Ruby

[Deep Core, 6 ATC 4] Mission: Harvest Moon

No. Nononono--

Selene's mouth twisted into a wry grin. "You're not supposed to be there."

The Jedi's lightsaber went off, either a moment later or the moment the second Sith entered the quarters. The ship swayed, lights flickered. Selene could feel the galaxy starting to slip from her fingers. She started to feel like she was falling. No. The feeling wasn't helped to her in the slightest as the two Sith who weren't supposed to be there, at all, showed up sounding almost glib to her suddenly bone cold ears and terror stricken mind.

Oh no...

It happened within an instant. ...sister save me, no. The wry grin vanished, and pretty dark brown eyes caught in unsightly dark circles swelled with tears that began to stream more with every heartbeat after. The Sith Empire was going to win. The anger followed the tears almost as fast. Steam appeared where tears had been before the cascade of bitterness and anger and hatred rolled in what felt in her heart like thunderclaps.

Desperation and anger collided, the Jedi's lightsaber activated again.

"I would have enjoyed this any other moment of my life. Please know that."

Her body lowered into something that resembled a Makashi stance. It was a ruse best started with sleight of hand or trick. Most magic was, Selene knew, and Sith magic was most effective when that was still true. Sure you could recite the right words in the right combination of harmonics between self and the Force. You could invoke the ancient power of the right spirits. You could have started the magical pull of the Dark before you even put the lightsaber into the Jedi's side. All of this was true. It was all just a lot more effective if you made them look with some words and lightsaber antics first.

They weren't idiots. They were highly skilled. But the Jedi rose all the same as they watched her reignite the lightsaber and take her stance, and she didn't blame them for that. The Jedi's eyes were alive with a purple light so jagged with dark lightless energy that the shriek the thing let out was a mere distraction from it's insidious gaze. And that was before the former Jedi's frame burst into flame.

Selene was already in the maintenance shaft of the cargo bay rigged holding cell in literal seconds. She cursed herself. She thought of her sister. She thought of the red haired Jedi, and the way she looked in the shadow and glow under the silent surface of Tython. But mostly she thought of ways out of a situation she knew there was no way out of. She had to create chaos. The fire was fine as a distraction, but she needed more. And pyromancing was a skill Selene still had yet to find any meaningful source material on.

The amount she would pay for that, the amount of effort she would put into stealing it, in this very moment.

The Dark Side seemed to mock her. The hatch was a shit thing, and fragmented. There was no universal crawl space, forcing her out into a corridor. A Republic technician inside a comms room sweating and cursing loudly jerked around when he heard the door open. His eyes blinked. Her eyes narrowed, her lips busy with the right words at the right pitch to carry out and out and further more within the Force, stringing together the energy of past spells and their echoes within the Force, a wave of symphonic Sith spells that felt infinite. The lightsaber was sudden as she was, a speed as close to infinite as practicality allowed in the situation.

There was no rise. There was no shriek. Selene ran quickly, knowing there would only be a sudden and explosive burst of flame. The ship would burn. Systems would fail far faster. Corridors would fog with smoke and the smell of electrical fire. Her head whipped from side to side outside the comms room, wavy and half frozen looking hair flaked with frost waved about following each sudden move of her head.

Her head stopped in a direction. Her body started moving a hard walk forward, Jedi weapon off but in her hand within a grip so tight she couldn't feel her fingers. Desperation and anger. Doors opened and Selene saw a ship. A Sith ship. No one was at the open rear ramp, Selene peeked and walked a half step a time in silence as the larger ship all around them lurched and darkened and began to truly die.

The business end of the unactivated lightsaber pushed at the cheek of the blonde woman. She swatted and turned with irritation and stopped dead at the sight she saw. Selene smiled. "Fancy a ride? Start it--what's your name?"

The blonde shot a death glare inbetween whatever flicking of switches and pushing of buttons were required to comply with the order to start the ship up. "Lieutenant Vaughn."

"Let's go."

[Approved] Asra Lyn, Aquisitions Agent

Approved. Love the concept. Can't wait to meet her IC!

Looking for an RP partner! (LGBT friendly)

Hello there!

You can all me Auti. I am not sure how to get started on this site so I am reaching out this way. I am looking for an active, reliable RP partner or partners. I am open for 1x1 or a small group. With me you'll most likely get a paragraph, but I can do one liners as well. I prefer fantasy/supernatural/romance with someone who doesn't mind girl on girl action. Always up for more, though. Let me hear your ideas and lets get talking!

