Tatooine

[Malicious Intent]

Atia reflexively clutched at her throat, watching as tendrils of the force extended themselves from Viktor's fingertips. Primal instincts set her in a state of panic as the prospect of death set in. Her eyes stayed fixed on his, seeing the full intensity of his hatred towards her. Numbness began to set in as her vision began to blur, Viktor's aura becoming an undefinable haze. She felt herself becoming very heavy. An unsettlingly familiar voice rang through her head again, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once.

 

Peace is a lie...

 

Vision redefined, felling came back, the will to live all returned. Her hands reached up and grabbed the invisible strings connecting his hand and her throat. Dark crimson tendrils extended from her own hand, wrapping around Viktor's hold on her. For a moment, wills locked. Atia pulled everything from within and ripped asunder Viktor's hold, throwing them both twenty feet from each other.

 

Cool, life giving air rushed to her lungs. A violent cough echoed through the silence as she stood up. Quick deep breaths interrupted her as she tried to speak.

 

"We'll see."

 

Atia composed herself, bringing her lightsaber back to her hand, standing motionless on the dune. The cold air brushed against her soft skin. The chill failed to reach her, feeling as if her very soul was on fire. The lightsaber illuminated the forthcoming night once again, lighting up her features with an eerie red glow. She let the anger hiding itself reach out and graze Viktor's mind, shaking his will for the fight if ever so slightly.

[Ripper]

The suns of the desert planet, Tatooine, gave Ripper two long shadows along the street of the small city he was in. From the air, the community looked like a small spec in the great vastness of desert, but from the ground, it was clear that it was thriving. Or at least, what passes for thriving in outer rim worlds such as these. Ripper decided that his best chance at finding these items quickly, was to ask around for them. Simple, yet if he didn't watch himself, mingling in the wrong way with the wrong people could get him into deep trouble. As he walked down the side of the street he was passed by a small troop carrier of storm troopers. I see the empire has influence even all the way out here. He turned away into the next store, as that was the crowd he definitely did not want to mingle with.

 

He walked into what appeared to be some sort of nightclub, apparently not doing so well in the day. Exotic dancers of every kind slithered up poles, looking for tips to be pushed into their underwear. He cringed at the sight of a topless, well, thing, that was the first thing his eyes met when he walked into. Cant get much worse than that. They must change out before sundown. Most seats and tables were empty, except for the occasional deadbeat lounging out with nothing better to do. He walked past a certain thuggish man, who shot him a look that Ripper would soon not forget. He finally made his way back to the best looking of the staff, who being so far back in the bar did not have a single admirer. As he approached the twi'lek woman, he quickly gained a goatee and mustache, making him a sexy-beast that could get any information out of a woman.

 

He sat down in front of her, got out a few singles and spoke as she leaned over to him.

”œI need to know where I can find some hardware. A lady like you must know who I need to talk to get this stuff.”

[Bad karma]

The thrill that Viktor derived from suffocating the girl was like none other he had ever experienced. To stare into her milky white orbs as he felt her struggle, felt her blood trying to squeeze past his grip”¦it was breath taking. For a brief moment he held her life within his grasp. Always he had sought to end another as quickly and as efficiently as possible, never dwelling nor pausing for reflection.

 

What have I been missing?

 

Then it was over. He was flung backwards, his grip being forced to release her. A growl of frustration and rage was heard from deep within his throat. Sand bellowed up around his feet as he landed in a crouched position. His ribs groaned in protest, letting him know which of them had been cracked as a result of Atia's attacks. He could feel her anger brush over his mind as she tried to shake his composure, but to no avail. Even after feeling the potency of her anger, knowing it was directed straight at him, he couldn't help but find it nearly impossible to fear the young girl. After having seen a figure like Kakuto Ryu in person, how could he fear a fifteen year old blind girl?

 

”œNo, we will not see. I know my words to be truth”¦why else would Dominique send me here to slay you?”

[Malicious Intent]

The news shocked Atia. Why would Dominique want her dead? She had done nothing to give her reason. And the village of Tuskans? She assumed it was just another test. Did Dominique try to send her to her death? Or even just to weaken her to be easy pray for Viktor? But why would she even take the time to train her if she just wanted her dead? To further train Viktor, that's why. Or maybe....

 

"No, Viktor. She sent you here to die. Of coarse she told you to kill me. You wouldn't have come if it was to your death."

