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Topic Summary

Posted by: Aluminator (Kit)
« on: Yesterday at 10:38:47 PM »

Al laughs and rolls his eyes. "Believe me, you're far from the first person to wind up here with no idea how to leave." He shrugs. "People seem to just fade out from time to time. It was creepy at first, but you get used to it. The ones that come back later have usually ended up at home." He twirls a finger around his ear in the 'crazy' gesture. "Just part of the appeal of this nuthouse, I guess."

"Ah, young grasshoppah," He says, in his 'elderly kung-fu master' voice. "You have more to offer than widgets. You should be putting a high price on information." He grins and drops the accent. "I imagine Salem will be as interested in your dome and your mind powers," he wiggles his fingers beside his head in a gesture that he seems to think means 'telepathy,' "as I am. Difference is that you can make him pay you for specifics."

"Tell you what," he says, looking towards the bar. "It sounds like it's died down to a dull roar in there. Let's head inside. I could sure as heck use a drink." He spins on his heel and heads for the door. "I'll buy us a round."

As he walks, he cups his hand and calls towards the lake, "Hey, Will, join us inside when you're all squeaky clean! Drinks courtesy of my friend's bank account!"
Posted by: Aluminator (Kit)
« on: March 20, 2017, 10:39:32 PM »

Salem frowns and looks towards the door. "Myitt took a different host?" He looks back at Joanne, intending to ask for an explanation, but her tone makes it clear she's confused by the situation as well. "You'll have to point this other host out to me, at least."

When Keshin begins inquiring after the motives for this mission, Salem sighs. He doesn't want to start getting in to all this. He turns to watch as first one, then two, then three newcomers enter the bar. All three appear to be human, though in a place like this, that can mean very little. They give the impression of being separate parties, but that may be an act. A distinct tingle of fear, and the usual accompanying excitement, passes through him. Whether they're together or not, every newcomer has a chance of recognizing him, of being another bounty hunter or a representative of the Empire, or of the Andalites... he smirks to himself. Pretty much anyone that walks in has a good chance of wanting him dead. It'd be absurd, that his life's come to this, if it weren't so nerve-wracking.

His eyes track to the blond man who orders a coffee. He frowns, staring for a few moments, as though trying to figure something out. The man feels different, somehow, to the new sense Mar'd bestowed upon him years before. His eyes flick towards the auburn-haired woman, noting the way she holds herself-- an air of unconcern masking an underlying alertness, a wariness that only comes of experience. Or... so he imagines, at least. It's always possible he's projecting his own emotions onto her. With a visible shake of his shoulders, he turns back to Keshin, who is now fidgeting with his display. Even as he returns to the conversation, he keeps one wary eye out for trouble.

He smirks. "Isn't it considered... like, a faux pas or whatever to ask too many questions about a job?" He sighs. "I'm the client on this one. There's a..." He furrows his brow, trying to figure out where to start. "There's a movement within the Andalite higher-ups. I don't have all the details yet. Whatever's going on... it's covert. Well-hidden. Tough to gather the intel on. Very underground kind of stuff. But, as far as I can tell, the movement is mostly about... about letting the Yeerks win. About letting the Empire destroy... whatever this movement decides. Whoever it decides. Letting the Yeerks do their dirty work. About pulling the Andalites out of the war, about putting their resources into defense." He runs a hand through his hair and looks away. "I... I don't know if I've ever told you, but I spent some time with the Andalites. Years, actually." He lets out a bitter, choked laugh. "They might be a bunch of arrogant, xenophobic, hateful, grass-munching idiots, but their planet... was my home. I care about them. Some more than others. And I'm not going to let some deluded underground conspiracy destroy them, or hurt my... hurt my friends."

He smiles sheepishly, seeming to remember where he is. "The plan will be to allow the station to function as a sensor platform while crippling its ability to act as a waystation for troops. One of the... er... kingpins of this little conspiracy is scheduled to pass through the station soon. Our plan depends on shadowing him effectively. He's also our potential mark." He smiles tiredly. "I'm hoping we can find enough information to stop this movement in its tracks. I don't think it's very widespread at the moment."



