Galaxy's Edge Space Bar

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

Rathien raises an eyebrow at Merc while sipping the new, and blessedly non-alcoholic, drink that Merc had suggested.  His enhanced senses warn him before the newcomer comes in.  His eyes automatically track the creature, an anthropomorphic canine, as he moves to take a seat at the bar.  He smiles a little, feeling some kinship with him even before he introduces himself as a bounty hunter.  That seemed a very common profession in here.

The Ildari marvels a bit to himself...Merc, an assassin, Rathien himself a Hunter, and this newcomer a chaser of bounties.  But his first feeling of kinship is certainly due to the being's feralism (so to speak).  He grins to himself, his canine-like fangs clearly visible, his short claws clinking on the daiquiri glass, his long, damp hair a darker blue as it continues to dry against his neck and shoulders.

Rathien's pointed, elfin ears perk a bit as Merc speaks up and he arches his eyebrow again, giving Merc a "wtf" look.  "Psycho....chickens. ..?  Strange, that didn't come up in bed..."  He chuckles a bit, squeezing Merc's thigh with his free hand.

[guitarhero01234]

"Yeah," Merc says, nodding his head in a jerky motion. "Psycho chickens from Hell. Came from the freezer." He chokes out a laugh and rests his hand on Rathien's. "This place is ****ed up, man. I don't think I need to tell you that. And I guess our friend Cameron is out there with them." He rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his drink. "Y'know what? Not my problem."

Merc directs his attention toward Hunter. "Name's Mercer," he says. "Merc for short. Seems like a lot of career killers come to this place. You, me, Rathien here. . . ." He lets a smile creep its way across his face. "Come on over, man," he says, gesturing to the bar stool next to him. "Could always use more company."

[Shenmue654]

<<...I've had better, yeah. I was set up--- Set up by Rosie. By the daughter I would have given anything to. Set up because she fell in love with some jerk-- Ellis Straylight. The Bogey. A Shadowmancer and ex-Forward Scout.>> Ellis was evidently neither male or female, but instead intersex, from his memories.

Jeffrey turns instantly to the conversations going on inside the Bar, though, as if he'd prefer not to talk about it. <<You sure your buddy's going to be okay out there? I mean we could follow them and brainwash Cameron so that she comes back. Dangerous with the raptors about, but this whole mess is my fault anyway, right?>>

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

Rathien nods.  "Indeed."  His sense of scent and tracking abilities could have likely found the human girl immediately...but no one had asked him, and he doesn't know if he'd do it anyway.  Actually, he probably would've if Merc was more distraught over the fact...but he's glad his human friend isn't really bothered.  "I swear...some humans have a talent to be so...irritating."  He chuckles good-naturedly, letting Merc know Rathien finds him the exact opposite of 'irritating.' 

"She was stupid enough to go running witless out into the wilderness.  She should suffer the consequences of her actions.  Who knows, maybe she'll survive and be stronger for the experience...you know, not being enabled by someone dragging her out of the mess her own silly actions put her into."  The Ildari shrugs again, obviously not really caring if the girl survives or not.  In his mind, she deserves whatever fate she gets.  The first skill one should master is that of survival, regardless of one's usual surroundings.  There were all different sorts of survival situations, but a simple set of basic skills, easily learned, vastly improved the chances of you getting out of ANY scenario with your skin intact.  If you ran into a situation without the proper preparation, whatever happened to you was your own fault without exception.  If the girl couldn't handle the dangers of the wilderness, she shouldn't have run off into it.  Simple as that.

Rathien glances at Hunter again, smiling.  Sure...why not?  He might get a better sense of just how animal the being is with a closer vantage.


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Ossanlin sighs as the human girl runs off.  He could probably scan for lifesigns and find her, or morph something that could fly to search the trees, but ultimately he decides not to.  Somehow he gets the same feeling from her and the situation as he got from that of Terenia, though he can't put his tail on why.  His senses tell him that he'd try to do something good by the girl, but somehow his actions would end up dramatically backfiring in some illogical and unpredictable manner and the girl would probably die or kill someone or something else needlessly dramatic would happen.  So he simply decides to leave it alone, sipping the water from his bowl.

