked a look and saw he was heading in the direction opposite from her. Sigh of relief.
Tesa replaced the poison and made her way down the street. It would be better to return to the hotel and stay away from Graffion’s possible hunting grounds. Perhaps taking the ship to another area of the planet was a good idea. Why hadn’t you thought of that in the first place, foolish girl? Tesa scowled, knowing no real answer. Hands in vest, she avoided looking people in the eyes as she boarded the public transport.
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Casual
Keepin' It Casual
668 posts
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MODS AND MEMBERS ALIKE: If you need a review on your/an app, shoot a PM my way
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last online Jun 24, 2012 11:41:03 GMT -5
Guardian
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Jan 9, 2011 14:23:16 GMT -5
Post by Casual on Jan 9, 2011 14:23:16 GMT -5
Life and the Force are a tricky thing. It is absolutely impossible to predict the Living Force and its whims. Whims such as running into a Dark Jedi when the trail of another had gone cold. Frozen, in fact. Bemek Forian would be forced to try again on such a devious being. He did not fail often. In fact, this was only his second. Such things instantly became unimportant, however. His blaster had been trained on one target that had taken cover, it moved on to another, his focus never missing a beat.
He felt the presence as the hooded figure it emanated from passed by him and into a bar. He followed what was clearly a female in and passed by, he needed information about this mysterious Force-sensitive before he made any moves. He then took a seat at a stool and ordered a drink he had no intention of ingesting. It was too soon to approach her, he needed to know what he could be dealing with. Bem was many things, but he was not careless.
He eyed the stranger inconspicuously and noticed she had her attention on another. He was a rowdy, blonde man who seemed like more than he appeared. It was an unjustified theory, more of a gut feeling than anything, and could very well be Bem's overly-suspicious nature, and he obliged with this. He would only register this for future reference as the two having some potential connection, and nothing more, but knew he would chide himself later on if his suspicions were upheld. Such were the games he played to keep his childish self at bay. He took a sip and backwashed it cleverly.
Then, the man made his way out of the bar rather abruptly and quickly, Bem watched as the Dark Jedi left just as soon as this happened. Perhaps, this hooded figure was Grey, rather than Dark. A mere rogue. The slight tinge of Darkness to her presence being a traumatic experience. There was but one way to find out, Bem wasn't one for games of risk. The Force does not play dice.
The stranger followed suit, seemingly flustered. Bem waited a mere moment before paying his tab and nonchalantly following the hooded individual. As he exited, he made a flirtatious glance at a Zeltron on his way out, whether to further the disguise and save face while exiting, or because he couldn't help himself, he couldn't decide.
The Dark Jedi was now headed down the street at towards the starport. Bem followed her, making brief stops here and there to stick well with the flow of the crowd and, as he had been doing since arrival on-planet, kept his Force presence to a barely-detectable minimum. He noticed the stranger getting on a ship and made a mental note of every aspect of the vessel as quickly as he could. The time had come, he decided, though, to make a move.
He called out to her directly as she boarded, attempting to gain some knowledge of the features beyond the garb she wore and her appealing physique, though he remained undistracted by it.
Excuse me! I think you may have dropped something, beautiful miss!
The sniff starts the hunt.
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Kuhblam
I've got two guns, one for each of ya'.
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last online Sept 7, 2013 15:30:01 GMT -5
Guardian
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Jan 10, 2011 15:17:02 GMT -5
Post by Kuhblam on Jan 10, 2011 15:17:02 GMT -5
As far as Varro's standards went, the transport was acceptable. He didn't care much for the eccentricities of this planet's businessmen squabbling about in their greed, but for him a ship that he was confident in to take him to his destination without losing power mid-flight was always important. That was always a major point of interest for Varro; if he was going to fly, and he hated flying, then he would gain transport on something that looked like it wouldn't come apart ten seconds after dusting off from a space-port landing pad. Still, he was naturally paranoid about not being on the ground. It was sort of like that one holoflick star he had been forced to watch while undercover with pirates on one of the moons of Bogden. The name eluded Varro for a moment, but his memories soon found their place. Indianas, Indianas Jones. That character hated snakes.
His eyes drifted for a bit to the viewport, over-looking the outside urbanized world of Prazhi. At the same time, Varro's mind drifted to his fellow Jedi. He had at least one other Shadow assigned on the mission with him, an Amaran named Bemek Forian whom he was older by about four years. It was good to have another experienced Shadow on the mission; Dark Jedi were becoming increasingly troublesome, and he'd nearly found himself cleaved in half the last time he met one. There was also another Jedi on planet... a Selonian? Varro couldn't remember anything. He was hardly 32, yet his mind was already gone to Sithspit. Of course, a dozen different corporate businessmen were on their comlinks chatting away with colleagues as loudly as possible. When he got back to the Temple, Varro would have to speak with one of the Sage Masters; meditation wasn't his strong suite.
The transport rocked to the side for a moment as it slowed down. Varro could feel the entirety of the hull losing momentum. As he turned his head to look out the view-port, he finally caught wind of his destination. Bemek was here, supposedly hot on the trail of their target. He sincerely hoped the Amaran had something for him; in any rate, Varro's trail cross-planet had gone cold awhile back. There simply wasn't anything to come across that he hadn't already known: the Dark Jedi went here, he happened across that, etc. It was all useless jibber-jabber from unreliable contacts. Varro had spent too much time on his own trying to follow an inconsistent cookie-crumb trail; hopefully, Bemek or the other Jedi on planet would have something for him. His hand traveled to his head, rubbing his buzzed brown hair.
What a waste of my time.
Being towards the back of the transport, Varro waited patiently as the various passengers on board collected their briefcases and belongings and exited off. Had at that moment he not detected a heavy Force-signature closer to the ship, Varro would have also disembarked. This was Bemek's location, but the presence he felt didn't match. It was somewhat aligned to the darkness yet totally uncloaked, as if the force-sensitive in question was totally unaware of any possible other adepts on planet. Better yet, it belonged to one of the new passengers heading on board.
Thank the Force for Force Camouflage.
Concealing his own presence, Varro made himself inconspicuous alongside his random civilian clothing. Provided everything went as planned for the moment, he could identify the person in question and make a quick investigation.
Wait a second. Bemek?
The Amaran was indeed coming on board, trailing a hooded feminine figure directly in front of him. Varro couldn't feel him in the Force; he was attempting to conceal his own presence as well. The person he was obviously following was most certainly not a Herglic, so Varro assumed he was tracking a different target, one he must have just picked up. Varro made eye contact with Bemek for a brief moment before looking away. By the looks of it, the two of them were going to be awfully close to his seat; the Amaran was already conversing with the target. Decidedly, Varro didn't make any surprising movements but rather simply pulled out a datapad and fiddled with it. He would play the part of the watcher for now.
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Kella
Fire and Blood
4,089 posts
5 likes
Fire cannot kill a dragon.
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last online Oct 30, 2014 9:41:46 GMT -5
Master
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Jan 12, 2011 1:47:02 GMT -5
Post by Kella on Jan 12, 2011 1:47:02 GMT -5
Sellah was after a target. Nothing but unfortunate circumstances could have brought her here, away from her Padawan. But there was a war churning, and here on Prazhi, a threat working. Sellah was not the best tracker, but she was skilled -- and in such times of war, such skills could not be let to waste.
The city smelled like smoke and dirt and people. It sounded like clutter.
But Sellah's one-track mind was converged over one singular topic -- One that didn't have a name. Names were important. Sellah found that if she focused on a name, then the clues became clearer in the muddle. But there was no name.
There were only clues. The clues had started with an informant, a 'businessman' who had turned against his contacts. That had led to a Dark Jedi, which had led to a Journal. The Dark Jedi had an apprentice, an incredibly talented, formidable apprentice. An unnamed apprentice.
And that journal had led to a smell. A scent. A humanoid female.
The trail had gone cold. Sellah had merely been passing through Prazhi, when something happened that only the Force could explain.
She had smelled that smell. So she'd followed it. So, so faint at first, the only way to tell its course was to pick a direction and walk until the smell disappeared. But she had a solid trail now, even as she paused in the street. People mulled past her, muddling the trail, but it was still there.
Sellah came to a junction. She paused, to take a deep breath, nostrils flared. Smells had as many shades as light did, and if your nose was sharp enough, you could read a scent-scape just as clearly as a datapad. As Sellah examined the olfactory scene, she came upon a surprising scent. She'd known Bemek was on the planet -- as she read every data-file frontwards and backwards -- but she had not expected to be so close. Just beyond his scent lay that of a young humanoid female. Could Bemek have picked up the same trail? Was that possible?
Sellah concluded that, having worked with Bemek before, it was better that he was around. She wasted so more time before surging through the crowd. Her whiskers twitched as she sniffed, brow furred. Cloaks, shoulders, walls, anything the target had touched, anyone she'd bumped...