As the bartender approaches each of the bar's new patrons in turn, his response is the same. He sets their requested drinks down in front of them, never speaking so much as a word. Along with the drink, he slides a tattered, yellowed old notepad on which three words are written. Cash or Tab?
Posted by: Leona
« on: March 20, 2017, 04:57:38 PM »

A pair of emerald colored eyes peered out from under the hood of a white and gray hoody as a petite human figure eased into the old, out of the way bar. A few auburn strands hung out of the hood down across shoulders with a distinctively female slop. The new come seemed to pay little regard to other patrons as she breezed by with an effortless stride, heading straight for the bar. Pulling down her hood it was revealed that the shape of her frame hadn't lied about her gender. Messy auburn waves collected and pooled in the hood hanging from her back as she slid onto one of the stools.

"I'll take a shot of your strongest liquor." She spoke softly once the bar tender had a moment. "That's not lethal to human." She added as an afterthought. She looked to be old enough for a drink, mid to late twenties at least. But then again even children weren't children in times of war.
Posted by: Shenmue654
« on: March 18, 2017, 11:50:03 PM »

"Brain warping connosseiur is right!" crows Jeffrey, his voice reverberating with his glee. "I know everything there is to know in my world about Espers! I mean..." Jeffrey pauses. "Largely because of the whole, 'I don't want to get any crazier than I already am', bit, but yeah." Jeffrey grins. "I'd love to take you to the dome, Android Buck Rogers, if I had any idea how to get back. I don't have a ship. I don't even know how I got over here! One minute I'm---" Jeffrey makes a throat-slit motion with his finger, and then pretends to stumble backwards. "And the next minute it's Space Western with a side of pirate."

"As for the widgets, hell..." He eyes the marvel that is Al and the trader's ship. "I think I'll take you up on that. Although I'm loathe to point out that all I've got is blood, a key, and a freaking cell phone. And I might need the cell phone. I hope when I talk to your dork buddy some of that is worth something."
Posted by: Shenmue654
« on: March 18, 2017, 11:38:26 PM »

Keshin nods quietly. "We could use a break from it ourselves. It grows tiring, going from dive to dive, living out of a Bug fighter, never knowing how long you will survive..." Keshin smiles, as if shrugging off his own ennui. "But that's life. As for Myitt..."

Keshin shakes his head. "There...I have no idea. Absolutely none. I certainly didn't provoke it. In fact, we were having a completely normal conversation before she suddenly lunged at me and sliced out my throat. The only clue I have is..." Keshin pauses, and then points slightly to his left at the door to the Bar, leaning out with his head. "...she wasn't in Tara. She was infesting a stranger I don't recognize. I think he left the Bar, earlier. He must have missed the whole hubbub with Rathien."

Keshin then sits and listens to Salem's explanation of the job. He rolls his eyes. "Salem, I am good, but you still haven't---" Keshin startles slightly when Salem puts the cube out onto the table. He inspects it with his eyes, but it's a piece of technology just as inscrutable as everything else that Salem owns. A cipher. He waits, and his expression lights up with wonder as the device projects a hologram. Keshin pauses. "An Andalite outpost...." He murmurs as Salem explains.

Keshin's expression shifts from excited to quizzical. He gives Salem a questioning stare. "Salem, what's this about? Who hired you to raid an Andalite early warning outpost? Are any of the Vissers planning some kind of attack that they want to go unnoticed, or is it the data that they want? Or, and this is seeming more likely by the minute...are you aware of something specific that's going to be happening at this place? You mentioned the possibility of an assassination."

Keshin seems to muse over the diagram, spinning it with a finger. It doesn't take him as much time as you would expect to figure out the controls. "Hm." He zooms in on various specific aspects of the station, including security shields, typical guard patrols depending on the day, the docking bay, and several details of the layout including the locations of major terminals. He sighs and says, "...I think I could do it. In fact, I might do it. Although yes, we'd need a team. And I can't promise that I'd be in for the full haul until I did the job and find out what you're up to. Does that make sense?"
Posted by: dreamsleever
« on: March 17, 2017, 07:53:14 PM »

His name is Forlin-Langor-Chulain.  He is--or was--an Aristh.  But about his biological people, he knows very little.  The trauma of a ship crash can do that to a person.  He considers himself a denizen of Earth.  Known to all but those who he trusts as Collin Henderson.  Because he has to be careful who to trust.  The humans will poke and prod and lock up things they do not understand...and there are even worse horrors out there.