@Foxohilee48

Welcome to the Guild!

Let me know if you have any questions.

Good luck with the RP search!

Ban the Person above you

Banned

@Callousqueen

Banned and banished. For reasons.

[Approved] Cleqq Yrsbahk - Bounty Hunter

Approved!

[Abandoned] Raphelia Orlan, Smuggler

Approved. Enjoyed the updates!

[Approved] Gyr, a Bounty Hunter

Peacekeepers Holonet Ad

Name: Gyr
Species: Feeorin
Homeworld: Odryn
Age: 135
Gender: Male
Specialization: Apprehension and elimination of wanted criminals.
Current area of operation: Republic and Hutt Space, the Outer Rim

Peacekeepers Holonet Metadata Summary

_{Short description of the operative.}

Gyr stands at just over two meters in height, and when outfitted on the job his already imposing form is complemented by hardened armor. He doesn’t have a friendly face to boot – green skin, tentacles, noseless face and flat, pupil-less yellow eyes make for a grim and alien countenance. In short, not a handsome fellow, unless maybe you’re a Feeorin, and positively intimidating if you’ve got a price on your head even without a blaster in sight.

Gyr is rarely unarmed, however. Gyr’s armory is extensive, replete with blaster rifles, carbines, and pistols, providing him with extensive ranged solutions to troublesome opponents, along with a host of edged weapons, both vibroblades and standard. In the field, he favors a heavy blaster pistol at his hip and a pair of sidearms, along with pair of short vibroblades at the small of his back and at his shoulder, and a pair of vibroknucklers, a favorite of his. Finally, his gauntlets are outfitted with a few tricks; the left holds a whipcord thrower to entangle and incapacitate his targets, and the right has a modifiable hardpoint that can accommodate a gas dispersion unit, a projectile launcher, a light blaster, or even a flamethrower.

His ship, a heavily modified, black market Republic gunship of an older design, is outfitted with an armory where he keeps a wide variety of equipment that allows him to restock and resupply between missions,

_{Simplified report on known skills and estimated levels.}

Gyr has spent decades practicing the trade, making him a more than competent with an array of weaponry and capable of adapting to most any situation he’s faced with while on the hunt. Even stripped of his blasters and blades, he’s more than capable with his fists. Beyond his raw strength, Gyr is also a trained martial fighter able to beat down a quarry if it comes to it.

Gyr is also a competent pilot, and helms his own starship, the Dark Passage, well enough that he doesn't need to bother hiring a pilot to ferry him from job to job.

_{Quick report on favored employers, associates, contacts and rivals.}

• Sharka, a blue-skinned Selkath from Manaan, is Gyr’s assistant and technician aboard the Dark Passage.
• Drezio, a Devaronian fixer and lieutenant of the Bounty Hunter Guild’s House Samur-Tong, is one of Gyr’s principal sources of bounties.

_{Psychological evaluation of Bounty Hunter.}

Gyr is cunning, driven, and effective. He enjoys his job, some might say more than is reasonably healthy. Each pursuit is a unique challenge, and he thrives on testing himself against some of the most dangerous criminals in the galaxy. Decades of judicially sanctioned (and often unsanctioned) kidnappings and executions has left him with a dry, dark sense of humor that most would describe as mediocre at best. He doesn’t get paid to make jokes, though; he gets paid to put sentients either in jail or the ground, and he’s good at that.

_{List and description of known and suspected flaws. To be put into restricted database.}

Gyr is not a big thinker, so to speak. He’s not a compromising person and he doesn’t play well with others. He partners with hunters rarely and doesn’t enjoy it when he does. He’s also fickle when it comes to his loyalties. Ultimately, his employer is whoever holds the most credits at the end of the day, and he’s not afraid to burn a weak bridge in favor of a stronger one. This attitude, naturally, does not make him many friends. A lack of those can get you killed in this line of work.

_{Major achievements and failures on record.}

Gyr’s hauled in a number of prominent bounties over the course of his career. Among his most impressive are a Sith acolyte, a prominent pirate captain, and a majordomo to a Hutt crime lord. His failures are also numerous. Gyr doesn’t shy away from killing a quarry if need be, even if the contract calls for the mark to be brought in alive. He’s forfeited a small fortune in bounty profits by killing his targets. Finally, he has failed to deliver on some of his assignments, and in the bounty hunting profession failure can have dire consequences. There are certain former employers with whom Gyr has particularly bad blood.

