Galaxy's Edge Space Bar

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

<Some things are much clearer than others.  My abilities stem from another entity, so I have only a shadow of his power.>  He furrows his brow.  <My name is Ossanlin-Rethin-Sephirel.  You may address me as Ossanlin, not 'fuzzball.'>

<You...commit crimes for fun...?  Seriously?>  He sips form his bowl, keeping his tone of voice calm.

[guitarhero01234]

Mercer finally sits down again once the Raptors are no longer a threat. He mumbles something to himself about wasting a perfectly good drink before asking the BT for another caucasian. "Lemme tell you, it can be a thrill," he says to Ossanlin. "Doing what the authorities say cou can't. Sort of flips the power dynamic around a bit. But my hooligan days are long over. Only laws I break are ones that I get paid for breaking."

As the newcomer enters, Merc's gaze lazily shifts toward him. "How's it going, buddy?" he says, picking up the drink that the bartender provided and taking a sip. He shoots a friendly, but otherwise distant smile toward the tall being. "I'm hoping you're not gonna try to rip my head off like those chickens from Hell, are you?"

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

Ossanlin glances at Mercer as he speaks.  He shakes his head a bit, being an authority figure himself, and a military commander to boot.  <I command a battle-ship with a crew of hundreds.  If someone "flips the dynamic" by disobeying, people die, so you can understand why your statement rings hollow with me.>



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Rathien glances at Mercer out of the corner of his eye, listening to his talk of breaking laws for fun, and for making money.  He can't help but wonder if the man is in the same line of work as himself.  After the human addresses him, he remains silent, still regarding him out of the corner of his eye for a few moments, his pointed ears seeming to twitch a bit, before swiveling on his stool to face him.

The Ildari smiles winningly, showing his long, curved, canine-like fangs.  He has a slightly wild look about him, though his shoulder-length steel-blue hair is drawn neatly into a ponytail falling from the top of the back of his head, showing that he has the ability to restrain his wild side.  "Well, that all depends on whether or not anyone is willing to pay for your head."  He chuckles, showing that he's joking...maybe.  "I'm doing well, all things considered."  He looks Mercer up and down.  Unless this human had any tricks up his sleeve, Rathien doubts he'd have what it would take to tame the feral elf...but the game could still be fun.

"Rathien d'ilarianiil fen'Mirwindrierien or'Elienal sen'Ildiar...pleased to make your acquaintance.  Although a rugged mug of karraf like you can call me Rathien."  His eyes almost seem to twinkle a bit as he continues to flash his winning smile.  "In Common, that would translate as 'wolf of air'...or 'wolf of shadow'.  Direct translations are hard to come by."

He glances at the caged animals, and the dead ones, nodding and chuckling.  "You're right, this place is full of fun isn't it?"  It's unclear as to whether or not the Ildari is joking.

"And you?  Terran I assume?  What's your name?"  He extends his hand in the traditional human greeting, claws clearly visible and extending from the tips of his fingers where there would be fingernails in humans.

[Chad32]

Now that everything was reasonably under control, Verdana had become more curious about the "chickens from hell". He'd never seen one before, and was examining it.

[guitarhero01234]

"In that case," Merc starts, staring at Ossanlin with steely eyes, "I hope things are different where you're from. Because where I'm from, the higher-ups only want one thing: to expand their own power and wealth. And how do they do that? By ****ing over the lower class, of course. People like this hombre right here. So it's my responsibility to mess with their power. Otherwise, more people are gonna end up exactly where I am - ripping off and killing people just to survive." He rests his elbow on the bar and extends two fingers toward the Andalite. "So if you aren't trying to screw the poor? Cool. But otherwise, I got no interest in talking to you." Even through his angry words, Merc manages to keep his composure - a far cry from what he demonstrated before.

Mercer takes Rathien's hand. "Name's Merc," he says. "Guessing you're not human, yourself?" he asks with a small chuckle, noting the claws and fangs. He almost reminded Merc of the old horror movies he would watch in high school . . . "And as for whether anyone wants my head? Well, I'm sure there's a few people, but I always seem to get theirs first."

[Myitt]

Myitt's host edges closer to the bar, glancing at the unconscious raptors.

She hesitantly, slowly sits down.