She found her Jedi's reflexes in good use dodging pedestrians and parcels and carts. She left several blocks behind, until her eyes caught up with her nose. There it was, a transport. The whirr of its engines knitted her brow. She quickly took stock of the situation, and all its moving parts.
Selonian instinct surged to the forefront as the transport began to move, barely hovering at first, then faster. She rushed toward an abandoned cart's canopy, willing the force into her limbs as she jumped. From the canopy to a balcony, and from the height her eyes traced the transport as it began to hover, then drew more quickly towards her.
Now!
She leapt. All four pads of her feet landed on the humming metal at the same time, and she rolled to absorb the impact. Unless anyone had been directly paying attention, they would not have noticed the dark, fur-covered figure. There was a row of thick antennae towards the fore of the vehicle, and Sellah scrambled to latch herself to one before the transport's speed increased any further.
It wasn't long before the wind began to whip in her ears, drowning out even the police scanner. Her thick fur cut the bite of the wind, staving off all but a shiver. Shuttle drivers tended not to pay much attention, and if anyone saw her, the worst they'd do is report it to the police, with which Sellah was in direct contact. Air rushed over the vehicle, and within the menagerie Sellah found that familiar scent. She was in the right place. The target shouldn't be any wiser as to the presence of the Jedi, seeing as Sellah had done her best to disguise her not-very-strong-anyway presence in the Force. She normally wouldn't have thought things through this much, but it seemed as if the shuttle was not going to get where it was going particularly quickly.
She had a fleeting worry that the shuttle might actually be headed into space, but she reassured herself that this model was only for atmospheric travel.
Wasn't it? She was going to find it.
She was also going to find out where the mysterious apprentice -- and Bemek -- were going. And that was what was most important.
Well, that, and holding on.
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last online Jul 11, 2018 23:15:20 GMT -5
Knight
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Jan 14, 2011 3:12:33 GMT -5
Post by Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice* on Jan 14, 2011 3:12:33 GMT -5
Graffion pushed another person gruffly out of his way. He wasn’t here to make any friends, and at this point, subtlety was hardly an option. Graffion had been struggling to catch up, through two alleys and one packed street. Now his mark was far down the street! He saw the man stop suddenly, in the middle of the crowd. It was an abnormal act which impeded others and caused a minor disturbance. The guard glanced forward and to an alley on his left.
Hastily, the Assassin closed his right eye and moved his hair out of the way, zooming in on his mark with his mechanical eye. From the closer viewpoint, he could barely perceive the guards head turned. He was looking at Graffion. He knew. The mark, named Jerek, turned and went for the alleyway instead of going down the street.
Escape was unacceptable. Graffion moved faster, and with snappy movements he shoved hard. People who saw this got out of his way automatically and cleared a path for the blonde brute. Graffion could hear his own footsteps as he sped down the street, his boots making only a soft thuds, their design being perfect for sneaking about.
As he approached the alleyway, Graffion slowed to a stop. Jerek was a guard snooping into illegal markets and trying to take them down, he’d be expecting and prepared for an assassin. It was possible that a blaster was waiting for him around the corner. The pitter and patter of the rain masked any sound of his approach, along with the noise of the crowd, so Jerek would have only sight to discover Graffion.
His right eye closed once more, Graffion tweaked on the thermal vision. With the rain, most everything was cooled down, but a human body exhumed heat from the inside. He would tell if Jerek was standing near the alley entrance without any poking around the corner. The divider that separated the alleyway was a thin fence, its only real purpose was aesthetics, to keep pedestrians from having to look down dirty or grimy back alleys. Perfect for seeing through with his thermal.
After dismissing any immediate threat, Graffion returned to normal vision and moved around the corner, stepping into the alleyway. It still rained, though it was significantly less. The rain fell in a tilted manner, so the rooftops caught most of it, though the steady sound of water flowing down gutters( dropped water down into the alley in concentrated splotches ) was evident and irritating.
No sight of Jerek down the alley. He was waiting. This was an ambush, “Good, I wanted a fight.” Graffion whispered, proceeding and reaching down to his wettened waistline. He’d decided not to bring his ballistic pistols and his blaster weapons, and even decided against taking his wookie-bow caster. All he had for now were his swords, his wit, and his skill. He didn’t expect to be using any wit, so instead he’d replace that with rage.
After getting a respectable distance from the entrance and only viewpoint into the alley, Graffion reached down and unsheathed his two twin swords. They were long and slender with a slight curve, pointy, but not designed for stabbing. Their curved and slender design was for quick slashes, or to cut the enemies throat with one fell swoop. They wouldn’t be piercing through armor, but they would slice into your arms and legs.
After surveying the alley, he figured out where Jerek was. The obvious ambush point was where a trashcan and a crate stood, which would hide the attacker from view. Jerek wouldn’t be stupid enough to go with the obvious. Jerek was hiding on the left side of the alleyway, where an indent led to a doorway just a couple of yards ahead of the Trash-can and on the opposite side of the alley. Graffion swings around and attacks the conspicuous, and gets shot in the back ahead by the Inconspicuous. Clever. Would have worked on a lesser man.
Graffion played along though, using his mechanical thermal once more to make absolute sure Jerek was there. There was a more solid foundation obstructing his view, so he couldn’t see directly, but he could see the slight emission of heat from Jerek’s body, the frayed edges made easily perceptible only by the cold air. He smiled, proceeded, and turned around to attack the conspicuous hiding place.
Jerek didn’t shoot, though Graffion was prepared for that. Jerek charged. Graffion had already been turning, ready to dodge the blaster fire, but instead he lifted his swords up to blow the heavy steel bar ( which had been used to lock the dumpster door down. ). Graffions swords were crossed in an x pattern, catching and diverting the heavy steel bar.
He released his swords, reaching forward at the now offbalance Jerek and grabbing his weapon holding wrist with one hand then reaching forward and grabbing the neck of his mark with the other.
Graffion’s muscles suddenly flexed, knotting up and exerting strength as he lifted his mark up off the ground by the throat, choking the life out of him. Jerek’s eyes were wide in shock and horror, Graffion’s evil grin of satisfaction and furious eyes locked on him.
In desperation, Jerek switched the steel bar to his free hand, lifting his hand and preparing to bring the bar down in a cataclysmic swing at Graffion’s face. Before the attack could gather any momentum, Graffion had released his death grip on Jerek’s wrist and reached up to grab the steel bar, halting its path.
Jerek’s arm was free, and he quickly decided that the best course of action, whilst simultaneously kicking at Graffions stomach and chest, was to punch Graffion in the face. Graffion’s head jerked a bit, but otherwise his wicked grin and eyes remained locked on Jerek. Another punch to the face, Graffion hardly flinched, although the pain was intense, and he knew he would feel it rough later. A third, weak punch his Graffion, same result.
Jerek was dying in Graffion’s choke. He growled and yanked the pole out of Jerek’s hand, holding it at waist height and jabbing it into his Mark’s ribcage. Any air that Jerek was still holding onto was gone.
Before Jerek could fall unconscious, Graffion walked forward and slammed him into the door.
All of Graffion’s frustrations were then let out upon Jerek as Graffion dropped the steel bar, and put his fist into a ball, swinging much harder than Jerek could have hoped. It hit him right in the mouth, no doubt dislodging teeth. Then another in the face. Another. Another. Punch after punch. Graffion’s knuckles became a mix of both Jerek’s and his own blood. He punched until his fist stung. He punched until he was sore.
Jerek had already been dead.
Graffion looked at Jerek’s bloody, disgusting body. He’d died of head trauma, but blood had come out of his mouth and nose, and many of the bones in his face were broken. Jerek was wearing a cloak with a hood. Would have been useful for the getaway, if Graffion hadn’t been an idiot and covered it in blood.
He backed away, breathing hard. How unprofessional of him. It irritated him even more.
With haste, he gathered the steel bar and walked toward Jerek’s body, turning to look around make sure nobody had stumbled in. He backed it up, then swung it forward, crushing Jerek’s skull. He dropped the steel bar.
Now, it would look more like a common mugging than a trained assassination. Not very many thugs beat people’s faces in with their bare fists. Many of them caved their skulls in with a blunt object.
Graffion collected his weapons. He sheathed the first, then moved to sheath the second. He saw something though. It was a slight nick, where it had taken damage. Images of Tesa’s betrayal, of throwing the weapon, flooded into mind. That is where this nick came from. Graffion scowled deeply.
He moved to one of the alleyway doors. Couldn’t be seen walking out of the alley, not with his rather noticeable features. Instead, he bypassed the lock on one of the doors and entered into some sort of restaurants kitchen. Now to get out without being noticed…
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Squee
The Keeper
2,286 posts
95 likes
I am Deception, and I defy your holiest moralities.
