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Extra Terrestrial Cattle Rustler
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Vash
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And from now on Ginger never uncloaks and never speaks to anbody ever again.
Pyro V said
Updated both Bear's and Dimitri's bios to reflect post-Idaho.Edit: How many people does it take to fly a vertibird?
One pilot, an optional co-pilot and five or six eagle squad twerps to tell them they're doing it wrong.
GranoxFirewind said
... There may be conflict on hand. I could definitely see Venom going out of his way to help the poor recruits.
*maniacal laughter* That could be fun >:b
Nice post! Lucy turned into such a bad ass... And scary as fuck @.@
GranoxFirewind said
Man the cafeteria is lonely. I'm trying to whip up a conversation with someone, and no one's there to do it with!
I... forgot that existed... Be right there! Also I got a bit of a post up.
Edit: And I painted a new pic for my CS >.>
Almost two weeks. Two God damn weeks. It was maddening enough when they were only waiting days between missions. Regardless, Tristan always found something to do with his time and that had become even more true as of late. Loss, pain, death, failure. They meant he wasn't good enough. After Idaho and after every mission in the months following he found that there was always something about his performance that could be better. He could always have been more steady, more accurate, more watchful, more focused, more decisive, faster, stronger.
Sweat began to drip into his eyes as he delivered a rapid succession of blows to the heavy punching bag that hung from the ceiling. Every combo he had learned in training needed to be perfected. Every strike needed to go exactly where he wanted it. Each one had to be harder than the last. It had been the same with basic drills and on the shooting range. Every time he pulled the trigger it needed to be a bulls-eye. No matter what the distance, the direction, or the speed of the target. No matter how terrible the wind or snow. No matter how tired he was. Until that happened he would never be satisfied with anything. Sand started to leak from the bag and dust flew into the air with every vicious blow. Tiny rips started to form in the tape where it had been patched a thousand times over. His knuckles were starting to leave blood behind and his muscles were burning. Punch. Upper-cut. Elbow. No. More. Failures. He threw the last one so hard the chains that held the punching bag screeched against the steel beam they wrapped around as their load swung dangerously. A gap-toothed grin formed on his face... Until he saw the sand absolutely pouring from the rip he had made in the side of the bag.
"Woops..." He looked around to make sure nobody had seen that before haphazardly sticking yet another piece of tape over the damage. That was plenty of practice for today.
After hitting the showers his stomach growled and he suddenly felt weak. Uhg. I could eat a brahmin. Without wasting anytime he got dressed, threw on a tattered old bomber jacket and sprinted into the raging blizzard. The pain of such cold hit him immediately. Fuck. Okay. Do it for the food. He would never understand how anybody could ever get used to this. Tristan scrambled into the lodge and slammed the door behind him to keep any of the snow or wind from getting inside. On his way to the buffet he tried to brush most of the snow out of his hair which was still somewhat wet from the shower and was now somewhat frozen. Stupid cold. Stupid snow. Stupid blizzard. The irritated grumbling stopped almost immediately as the intoxicating smells of alcohol and food washed over him. After grabbing a tray he went to work trying to decide what to eat. Might be a good idea to get a little of everything... Just to be safe.
It only took a few quick glances around the cafeteria to figure out exactly where he was going next.
"Hey!" Tristan smiled and gave a quick nod to Andrew, "Devon! What's up?" he slapped the man's shoulder firmly as he walked by then sat down to join them with an overflowing tray of food and a glass of scotch. He didn't wait for responses before shoving the first bite of steak into his mouth.