Only recently had he been able to reach the stars.  How he has happened upon this nondescript place, however, he does not know.  He comes knowing there is risk, yet the Andalite comes anyway.  While he still remains within the confines of the small ship, he begins to morph, bones and flesh twisting and shaping, blond hair sprouting from his head and blue fur receding.  Emerging on all fours, naked, he pushes with his strong human arms to his feet, and finds his clothing:  a t-shirt with an image of a dragon on the front, sweatpants, black socks, and pull-on shoes.  He slips a jacket on, and into his pocket, concealed, an Andalite shredder.  Setting on stun.  It is a mild relief to the Andalite to have it at hand...but he hopes he does not have to use it.

The first thing he sees sends warning bells through his mind.  He recognises what the bladed creature storming towards a fighter is...Hork-Bajir!  Shock troops of the Yeerk Empire.  Forlin gives the Hork-Bajir a wide berth and makes his way inside, despite his urgings to leave this place as soon as possible.  He glances around as he steps into the bar, taking in the site of what seems to be mostly humans.  They could all be Controllers, though, for all he knows.  He tells himself to act natural, making his way to an empty spot at the bar.  Once he has the attention of the bartender, he speaks.

“Hi, um, I would like a coffee, if you have it.  Coffee with lots of creamers.”  He smiles warmly but nervously, trying his best not to sound out the words despite how well 'creamers' comes flowing off of his tongue.
Posted by: Aluminator (Kit)
« on: March 14, 2017, 10:51:58 PM »

Salem looks towards Myitt. "Apologetic is... good, I guess. It's something. So did Myitt just snap, or did you provoke it?" He stares into space. "At least you're still kickin'. More of my friends out here in the black wind up dead every year." He smiles tiredly at Joanne. "It's not easy for those of us who live on the fringes. No real home, except for dumps like this. No sense of security. No family and no consistency." He sighs. "I don't know about you, but once in a while I could use a break from this life for a while."

He seems to suddenly remember what he's there for. He shakes himself almost imperceptibly and sits up a little straighter, reclaiming a portion of his businesslike demeanor. "I know it sounds like a setup," he says. "It's not. It's just that the job... jobs, really, because I think we're probably looking to hit two or three targets... are multifaceted. Multi-tiered. We need to be fast, and silent, and we're going to need to time everything perfectly. I don't think I could do it on my own if I had a year for planning and preparation, but there are groups I've worked with that'd make this look like a cake-walk. My old crew..." He trails off and his eyes lock onto Joanne's, searching. "You're good. As far as I can tell, you're one of the best in the galaxy. If we pool our skills, we should be able to do this pretty easily."

He fishes into a pocket in his cloak for a moment and pulls out a dark grey cube-shaped object. It's a couple of inches across, and across the entire surface run a series of golden-white lines, parallel to the cube's edges and turning almost exclusively at right angles, like the traces on a circuit board. Salem sends a quick thought-speak command to the object, and the the lines begin to flicker and pulse. The cube projects a small, rotating holographic image into the air above it. It's a vaguely mushroom-shaped structure; that of a small Andalite space station.

"This is our first target," Salem says. "It's an Andalite-run early-warning outpost near the current front line with the Empire. It's non-critical to their operation and is usually pretty lightly guarded, but lately it's been used as a waystation for those traveling to and from the Andalite fleets operating in the sector. Depending on our timing, it might be full to the brim with Andalite warriors itching for a fight." He grins. "So we'll want to avoid that kind of timing. We'll be looking to capture some data from the computer, bug their comms, disrupt station operations, and potentially liberate a small number of Andalites. If we're really lucky, there's the opportunity to make an assassination as well." He shrugs and indicates the cube. "I've got a lot of intelligence on this one, and you're welcome to look over all of it to see what your action plan would be. I'd rather have more eyes and minds on it anyway." He laughs halfheartedly. "Depending on what we find out there, we'll know our second target, if there is one. I suspect it'll end up being a more-secure Andalite facility."