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last online Oct 24, 2016 0:33:56 GMT -5
Master
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Jan 18, 2011 0:29:57 GMT -5
Post by Squee on Jan 18, 2011 0:29:57 GMT -5
((Just letting everyone know, go back and reread Kellah’s post. She and I had to um… -cough- talk about some things, so the post is… changed. Also, took some slight liberty here, Casual. Minimal, but I figured it was something your character would do. If not, drop me a PM and I will change ASAP. :3 ~The Lovely Squee))
At the sound of someone calling for a “beautiful miss”, about half a dozen women coming onto the transport glanced behind them. Some of them wore a startled expression, afraid to a certain degree to lose a possession. Others were confused, as they weren’t sure if the comment was directed at them. Tesa glanced over her shoulder, of course (considering herself a beauty herself), pulling the wet hood down. Her hand ran absently across her belt, checking the number of bumps that would tell her if all the equipment she’d brought with her was there. All there. Tesa frowned, decided she wasn’t being spoken to, and moved toward the middle of the transport as the other woman fumbled through their inefficient bags.
The speaker had been that… that fox-species person. She couldn’t remember the actual name. It was kind of cute, furry and fluffy as it was.
Tesa sat down in a seat and prepared the credits for when the shuttle stopped. The ride wouldn’t be long. She could have walked back to the hotel in a straighter line than the route the shuttle was following. The shuttle was going to travel forward some and then go a quarter of a circle, and she’d get off the very first stop. Yes, the walk wouldn’t have been long, but Tesa had wanted a moment to sit and think.
There was a loud THUNK from above as the transport began to move, earning a couple of gasps from the surrounding people. Tesa turned her face upward, an eyebrow raised in moderate curiosity. Whatever it was, it didn’t make much more noise, and Tesa turned her gaze downward as the passengers began their nervous whispers.
She needed to get out of Graffion’s hunting zone, that’s for sure. She wasn’t certain he was accepting jobs around here, but she wouldn’t be surprised. He was on a planet that didn’t know much about him. The bait was too tempting. And as long as she was in this district, she was stupidly endangering herself. If she were to cross Graffion’s path, she wasn’t sure she’d live. She didn’t know how well he fought against Force users, and that unknown frightened her.
Her thumb unsnapped and snapped one of the pouches on her belt. Her elbow was propped on the armrest, and her chin was pressed against the tops of her fingers as her gaze settled at the passing city outside, obscured by streams of rain. The inside of the shuttle had faded to silence except for the gabble of that fox-thing, who sat not too far from her. Was he trying to get her attention? Tesa wasn’t in the mood to practice socializing. So, instead, she flicked her eyes over to him a couple of times, curled one side of her lips at him when he laughed at something, but then resumed staring out the window.
For everything she should do to give Graffion a wide berth, Tesa felt a peculiar nagging not to do so. It was… she didn’t want to. When she left here, she would be committing to never seek out Graffion again. And despite every logical reason that her brain was telling her to follow, it still came down that she didn’t want to leave him behind. Where was she going to find another Graffion Maruhuey? And that was it. No one was going to have blond hair like his, either.
Her fist bunched in anger, hating her mistake so much that the acid in her stomach felt on the verge of boiling. Her eyes narrowed slightly. Tesa drew in a deep breath, reminded of the cuts on her arms, and released it, the tension flowing away with the air.
He’d spoiled her. No one was going to be as smart. No one would be that loyal to an employer. Who rescued their employer? Probably for the credits, maybe, but there had been many ways to get the credits. He could have tricked her for them: promise to take her to the doctor but he needed the credits to pay for it, as one example. Who else would control himself when he found out an ugly truth? Why hadn’t he killed me? Was it control? What happened? There was time enough to find answers to those questions. For now, she had to focus on the now.
Tesa turned her face toward the fox. She’d been paying partial attention to him while she thought about things and pretended to [mostly] ignore him. He was cute, and nice, from what she could hear. The women around him seemed to be particularly drawn, grins plastered to their faces.
The transport began a slow stop, and Tesa stood from her seat. She was to the doors by the time the shuttle stopped. Paying her fee, she walked off while subconsciously pulling the hood back up and jamming her hands into the vest pockets.
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Casual
Keepin' It Casual
668 posts
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last online Jun 24, 2012 11:41:03 GMT -5
Guardian
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Jan 18, 2011 10:43:56 GMT -5
Post by Casual on Jan 18, 2011 10:43:56 GMT -5
{Oh, no probs Squee, yea, he wouldn't let Tesa out of his sight, if he was on to her. So it's all good Also, Kella, I'm glad you kept to the chronology of Sellah / Bemek, meeting, I agree that this should be definitely after they had met, it makes things much more fun ;D Kuhblam, if you could have Varro attempt to rendezvous with Bemek sometime on-planet, I think a discussion on the "new target" would be in order for them, but I'm sure you already intend to, I'm just givin you the heads up } DratBemek thought, as a good dozen befuddled women turned around and looked his way as soon as he let slip the words from his mouth. Of course they wouldn't know who he was talking to. The good news was that his target did indeed turn around, and he caught a good look at her. That was all he needed. The sniff. The scent. The hunt was still on. At that time, many things happened. He almost laughed out loud to himself when he felt her, too; of course, that would have drawn too much attention. It then became all he could do to keep a straight face when he felt her jump onto the transport as he boarded, following the target girl on board. He had caught Varro's eye on the way toward the transport, and with a quick check in the Force, felt him to be investigating the scene from the ground. He pushed through telepathy that Varro should follow them with his own transport, hinting urgency in his telepathic push. With Sellah picking up his target, and Varro catching on that there was a new assignment, this was turning out to be quite a simple re-mission. The problem with that was, he thought as he took a seat in the back of the transport - paying his fare as he got on - that the Force was the most slippery fish; surely this simple mission will turn complex fast. At least he had the back-up. Immediately, he began talking with the women around him, in an attempt to hide the fact that he had called out to the lady who had ignored his call, to throw suspicions aside, as it were. Why yes, you can pet my tail - he flashed a charming smile - Just be careful, he's got a thing for gorgeous women, if he's around them, he starts wagging around all overHe, actually, had full control of his beautiful bushy tail, and when the Twil'lek and human ladies began petting it, he wiggled it charismatically, which elicited multiple giggles from the two. To which, Bemek laughed as well. As he did so, he kept a serious eye on the dark/grey Jedi. Nearing the end of the ride, he noticed her fully look at him. He was clearly drawing too much attention to himself. In his style, however, both full attention and no attention were just as malleable on-mission as the other. He'd make it work. She stood up and made her way off the ship. As he did so, the women, who were riding to another stop, and stayed seated, asked him: Now, what was it you claimed that we beautiful misses dropped?With the most heart-melting smile he could muster, he stated: My jawAnd with that, he turned and left the girls giggling to themselves, his face now serious as he turned and followed the target off the transport and into the unknown. The hunt continues.
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Kuhblam
I've got two guns, one for each of ya'.
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last online Sept 7, 2013 15:30:01 GMT -5
Guardian
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Feb 2, 2011 20:08:21 GMT -5
Post by Kuhblam on Feb 2, 2011 20:08:21 GMT -5
(OOC: 10-4, commander. I'll RP from here like he was on a different transport to begin with, I guess.)
The telepathic prodding Varro received from strong and concentrated; he could have felt it from a much longer distance. It was suggesting to him the same thing the Shadow had already decided upon and was achieving at just such a moment; board the transport, follow Bemek and the suspected target, and attempt to rendezvous with his colleague sometime in the very near future. Solid plans for the things to come; of course, Varro had no idea how he was going to meet up with the Amaran while they were tracking the force-adept. Did they even know if the force-adept was aligned with corruption? As far as Varro knew, he hadn't gotten a good enough description of the target through the Force to know just the right about of information about her.
Her.
Well, he knew she was a female. That much was a start, and every investigation had begin somewhere, right? Now, all he had to do was identify her visually at a distance through foggy transparisteel view ports amidst at least fifteen women all on board a transport moving away rapidly at about 50 klicks an hour.
Wait a second. The transport is moving?!?!
Varro snapped back to reality as he realized what he was looking at: the transport holding Bemek and the target, as well as the Selonian acrobat, was moving away! If the transport didn't move now, he was going to lose sight of them, and he'd lost his com-link about an hour ago to a horde of rush hour public transport passengers. There would be no way for him to contact Bemek, and he didn't have time to go shop for another of those blasted devices. He needed to go now. Shooting up from his feet, Varro looked around in a hurried frenzy as he spotted the cockpit cabin. Hustling over, he threw up a hand and waved aside the door, telekinesis taking care of the door motion for him. The attendant to the side, a female Zeltron, was trying to stop him and stepped in front of him. Behind her, the pilots were still trying to figure out why their cockpit entrance had just opened up automatically without command.