Sweat began to drip into his eyes as he delivered a rapid succession of blows to the heavy punching bag that hung from the ceiling. Every combo he had learned in training needed to be perfected. Every strike needed to go exactly where he wanted it. Each one had to be harder than the last. It had been the same with basic drills and on the shooting range. Every time he pulled the trigger it needed to be a bulls-eye. No matter what the distance, the direction, or the speed of the target. No matter how terrible the wind or snow. No matter how tired he was. Until that happened he would never be satisfied with anything. Sand started to leak from the bag and dust flew into the air with every vicious blow. Tiny rips started to form in the tape where it had been patched a thousand times over. His knuckles were starting to leave blood behind and his muscles were burning. Punch. Upper-cut. Elbow. No. More. Failures. He threw the last one so hard the chains that held the punching bag screeched against the steel beam they wrapped around as their load swung dangerously. A gap-toothed grin formed on his face... Until he saw the sand absolutely pouring from the rip he had made in the side of the bag.
"Woops..." He looked around to make sure nobody had seen that before haphazardly sticking yet another piece of tape over the damage. That was plenty of practice for today.
After hitting the showers his stomach growled and he suddenly felt weak. Uhg. I could eat a brahmin. Without wasting anytime he got dressed, threw on a tattered old bomber jacket and sprinted into the raging blizzard. The pain of such cold hit him immediately. Fuck. Okay. Do it for the food. He would never understand how anybody could ever get used to this. Tristan scrambled into the lodge and slammed the door behind him to keep any of the snow or wind from getting inside. On his way to the buffet he tried to brush most of the snow out of his hair which was still somewhat wet from the shower and was now somewhat frozen. Stupid cold. Stupid snow. Stupid blizzard. The irritated grumbling stopped almost immediately as the intoxicating smells of alcohol and food washed over him. After grabbing a tray he went to work trying to decide what to eat. Might be a good idea to get a little of everything... Just to be safe.
It only took a few quick glances around the cafeteria to figure out exactly where he was going next.
"Hey!" Tristan smiled and gave a quick nod to Andrew, "Devon! What's up?" he slapped the man's shoulder firmly as he walked by then sat down to join them with an overflowing tray of food and a glass of scotch. He didn't wait for responses before shoving the first bite of steak into his mouth.
Updated my CS with one or two things. Not much has changed. Not much to report. Excited for the new posts you two :D
This is a double post because my computer is a dick.
Vash said
I'unno.Also, I see Lucius got rid of her boobie signature. I feel empty on the inside. My internet is no longer slowed down to a crawl when I come to a page she's posted on.
Oh good lord. This signature is soooooo much sexier.
All he wanted was to pull the trigger until this Zenithar guy was an unrecognizable lump of charcoal, but now he couldn't. However, feeling the thick weight of the broken blaster in his hand he supposed he could still easily bludgeon the man to death with it. While blood rushed to his head and he clenched his teeth Iisska even started to raise it up a little. Absolutely shaking with rage, he had to fight to keep from living out his bloody fantasy. After a few moments of tense, uncomfortable silence he finally managed to speak.
"You and everyone on this thing had better be made of credits," he said, brandishing the gun.
Iisska did not make himself comfortable nor did he find a bunk. He knew what was coming next. Even though Sterling had tried to reassure him they would be fine he was far from ready to trust. Police vessels had already started to tail them and their fire shook the ship. There was no relaxing in this. Instead he made his way to the cockpit to keep an eye on the instruments and readings. There had to be a billion other things broken on this pile, they were being shot at, and now they were about to try and run the tightest planetary customs in the core with it. They were already leaving the lower atmosphere when he got there and he could see missed laser fire flasing into the space ahead as well as the capital ships and fighters soaring above them. Nothing but tiny shapes against the starry backdrop at this distance. But, they were picking up speed.
For a moment the impacts rocking the ship and the bright lights blurring past them ceased and a loud BONG! went over the ship's sound system. They were being hailed. No doubt by the patrols wanting them to surrender. He looked around for Zen wondering if they would bother to answer it. At this point he would have been happy to just blaze on through. Nothing they could say would make him choose to willingly be arrested.
Zen came to the control panel and answered it. "Yes, I'll take one large fries, a nerf-burger, and a large zoke." "This is the Coru-Wait what? THIS IS THE CORUSANT PLANETARY DEFENSE FORCE, ZENITHAR OURAN, DUE TO YOUR IMMENSE BOUNTY, YOU AND YOUR SHIP WILL BE VAPORIZED IMMEDIATELY. WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF, JEDI KILLER?!" The ships pulled up next to them, two large patrol ships that used tractor beams to slow them down to a crawl, large guns pointed at them.
