Galaxy's Edge Space Bar (archive)

[SubVisser46OTAM]

Sub tensed at the sound of the thought-speak, then silently nodded, not once taking her eyes off of Myitt and her surroundings. Once she hears him approach close enough to her, she speaks quietly,"I'm covering her while she goes, keep a couple of those eyes peeled for me, will ya?"

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

*as he approaches Sub's position, he catches movement near an old Skrit Na ship near the front corner of the bar.*  <<Oh, I'd forgotten how stealthy she can be.>>  *he closes in on Sub's position and lays a hand on the grip of his modified "ethria" Shredder, but doesn't draw, leaving his hands open to draw his dual molecular-sharpened waist-mounted sabers if necessary.  He glances down at Sub's waist, more specifically the honorary scythe-blade.*  <<Best to use that blade quietly if anyone gets too close.  If we discharge shredders here, we'll have two batallions of Hork-Bajir on us before we can whip our tails.>>  *he regards Sub's host again.*  <<...or whatever it is that humans move quickly to dispatch opponents....>>

[SubVisser46OTAM]

She nods again. Surprisingly, she can follow orders, as long as they aren't coming from Contrana, that is. She keeps her shredder out, though, just in case. Years of practice and battle have made her a quick draw with both the gun and her blade, and switching between would be easy enough. She grins at his last statement,"Asses. Humans seem to like to reference their rear ends for some odd reason."

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

*raises an eyebrow and regards Sub's host's rear-end*  <<Why in Istil would they want to do that?  Strange customs they have...>>  *he keeps one stalk-eye directly behind and one to the side, watching their surroundings acutely as the Blade Ship hovers menacingly out on the dock*  <<If they conduct a deep-scan on either Myitt's vessel or my own, we will be in trouble very quickly.  The Evanescence is modfied so it doesn't resemble typical Andalite craft as you can see.>>  *he points covertly at the sleek ship docked out to the Blade Ship's port side*  <<But it is still Andalite technology which they will easily read if they try.  And Istil only knows what they'll find lurking in Myitt's ship...whatever is there will certainly attract their attention.>> 

*his tail begins to twitch almost nervously as Myitt continues to skulk around the wrecked ship.  He tries to send out a private thought-speech to her, but doesn't know if she'll pick it up at this distance.*  <<Myitt, you must be careful!  This is not the time to try and escape...they don't have reason to deep-scan at the moment.  If you run, they'll certainly take notice...we need to bide our time!>>

[SubVisser46OTAM]

Sub shrugs,"Uhh, it's got good padding and is one of the next things up from the legs? That's my guess..." the growls lowly,"I should go back in the bar, see if I could get a few swipes at that ba**ard... If I could get past those guards I could take 'im..."

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

*turns his main eyes back on Sub.*  <<Do you truly believe you can get through a full guard batallion of Hork-Bajir?  Even a full squadron of tail-Elite Andalites would think twice about that.  The amount of blades in that melee would be staggering.  Besides did you not promise Myitt that you would cover her?>>  *he shakes his head slowly and lays a hand on the rough wall of the GESB as he crouches down, watching the Hork-Bajir spilling from the ship.*  <<Whomever he is, he must be a powerful Visser.  That's a double guard batallion ad it looks like there's a high-honor guard unit as well.  We wouldn't be able to get through that in a hundred cycles.  I dare to bet he has a PPES too, no shredder bolt would have even a hope of getting through one of those.  Getting yourself killed would gain nothing except to undo everything you've done to help bridge the gap between our peoples...>>

[esplin]

My elite Hork-Bajir guards spilled out of the ship before me.  The blue bands on their right arms flashing brightly.  I held my head and tail high.  The now familiar stalk eyes scanning the area lazily.  Alloran silent in my head. 

<Ah, do you hear?> I asked to my hork-bajir, <it appears that a Visser's blade ship still has meaning in this corner of the galaxy.>

The guard held the door for me.  I closed my hooves to the dirty floor.  The eyes of many different creatures on me as I trotted up to the bar.

(is there a bartender?)

[Breekan1]

"Oh thank God!" Breekan thinks. "It's just an Andalite!" Breekan laughs with relief, tears rolling down his cheeks. He removes the skullcap that designates him as a General of The Crayak and collapses onto the bar with laughter. "H-h-here," he says to Visser Three. "Let me buy you a drink, man. That was too good. Bartender, open us up a bottle of Taxxon Gutwhisky."

[esplin]

(sorry for being a newb to this thread, but I don't get your character XD)

<I do not consume Taxxon Gutwhiskey, I have more refined tastes.>
The creature speaking to me was unknown, he was wearing some sort of head covering that must signify himself but I was not aware of its meaning.

<I would like to purchase a serving of Metran 943's pure Kandrona beverage.>

[Breekan1]

((Hey! Quite alright- new blood makes for fresher heart beats. Breekan's... not dense per se, but he's been running in the wrong sorts of circles to be as aware of the celebrities of the Yeerk empire as others. Crayak's the Big Red Eye from books #6, #26 and Elfangor's Secret. Breekan1 is a catperson (I made him up when I was nine, cut me some slack!) wearing a general's uniform for Crayak's army. That's pretty much all you'd need to know- clear things up, any?))