"Sir, please go back to your seat. The transport isn't scheduled for take-off for another fifteen minutes."
Varro's eyes widened; fifteen minutes was not good enough. He raised his hand again, his index finger and middle finger extended outward as he made another brushing motion across the air in front of the woman's face. Her facial expression became a tad more serene as his voice spoke up.
"I need to see the pilots now."
"You need to see the pilots now."
With that, Varro pushed past the Zeltron as he removed his identification cards showing him to be a member of the Jedi Order. Before the pilots could say anything in marketed protest, Varro shoved it in their faces. Why he hadn't done that with the flight attendant, the Jedi had no idea. Perhaps he was just in too much of a rush.
"I need you to follow the transport shuttle that just dusted off before it disappears from sight."
"But we haven't even boarded all the passengers!"
"Follow it!"
The pilots didn't argue further as Varro's face turned more serious than before. He had to follow Bemek and stay on the four-person group's trail. Following his instructions, the primary captain made a quick announcement saying they would be making a peremptory take off. However, he was waiting for all the current passengers to board before closing the ramp. Hurriedly, Varro made another motion and activated the boarding ramp. Shouts could be heard near the back as people either clambered inside the transport or jumped from the ramp. He frowned; he didn't want to endanger people needlessly, but he couldn't lose the trail. Not again, anyway.
The shuttle rocked to life as the engines whined and dust kicked off the landing pad. As it lurched forward, Varro held on with a hand to the top of each pilot chair, his eyes dead set through the main view port on the increasingly smaller ship in front of them. However, his own vessel was gaining momentum and speed, and he could see the transport become a bit bigger; the exhaust from the repulsorlift engines were beginning to take on a better colored hue.
----
It only took several minutes, but by the time Varro had arrived on board his commandeered transport, the other transport was already dis-embarking its passengers. He reached out with the Force, found Bemek among the masses, and then found what seemed to be their quarry, who would hopefully provide some sweetness to the bitter after taste of losing the primary target completely. However, they were already blending into the space-port throngs; he needed to catch up with them completely, but jumping from a short enough altitude would attract too much attention. He would just have to wait.
As the transport touched down and anchored with a thud!, Varro was the first out of the transport, cutting off the other passengers rudely and not bothering to address the pilots. Maybe he was making too much of a bustle out of the situation... perhaps he was. In any rate, he was only two dozen yards behind Bemek and the target, as well as that Selonian Jedi he was unfamiliar with but had identified. Blending into the crowd, he sent another telepathic tendril back to Bemek with the following message suggesting they meet at some point. He also need to talk to the Selonian; perhaps a name would ring a bell and discern her purpose on planet. Keeping on their trail as the fourth wing, he kept up the pace but did not make any attempts to distinguish himself foolishly.
Ugh... always on the move.
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Kella
Fire and Blood
4,089 posts
5 likes
Fire cannot kill a dragon.
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last online Oct 30, 2014 9:41:46 GMT -5
Master
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Feb 4, 2011 0:04:26 GMT -5
Post by Kella on Feb 4, 2011 0:04:26 GMT -5
Sellah was still alive when the transport neared its stop. She waited until the transport was ten feet off the ground, and then she jumped, landing and rolling in the shadows. A few people turned to the noise and sudden movement, but Sellah righted herself and began to walk on, nonchalant. The lookers went their own ways. She moved into the throng, a few yards ahead of the transport's crowd.
For a moment, Sellah wished that she could communicate telepathically. But only the masters of telepathy could speak in real sentences. She would have to do things the traditional way.
She moved through the murmuring crowd, falling into step with Bemek. She spoke so quietly that she almost could not hear herself, but she knew that Bemek -- being an Amaran -- had hearing as sharp as her nose, so he would understand.
"I am glad to find you. Well, no, that was polite, not true. Very few things make me glad. I am grateful, though." Sellah could not let any lie stand, no matter how small. It was in her blood. "I think that we are following the same woman. She was the apprentice of a very powerful Dark Jedi. And she is very powerful. But I know nothing more. No one knows anything more."
Sellah felt as if she were being watched... She glanced around, and noted several females with their faces in her and Bemek's general direction. They averted their eyes when Sellah looked at them. Sellah was not particularly good at reading expressions and she could tell they were jealous.
But why would they be jealous of having to tirelessly hunt dark Jedi, often forgoing formal meals or showers, in order to protect the constituents of the galaxy? Sellah loved her work but they did not look to be the sort that would show it any kind of interest.
Sellah's puzzlement leeched into her tone as she continued. "We need to be subtle. Blend. If we're not, she will find us out."
Sellah walked the talk when she lifted her muzzle and looked about, hesitating, as if searching for a street sign. But her peripheral vision caught a few more feminine faces, darting away.
Her nose twitched, as she assured herself that she could still smell the target through all the crowd. She could, so she started walking at an off-set angle. No need to be too conspicuous. Scent trails lasted for hours, sometimes days.
"Why do those women keep looking at us?" she hissed, feeling the eyes on her back. Did the target have friends? Had they already been sussed out?
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last online Jul 11, 2018 23:15:20 GMT -5
Knight
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Feb 10, 2011 10:14:54 GMT -5
Post by Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice* on Feb 10, 2011 10:14:54 GMT -5
The air was moist with the steam from various boiling pots and ovens that were constantly being checked up on or stirred. Thankfully, nobody immediately saw Graffion. He jumped into the kitchen and darted behind a pillar as quickly as he could, ‘I should have taken that man’s cloak.’ Graffion thought, ‘To cover the blood.’
He could feel it on him; the extra weight and cling of his bloodied cuffs, the way his shirt clung to his chest like some sort of ivy stuck to the wall of a building, tiny follicles unwilling to release their hold. Smattering of blood, not like he’d just cut a throat or a large chest wound. Not like those decapitations he’d performed on Nar Shaddaa.
Ah, Nar Shaddaa…how he missed that planet now. It didn’t matter if he was angry there, nobody cared who you killed…except for the target.
One of the chefs passed by Graffion, but he made sure to position himself out of sight. A person who isn’t paying attention will never see you if you try hard enough. All of the other kitchen staff were busy. Graffion had a clear run right for the front door. His eyes scanned the exit. Next to it was a soap dispenser and a box full of large hair-bags. That would do well.
He moved as quickly as he could, right passed all of the staff. As he reached the doors, he quickly grabbed one of the bags and opened it up, fitting it around the top of his head. It looked ridiculous and poofy, and almost killed him to wear it. But he’d put himself in this situation, now he had to put up with this in order to get out of it.
He came out in a side passage, still in the restaurant, but out of view from where all of the patrons were, the hall that led to the bathrooms. He found himself turning and headed toward the bathrooms, sticking close to the wall and moving hunched so anyone that saw him didn’t see the blood on his chest.
He entered the bathroom and did a quick check to make sure nobody was there. It was clear. Moving to the sink, he looked into the mirror.
He was right, he did look ridiculous. Ah, so this is why he’d never gotten a real job. He focused his attention from whether or not he looked stupid to whether or not he looked like an axe murderer.
It was worse than he’d thought. Blood was on his shirt, face, and hands. He began to clean his hands and face, running the water, with soap, against his skin. The stark white of the sink was a clear contrast to the blood, which appeared bright against the background, standing out clearly.
“I need a vacation.” He mumbled.
The sound of a door squeaking open brought his attention away from himself. He turned a little so that the person walking into the bathroom couldn’t see his blood stained chest.
The person was about to walk right by, when he stopped, “Excuse me, do you work here?” Graffion could tell by the voice it was a Rodian.
“Yep.” Graffion replied, trying to do his best impersonation of a middle aged waiter who hated their job. He pointed at the hair-bag, almost sarcastically, hoping the Rodian would find him rude and move on.
“I’m looking for my coat, have you seen it? I seem to have left it here from earlier.”
That made Graffion interested, “Yeah, it’s in one of the stalls, I think. But it’s occupied right now.” He lied, of course.
“Oh dear, I don’t think I could wait that long.” The Rodian murmured, “You see I have this business meeting to get to. But my assistant is waiting outside, if you could just hand it to him. He’s a bright green Twi’lek, you can’t miss him.”
“Thank you good, sir, I will be sure to hand the coat over to him as soon as possible.” Graffion replied, turning just enough to look at the Rodian and offer a friendly smile.
For a moment the Rodian looked as if he was going to step forward and shake Graffion’s hand, but then, he hurriedly left.
Graffion sighed as the door clicked shut. He had a chance. He turned and headed into the back of the bathroom facilities, shoving all of the stall doors open and checking the bathroom thoroughly. In the third stall he checked, he found the coat hanging on the back of the stall door.
