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Topic Summary

Posted by: Shenmue654
« on: June 24, 2017, 02:34:12 AM »

"I'd like to listen to any tidbits either of you two have," Keshin says with a knowing nod. "I doubt you'd tell me anything political, but I do imagine you have some idea of how the human side of the war is going? You see..."

Keshin picks up a sandwich from Yeden's pile and looks at him with a "Can I?" look on his face. "...I honestly haven't been on my host's home world in years. We pick up most of our supplies from space outposts nearby. The occasional planet stopover doesn't really give you much of an idea, you know? Which is ironic, because..."

Keshin gestures with his other hand at the two of them. "...so many Yeerks are human Controllers these days."
Jeffrey raises his glass and clinks it, taking a long hot sip of the drink the Bartender had prepared. Even though the supervillain had been vague, the Bartender had nonetheless managed to produce exactly what he was hunkering after--- A biting, frothy ale. Jeffrey breathes out the distinctive alcoholic stench with a grin. "Ahhhhh. Perfect. And you know what?"

Jeffrey smirks and bobs his head in a nod. "Yeah! In a sense. Well...eh..." Jeffrey makes a full roll of his shoulders when he shrugs this time, turning his lip down in a concerned frown. "...well sort of. Crazy is as crazy does. You're right--- I don't hide myself. I don't even think that I can anymore. But it's prrrooobbably best not to set off every idiot for a mile, you know what I mean? Like, ****, that blue deer guy reacted in like..." He held up four fingers and grinned. "Four flipping seconds! Four! Anyway..."

"So just how'd you even know him?" Jeffrey says while turning his whole body more toward Sorin. "Is it...juicy?" That last word is said with a twinge of genuine interest, and of course playful gossip-mongering. The man got far just by knowing people well.

That's when he hears a strange sound in his mind. He pulls up his posture a little bit and ****s his head to the right. "Say, uhh..." He spins around the index finger of his right hand and points over his head. "Didja hear that? Some really weird chick, outside. Saying hi? Am I hallucinating? I thought I couldn't do that to me."
Mar sighs and walks over to Nepek, folding his arms behind his back and peering down at him. The Hork'Bajir still seems a bit delirious as far as he can tell. His eyes are unfocused and vague, although his breathing seems to have leveled out for a being that had almost died. Mar puts his hand on the table and then looks over at Al for a second with a "This is all I've got" shrug.

"Can you hear me?" Mar says firmly and with no hint of slurred or fast speech. <It's okay if you can't speak. If you can hear either of my two voices move your left thumb. Focus on my voice. Try to make your mind think.> He taps his finger repeatedly on the table. The Hork'Bajir was likely better off in his healing process if he was able to wake up. Delirium had its advantages, but Mar imagined the Hork'Bajir did need slightly more alertness than this.
Posted by: Terenia
« on: June 18, 2017, 01:43:58 AM »

Andalites are typically graceful creatures, but there is nothing graceful in this. A thundering sound precludes the abrupt crashing of branches, followed by a tumble of purple fur. Skidding to a stop, she nearly trips over her own hooves, clearly near the edges of total exhaustion. Nose slits flare as she sucks in labored breaths, her sides slick with sweat.

Her main eyes widen at the abrupt appearance of the bar and shipyard, and for several long minutes she doesn't move. Then, tentatively, she calls out in public thought-speak.

Posted by: Aluminator (Kit)
« on: June 17, 2017, 10:13:08 PM »

Salem laughs in surprise at Ossanlin's comment- his shock draws his attention away from the mildly-concerning beginnings of a headache. Well, then, that answers my first question. "Not Lord-Commander, no," he says. His eyes sparkle and he smirks as he speaks. "But if you think that's a viable life goal, I may have a new career path ahead of me." He laughs at the sheer absurdity of that thought. Heck, getting an Andalite to even speak with him usually feels like an accomplishment, especially since what he's come to think of as his banishment from the homeworld.

He hesitates, glancing around the room, then stares hard at Ossanlin, thinking. There's probably a good chance Ossanlin himself is a member of Sector Seven. Heck, he's not even entirely sure how Sector Seven itself is organized. With as well as he knows Ossanlin- that is, not exceptionally well- he has reason to believe the War-Prince would back him up in his beliefs. He's not, however, willing to bet his own life on that fact, let alone the lives of those he cares about and the fate of the galaxy. He'll have to proceed cautiously.

"It does concern... Sector Seven, though." Even saying the words in front of this many people feels off. Taboo, somehow. At this point he's just following Ossanlin's lead. "Have you noticed anything... unusual about their movements lately? Anything changing? How about on the homeworld? Or among the people as a whole?"