Zenithar just looked back at Iisska and smiled. "Watch this." He reached out toward the window and slowed his hand, his hand started to shake erratically, becoming claw like. The left ship started to creak and groan. At first, it just groaned, but then metal started to grind against metal. In the comms, screams from the other ship filled the room, the ship began to crumple into itself, becoming a ball of metal and blood. The comms ceased quickly thereafter.
He started to move the ship, blood starting to come from his nose as he pulled the ship in front of them, around and to the other ship, slamming it into the other one. It tried to fire at it, but it did nothing but disrupt the tractor beam, allowing them to escape.
Iisska didn't realize it at the time but his knuckles were turning white around the handrail beside the control panels. He had stopped breathing and looked at Zen in horror.
"You're sick," he said just above a whisper, "... I should have just let them kill you down there..."
"Not sick. Defensive. If somebody threatens your life, what are you going to do? Die or fight?" He turned toward Iisska, his entire upper lip covered in blood. "I choose to fight, and I fight with the tools at my disposal, those tools being my saber, my guns, and the Force. Don't really care who's in my way." The humor was gone from his voice, all sense of dread gone as well, replaced with a neutral voice, neither angry nor defiant, along with this stance. He didn't move to clean his face. "If you had "Let them kill me", more would have died. They would have assaulted the ship for days as Marky and I killed them by the hundreds, both robots and humans, before we ditched the ship and killed more to escape. Kill responsibly, as somebody once said."
He sneered, the urge to vomit rising up once again, "You're powerful enough... you didn't have to do that..." he changed his gaze, unable to look at Zen anymore, "If you people aren't headed anywhere in particular there's a few repair yards on Iridonia. No customs. They don't ask questions. You can get your repairs and drop me off there."
The ship re-oriented itself as coordinates were being set into the navi-computer. There was a low whum as the ship prepared to make the jump to hyperspace. Iisska collapsed in the chair behind him.
"You have no idea what power you wield, do you?" He crossed his arms, his voice remaining as it was. "Throw me."
Iisska rolled his eyes, "No."
"OKay." He pulled out his light saber and held it to his neck, the black blade scorching his throat. "Throw me or I'll kill you, simple. Find another mechanic, less force powers, teach marquis how to actually fix something, get laid, the normal."
The blade had barely nicked the Togruta's skin causing his spine to bolt upright as his entire body tensed and pushed back away from the blade. His heart stopped and an immense pressure seemed to push outward. The saber moved away for a moment and Zen was pushed back a few inches, "Don't!"
"AH hah! I was right! You do have the crazy-gene!" He laughed and pushed his saber forward again. "You just need deadly motivation! I like that!"
His eyes snapped to Zen and a low rumble came from his throat that turned into a snarl. As soon as he saw the saber coming again he rolled out of the chair and threw the man into the wall snapping panels, wires and pipes. Sparks fizzled around the body-shaped dent that Zen formed on impact. Iisska bolted from the cockpit.
"NICELY DONE!" He pried himself from the wall and landed on the floor laughing. "WE SHALL TRY AGAIN TOMORROW...AFTER A SESSION OF PRISONS AND TARENTATEKS. BECAUSE IT'S TUESDAY, AND THAT KIND OF THING IS IMPORTANT"
"I'M NOT GONNA BE HERE TOMORROW!" he yelled back, looking for that bunk Marquis had told him about.
"I'LL FIX YOUR GUN FOR YOU IF YOU STAY AND GET YOU A SECOND ONE. PLUS, YA KNOW, SHOWING YOU HOW TO THROW PEOPLE WITHOUT DEADLY MOTIVATION"
"BITE ME, ASSHOLE!"