A grin the size of his ego spread across his face as he saw that the coat was a long, dark, heavy coat. It was nice too. Perfect. He slipped it on. A little small for him, but he managed.
Approaching the door, he allowed himself to slow down and take a breath. He still needed to manage how he was going to get passed this Twi’lek assistant. Of course, he could probably just walk right passed him. With a great sigh, Graffion opened the door and looked out.
‘No Twi’lek.’ Graffion thought, looking down the hall, ‘must be around the corner.’ He made good and sure that the coat was tight around him and covering, then he walked forward into the restaurant full of patrons. He continued forward, ignoring all else, moving through and passed a few tables of patrons.
It took a moment, but he heard a voice shout, “Hey! Wait!” It definitely belonged to a Twi’lek.
Graffion hunched himself forward to protect his face from view of most people, hustling through the restaurant. At the front door, there was a coat wrack, which held coats and umbrellas for the patrons. As Graffion passed by he subtly grabbed a long black cloak, and two umbrellas, one was a bright yellow, the other was a dark purple of some kind. It didn’t matter to him.
As he went into the street, the Twi’lek behind him, he dashed into the crowd, putting up the obnoxious yellow umbrella. The Twi’lek jumped out of the restaurant, scanning the crowd. He easily spotted Graffion.
As Graffion took a few turns through the crowd, he moved right passed a vendor selling things on the street. At that moment he closed the umbrella and dropped it, switching to the black cloak and throwing the purple umbrella, ( which had neat little flower decorations all over ) open and onto his shoulder.
The Twi’lek went around the vendor, but Graffion had been gone already, and the Twi’lek couldn’t follow. With a growl and a grumble, the Twi’lek wondered how he was going to keep his job, when he stepped on something. It was the coat that Graffion had discarded! The Twi’lek yelped with joy and grabbed it up.
~*~
Graffion had stopped by a clothing store, picking out a plain old black shirt and a hat. It was a black hat with a small shade, a hat for style not for practical application. He looked as though he could be a normal citizen. The cloak he wore and clothing he’d chosen weren’t of any true fanciness, the only thing that would hint at him being different than most citizens would be his hat or hair, which he could easily explain if any need arose.
Right now, he just wanted to get onto a transport and get somewhere else immediately. Somewhere across town.
As he began to board a transport, getting up the ramp, there was a sudden shift and squeak. He turned to see the ramp was closing, ‘what?’ he mumbled to himself. His first thought was that it was a trap or something. He moved to jump off, but the door was closing too fast, he’d be cut in half.
One foolish passenger was half in the transport, half out, his legs dangling off. He wasn’t going to make it. With a grunt, Graffion leaned forward and grabbed the man’s hand, lifting him up and into the Transport.
Graffion smiled at the man, “Sheesh, whatch’ur self would’ya? He said, using a working class accent that he’d heard in the taverns.
The man replied, “Ah, sorry ‘bout that,” his voice was accented similarly, “I guess I’d goned a bit overboard, eh?”
“In a hurry f’r something?”
Graffion and the man went to take a seat. Once Graffion had finished formalities and accepted the ‘thanks’ he planned to shut up and mind his own, but he knew people didn’t just save someone, then pretend it never happened.
“Yeah. It’s my birthday today. Want to get home to my wife.” The man replied with a big grin.
Graffion could see the headlines already, ‘Husband Chopped In Half On His Birthday, Wife Weeps.’ He almost scowled at the thought, “Eh? Good f’r ya!” He said, being friendly as possible, “What’s y’r name?”
“Treston. You?”
Graffion thought for a moment. The current fake ID he had on him was under the name Teslo Crink? Or was it Loset Crink? He shook his head and answered, “Teslo Crink.”
“Aye. Any idea why this transport took off so early?”
“Not a bit.” Graffion replied, “T’was really weird, that.”
“Let’s go find out.”
“What?” Graffion asked.
The man got up and headed toward the pilots seat, “Come on!” He waved.
Graffion tapped his foot impatiently, then with a shrug and for the sake of curiosity, he got up and followed.
“Sirs, you can’t go back there!” The attendant pleaded.
They ignored her and walked right passed, into the cockpit, “What’s the big idea, huh?” Treston asked the two in the cockpit.
Graffion looked over at the two. The Pilot seemed ordinary, but his gaze was fixed on the other one. Something seemed off about him. He wasn’t police. He wasn’t apart of the transport’s crew. What was he doing here? It wasn’t a hijacking…but something was definitely different about this person.
( Just so there is no confusion, that is your guy, Kuhblam. )
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Squee
The Keeper
2,286 posts
95 likes
I am Deception, and I defy your holiest moralities.
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last online Oct 24, 2016 0:33:56 GMT -5
Master
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Feb 15, 2011 20:00:04 GMT -5
Post by Squee on Feb 15, 2011 20:00:04 GMT -5
She needed to quit this self… self… whatever it was. Her face was teased into a hard scowl, her eyes catching the small splashes the rain made on the sidewalk. Nothing should be reflecting into her mood like this. Failures happen. Just… not that often. Tesa gritted her teeth to keep her from snarling aloud.
The rain was becoming more than just a light shower. The owners of those side stalls were pulling verandas out over them, if they had them. Others less fortunate were tucking things into boxes and other storage containers, rushing them out from the harm of ruin. Ruined products never did sell, and Tesa was feeling particularly ornery as the rain began soaking through her cloth hood and was seeping onto her arms. She purposely aligned herself in such a way that when this salesperson jerked around in a hurried rush…
The woman collided right into Tesa, who pretended to keep her head down all the way as she inconspicuously jutted her foot so the woman, with her products, SPLAT! into a growing puddle. A flare of satisfaction flashed through Tesa, coming and going, but lingering in the form of a smirk. Tesa muttered an immediate and monotonous apology, the kind people gave when they really didn’t mean it. There was frustration in the woman. Yes, Tesa felt a little bit better now. She walked away without stooping to help the saleswoman. It shouldn’t be but another block to the hotel now.
Hands shoved deep into the vest’s big pockets, she gained the first step of the hotel before a loud commotion broke out from the direction she’d come from. Tesa paused under the hotel’s tiny, square veranda beneath the door and glanced around. A couple of rival species taking it out on each other with teeth and nails. Or was it a rival couple? Old partners now forked onto their own separate paths? Dozens of these relationships flashed through her mind, but none of them really mattered. Tesa was simply pleased with herself that she could recall the types of relationships.
Was that-?
Tesa averted her eyes briefly, blinked and then looked back. The… fox-thing from the transport? Suspicion rose within her. It couldn’t be the same one, could it? There were so many different kinds of people, humanoids and aliens alike. She needed closer.
Tesa eyes scanned across the people, she turned nonchalantly and stared down the other street, leaning forward slightly as if to gain better sight. Police? Then her gaze snapped back to the uproarious couple still yowling and smacking each other around, attracting quite the attention. Tesa stepped down and walked a few feet, her interest focused on the fight, focused on the fight… focused… Eyes on the fox-thing.
It was the same one! Tesa sucked in a breath, feeling primarily anger. Strae’s people? They would have reasonable cause to follow Tesa, keep an eye on her, mark what she does, when she does it, keep a record of her in case of a future encounter. That sleazy… whore. Tesa jerked her chin down, removing her communicating device like she was getting a call, whipped around, and strode back to and entered the hotel she was staying at. She replaced the device halfway across the lobby. No telling if the spy had seen her or not. Wench! The baby…whelping… gizka mother had made a deal not to bother her or Graffion!
This was why she wanted to sell the ship!
As she burst through the hotel’s back exit door, her long legs covering ground to the mouth of the alley, Tesa’s lips rolled back into a sneer, angry. She’d just have to show them who was really in charge, wasn’t she? Back onto a main street walk, a plan began formulating in Tesa’s head.
Let’s see how Strae likes her people in pieces.
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Casual
Keepin' It Casual
668 posts
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last online Jun 24, 2012 11:41:03 GMT -5
Guardian
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Feb 19, 2011 17:09:28 GMT -5
Post by Casual on Feb 19, 2011 17:09:28 GMT -5
We need to blend? Is that what Sellah had said? Blend? There was surely more than one way to comb a Cathar. This variant of blending seemed to be working just fine. He had yet to be detected, and Varro, he could tell, would be rendezvousing with him shortly. Things were working just fine as they were, what could possibly be the ---
"Why do those women keep looking at us?"
Oh.
Before he could consider his adjustment of tactics, she saw him, and she knew. The women had been an attempt to blend in, to seem like a simple sweet talking Amaran wandering about the place looking for potential spacer work. This was not the case anymore.