Al shrugs at Mar. "I don't think so, but like I keep saying, I'm no doctor. Too many mixed drink recipes in here," he raps the side of his head, which gives off an unnervingly deep metallic thudding sound, "not enough medical knowledge. I may be fluent in over six million forms of dubstep, but I'm lucky if I know your face from your... like, secret second face." He pauses and looks around. "Humans have those, right?" He grins and looks back at Mar. "Anyway, man, feel free to have a look. I'd welcome informed suggestions, but there's nothing else to be done that I might suggest, I don't think."
Posted by: gh
« on: June 14, 2017, 01:03:49 AM »

"I probably shouldn't ask,"Guppy says with a light chuckle. "You at least have all the metal you need? I thought that freakin' blowtorch was gonna burn my face off all the way back here." He scratches at his chin. "I might have some Plexiglass something-or-another back at my ship. A friend of mine gave me a broken console that he salvaged, but the glass should be more than useable."

Sorin takes a sip of the hard cider that the BT provided, cringing at the faint yet unfamiliar taste of alcohol. "It's not really a matter of not being able to find him, more that our paths happened to cross here. What's wrong with capitalizing on the opportunity, right?"

He smiles and nods, as if he were trying to come up with the explanation for himself rather than Jeffrey. "Maybe I am a little ****ed up, who knows? But I'll own that, and it seems to me that you do, too." He raises his drink off the table and holds it up. "Ccrazier than Billy Corgan on acid. I'll drink to that," he says, following the toast with a large gulp of his cider.

Nepek nods slowly, taking care not to move too much. These strangers seem friendly toward the Hork-Bajir, even if their conversations are making no sense at all to his half-conscious, semi-delirious mind. He says nothing in heed of their advice and stays as motionless as possible, waiting for any sign of his fate. Life of death . . . it doesn't even matter to Nepek at this point, just as long as he can be certain of either.
Posted by: Terenia
« on: June 14, 2017, 12:24:20 AM »

Yeden flinches away from Jorek's touch, lips curling into the faintest of snarls.

"Yes, please discuss your business with the turelek in private," he says, giving the other Councilor a flat look. "As for me, I'm rather busy enjoying my meals."

He turns his gaze back to Keshin, smiling brightly and pushing a plate in his direction. While no new food is appearing, a large selection of options remain; enough to easily feed the entire bar, regardless of species. "While I entirely understand if you're intrigued by Garoff's offers to have me destroyed, I would far rather you indulge in meal with me. As for rumors...well. It all depends on the sort you like to listen to."
Posted by: Shenmue654
« on: June 13, 2017, 11:55:59 PM »

"Can I be friends with two drunk Councilors in a space bar in the middle of nowhere?" Keshin says, beginning to relax in his chair.

<<Oh come on, why not? It's not even the weirdest thing that's happened.>>

Keshin shrugs. "Maybe. If you two have some interesting rumors to share." He smiles slightly. Of course they did, but how many were either of them going to tell him?
Mar salutes to Salem as soon as he speaks. He was fond of the trader that he'd opened the "third eye" of, in his own way. Salem had put it to more use than he had honestly expected. He walks further into the room, glancing over at Nepek briefly. "I do hope you're alright," Mar says calmly. "You were very, very close to being dead." He wasn't sure if the Hork'Bajir was a Seer or not, but it seemed more likely than not. It was racist to say, but he couldn't see them going through this much trouble for an ordinary species member.

Mar glances very slightly towards Ossanlin when his private thought speech message reaches him. <<You're losing control of your powers? My, that is very problematic. Might it have been because of the extremity of what we did? ....I don't know what aid I can provide. The Ellimist and I use very different spectrums and kinds of energy. Still...I would be willing to discuss it at a later time.>> The War-Prince sounded troubled, more than distracted. Anything that distracted him could not be pleasant for anyone else.

Mar looks over at Al. "Anything I can do to help here? I doubt it, but..." He shrugs. "I am here, and all."
Posted by: Myitt
« on: June 11, 2017, 02:53:54 PM »

"Oh, come now, Keshin," says Jorek jovially. "We don't really want to talk business with you. Not so brashly, and certainly not in one another's company." He pats Yeden's shoulder lightly.