Late the next morning they finally reached the Mid Rim and were speeding toward Iridonia and the city of Wortan. Half the city sprawled into a gaping canyon several miles wide and nearly as deep. The other half had been carved directly into the rock walls. Many miles of tunnel streets, homes, civil buildings and shops had already been cut and the city was still growing. Massive defensive cannons lined the ridges of the canyon. Caves and a labyrinth of tall steel structures covered the cliff face and spread out to the water like a web. Ports and small boats could be seen dotting the river, a shocking blue thread that wound its way through the rocky, desolate landscape. On the far end of the visible city Wortan also boasted a sizable spaceport where travelers making the journey from the Outer Rim to the Core could stop, rest and resupply. This seemed as good a place as any to call home for now.
Iisska hadn't slept much on the trip, feeling like he had to keep an eye open for the rest of the crew all night. Not to mention the unsettling noises the ship kept making. He kept expecting the hyperdrive to fail at any second and tear the vessel into oblivion. Luckily that had not happened. The entire morning he spent trying to avoid Zen. By the time the Harpoon touched down in the canyon port he already had most of his tools packed up and was ready to start the "will-work-for-food" routine. He stood at the loading ramp and took a deep breath as the interior de-pressurized and the warm, dusty air was allowed to sweep in. The smells of thruster exhaust, river algae and greasy food hit immediately. It was a nice change from the putrid, polluted, war-torn atmosphere of Coruscant.
"You and everyone on this thing had better be made of credits," he said, brandishing the gun.
Iisska did not make himself comfortable nor did he find a bunk. He knew what was coming next. Even though Sterling had tried to reassure him they would be fine he was far from ready to trust. Police vessels had already started to tail them and their fire shook the ship. There was no relaxing in this. Instead he made his way to the cockpit to keep an eye on the instruments and readings. There had to be a billion other things broken on this pile, they were being shot at, and now they were about to try and run the tightest planetary customs in the core with it. They were already leaving the lower atmosphere when he got there and he could see missed laser fire flasing into the space ahead as well as the capital ships and fighters soaring above them. Nothing but tiny shapes against the starry backdrop at this distance. But, they were picking up speed.
For a moment the impacts rocking the ship and the bright lights blurring past them ceased and a loud BONG! went over the ship's sound system. They were being hailed. No doubt by the patrols wanting them to surrender. He looked around for Zen wondering if they would bother to answer it. At this point he would have been happy to just blaze on through. Nothing they could say would make him choose to willingly be arrested.
Zen came to the control panel and answered it. "Yes, I'll take one large fries, a nerf-burger, and a large zoke." "This is the Coru-Wait what? THIS IS THE CORUSANT PLANETARY DEFENSE FORCE, ZENITHAR OURAN, DUE TO YOUR IMMENSE BOUNTY, YOU AND YOUR SHIP WILL BE VAPORIZED IMMEDIATELY. WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF, JEDI KILLER?!" The ships pulled up next to them, two large patrol ships that used tractor beams to slow them down to a crawl, large guns pointed at them.
Zenithar just looked back at Iisska and smiled. "Watch this." He reached out toward the window and slowed his hand, his hand started to shake erratically, becoming claw like. The left ship started to creak and groan. At first, it just groaned, but then metal started to grind against metal. In the comms, screams from the other ship filled the room, the ship began to crumple into itself, becoming a ball of metal and blood. The comms ceased quickly thereafter.
He started to move the ship, blood starting to come from his nose as he pulled the ship in front of them, around and to the other ship, slamming it into the other one. It tried to fire at it, but it did nothing but disrupt the tractor beam, allowing them to escape.
Iisska didn't realize it at the time but his knuckles were turning white around the handrail beside the control panels. He had stopped breathing and looked at Zen in horror.
"You're sick," he said just above a whisper, "... I should have just let them kill you down there..."