He had flirted too much and drawn too much attention to himself, and now it had blown up in his face. Immediately, his mind went to work as it always did, even as he pursued the girl making her way into a nearby hotel. His mind reeled and pondered, how he could, as he always did, turn this situation into a beneficial one. The success of such an attempt was never definite, but any advantage for the predator made the prey that much easier to catch was welcome. Failure was a terrible strategy.
He thrust another emotion at Varro, this time, instead of urgency and a need to meet, it was a sensation of: Get her! Not in those exact words, but, rather, a sensation. This girl knew, and was hiding something. His suspicions were confirmed with what Sellah had said to him prior to her warning. There was indeed a new target. A new hunt. A dangerous one he had stumbled upon. The blasted Force was such a fickle and bittersweet lady. She wafts her scent in one direction, only to lead her followers on a different road. Towards another scent. It was a dance, this interaction with the Living Force.
To Sellah, he prodded with the Force a primal notion: Catch?
She would understand, he knew. He was requesting her assistance in apprehending this Dark Jedi. Danger was of no consequence to a Jedi, let alone a Jedi Shadow such as himself. He knew what needed to be done.
He stepped into the hotel, the trail of anger the girl left behind was like breadcrumbs to his Sense-trained nose, which he followed at a brisk walking pace. A mistake.
He reached the back door and saw that the Dark Jedi had made tracks and was quite a long distance away. He had his plan now. He knew what he was going to do. With a sigh he threw the Force as subtly into his legs as he could without revealing his Force-sensitive nature and charged after her.
So much for "blending," that's up to the others now, he thought, shaking his head...
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Kella
Fire and Blood
4,089 posts
5 likes
Fire cannot kill a dragon.
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last online Oct 30, 2014 9:41:46 GMT -5
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Feb 25, 2011 23:26:08 GMT -5
Post by Kella on Feb 25, 2011 23:26:08 GMT -5
Not only did Bemek not answer her question, (and she did not ask many, so was it really so difficult?) she had spotted them.
She had spotted him.
Sellah side-stepped past Bemek, slapping him upside the head as she did, and hissing to herself. But she had to forget her frustration, and let Bemek pursue the girl through the hotel.
If the woman decided to hide deeper within the hotel, Bemek could take care of that. But Sellah had an instinct for these sort of things, and she felt as if the woman would make her way back to the crowd again as soon as possible. Sellah pushed her way through the crowd, stirring up eddies and ripples of offended murmurs. Sweeping around the block, she felt the woman's scent tickle her whiskers again. The woman was just emerging from the alley, and Sellah slowed, letting the bustle of the crowd absorb her...
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Kuhblam
I've got two guns, one for each of ya'.
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last online Sept 7, 2013 15:30:01 GMT -5
Guardian
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Feb 28, 2011 18:31:39 GMT -5
Post by Kuhblam on Feb 28, 2011 18:31:39 GMT -5
(OOC: Me and Deceit wanted to clear up some timeline issues, sorry for the delay. Crappy post, but I didn't want to stall the thread any further.) ---- 5 Minutes Ago His scenic viewing of the world outside the transport was halted by the sounds of pleading and shoving behind him. What could possibly be going on behind him? He turned about face completely to see two men, one of them distinctly more gruff looking than the other. The gruff one wasn't exactly dirty, but he had the aura of an odd-jobber, like he had traveled about the galaxy more than a few times. Was it keen intuition? Maybe he was just guessing stupidly. Either way, he just didn't fit the bill of some regular Republic citizen. His buddy fit the description of that class perfectly though, and he was fulfilling it rather well. When he spoke, it became clear the man was angry about the premature liftoff. “What’s the big idea, huh?” Varro didn't even need to prepare a response for a question such as this. His hand went to his jacket and pulled part of it away to reveal his utility belt, where a silver lightsaber hilt was attached rather nicely. "Jedi affairs. Return to your seat."It was obvious that the man wasn't happy to his response. The next statement expressed his less than happy mood. “This is a public transport, not some Jedi getaway! You almost killed me with that ramp!”Varro didn't respond again. This time, a small telekinetic prod hit the man in his chest, shoving him back a foot. He didn't like doing something like that, but he couldn't be arguing with a citizen right now. He turned to the other man, who hadn't spoken yet. "I'm sorry, but I can't help you either. Unless you have another question not pertaining to this transport's premature takeoff."Graffion ( who had his hair let out by now, the front bangs hanging forward to cover his mechanical eye ) nodded, with some hesitation, “Yea, just be more careful next time, eh?” He backed away, not interested in whatever Varro had done to knock back his buddy. ---- Present Time... Get her!He felt Bemek's prodding force, the sensation of his telepathic message through the Force. However, he didn't need it to know the reason for sending it. Following him and the Selonian Jedi, whom as far as he could tell knew nothing of his presence, he had seen their mark look at Bemek, and in that instance a new chase had been created. Their target had suddenly took on the appearance of an entirely different animal, one that had been alerted to the presence of those who might bring it into submission. He frowned; he had hoped that the location of the trio's confrontation with that woman might have been in a place more... secluded. The presence of civilians and the possibility of collateral damage would severely impair their efforts to reel in this criminal. Turning back, he moved out of the sight of everyone involved, taking a different alley that would lead him on a course of interception. That force-adept would no doubt exit through the back door of the hotel she had entered; knowing herself to be compromised, she would not hole up in some one-way entrance location and submit to a roof-top chase. She knew of Bemek, and possibly his companion, but not of Varro. No, he was the ace in the hole, a wrench in the gears. This alley would lead out onto the same street as the hotel's alleys did, if he had theoretically mapped it out in his head correctly. If not, he'd find himself in a totally different spot than intended, and that was not in today's plans. He came out into another street again, and took his time integrating into the crowds. He mixed in perfectly; no quakes or waves created by the distortion of forcing one's way into large bodies of people. As long he didn't attract attention and just meandered about in this spot for the next couple of seconds, she would---- right on time. The woman was in a hurry, taking long strides but not quite running. He eyed the Selonian as well; she was easy to make out near the mouth of that alley. This was the time to cut her off; Bemek would come in from behind, and he would act in tandem to keep her from moving too far away from the alley before catching her. No, she was already out of the alley way, with some kind of weird half-annoyed expression adorning the front of her face. There wasn't anytime to waste anymore; he had to act now, with or without working with the others to keep her cornered. In a hustle, he began to parallel her quick jog along the street, keeping his head trained on her figure amidst all the disfiguring shapes of those he was moving past or pushing perpendicular to. He was directly across from her on the street, and he could sense that she was beginning to get more alert by the second. He had to shorten the gap, get ahead of her. It was a good thing she wasn't looking his way... as soon as she did, he'd be right in front of her with a lightsaber ignited. Or so he hoped. Perhaps it wouldn't work so well as optimistically planned for. His hand called his lightsaber from his belt, felt the familiar coldness of the metal it was adorned in- and then he realized he had made a stupid error. In using the Force at such close proximity, he had committed a sin that he had not replicated since his rookie days as a full-fledged Jedi; she surely knew he was here now. Even a youngling could have detected something so trivial, and he was sure she had at least the skill level of a Knight or something similar. Blast it!There was no alternative any longer; he began to cross over to her side of the permacrete pavement, creating more obvious ripples in the crowds about them as he began to tail her more directly.
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last online Jul 11, 2018 23:15:20 GMT -5
Knight
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Mar 9, 2011 11:20:41 GMT -5
Post by Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice* on Mar 9, 2011 11:20:41 GMT -5
Graffion stepped back from the front of the transport, not wanting anything to do with whatever was going on. It was one of those days he just wanted to sit down, shut-up, and keep his head low. Treston moved to go back to the cabin, unsatisfied with what had happened, but Graffion grabbed his wrist and yanked him with strength that shocked Treston, pulling him along and back to his seat, “Don’t be a fool.” Graffion hissed, turning his head to Treston sharply.
It was only then, when Graffion’s bangs had moved with his head, that Treston noticed his mechanical eye, the metal covering his face laying darkly in his skin. Treston stared at it, unable to turn his head away. In order to not draw attention, Graffion had had it coated with a dark metal that doesn’t gleam or shine.
Graffion had been expecting some snark response from Treston, when he followed the man’s gaze and realized what had happened Graffion calmed down, he shouldn’t over-react. Granted, he didn’t feel as though this were an over-reaction, but he should not be so overt about his wariness. Now that Treston saw his eye, he could only imagine what the kid was thinking. Graffion would stick out now. Not only that, but mechanical eye was a legal description that sort of stuck out.
He didn’t really want to have to kill Treston.
“What…is that?” Treston asked slowly.
“It’s an eye.” Graffion replied.
“But it’s…”
“It serves the purpose of an eye.”
Treston thought for a moment. The kid was a little slow, and very confused. His newfound friend was not an average joe, he was learning, and it didn’t seem to click with Treston, “How?” He asked.