 

She returned his sly smile, taking in his panic at the possibilities of the idea. He had been her apprentice longer, but maybe she found a new favorite. Atia charged, throwing out her anger in waves as she ran. She saw him prepare for the attack and readied her attack. The force created a wake of sand as she ran. She swung from the left, lightsabers locked as she continued her run. Her legs flipped forward, the force helping her reach the desired height. A firm kick to the chest sent him back, the force of the blow spreading evenly through Viktor's ribs. Now flipping backwards away from Viktor in air, Atia waved her free hand at the dune, sending a gust of wind and sand at Viktor.

 

Countless grains of sand flew into Viktor's eyes scratched his unshielded face. Atia landed with grace as she watched him drive the sand deeper into his eyes trying furiously to dig the grains out. She stood erect, right arm extented, probing with the force for his imminent riposte.

[Bad karma]

The girl was naïve; he knew his pseudo-panic had been convincing enough for the girl to believe it. That hadn't stopped her from charging though and he felt pain shoot from his ribs into every nerve along the path to his spine, then to his brain where it was registered. He could tell his cracked rib had been broken. She assumed that the pain would distract him, instead of aid him in this fight as it did her.

 

The precognitive ability that came along with the force told him to protect his face and he did just that; at the last moment a barrier saved his eyes from being filled with sand, but he still raised his hands and began to try and rub the grains out of his eyes. For several moments that was all that happened as he let his pain flow evenly throughout his body. He knew that his next tactic would be made all the easier since she had no true sight.

 

Through the force, Atia would see two shadow figures suddenly split out of Viktor's body and run in a semi-circle that would end with them hitting her from both sides. Sand was kicked up in their wake, foot prints left where they stepped then just as they both lifted their weapon to attack her simultaneously Viktor's hilt collided with her chin from the front, jerking her head up and leaving her unconscious. She wouldn't be out for long, so he took the few minutes he had to plunge his weapon into the dash of her ship to insure that it couldn't be used in the atmosphere either, then strip her down, take her lightsaber and hop into his ship to take off; leaving her for dead.

 

He made his way into Mos Eisly, touching down in the space port and finding his way to a cantina where he would see if she could make it out of the desert alive.

[Malicious Intent]

Atia woke up, cold and very naked. She sat up and looked for Viktor only to find his presence lacking. Not to her surprise her lightsaber was also gone. She walked back to the shuttle and put on her spare clothes. A frown dawned her face as sparks spat from the console of the ship. She sat down and looked at the comm.

 

I can't comm Dominique. I have to get out of this on my own. She'll see it as a weakness if I ask for help. Then I'd be good as dead anyway.

 

She gathered up what supplies she could from the ship and walked back to the Tuskan village, refusing to let herself give in to the cold yet. Much of the village was still on fire. She hunched over one of the lesser fires for heat and began to think.

 

I guess I could take a bantha to one of the settlements...if I could find one that is. Surely they kept some maps or something around.

 

She left the fire and began going through the huts that were still standing. They were mostly filled with empty wicker bins and sleeping mats. She searched for over an hour before finding what she was looking for. A rather old, charred map. Half of it was missing, but from what she could tell, there was a settlement a days ride from the village.

 

She folded the map and put it in a pocket. She collected a large flask of water, some rather disgusting looking food, a tuskan rifle and gaffi stick, and went back to the fire to rewarm.

 

The banthas huddled together for warmth from the night. She picked a smaller one, as it had likely not been broken to particular tuskan yet and was less likely to refuse her as a rider. She took a handful of fodder to it and let it eat from her hand as she soothed it, petting it's monstrous coat. It reluctantly let her on and she spurred it south toward the settlement. She would rather travel by the cold than the blazing heat.

[Ripper]

Ripper realized, immediately after talking about how to pay the man, that he would need two of everything. After all, he had a partner also. He turned back to the man, upset that he didn't think of that earlier, and said,

 

”œI'm going to need doubles of all these pieces. If you can change up the design of the handgrip a little, that would be great.”

[Slicer]

He had been on this planent many days, now, working to make sure he could rebuild at least part of what he had lost. After landing in the shuttle, he had sold it for good deal amount of credits, piece by piece of course, for over charged prices, before falling back on his skills as a bounty hunter and Sith Lord to generate more income. A couple of small bounties that had been worth a mere couple thousand, to a few bigger ones that had let him break six figures.

 

 

Yet despite his very busy scheldue, he had been keeping tabs, on the two men who had shown up here, as well as waiting for the ship he had order to arrive. He had, had it custom built, using the emergency money he had stashed in other accounts under different names, in order to pay for this one, but he knew for a fact that it was at last arriving today.

 

He arrived at hangerbay 986 and gazed upon his newest ship. Built much like the old, one but with a few specifications, that he felt would help in the upcoming months. Boarding the ship, he brought a tool kit, and quickly began rewiring, and remodeling the ship to respond to his armor's commands.