He watches as the cloaked Hork-Bajir storms out the door. Some kind of relationship there he's not hugely eager to jump into the middle of... good thing both of the individuals in question are alone now. "I'm offering good pay for each of the... sub-jobs, I guess you'd call them... and a larger amount once the whole thing is done. And that's besides the bounties already out on our primary targets that could be collected. You'd be free to walk at any time if you think it's getting too dangerous, but if we play this right, we'll be invisible."
Posted by: gh
« on: March 14, 2017, 02:22:16 AM »

Guppy jumps about a foot straight up when Salem grabs his shoulder. "Guppy," he says a little too quickly. Clearly, he wasn't expecting the stranger to introduce himself so suddenly.

He sits back and tries to take in the multitude of conversations happening around him, not fully understanding a single one of them. Maybe this corner of the Bar was a little too crowded for his liking, or maybe it was because all these people seem to have some history together, with Guppy being the outsider. Or maybe he was just ****faced.

Guppy squirms in his seat when Myitt squeezes his arm, visibly nervous. "**** . . ." he mumbles. It takes the Yeerka minute to realize that Chris was speaking, not him. "Myitt, I'm lost here. Like . . . ****, I think that rum's really hitting me now." He laughs, but it's much less lighthearted than his normal chuckle.



Without another word, Nepek walks away from the human and storms out the door of the Bar. He boards the Yeerk craft that he arrived in, but the ship simply idles in the shipyard instead of leaving.

The newcomer stands up, rubbing his arm that had smacked against the table. "Sad," he comments to himself. "What a sad creature." He stares at the door for a moment before making his way to the Bar. True, he did come here for a reason, but the other patrons seemed to be pretty invested in their conversations. There would be time for what he needs once things die down a bit. For now, he sits alone on the far side of the Bar from everybody else.

"Bartender," he calls. "Mind grabbing me a Pepsi?" The way he pronounces his words is a little too deliberate - placing stress on almost every syllable that he says. "On second thought, Cherry Coke, if you have it?"
Posted by: Aluminator (Kit)
« on: March 12, 2017, 10:58:27 PM »

Al sighs and looks away from Jeffrey, and for the briefest fraction of a second, his relentlessly upbeat attitude gives way to something darker. He looks... old. Worn out. "You know, twenty years running isn't far off at this point."

As quickly as it's gone, though, his grin returns. "Dude, you have got to take me to your dome at some point. You have enough mind-control experts running around that you have terms to break down the varieties. You're like some kind of brain-warping connoisseur."

He turns towards William as the man turns towards the lake. "Likewise, Willy. You're a stimulating guy to talk to." He laughs warmly.

Al grins and grips Jeffrey's hand. "Likewise, Jeff. Enjoying your company. And... yeah, there's a lot more on board the ship. Lord Dorkington," he jerks a thumb towards the bar, "likes to think of himself as a trader. Like I said, I don't get very much into the trading side of things. I think I could offer you one of Salem's regular widgets for a DNA scan, but for the interesting stuff, you'll have to talk to him." He rolls his eyes. "I wouldn't have a clue what any of his random junk is worth."
Posted by: Terenia
« on: March 11, 2017, 08:30:46 PM »

William shakes out of his reverie, frowning. "Birthday parties?" he murmurs. "Autographs?" He shakes his head again, reaching a hand to his forehead. "Apologies. I think that time with the...the Yeerk in my mind has had more of an impact than expected." He says the word 'Yeerk' hesitantly, as if unsure whether he is pronouncing it correctly or not, despite having played host to one.

His fingers tighten on the fabric of the black shirt, and he frowns down at it. "If you'll excuse me, it is past time to clean myself off. I...will return. I find your conversation oddly pleasant, despite only understanding half of it."

He detaches himself from the company of Al and Jeffrey, meandering down towards the lake. Once there, he sets the shirt aside, pauses, then tugs off his boots and breeches.

Naked, he wades into the water, rubbing at the dried blood on his chest.



In the shipyard, the hatch of Dalik's the Prime's Bug Fighter slides open. Cameron's brunette head pokes out as the ramp descends. Her expression is no longer feral, and her eyes are sharp and scrutinizing. Dalik has, evidently, found her way back into her head and recovered enough to emerge.

The ramp touches down, and Dalik descends slowly, checking her holster as he does so. She's added a few small contraptions to it, outside of the standard comm link and Dracon weapon. A pouch is filled with spare power cells, and something that looks oddly like an Earth pager is clipped to the side. Three green lights blink on it.