He returns Hunter's nod, somewhat recalling the anthropomorphic wolf from a long while ago.  Another bounty hunter unless he mis-remembers.  He turns his attention back to the Jeffrey/Myitt combination.  <So then, how's the schizophrenic head-space, Myitt?>

[Hunter]

'Yeah, why not. You don't smell like the humans I know, so I've got no beef with you.' He says, while sliding his drink down the bar, the drink coming to a stop in front of the empty stool in between Myitt/Jeffrey and the human calling himself Merc. He gets off the stool, his boots clunking on the wooden floor, as his long coat gets caught up on the stool, knocking it over and revealing the last few items obscured from view; a can of mace and a heavy retractable baton.

Fixing the stool, he ambles over, and sits on the stool while picking up his drink. He turns around on the stool, putting his back towards the bar, resting against the edge of the counter with his coat nearly brushing the floor and asks,

'So what brings a couple of new faces like yourselves to the bar?' He finished his drink with one gulp and placed the empty glass on the counter behind him.

[Myitt]

"Uh huh," says Tara, stomping off through the shipyard, drawing her own Dracon.

--

Myitt jumps in response to Ossanlin, drawn out of Jeffrey's inner turmoil.

She has to look around to spot him.

"Ossanlin," she breathes. "It's...well, I don't exactly know why I'm here, to be honest. I just felt..." She frowns, voice faint. "Compelled to do it."

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

<He has semi-psychic hypnotic abilities.  He's been touting them this whole time.  He tried using them on me too...they worked, for a moment.>  Ossanlin arches an eyebrow.  <He used them to compel both yourself and Dalik to infest himself and William.  I...thought you realized.  I can only assume you could access his powers of compulsion now yourself.>



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Rathien chuckles.  "I've been here many times before, though I don't remember seeing you on my past visits."  He sips his drink.

[guitarhero01234]

"No idea," Merc says, his slightly glazed-over eyes trying to get a good read on Hunter. "Just woke up here. From what I hear, that tends to happen in these parts." He takes another sip of his nonalcoholic drink in a vain attempt to brush off his lingering inebriation. "What about you? Seems like everyone here has a story. And what do you mean by, 'humans you know?'"

* * *

An old, battered Bug Fighter touches down outside the bar. To a keen observer, the ship could be easily identified as a very outdated model, however, this would require close observation by somebody who knew their Yeerk spacecraft. As the engines cease their whirring and cool down, a figure in a black, hooded robe reminiscent of the Grim Reaper of human lore hops out of the craft and makes its way toward the bar.

The creature enters the Bar and, without a word, shuffles over toward the bookshelves. Even underneath the robe, a series of sharp protrusions clearly jut out of the newcomer's extremities. It rifles through the books, many in strange, alien languages, before selecting one and removing it from the shelf. As the figure makes its way to the Bar, its height of at least seven feet becomes quite apparent.

The hood drops down, revealing the reptilian head of a Hork Bajir with three sharp blades on the top of his head - more accurately, two, with a stump in the front where a blade normally would be. "Just a water, please," the Hork-Bajir tells the bartender in the gruff, guttural voice characteristic of his species.

[Hunter]

Hunter turned on his stool, facing both Merc and the creature that spoke up. He marvels at the strange creature, his blue hair looking an obscure shade of brown to his colour-blind eyes. His pointed ears were also of interest to him, as he had seen none like them before.

Hunter sniffs a little, taking in his unfamiliar scent. This guy's nothing like anyone I know he thought, his ears and expression clearly showing his interest.

'Well,' Hunter pauses for a moment before he continues, thinking how to best word out what he was about to say. 

'To cut a long story short, I only know of three others of my species out there. That's what I mean by "humans I know".' He said, preferring not to dwell on past memories. The amount of hate and resentment in his last three words was astonishing.

Hunter doesn't notice the newcomer enter the bar, but he picks up another unfamiliar scent.

Hunter's holographic communicator emits two quiet beeps from the inside pocket of his leather trench coat, indicating an incoming holocall from a known sender. He chooses not to answer it just yet.

[Shenmue654]

<<In this one context my powers could actually help--- Help to get that Cameron kid out of trouble in the woods. Although I'm not sure where he's getting the whole 'psychic' thing from. Far as I understand it, my powers could be caused by that, but mainly the effect is neurological. Maybe because he doesn't talk?>>

Jeffrey thinks about it. It makes a screwball kind of sense. If the blue deer paladin guy, Ossanlin, talked by thinking, then he supposed his powers would adapt to the form of communication used by the subject of his attack.