[Darth Halál]

Halál landed in hanger 986 in Tatooine. It was here that he would meet Slicer, and to show him how he had”¦. improved. ”˜I have been looking forward to this,' he thought. It has been too long. He landed and jumped quickly out of his stolen ship. Landing nimbly upon his feet, Halál strode forward with confidence and assurance. Today would be the first time he met Slicer, and first impressions were everything. He was decked out in full armor, loaded down with weapons. If he had been a normal human, appearances would show that he would be slowed down. But, his surgery had taken care of that. Now, his muscles rippled under his skin. Before him stood a man, surveying his ship. He had seen that face many times. It was Slicer.

[Slicer]

((Just so you know, I am not even gonna ask this time))

 

Slicer paused, for some reason he was being observed. His first impulse had been, to take one of his many different assortment of weapons, and render him piece by piece on the spot, either by atoms, or perhaps in larger chunks with his lightsaber.

 

Yet upon detecting no threat eminating from this being, as well as the very vauge sense that he knew this being, he simply continued on in his work, despite the heat, until he was finished.

 

Then at long last he turned his fully armored self and his attention to the curious being. Opening up a file in his helmet, he reviewed the many logs he had placed in it, until coming up witha name and face recogination. Even with the recent... additions to the man's body Slicer was able to discern who he was dealing with.

 

"Well now, so you did show. Before I begin anything with you, you have a very simple task. Go into town, and secure three thermal detonators military grade of course, and any verpine weapon you can find. However, don't come visit me until you have secure those weapons."

 

WIth that he turned his back on the man and boared his ship yet again, to run system diagonistic tests, as well as upload a boatload of information.

 

((Take 2- 5 posts on this, maybe karnage and ripper will be done by that time too.))

[Ripper]

Ripper walked through the front door of the shop in the front of the building. At this point the had left the hustler behind, wanting to finish his business quickly. He walked to the counter, a clerk working on a widget just behind it. Getting the clerk's attention, he said ”œI want a very specific item. I want good quality. And I want it now.”

[Karnage]

The sun beat down like a raging menace. Heat waves radiated from the scorched sea of sand on covering the face of this barren planet like a cosmetic material. Fortunately, most of the walk toward the nearest town was over. To either side of the togruta, strode the short single story mud brick dwellings. These structures flanked Karnage in rank upon rank that seemed to never end. Shortly, several civilians in baggy robes bustled about the multiple streets that intertwined the city as the very veins of the urban region. Soon approaching was the market square and merchant's streets.

 

Karnage reviewed his data pad with Sheila. He had several things to get, and the purpose of them was still unknown to the togruta. Although, he had an idea that he rolled back and forth involving the true intentions for the trinkets on his shopping list, but he pushed it to the back of his mind for the time being.

 

A wave of voices and shouts suddenly engulfed the togruta. Karnage stopped in his tracks and turned to face the oncoming wall of shouts that originated from a small our cropping of men trying to sell their daily pallet of items to the average man. Fortunately, Karnage's armor acted to set him apart form the simple tatooine inhabitant.

 

Karnage approached a man gripping multiple pieces of electronics and hardware until his knuckles went white. The merchant was holding them in the air as if God would glorify them and increase his pay a thousand fold. Awkwardly, the man turned to face the togruta and acknowledged the thousand pounds of armor and tinted faceplate with an uneasy smile.

 

”œUh, can I help you good sir? I have many items that may very well suit your needs.”

[Ripper]

It was well into darkness when Ripper arrived at Anchorhead, about eight-hundred kilometers south of Mos Eisley. After setting the ship down relatively near the town's buildings, he made his way quickly into the nearest cantina, hoping to do some reconnaissance before Karnage arrived. As he walked into the bar, he knew what kind of person he was looking for. He looked around, and soon saw a rather well armed man sitting in a booth. A few empty shot glasses in front of him.

 

”œHeyyy man--,”

[Karnage]

A sigh of relief and anxiety found its way out of the togruta's lungs and was filtered out into the sizzling hot air that seemed more along the lines of a gaseous form of an acid that oxygen. He had already obtained half of the things on his shopping list. He looked up and it was almost night. One of the suns was half consumed by the horizon and looked like a crescent judging by the way a far mountain was in the way. Karnage shook the bag with his newly bought goods as a subconscious way to check to see if they were still there. He only had to get 4 more things.

 

Ah. Looks like I can put one more check on the shopping list.

 

Directly across from him was a jewelry shop. Immediately, he set off for the old shop. The antique shop was one of and older race of buildings. It had the look of a complex that would soon be ruined from financial instability. The door opened with a screach and shut with just as much annoyance. An elderly man turned from behind the counter and happily approached the counter.