"Can't we just be friends?" He salutes Keshin with his drink.
Posted by: Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)
« on: June 08, 2017, 05:52:25 AM »

Ossanlin glances at Mar as he enters.  <I suppose I'm alright.>  <<There is something wrong...but it's a matter of some privacy and I can't leave here now.>>  He pauses a moment, thinking.  <<I do not have...control.  Or, more precisely perhaps, I...lose...control from time to...>>

He falls silent again as Salem speaks, his private thought to Mar terminating.  His main eyes narrow as they turn to look at Salem.  The trader had been to the Homeworld before...quite the honor for a non-Andalite, though one Salem had seemed to take in stride.  <And what would that be?  Were you made Lord-Commander of Sector Seven whilst I wasn't watching?>
Posted by: Aluminator (Kit)
« on: June 07, 2017, 09:30:46 PM »

Al and Salem both start when the injured Hork-Bajir speaks. Al turns to him with a warm smile. "Glad to see you're... alive. Big, Blue & Fuzzy's right, though. Conserve your strength, big guy. You should be resting for now. You're a bit of a mess, but in my professional opinion as an appliance, you'll be fine."

Al's eyebrows shoot up when Mar approaches. "Whoa. Uh. Hi." He sounds unsure of what sentiment he should be displaying.

Salem, on the other hand, grins. "Welcome to the party, Highest." His head is quickly getting back to normal after the barrage of bizarre internal buzzing. He knows Mar's offer of help probably isn't straightforward... though he's not really sure of the nuances of his relationship to Ossanlin... so, he guesses, his enthusiasm at Mar's presence must have more to do with the strange man's potential for chaos than anything.

As he looks around, he sighs. Ossanlin seems destined, in this place, to be constantly surrounded by a rabble looking to take up his time. At least the crowd here, in the Mirage, is far preferable to the squawking horde that'd surrounded him in the bar proper. Salem briefly thinks that this may be a remarkably fortuitous move for him-- a thought he quickly, and guiltily, quashes with a glance at the wounded Seer.

He clears his throat and does his best to look solemn. "War-Prince Ossanlin, if you have a moment, I do have something important I wanted to discuss with you. Uh... potentially classified." His eyes move from one occupant of this small area to the next. "Or at least sensitive to the homeworld."
Posted by: Shenmue654
« on: June 05, 2017, 12:06:44 AM »

Keshin sighs, edging back into his seat.

<<Kess, we really don't want to be involved with these guys. We really, really don't want to be involved.>>

<<...that might not necessarily be true. Let's see what they have to say.>>

"Well, Your Eminences, I ordinarily as a sensible freelancer have a very strict policy, and that is to not get involved in a fight that is worth more than I could conceivably be paid," Keshin intones slowly and carefully. "Turelek are known for our..." Keshin makes a motion that suggests someone flighty. "...self-centered nature, and part of that involves being smart enough to know when the job is too risky. Any job that involves two bored members of the Council would probably count."

"With that said...I make exceptions. The fact that you've heard of me at all suggests I'm doing something righter than I anticipated."

<<What the ****? Do Vissers and Councilors share drunk stories about us at some kind of magical officers' bar?>>

<<We're actually at a magical Bar. Let's not judge.>>
<<You're right. That doesn't particularly sound like something where I would be useful. Nonetheless, I'd be happy to lend a hand if you need one, War-Prince. I'm coming up.>>

Mar walks up the ramp and into the scene, trying to get a feel for it. There was the patient, being tended to by none other than Salem's mysterious robot friend- Al. Salem seemed to be aiding him in some way, helping him maneuver an elaborate technological array. Mar holds up a hand as if to wave at the two of them and peers down at the now definitely-not-dying Hork-Bajir. He then turns around in one quick swerving motion and smiles, with a surprising degree of warmth, as soon as he sees the strong, currently-tense muscled figure of his Andalite friend. Ossanlin.

"I do hope you're getting on alright, War-Prince," says Mar hesitantly, rubbing his left shoulder. <<Considering what you've been through. What horrors you have seen. What you have lost for this gain.>> "Let me know if there's anything I can do to help. Even if it is just a pair of extra arms."
Jeffrey laughs. "You don't have to hold back, stranger! Half the screws in my brain aren't straight! Bartender, another drink!" He blinks. "...gosh the drunk seems to die out of you fast in this place." The Bartender stares impassively at him and prepares the drink.