Dalik makes her way to the bar quickly, pausing just before the door to stare at Salem's ship. There is greediness in her expression at the clearly unfamiliar technology, but she restrains herself. There are other items of business to tend to.

Pushing the door to the bar open, Dalik surveys the crowd. Still no sign of her brother, and her lip curls into a scowl that freezes in place when she sees the young man beside Rathien. The color drains from her face.

"What are you doing here?" she demands of Jorek, striding towards him.
Posted by: Shenmue654
« on: March 08, 2017, 05:52:32 PM »

Jeffrey grins. "My god what a wild ride. Sounds like you could tell the same 'drunk at a party' story for like, twenty years running, with new additions every so often to make things interesting. And..."

Jeffrey paused, and then nodded quickly. "Yeah, I'd say that's about right. Espers--- The kind of Super I am--- Get the ability to control others like me, in various ways. There's all different types, too, even just with that one superpower. I'm what they call a Delusive Vocal Esper--- That is..." He spins a finger around his ear. "I can make people see things that aren't there with my powers, and I do it with my voice. My powers impact what people believe, not what they feel. But a Hypnotic Esper, those guys can make you think they're your god." He rubbed the back of his head. "Always been jealous of those guys."

He held out his hand to Al, ****ing his head to the side. His expression was warm and quasi-benevolent, for him. "You know what? I think I like you. Show me your charge, man. As for the ship, you got any more stuff like that? Stuff onboard? I probably have something I could trade. I'm carrying my DNA and some of my own tech on me!"
Posted by: Myitt
« on: March 07, 2017, 07:32:02 PM »

Jorek's lip curls in distaste, for just a moment.

Then he shrugs and lifts his drink. "Very well. I thank you for entertaining the suggestion of employment. You're quite right, I could carry out the hit, myself. But let's say I haven't exactly done such things in a...a very long time."

He inspects his fingernails. "Out of practice, and all that."

Jorek doesn't appear to want to continue the conversation, focusing instead on the rest of the bar at large as he sips the tumbler.

Myitt sits nearby, watching the conversation with glowering suspicion. Watching Jorek's back.

Then, when it is apparent no one is making any moves towards ending her own life, she slowly, edgily relaxes against the bar counter.

"Still don't trust him," she murmurs, half to herself, and half to Gaf.
Posted by: Shenmue654
« on: March 07, 2017, 07:16:45 PM »

Keshin smiles slightly as Salem drops his guard in front of them. It surprised him somewhat that the free-wheeling trader considered him as much a friend as they considered Salem one. But then again, the altercation the man just had with Rathien proved Salem's definition of that word was rather...loose. "We're doing...terribly, as you can see, but it could be worse," Keshin says with a shrug. "At least our assailant seems to be apologetic."

Keshin pauses as Salem introduces the reason he wanted to talk to them, and then scoffs and shakes his head incredulously. "Fate of the galaxy? A job that requires more than one scoundrel? You have got to know how this sounds. It sounds like you're trying to set me up. But..."

Keshin sighs, putting his hand up against Joanne's chin. "....Kandrona, I have no idea why you would. We're not so hatable that our enemies would pay someone to kill us this way. So, I suppose, convince me. Tell me why helping you here would pay off in the end."
Posted by: Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)
« on: March 07, 2017, 11:57:52 AM »

Rathien grins, baring his fangs, picking next to one with a pinky-claw before leaning back and speaking again.  "Fine, Jorek...go ahead....find another willing patron."  He smirks pointedly.  "Maybe you'll get lucky."  Rathien shrugs nonchalantly.  "But if you don't, you can always carry out the kill yourself, right?"  He pauses a moment for dramatic effect before continuing.  "Or......you can come back to me, be a good boy, and tell me what's going on and why you want these people dead, eh?"  He grins wide, shrugging again, waving his fingertips at Jorek in a mock 'goodbye' gesture.
Posted by: Myitt
« on: March 06, 2017, 01:47:23 PM »

"Yes," says Jorek simply, smiling. "If I hadn't run into a bounty hunter here, I would have been forced to delay his execution. But no, no, this must be carried out as an anonymous act. I can't simply execute him."

He shrugs, sipping his rum and coke nonchalantly. "As for who I am and why I want this bounty, that's my business, and I'm not paying you to ask my business. Now, name your price, or I'll find another willing patron."