Background

_Background

Gyr was born on Obryn, the largest colony of the Feeorin people, over a century prior to the Great War, the son of mercenary privateers. He spent much of his life aboard ships, as his father captained a pirate hunting corvette in the Noonian sector. He entered his father’s employ as a privateer himself, and worked for years protecting the trade routes of the Republic’s outlying territories. He picked up a fair bit of combat experience in those years, whether at the guns of frigates and gunships or in boarding engagements. His experiences also spurred him to strike out on his own, hunting pirates and similar criminal elements not in the capacity of an employee of a security company, but as an independent bounty hunter.

Gyr’s first few years on the job were challenging. He had the talent, and the skills, but lacked the refined expertise and experience. The unpredictable nature of the job meant a steep learning curve, and Gyr was forced to learn. Over the years he honed his talents, becoming proficient with a wide variety of weapons and approaches to apprehending a mark. Naturally driven and determined, he actively sought mentorship and training and to expand his skillset. When he started, he had a passing knowledge of how to operate a military starship and could shoot his way out of a bad situation. After twenty years on the job, he’d expanded his capabilities such that he was a capable veteran in the field. The decades since have only made him more dangerous.

The Great War was a boon to the bounty hunting profession. Both sides of the war saw desertion, and as a highly capable combatant, tracking down and apprehending soldiers was a task he was particularly well suited for. Beyond that, the strain the war placed on bureaucracy meant law enforcement, especially in the outlying regions of the Republic, were more dependent than ever on the bounty hunter guilds to maintain order and apprehend criminals. Gyr made a fortune in the twenty-eight years of war, and the work hasn’t stopped in the years since. With the delicate balance of power between the Republic and the Sith comes a great deal of work to be done, from apprehending criminals on worlds the Republic no longer has the resources to police to eliminating targets that can’t be pursued without violating the labyrinthine provisions demarcating the Imperial and Republic spheres of influence.

@Jackdaw

I like the symmetry of the concept; from the race to the personality to the weakness--it all aligns very nicely and fits together.

A bounty hunter this old, though, has history. Would have been nice to see a few old stories at least teased in the bio. ;)

All in all, not a bad BH flier. Approved.

I am naught but a fugitive

<Snipped quote by kittyboy>

@Ruby@Byrd Man@Hank@stark@NuttsnBolts@Mahz@Pepperm1nts@POOHEAD189@Jorick@Altered Tundra@Frizan

MODS!!!
MODS!!
MOSD!!
MODS!!!!

THIS FUCKING CANDY-ASS IS POSTING LEWD MATERIAL ON THE INTERNET!!! SUSPEND HIS ACCOUTNE AT ONCE OR YOU WILL BE HEARING FROM MY ATTORNEY.

Sent from my TYCO GarfieldⓇ desk phone

@gorgenmast

Don't tag staff for nonsense.

The Galactic Vices Casino

The ramp of the Starshine descended slowly in a fog of depressurization and mechanical venting, Nar Shaddaa greeting the three Jedi. Satele audibly sighed when she reached the bottom and found no welcoming party. Small miracles. Looking out over Nar Shaddaa from their docking platform was a sad thing. Satele had spent her fair share of time on the moon, and no happiness had ever truly come of it. Not for long, at least. But from this distance...even Nar Shaddaa could twinkle pretty in night. That was the danger was Nar Shaddaa and everyone on it.

This time, however, it wasn't the only danger. In her head as they walked down steps and towards the entrance of the casino every imaginable danger presented itself as warning. The Sith presence she had felt wasn't even the biggest concern. The criminals of Nar Shaddaa were. Only when the three Jedi came close to the doors did the doors open by themselves, and two guards present themselves.

"You already checked us for weapons."

Never once did Satele stop moving. The mind trick took advantage of both, their minds fumbling with reactions just in time to step out of Satele's way and allow her entry. The Padawan followed close. The Jedi Knight Balthasar lagged behind a few steps, smiling, hands folded casually behind his back, his dark black hair threatening to become unruly in the vortex of hair where casino interior met docking platform exterior. Inside the carpet beneath her was thick, lush. The aesthetic was classy for a Nar Shaddaa casino, Satele found herself admitting as she began to move through.

Where docking corridor met descent for casino floor the ceiling opened up into a dome of impressive and ambient lighting, music soothed soft in the background of nearly every moment, and the gentle echo of chatter within the audiciously open space reverberated through Satele's mind for a few moments of silence. Casinos were designed to invoke certain responses, a fact Satele could admire in that moment, even if their ultimate goal left a bitter aftertaste to every pretty thing she saw. Finally she turned and found the Padawan and the tall dark haired Knight.