"So why wait this long? Could you not find him until now? And why do it now, with all these other people around? That's ****ing stupid, you know?" Jeffrey spins a finger around his ear.
Posted by: Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)
« on: June 02, 2017, 02:39:24 AM »

Ossanlin watches in true awe as Al works.  Never had he ever imagined that the android would be capable of such marvelous things.  His eyes widen as he seamlessly commands the force-fields to create a network of blood  vessels between Nepek's top and bottom halves.  Al would be handy to have around in pretty much any situation.  He glances surreptitiously over at Salem with a stalk-eye.  He loathes the idea of owing the man anything...mostly because Salem would try to collect...and partly because the man had nearly killed him once while he'd been pursuing Keshin.  Strange how his attitude toward Kess had changed.  Al's results, however, cannot be denied.  <Remarkable...>  He speaks almost involuntarily.  <Ah...yes...well supplement is a good idea as well I suppose.  That's why we're doing the blood transfusion too...to supply his body with the necessary nutrients to....>

Ossanlin glances quickly at Nepek and falls silent as the Hork-Bajir speaks. He immediately engages the stasis field so that the Nepek is held mostly-immobile.  He doesn't know how quickly the med-bay would be able to react to keep the fragile network of veins and arteries Al had built in the correct place if he started twisting and turning.  <You were shot...quite badly.  Your body is slowly healing, but for the time being, you will not be able to move your lower extremities.  Your torso has suffered critical damage.  I'm amazed that you can currently speak, but it's a good sign that you can...although it's likely not the best idea in your present condition.>

He pauses before speaking again.  <You're aboard my yacht, the Mirage.  We carried you here after you collapsed and began attempting to treat you.>

Ossanlin's eyebrows shoot up as he hears a familiar voice both within and outside of his head.  He turns a stalk-eye to regard the strangely garbed figure standing at the bottom of the ramp.  <Mar...it's a pleasure to see you again.>  He grimaces a bit, switching to private thought-speech.  <<I don't know that your talents would be exceedingly useful in this situation...we have a Hork-Bajir seer clinging to life.  We're doing what we can to save him.>>
Posted by: Myitt
« on: May 31, 2017, 03:11:29 PM »

"Yeah, everything's...fine," Myitt tells Guppy, though she doesn't sound at all fine, punctuating the word with a scrape of the knife.

Myitt clears her throat and says, "Someone just appeared here, someone named Mar. This Mar guy...he just rubs me the wrong way. He's sort of the devil. I mean that literally, I think I died and went to his version of hell. Whatever, I don't believe in that **** anyway."

She falls silent, scraping the living metal into shape.

"We're going to need to hack my computer to get these goggles working, by the way. And glass. We need some plexi..." She arches her neck to look around the gravel yard where she currently sits, legs sprawled.

Jorek only smiles at Yeden. A thin, unpleasant smile.

Posted by: gh
« on: May 31, 2017, 12:56:30 AM »

Sorin smiles in an almost shy expression. "I guess you could say we 'had beef.'" He holds up his left arm, which had been close to his side for his entire visit to the Bar. A nasty scar runs along the length of his limbalong with a few very small circular scars dotting the perimeter. "Long story short, the son of a **** tried lopping my damn head off years ago." His expression turns into a twisted grimace. "Figured I'd return the favor."

Sorin gnaws at his lip for a moment. "**** it. Bartender, hard cider?" He turns back to Jeffrey. "Question is, why would you come over here after that? Most everyone else seems to be . . . eh, averse to interacting with me, to say the least. Surely, you gotta have a screw or two loose. And I mean that in the nicest way possible."

Guppy perks up a little when Myitt calls his name. He didn't understand a single word of the conversation between his new friend and this Mar character, so he's glad to have Myitt to talk to again. "Yeah, right here," he chirps. "Everything alright?"

Slowly, Nepek's eyes begin to flutter open. At first, the only thing he notices is the incredible pain in his midsection. The last thing he remembers is the smell of burned flesh as he fell to the ground after being shot. Judging from the pain and how he literally can't even feel several of his internal organs, it certainly should have been fatal.

Without moving his head, Nepek scans his eyes around. All he can see is an unfamiliar steel ceiling. Very different from the interior of the Bar, for sure. He finally catches a glimpse of the Andalite Ossanlin, as well as a couple of the strangers that he noticed in the Bar earlier.

Nepek groans softly, not being able to make much of a sound. "Ugh . . . Ossanlin?" he says, his voice very weak. Was the Andalite the one keeping him alive? That certainly seemed to be the case, although the wounded Hork-Bajir can't fathom why. "What happened?" he manages to cough out.
Posted by: Terenia
« on: May 29, 2017, 11:24:59 PM »

"Just be grateful I didn't tell the Andalites who they were speaking to," Yeden responds, taking a bite of what might be steak. If steak were slightly green. "And you know you can't destroy me without approval from the Council." He tilts his head. "Hence the turelek, I suppose."
Posted by: Myitt
« on: May 29, 2017, 11:15:02 PM »

Jorek scowls at Yeden, crossing his arms.

"Do you really want me to destroy you?" he gripes. "I was savoring my anonymity."