Picks up the burger.

Takes a grateful bite.

[Shenmue654]

Jeffrey shoots a look at Myitt and her burger that reads, "Yeah you'd better enjoy it---we went through a lot of trouble for that thing" and then continues. "I wouldn't say for fun so much as for profit, although I did try to make the live Base Attacks exciting for our viewing public!" Jeffrey grins again, remembering the one with the electric floors. Jeffrey's tech, "Auto"--- Sort of a joking homage to Jeffrey's old movie obsession there--- compensated for Jeffrey's lack of technical know-how, most of the time. "Basically..."

Jeffrey nods, settling on an explanation. "Superheroes and Supervillains are a lot like...What would happen if celebrities and corporate heads were the same people. We employ a huge number of people in the Underdome and own territories we fight over constantly down there. We cause chaos and commit crime in the Upperdome that entertains the Upperdome's viewing public--- Supers who don't play the Game. It's all played out on holoscreens for the whole world to see."

Jeffrey glances at Merc. "Heh. I was one of those people you seem intent on foiling, but with that saaiiidd...I didn't want the place to stay the way it was. Heroes maintain the world. Villains change it."

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

Ossanlin furrows his brow in confusion.  <I'm sorry...you play games that involve death, destruction, and chaos...real death of real people for the purposes of entertainment?>  Ossanlin has to work hard to keep the incredulity from creeping into his tone of thought.  <I can think of nothing more ridiculous.  Nor more disrespectful to life itself.  I do hope you aren't from the same future as the earth in our universe...from those I've had interaction with, I had high hopes that humanity would evolve beyond its barbaric disrespect for life...obviously your earth has experienced a horrid regression.>  Ossanlin shakes his head, glancing again at Mercer.  <I fight for my People, and for all the Peoples of the Galaxy.  I fight to preserve the lives and freedoms of all.>



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Rathien grasps Mercer's hand firmly, allowing his claws to trail softly across the human's palm and fingers as they separate the handshake.  "Ah, Merc.  Short for mercenary perhaps?  Sounds like you and I are in a similar line of work."  He sips his strong, silvery liquor as he speaks, leaning sideways against the bar.

"Astute assessment, my good man.  I'm Ildari.  Or 'of Ildiar' if you prefer."  He pauses again, giving the man another lingering look from shoulders to toes and back, his eyes lingering in certain places on Merc's body.  "Are you saying you're not terran?  You certainly look like you're from Earth.  Got the right number of fingers and eyes.  The right shape to your ears.  I'm assuming you've got the right numbers of other things, though with that cumbersome clothing I can't tell for sure.  I suppose you could pass for Cellorn, can't tell how many gonads you have."  Rathien grins again, winking conspiratorially.

[guitarhero01234]

Merc nods in Ossanlin's direction. "I was hoping you'd say that. In that case, if you ask me, you're definitely one of the good guys."

He chuckles to himself, not quite sure what to make of this newcomer. "I assure you, I have the normal number of 'gonads' for a human. Not sure what all this Terran stuff is, though. Never heard that word before." He withdraws his hand, a little uncomfortable with Rathien's slightly-too-friendly handshake. "Actually, my name's short for Mercer, but nobody calls me that anymore. I don't know, maybe people started calling me Merc when I became a hired gun. Can't even remember at this point, to tell the truth." He shakes his head, a little annoyed at himself for rambling. "So, Ildari, you say? Guessing that's some other planet? Seems like we got a few aliens here," he says, waving his hand around the bar.

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

Rathien chuckles softly.  "Terran is the common word for people of Earth.  I'm surprised you wouldn't know...unless...did you not arrive here in a space-capable ship?  I hear that happens from time to time."  He glances at the region between Mercer's legs once more before returning his eyes to the human's face.  "Well, one and two is more than enough for anyone, hmm?"  He grins again.

"Hired gun you say.  Definitely the same line of work then."  Rathien pulls his Entroper and spins it around his finger before slapping it on the bar top.  "Hunting prey can be extremely satisfying...especi ally when that prey can bite back, eh?"