‘At least he didn’t start with why.’ Graffion thought, “I’m a security man for a Merchant ship.” He replied, “Four years ago we were attacked by pirates and I lost my eye in a sword fight.”
“Sword fight?” Treston asked.
“Yeah. Close combat, we disarmed each other and were forced to engage in a duel.”
“Hmm.” Treston murmured, “That’s interesting. Glad such a capable fella was on this transport today or I’da been a goner.”
Graffion forced out a low chuckle.
~*~
When the Transport came to a slow, and then a stop, Graffion sighed. It was time for him to get off. Even better, the transport had stopped not too far from the Hotel he was staying in. He could go there and get dressed in clothes that weren’t stolen or bloodstained. And given the circumstance, he would be a fool not to better equip himself. The last job was sloppy. If the police caught up to him, which was verily possible, then he would have to fight his way out. No way he was going to jail, especially on some jank planet like Prahzi.
Wishing luck and saying goodbye to Treston, he parted ways. He noticed that the Force User also departed the transport, but luckily they were going in the opposite direction as Graffion.
He moved at a steady pace, making good time, only ten minutes! To his hotel room. He walked in and went straight for the elevator, moving up and to his room.
Punching in a short code, the door opened. Taking out the hold-out blaster which he’d gotten from his victim earlier, he entered his hotel room, shutting the door behind him, then clearing the entire room to make sure nobody was inside. You never knew when a spy or an assassin might be setting a trap for you. Being a famous criminal had its downsides.
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Squee
The Keeper
2,286 posts
95 likes
I am Deception, and I defy your holiest moralities.
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last online Oct 24, 2016 0:33:56 GMT -5
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May 1, 2011 17:20:57 GMT -5
Post by Squee on May 1, 2011 17:20:57 GMT -5
((Liberty taken. If not like, PM me. Dang it’s good to write with her again.))
Tesa weaved her way around people, earning odd, rude glances for her urgency. She stared ahead, eyes scanning, wanting the perfect location to dismember her pursuer. Or pursuers. From her previous experience, Tesa had only seen Strae’s spies work in pairs, so she was preparing to encounter two of them. Shouldn’t be too difficult. It was the pieces part that Tesa mulled over.
Perhaps that was a little extreme. No. She’d simply kill one tracker. If she was lucky, maybe she could collect the body sometime. Then send it back to Strae. With the second tracker. With a hate message attached. Blasted, accursed woman. Either she learned to quit now, or she would quit drowning in a warm puddle of blood. And Tesa hadn’t decided which organ’s blood that would be.
She wove around a fat old man and pulled to a stop to check her trackers, not being the least bit inconspicuous. It startled her that the little fox man had gained some ground on her… and his feet were still chewing up distance. Damn, what did he eat for breakfast? Tesa whirled about, calling the Force into her hands and then touching her hands outside her thighs, willing speed and endurance.
It was curious that the fox seemed to want to catch up. What spy did that? A very poor one? It was… maybe he’d lost sight of her and he’d had to catch up. He was little short after all. But that didn’t explain why he was following so much more closely. He had to know she’d seen him by now. No spy remained within sight after being spotted, even Tesa knew that.
Assassins reacted quickly though. It would make sense for Strae to have assassins among her friends to help her dispatch of problematic people. Tesa almost sneered. Fox man would be one poor assassin if he didn’t act soon. In that case, she had to resolve this before this became a life versus death issue.
Tesa skirted around a gaggle of multi-raced aliens ogling trinkets in a shaded stand. Drawing her cloak about her, Tesa stepped into an alley, a dead end, she noticed with a frown. It would have to do. Quick as fire she backed into the wall, readying herself just around the corner, ready to snatch the fox man from sight and refuse him any offer of chance. As predicted, Fox Man passed the corner. Tesa’s hand bit like a viper, fisting his collar in her hand as she started to drag him in…
That’s when she knew she’d made a mistake. She could feel it as her hand touched him. He was actively using the Force, sustained, and hidden. Fast as struck by electricity, Tesa jolted back and released the fox. Then she stepped further back in the alley, but that was a mistake too, and she remembered too late that behind her was a very tall wall. And then the Force stirred again, unhidden, and Tesa eyeballed the fox. But he wasn’t the one who’d summoned, her eyes flicked over his head, noticing the partings and jostling of the crowd as Fox Man’s partner came bumbling.
She cursed, “Bantha fodder flung from the highest ‘scraper in Coruscant… You’re supposed to be spies!” She jabbed an accusing finger at Fox Man. “You’re not supposed to be Jedi!” Tesa didn’t know what to be more angry about: that she’d been fooled, or that she couldn’t send Strae hate mail. “Shadows. Suns and moons, you couldn’t be regular Jedi, could you? No, I get stuck with the rogue hunters! Blast it all!” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “The gods of the universe have no mercy these past couple of days.”
Tesa didn’t believe in any gods, but it was the first thing that came to mind. She’d sunk into a survival mode, where she lied off the top of her head and stayed with it. They wouldn’t know her personality and it was best they did not discover her true personality. Tesa just hoped she slipped into the right one. She eyed the Fox and the other Jedi with growing nervousness, but she allowed that. The twitchy awkwardness might lend to her act.
“What do you want? I’m not going to your Temple. I like my life the way it is. My own opinions. My own decisions. My own actions. No crisscross, deep scrutinizing or “thou shalt meditate to harmony” stuff.” Tesa drew a tight breath, eyes flicking between the two. Somehow, she’d get out of this, whether by talking or running. Could she leap that wall? Perhaps if the need was strong enough. “I’m not going. And I swear to you I’ve done nothing wrong!”
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Kella
Fire and Blood
4,089 posts
5 likes
Fire cannot kill a dragon.
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last online Oct 30, 2014 9:41:46 GMT -5
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Dec 27, 2011 22:03:51 GMT -5
Post by Kella on Dec 27, 2011 22:03:51 GMT -5
The woman disappeared into another alley. Sellah let the crowd carry her further, slightly beyond. She noticed Bemek, and the other, clumsily shoving through the crowd towards the alley. She sighed.
The cloud washed Sellah up against a wall slightly beyond the opening, where she stayed. What began with a brisk leap ended moments later with Sellah on the roof of the building, and some very odd looks from the crowd. The Selonian disappeared from the view of the street, and the crowd resettled.
She peered down, and saw the girl. Her smell drifted up and filled Sellah's nostrils, and she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this girl was the one. The one the journal had spoken of. Keeping low to the roof, Sellah slunk toward the back of the alley. It ended in a wall, high for a barrier but still lower than the roofs. It wasn't a side of a building, rather, a retaining wall that prevented the alley from being a through street.
Too high for most to scale. But not for a Jedi, light or dark.
Sellah crouched on all fours, actually the posture that came most naturally to her species, and peered over the edge. She was positioned just above the wall, so that if the woman tried to escape, at any angle, Sellah could head her off.
She could hear, but did not particularly pay attention to, the exchange between Bemek and the girl. Rather, she continued to keep tabs on everything else in the environment, looking for other escape routes or advantages her mark might have.
Let the other Jedi handle the talking. Sellah's only duty was to do her best to prevent this dangerous girl from remaining free in the galaxy.
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last online Jul 11, 2018 23:15:20 GMT -5
Knight
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Jan 6, 2012 12:51:42 GMT -5
Post by Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice* on Jan 6, 2012 12:51:42 GMT -5
I should get my pay and get off this rock. Graffion thought. it’s probably not enough pay though. We’ll see. I should gear up, no knowing what’s going to happen when I go to collect, especially considering I botch the job. He looked at his gear. Biting his lip, he packed everything up into their respective cases. Everything he owned could be held in two stainless steel suit-cases. Clothes, weapons, and grooming/basic living supplies. He picked up the weapons case in one hand and grabbed the personal affects case in the other and moved out.
He checked out of the hotel at the lobby, throwing on his cloak to disguise his weapons. He’d decided that he should equip a few items onto himself in preparation for anything that might go wrong once he got to his employer. An angry employer may try to decide that Graffion shouldn’t get his money, or a side-ways crook may double cross him ( although the chances of that occurring seemed slim considering his reputation. ) required Graffion to protect himself and be ready when he received his pay.
He wore along his belt a flash bang, a multi-purpose toolkit ( never know when this will be handy ), his twin swords, and a silenced slugger pistol with two clips of ammunition. A flash bang was always useful when dealing potential ambush situations. An employer won’t take on an assassin himself, he’ll send lackeys, likely two to three, maybe four. If they played it safe and came in with guns, even Graffion would be a goner. A flash-bang was a convenient way to level the battle field for a number of reasons, primarily being the opportunity to run away, and also that he could see them with his mechanical eye whereas they could not find him. He took his multi-purpose toolkit with him wherever he went, because you never know what you’ll need or when. The pistol was a perfect solution to a mid-ranged problem and an accurate killing tool, and since it was a slugger you didn’t have to worry as much about noise since it was silenced, nor the light from a blaster bolt or the smell of burning flesh and corrosive smoke.