"Not sick. Defensive. If somebody threatens your life, what are you going to do? Die or fight?" He turned toward Iisska, his entire upper lip covered in blood. "I choose to fight, and I fight with the tools at my disposal, those tools being my saber, my guns, and the Force. Don't really care who's in my way." The humor was gone from his voice, all sense of dread gone as well, replaced with a neutral voice, neither angry nor defiant, along with this stance. He didn't move to clean his face. "If you had "Let them kill me", more would have died. They would have assaulted the ship for days as Marky and I killed them by the hundreds, both robots and humans, before we ditched the ship and killed more to escape. Kill responsibly, as somebody once said."
He sneered, the urge to vomit rising up once again, "You're powerful enough... you didn't have to do that..." he changed his gaze, unable to look at Zen anymore, "If you people aren't headed anywhere in particular there's a few repair yards on Iridonia. No customs. They don't ask questions. You can get your repairs and drop me off there."
The ship re-oriented itself as coordinates were being set into the navi-computer. There was a low whum as the ship prepared to make the jump to hyperspace. Iisska collapsed in the chair behind him.
"You have no idea what power you wield, do you?" He crossed his arms, his voice remaining as it was. "Throw me."
Iisska rolled his eyes, "No."
"OKay." He pulled out his light saber and held it to his neck, the black blade scorching his throat. "Throw me or I'll kill you, simple. Find another mechanic, less force powers, teach marquis how to actually fix something, get laid, the normal."
The blade had barely nicked the Togruta's skin causing his spine to bolt upright as his entire body tensed and pushed back away from the blade. His heart stopped and an immense pressure seemed to push outward. The saber moved away for a moment and Zen was pushed back a few inches, "Don't!"
"AH hah! I was right! You do have the crazy-gene!" He laughed and pushed his saber forward again. "You just need deadly motivation! I like that!"
His eyes snapped to Zen and a low rumble came from his throat that turned into a snarl. As soon as he saw the saber coming again he rolled out of the chair and threw the man into the wall snapping panels, wires and pipes. Sparks fizzled around the body-shaped dent that Zen formed on impact. Iisska bolted from the cockpit.
"NICELY DONE!" He pried himself from the wall and landed on the floor laughing. "WE SHALL TRY AGAIN TOMORROW...AFTER A SESSION OF PRISONS AND TARENTATEKS. BECAUSE IT'S TUESDAY, AND THAT KIND OF THING IS IMPORTANT"
"I'M NOT GONNA BE HERE TOMORROW!" he yelled back, looking for that bunk Marquis had told him about.
"I'LL FIX YOUR GUN FOR YOU IF YOU STAY AND GET YOU A SECOND ONE. PLUS, YA KNOW, SHOWING YOU HOW TO THROW PEOPLE WITHOUT DEADLY MOTIVATION"
"BITE ME, ASSHOLE!"
Late the next morning they finally reached the Mid Rim and were speeding toward Iridonia and the city of Wortan. Half the city sprawled into a gaping canyon several miles wide and nearly as deep. The other half had been carved directly into the rock walls. Many miles of tunnel streets, homes, civil buildings and shops had already been cut and the city was still growing. Massive defensive cannons lined the ridges of the canyon. Caves and a labyrinth of tall steel structures covered the cliff face and spread out to the water like a web. Ports and small boats could be seen dotting the river, a shocking blue thread that wound its way through the rocky, desolate landscape. On the far end of the visible city Wortan also boasted a sizable spaceport where travelers making the journey from the Outer Rim to the Core could stop, rest and resupply. This seemed as good a place as any to call home for now.
Iisska hadn't slept much on the trip, feeling like he had to keep an eye open for the rest of the crew all night. Not to mention the unsettling noises the ship kept making. He kept expecting the hyperdrive to fail at any second and tear the vessel into oblivion. Luckily that had not happened. The entire morning he spent trying to avoid Zen. By the time the Harpoon touched down in the canyon port he already had most of his tools packed up and was ready to start the "will-work-for-food" routine. He stood at the loading ramp and took a deep breath as the interior de-pressurized and the warm, dusty air was allowed to sweep in. The smells of thruster exhaust, river algae and greasy food hit immediately. It was a nice change from the putrid, polluted, war-torn atmosphere of Coruscant.
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