Breekan rolls his eyes and pours some of the GutWhiskey into a glass. The dark-red fluid reeks of offal and bits of animals lurk about in it. Breekan takes a long swig, winces, and exhales. "Suit yourself, mister." Breekan scans the room again, locks eyes with the bartender. "You. Where's Shal?" The BT almost smirks, or maybe Breekan imagines it, and he hands the Catshife a slip of paper.

"Not telling."

[Kit Cloudkicker]

Shal pounds on the door a moment longer, then looks back down at the still un-moving Connor. She shudders, and begins to scream again. "GET ME THE F*CK OUT OF HERE! I SWEAR TO GOD BARTENDER, I'M GOING TO GUT YOU!" She darts back down the stairs, and quickly scans the cellar, not finding anything useful. She then searches Connor's person, looking for something to blast the door with, but doesn't notice anything useful. She sits on the bottom step, and bites her lip. "ah....Why doesn't he give me some help once in a while? A little thought speak, the ability to morph? He could give me SOMETHING useful..." She sits for a moment, then jumps back up and resumes her screaming, and pounding on the door.

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

*His hearts start beating faster as the blood in his veins begins to pulse with anger as he watches the non-friendly Andalite controller who's known so well trot his way into the bar.*  <<...Three...>>  *Ossanlin's face twists into a mask of disgust.*  <<So the abomination himself joins our little bar.>>  *Ossanlin attempts to calm his hearts and get a handle on his anger.  He is not an Andalite with a temper, and it is not the idea of an andalite controller that angers him as it does so many others of his kind, it is the countless atrocities visited upon so many by the fiend whom was called Visser Three.  Not to mention the quantum virus that his host had taken a major part in.  He takes his mind off of the abomination with much effort and focuses on the problems at hand, mainly Myitt and her deep desire to reach her ship.*

[Myitt]

((You know, there used to be Velociraptors in that walk-in freezer...unless this is another freezer, one that's broken...with a hatch in the floor leading to a root cellar...))

Myitt winces, crouched next to Sub's ship, the Blade Ship looming over her.  At this distance the heat is a bit annoying, but it's not as bad as the presence of the thing.  Like a big, metal piece of doom.  

She glances back as Ossanlin's fragmented thought speech hits them.  Still, he isn't that far.  <<Myitt, you must -- careful!  This is not the time -- ...they don't have reason -- deep-scan at the moment.  If you run, they'll certainly -- ...we need to bide our time!>>

<Yeah, yeah,> she grumbles silently, sliding around the back of Sub's ship and up to her own.  She pats the black, frayed living metal side.  "Open exterior hatch," she whispers in Yeerkish.  The side of the ship melts open into a rounded-edge square and she climbs in.  It's cold and pale off-white, the floor scratched black metal tiles that, even at this distance, make her cringe as her boots scrape along them.  The door melts closed behind her and she steps up to the main navigational controls, tapping up the scanners.  

A big, transparent viewscreen widens the normal view of the two big polyglass bug-eye windows, giving her a widescreen look at the Blade Ship and the Bar, and all the other ships in front of hers.

<Why'd we park in the back, again?> says Tara.  

Myitt sits back in the main seat, a big metal chair meant for Hork-Bajir and unceremoniously bolted down.  She watches the screens read out volumes of data in Yeerkish text.  A little 3D model of the Blade Ship spins near her head, looking quite real, like a floating, glowing toy.  

"Well, well.  The Visser himself.  This certainly is a surprise," Myitt muses.  "At least here we can make a break for it, in case the sensors detect a deep scan, or anything else.  Certainly they've already scanned the ships here, or will do it shortly."  Her voice echoes hollowly in the little cabin, and she puts her hands behind her head.  

<But we're not even cloaked.>

"Too late now, that's kind of obvious," Myitt replies.  

<Yeah, no sh*t.>

"Hmm.  Let's just hope the Visser doesn't go on all nighters."  She cranks up the heat and kicks the hotwired underside.  A little jerry-rigged Discman, connected to the control panel by grey duct tape and glowing, white wires, starts piping Pink Floyd into the cabin.  

[SubVisser46OTAM]

((Bartender: (giving you the intro from the beginning of the thread)He's not an old man, nor is he very young--his age is impossible to place.  He is pale, almost Caucasian but a little bit too unhealthily white for even that to be certain.  His black hair is neatly combed, and he brushes his eternally smudged apron.  In his apron chest pocket sits a small yellow lined notepad, the kind you flip the pages over on, and a single black clicky pen.  This man, if he really is a man, is entirely solid and made of apparently real flesh and bone--even though he just appeared out of thin air.  How odd...

His name is the bartender.  Just...the bartender.

The bartender sighs noiselessly and picks up a glass tumbler.  He starts drying it with a dirty dishtowel, even though it's already dry.

Oh, and he doesn't talk, and has an overly dry personality. 100% unflappable, probably even to the Visser.

And it's great to have new people come in! <3 this place, for both the old people AND the new!))

[SubVisser46OTAM]

Sub grumbles in reply to Ozzy, then sucks a breath in through her teeth as Myitt's ship powers up,"F*ck, she's going for it. I gotta try to create a diversion..." and her gaze darts around, taking in the trashed ships that are about, trying to pick the best path to her own.