"To me, you are the alien, my friend.  The Galaxy is a rich and diverse place...rife with chaos and ripe hunting grounds for our kind."  He winks again.  "For my part, I'm unusual even to my own people.  See, they consider me an evolutionary throwback.  I'm too wild and predatory for them.  They're all sophisticated and prissy now...there was a time when all of my people were like me.  Now all they care about is reading their books and discussing how the calinfly is a metaphor for life and all that kind of crap."  Rathien waves his free hand around in a mocking gesture.  "None of them want to hunt anymore.  So I left, and they certainly didn't shed any tears to be rid of me.  Even my own family.  It's just not good for politics, you see, when your eldest son is a 'feral.'"  Rathien pounds the rest of his liquor and orders another.

[guitarhero01234]

Following Rathien's gaze, Merc looks away, blushing ever so slightly. "Yeah, I guess you could consider it a hunt. I think of it as more of a slog than anything. At the end of the day, killing is a paycheck for me, and I don't see it as much beyond that. In most cases, at least." He pushes his hair out of his face, slightly embarrassed by the creature in front of him. "But the rest of that . . . yeah, I can identify. Certainly something of an outcast, myself. 'Cept, that's more to do with being a lab freak than a crazy mofo." He looks at Rathien's face again with a small glint in his eye. "But I can definitely be a crazy mofo. These guys can attest to that. What are you drinking, anyway?"

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

Rathien grins at Merc's slight blush.  Coy...embarrassed maybe, but not trying to kill him.  Perhaps the man would be open to sparring, or more.  The Ildari surreptitiously licks his lips, barely keeping the predatory gaze from his eyes.  "Come now...the fun is in the hunt...stalking your prey...setting up the perfect kill.  At least, for me, the money is more of a...bonus."

"Most of the universe hates our kind it seems.  But..."  He clasps his free hand over Merc's shoulder and squeezes a bit before moving it back to the bar.  "...we outcasts can always stick together, yeah?"

He takes the new glass of liquor and swirls it before sipping lightly.  He gestures the BT to place a flute of the stuff in front of Mercer.  "This, my friend, is Miruvin, a liquor made by my people long ago to celebrate victorious hunts.  You know, before they devolved."  He chuckles at his own poor joke.  "Be careful though, I've been told it's strong stuff to non-Ildari.  Might knock you on your ass, and I can't promise I wouldn't take advantage of your unfortunate situation."  He grins again, chuckling lightly.

[guitarhero01234]

Merc gives the Ildari a confused, nervous look. He didn't quite know how to react to someone coming on this strongly. Obviously, William had made an advance earlier, but that was very blunt and to the point - especially compared to Rathien's more subtle advances. Still, he had never been with anyone except Dani, and their relationship was nothing other than platonic. And this creature was male . . . at least seemed to be.

Merc pushes these thoughts out of his mind. This seemed more like Rathien was trying to push his buttons more than anything; a bluff he was more than willing to call. "Trust me, I can handle my liquor," Merc says before taking a small sip from the glass.

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

Rathien taps his bottom lip with his free index finger, watching closely as the human imbibes the clear, silvery liquor.  "No fear then.  Excellent.  Although being a contract killer, I'd expect nothing less.  Fear is a luxury we can't afford."

"You say you can be crazy, eh?  Lab experiment?  So you've been modified somehow I take it."  He looks over the human again noting nothing terribly out of place.  "I must say you look like a purebred human to me."  He pauses, smirking a bit as he runs a hand over his Entroper pistol still laying on the bar counter.  "What's your weapon of choice?  Blades?  Guns?  You still using gas-explosion projectile weapons or have you moved onto something a little more...sophisticate d?"

[guitarhero01234]

"Modified is one way to put it," Merc says, swirling the liquid around the flute. "Long story short, I was homeless and needed some cash. Agreed to some weird experiment. ****ed with my head, too, and I'm still not sure I ever recovered from that." He downs the rest of the drink, nodding in approval. "Good stuff right there. Anyway, I used to use guns before then. Now . . ." Merc exhales sharply, a small jet of green flame erupting from his nose. "I got some real firepower." He leans closer to Rathien. "Funny thing is," he whispers, "it runs off ethanol. Alcohol. However you want to say it, I got enough in me to blow this ****ing place to kingdom come if I wanted to. And we're all damn lucky that I'm not interested in doing that."