The swords were obvious.
He wore his cloak to cover up the belt full of gear and the large Wookie-bowcastor strapped onto his back. Why a Wookie-bowcastor? Because when you point a very large, very powerful weapon such as that, it was enough to make even a Jedi blink. The common man would flee and everyone else would react away as though the devil himself had just walked into the room, ready to defend themselves.
“Have a nice day sir!” The Twi’lek lady called out to him.
“Better than yours at least.” Graffion said in reply. She frowned, unhappy and confused about his comment.
Graffion did not envy the common life. And when they found out that he was using a false account with no funds in it as well as a false ID, they would be less than happy. Graffion pushed the doors open and started headed out.
He walked outside and looked around. The easiest way to reach his employer was to take a transport. But Graffion had a strong gut feeling that he should walk. He’d learned to trust these instincts over time, “I hope I don’t have kill anybody else…” he mumbled to himself.
“Spare some change?” A beggar asked as he passed.
“bug off.” Graffion jeered, giving the beggar a wave of his hand and ignoring him. The beggar stared after him, a look of spite in his eyes. Graffion just smiled, having transferred his daily frustration off on to some other poor human being.
Maybe, just maybe, he could enjoy this walk, and just breathe and walk for once. Just breath, and walk, and not have to worry about anything.
But probably not.
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Squee
The Keeper
2,286 posts
95 likes
I am Deception, and I defy your holiest moralities.
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last online Oct 24, 2016 0:33:56 GMT -5
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May 26, 2012 0:49:45 GMT -5
Post by Squee on May 26, 2012 0:49:45 GMT -5
((For the sake of the rp, I will be NPCing Jedi Shadows unless the original rpers return. However, since Tesa does not know the names of the Shadows, she is simply going to call one “fox man” and the other by description or something similar. I’d like to keep the races the same, but not necessarily the personalities, that way the rp can continue to make sense.))
There was another wave of energy in the Force, beyond this alley. Great spacers, how many Jedi were there? Tesa’s level of worry increased. It was she got out of this now or she was going to have to do something drastic.
“You are under arrest.”
“I’m… I’m what? For what?” The indignant words slipped easily from her mouth. She was a woman who had done nothing wrong. Tesa had not cheated anyone of credits, objects, or life. At least on this planet. No crime had been committed on her part, unless Strae or, blast is all, Graffion had done something to frame her. Strae she could see. Framing Tesa would seem like a simple way of removing her from the game. Graffion? … Did he really hate her that much? “I haven’t done anything. You tell me what I’ve done.”
“You present a threat to the Jedi and to the galaxy,” said the human one. The Fox Man didn’t seem to want to say much about the situation. He instead peered at her, as if studying her. Trying to find fault in my lies, amaran? Do have the best of luck.
“For doing what exactly? No, don’t you touch me.” Her pitch changed as she yanked her arm from the human’s reach. “I ain’t done nothing wrong. If my only crime is leaving your Temple, that’s a new one. I’m not going back. I like my life the way it is.” Tesa swallowed, and she wasn’t faking. Her mind continued to cycle her options, which were narrowing with each word spoken by the Shadows. They didn’t seem to be buying her nervous, somewhat former Jedi act, for whatever reasons. “I swear, if I had known you were Jedi, I would not have tried to, uh, hurt you. A girl gets paranoid when she’s followed a lot. Lately being followed by… not so nice people who may or may not want to hurt her.”
“So, you’re saying you would have done something to me if I had been these spies you’re talking about?” it was the Fox Man’s turn to speak.
“Yes… I mean, no, um… self defense?” This was getting nowhere. That energy that Tesa had felt earlier was perched above her. “Preemptive self defense? They would have hurt me, okay?” Her only way out was over that wall. If she tried, however, whoever was above would drop down on her head. Once she leapt, she was committing herself. Could she leap over the Shadows? Maybe, maybe not. Shadows were trained specifically to handle the dark side.
“You have a darkness about you,” remarked the human one, who reached for her again.
Well, doesn’t that sound absolutely sinister and original? “So does everyone. Maybe you should learn to deal with it. Just because some of us feel like darkness does not mean we are harming the galaxy. And I don’t… like the way you keep trying to get in my space. So, back off!” Tesa shoved her hand forward, contacting the human man’s chest and releasing her burst of the Force to shove him backwards. The contact made it easier for her to pinpoint the push, and the Shadow was taken off guard. While the one fumbled backwards, Tesa sidestepped, eyes on the Fox Man with a ready hand and motioned upward at several trash bins. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, believe me when I say that if you can. My quarrel is not with you. In fact, I never want to see your faces. I just want to be left to my own devices.”
“I cannot let that happen.” There was the familiar hiss of a lightsaber turning on, and she could see the blue light out of the corner of her eye.
Tesa groaned. She really, really wanted nothing to do with the Jedi. The Force gathered in her hand and Tesa touched her thigh, transferring the power. With a grunt, she chucked the trash bins upward in the direction of the Force user above her and sprang upward. She landed on the wall, calling the Force back to her hand, and dropped, hand on her thigh, empowering her body with speed. Her feet touched ground and Tesa immediately started forward in a sprint, hearing scrambling behind her. Several seconds later, something whistled behind her head and barely snagged her hood and hair. Tesa gasped, weaved to catch her balance, and fled the alleyway.
She swerved around people, startling them, and shoved others to the side. The longer she ran, the slower she became, making it less and less obvious where she was in the market. She pulled up short in a small crowd, drew up her hood, and searched within her vest for her lightsaber. She shed the vest then, clasping it in her hand. Looking, she noticed a stall across the street and sent a wave of Force energy to said stall, knocking people down and sending cloth and goods flying everywhere. Tesa shouldered her way through the crowd as more people grew curious and began to press in. She reached in her pocket and dropped credits and her vest before a group of beggars outside an alley.
Glancing back, she noted with satisfaction the beggars scrambling for the goods she’d dropped. Tesa walked down the alley, casting her gaze everywhere in paranoia, waiting to see one of the Shadows pop up. At the end of the alley was a man enjoying a snack he’d bought wherever. She thought about dragging him back toward her and killing him with a lightsaber through the heart, but she was worried about who might see and bear witness against her. It might be simpler to remain crime free. She needed to at least ditch the lightsaber though, and the longer she stood here, the closer the Shadows crept. She blinked and another idea came to mind, one that she would use if she couldn’t rid herself of her Shadows within the next few minutes. She slid the lightsaber lengthwise into the clip at the small of her back. Pulling her shirt loose, Tesa stretched it across her weapon and down her butt a little.
At the entrance of the alley, Tesa reached out in the Force. Alarm squeezed her airway as she felt the human Shadow’s presence only a few steps from her. Her heart thudded heavily in panic as she burst from the alley and scurried down the street to the next alley. Tesa could hear him breathing behind her as she raced between the buildings, his rushing feet echoing her pace. With a stretch of her arms and hands, she lifted up debris left and right, swirling them to cloud his vision of her, to distract him so he wouldn’t think to pull her back. She refused to be detained! Perhaps it was time to find the police officers. Yet once she came out of the alley, Fox man’s presence streaked through her senses, so close, and disrupted her thoughts. Tesa felt her fear strengthen in her throat, impeding on her breathing. “No, no, no,” she whispered hoarsely to herself. As if the words would stall them. She pelted across the street instead of turning. Now was not the time to slow down.
Several moments went by, full of impatience for people and pushing them from her path while leaving a trail behind her. She began to yell, “Help! They’re after me! They’re trying to hurt me! Help! Help!” Another corner presented itself and Tesa leaned into it… only to crash full bodied into someone rather sturdy. She bounced off the person and began reeling back, her body falling faster than her feet could support. In reaction, Tesa grabbed onto the man’s cloak to pull herself back into balance. Why was there someone in her way? She needed them out of the way.
Instead of delivering a thank you, Tesa hand bunched in the cloak. “Out of my – “ Her voice caught and the words stopped on her tongue. Her mouth was open, ready to form any word between her pants, but she was looking into a single, very blue eye. Her hand relaxed in the cloak and his presence streamed through her consciousness as her hand lingered by his collarbone. Tesa didn’t know if she should take his presence as a threat or a comfort, probably because she didn’t know what he was going to do.
“Graffion…” The name was a hush on her lips. Her hand pressed against his shoulder firmly. Through the touch, she sent a basic message to Graffion. Fear poured from her center, down her arm, and through her hand touching Graffion. She was scared. She wanted help. Her hand slipped away, she stepped around Graffion, and she began at a jog, slowly increasing her speed.
Maybe. Maybe not.
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