Jeffrey looks less-than-thrilled as another bizarre alien walks through the front door but something seems less unsettling about this alien type than he expected. He's not looking directly at it, and he can tell it's "normal." He assumes it's because Myitt knows what the alien is, but he can't access her carefully guarded psyche beyond an uneasy familiarity. A thrill of excitement runs through Jeffrey's mind. <<Oh man, this is so cool. If I had my old mind back, I'd be thinking about the psychology of this Yeerk thing for hours. >>

[Terenia]

The shipyard is largely silent, save the distant arrival of a new craft. Cameron doesn't seem to be inclined to come out of hiding, or reveal where she is.

After a moment of hesitation, Dalik curses under his breath and follows Tara, hissing her name. "Do you at least have a spare Dracon I could use?" he demands. "If we run into more of those...chicken dinosaur things...I want to be armed." He pauses, then lifts his voice, shouting for the first time. "Cameron!"

[Myitt]

"Yeah," Myitt mutters flatly to Ossanlin. "I kind of got the memo. I mean, I understand that now." She swallows. "Jesus, I can really make people do things?" The implications of this fact suddenly hit her hard, and even if they're dark and hopeful ideas, she can't help entertaining them.

<We could end this ****ing war,> she says, half to herself.

She's about to say more, when she spots the cloaked Hork-Bajir and her mind closes off like a steel trap.

<That thing isn't normal,> she tells Jeffrey, guarding everything but her words. <Hork-Bajir don't wear cloaks like that, unless they're...> She trails off, eyes narrowing as she observes the cloaked reptilian creature. <But the robe, I'm sure it's...it's the wrong color.>

--

"Cameron!" Tara shouts, cupping her hands over her mouth. She shoots Dalik a sour look. "No, I don't just carry extra Dracons around. What do you think I am, a weapons dealer?" She huffs a mirthless laugh. "If those things come back again, you just try not to get yourself killed. He looks strong enough."

[guitarhero01234]

Merc's eyes widen as Hunter tells him the fate of his people. "Holy ****, man. Yeah, I think I've got a good idea as to why you don't like humans so much." He pushes his hair out of his face and looks at Hunter, the last remnants of intoxication slowly leaving his face. "I'm not gonna lie to you; where I'm from, humans have done some pretty heinous ****. I don't think anything quite that bad though." He chuckles softly to himself. "Unless you believe those whacked-out conspiracy theorists."

Merc's gaze slowly shifts to the newcomer waiting for his drink. "The **** . . ." he mouths, but the words don't manage to escape his lips. Granted, the Hork-Bajir shouldn't have seemed so strange, especially after meeting Ossanlin and Hunter, but seeing the bladed creature was still quite the shock to Mercer. He quickly shakes off the confusion, though, and turns back to Hunter. "So, what is your species anyway?"

***

The Hork-Bajir takes his water, and with a brief nod to the BT, walks back over toward the bookshelves. None of the other patrons seemed particularly interested in holding a conversation with him, which was certainly alright. Although, he noticed a few strange looks. Probably nothing to worry about - the looks seemed to come only from the humans, who have likely never seen a Hork-Bajir such as himself. Even less likely for them to have met a Seer.

Carefully, the Hork-Bajir drapes his tail over the back of one of the armchairs and sits down, making sure not to destroy the furniture with his blades. Once he's comfortable, he opens his book. All this commotion is going to be distracting, he thinks as his eyes scan the pages. Nothing he can do about it, of course.

[Myitt]

<I'm taking us over there,> Myitt tells Jeffrey, and she slides off the seat, straightening Jeffrey's shirt with a cold look of determination.

[Hunter]

Hunter barked out a laugh. 'Conspiracy theorists? **** man, they really are everywhere.'

Quickly looking over his shoulder to the strange bladed alien waiting at the bar, he thinks The bar really does attract all sorts, doesn't it?

Turning back to Mercer and Rathien, he says 'I was born on a small planet in the Rukbat sector, called Pern, and I'm a Grey Wolf from the western continent.' With that, Hunter removes the small, black holo-communicator from his inner pocket; a small blue light flashing with the beeps.

With a sigh, he places it on the bar, deciding whether or not he should answer it considering that this was his first day off in a while.