"You two go find Roana. I don't know how many are with her."

Dread that casino security would be called into a brawl including Mandalorians and Jedi danced about in the back of her mind as the backs of her Apprentice and the Jedi weapons expert got further and further away in the crowd of the casino. Venturing alone was fun, at least through the corridors of the casino lined with high end shopping. The clothes made her chuckle, and one store nearly made her blush--instead she just walked away wide eyed and blinking. The only real disappointment was that a rare books and antiquities shop was closed and under some sort of remodeling.

The casino's main floor was a matter of a large floor divided into sections by everything from fountains to bars to tables with dancing girls. Lots of dancing girls. Lots of greed, lots of lust. If the Force was truly universal, it was in casinos, in brothels, and in every dark corner of the galaxy and life itself. The thought was little comfort to the Jedi, though there was a surge of amusement as she rounded the corner and found him: Airus. Jedi Knight.

They had never met, but she knew his mission. She knew he was in the area. And she knew what the Force was telling her. The table the Jedi sat at had only three others present, and all three looked up at the woman that sat down at the table, went back to their cards, before all three slowly crept their eyes back up to the woman that had sat down. "Hey. You're Satele Shan."

"Indeed she is." The robed male with the voice Satele couldn't misplace even if she wanted to sat across the table from both Satele and Airus.

They would've felt the presence as plainly as a person could see a solar eclipse, as opposite as Satele as a person could be. Darth Marr, Jedi Master Shan. Satele would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy the excitement of the moment. Or if she didn't enjoy seeing Marr in a setting other than openly trying to kill one another. This was Marr simply not-so-openly trying to end her. Fair enough, Satele thought.

"Credits to play," the dealer at the table made a valiant effort, but the dealer shrank the moment Marr's masked head turned and focused on the dealer. It was the last time the dealer would speak while in Marr's presence.

"You're showing off."

"I'm intolerant of nuisances," he said it casually, with a slight sigh.

Satele Shan smiled. "I'm still here."

"Not for our lack of trying. Who is this?"

"Jedi Knight Airus Vel Aath. Airus, this is Darth Marr," Satele caught the eyes of the dealer, now, and her smile stayed.

Marr regarded the Jedi Knight for a moment. After that moment he moved on back to Shan. "I heard you've been up to things. Did Revanites actually try to recruit you?"

"One of them lunged themselves onto my lightsaber. Elated at dying by my hand."

"They're mad fools, but killing a Sith never seemed to bother you before."

It wasn't that simple, she wanted to say, but she didn't. Not to him. She and Marr always danced, in battle, in a casino chatting--it was always a back and forth, it was always give and take, and it was always a game that was never really any kind of game. "They don't normally commit suicide by my saberstaff. It was grotesque."

Marr chuckled. It was dry, it was just ever-so-superior, and it was very genuine, "They are a collection of grotesqueries. To think, something as silly as a Shan exciting you. Have some dignity."

"Have some professionalism," Satele snorted, playfully, her gaze a heavy if playful thing. Marr and Satele kept speaking, they just did so beyond prying ears, and around them there were many. Many. Half the casino floor was now a spy or opportunistic eavesdropper, starting with the dealer. She was almost certain he was working for someone, and Marr had a similar feeling.

"Revan?" Marr hooted aloud, breaking the wordless communication. "That is quite the tale. Do I believe it?"

His masked eyes stared at her, as if he were trying to make a decision on trust. There was no decision. Not right here, not right now. His chuckle returned, though deeper than before, more animated. Less genuine. Satele smiled big and shrugged small. "What if it's true? What's that say about your people? What's that say about you if you don't know?" Her body rearranged weight, from leaning back into the chair to scooting forward in the seat and leaning forward.

She smelled like wild flowers and sun.

"You don't know him."

Marr stood. Satele swore she could feel him smile, or smirk, or grin. But there was nothing; just the mask. "We will talk again, Satele Shan."

Satele was raw. Marr was too, hard as he pretended not to be. Satele's expression when she looked at Airus after the Sith walked away was anything but happy. The exchanged lasted maybe five minutes, but the conversation that happened outside of words went much faster, and far deeper. She was eager to move. She trusted Balthasar and Brye. She even kind of trusted Grim; but Roana was a wildcard. Mandalorians were wildcards, and Satele was feeling all out of Aces.

[Approved] Lo Lya'Tre, Jedi Padawan

Hell yeah. Approved.