 

"What can I do for you today, er”¦mam?" asked the man awkwardly.

 

At that moment Karnage realized that his faceplate was polarized so that the man could not see him. He solved that problem right there. The elderly man seemed to pull back in embarassment and appologized for his confusion as he stared up into the face of a very masculine togruta.

 

After taking several minutes to look at all the shining stones in the showcase on the counter and taking the tour of the stones with the clerk, Karnage selected a fairly large inch and a half cyan stone and another half inch cyan stone. Both were finely cut as guaranteed by the jewelry store owner.

 

"Would that be all, Sir?" asked the man.

 

"Yes"

 

The clerk then put a look of disgust on and looked at the togruta.

 

"Its for the wife" Karnage lied.

 

"Oh, thats good. I thought you were another one of those transvestites, girls wearing mens' armor, that came in here earlier. Said they were part of some Atching Gang. It must have been the female group of the gang." Explained the elderly man.

 

Karnage transfered the funds for the two crystals to the man's account via Sheila, and after carefully wrapping the stones he left the joint.

 

The second to final stop would be a small department store located on the edge of town. This store just happened to be on the way out of town and right in the path back to Karnage's ship. This store also seemed to be run down. The only difference was that there were several people in this merchant's department. Karnage walked through the entrance which was a heavy bantha skin draping over 6 foot high arch, so the togruta had to bend down to enter. As he pushed, shoved, and punched his way through to the counter he noticed that there was nobody running the store. That was until, to his surprise he saw a midget standing behind the counter handing out small boxes and taking cash.

 

After standing there for several moments, the little man looked up and stared angrily.

 

"OOHH no! I no surve you kind! You go find otha store. I no sell you theeengs!" cried the midget.

 

"WHAT?! I don't understand you!" replied the Karnage.

 

Then, a deep groaning voice came from inside of Karnage's head. Karnage used his incredible discipline and listened. It wasn't Sheila that was talking but it was something else.

 

Grandfatha! Is that you?! Thought Karnage in an instinctive Chinese accent.

 

Yes my son. You must reach past the strangacrazy accent. You must see into his mind and KNOW!

 

Immediately thereafter, Karnage could understand the midget, and for some reason began referring to the man as "Shawty" and "Shorty" when his Chinese accent broke down. This is when Karnage apologized for whatever it was that Shorty thought Karnage may have done and asked for a spray nozzle and a small container. Karnage finally obtained these two materials amid much grumble and bumble. He paid with his credits on hand and exited the store.

[Darth Halál]

Halál exited the hanger as quickly as possible. He knew from previous experiences that time was everything with Slicer; there would be no time to talk. First, he would have to get the military grade thermal detonators; those would be easier. It was time he visited his old friend, the shop keeper Njurl. Njurl would be the person who would be able to supply the thermal detonators, there was no doubt about that. So, his secluded shop in Mos Eisley would be Halál's first destination.

 

Minutes later, Halál ducked into the shop, seeing the familiar walls filled with weapons and such supplies. He greeted the shop keeper warmly, who smiled. Halál always paid handsomely for his goods.

 

”œWhat will you be buying today, my two-legged friend?”

[Guest]

When the name 'Mos Eisley' is spoken, most thought of cantinas, gangs, bounty hunters, smugglers, mercenaries, and nothing else. If you asked for someone to speak of something of Mos Eisley besides these things, they might struggle for a while, and then perhaps name the somewhat infamous spaceport, or its close proximity to the Jundland Wastes. Nobody ever seemed to think of what actually supported the economy; the scum of the city needed a place to sleep, clothes to dress in, and places to have their equipment repaired. Those inns, street venders, and workshops in turn needed services of their own, such as the shipping of goods that cost less than a smuggler's pension.

 

Eisley Delivery, working in conjunction with Galactic Mail and Packing Services, serviced this need. It was an unusual job to deliver things in Mos Eisley; packages often offended, were addressed to those who didn't exist, or--worse of all--exploded on occasion. The last could be avoided by scans or trusted relations, the second by address checks, and the first by a show of force to quiet any anger before it began. For this reason Eisley Delivery men were some of the men in their profession in the galaxy that packed a heavy, military grade pistols. For Mark Gamarti, this 'show of force' was came into play in one Mos Eisley Cantina.

 

"Look, all I want is a signature." Mark scowled, waving his fat hand dismissively. His right hip and holstered weapon were turned forward to make the pistol as obvious as possible.

 

"Not in my cantina!" The bartender roared. "Get that thing out of here! This isn't a delivery station! I don't need that taking up room in here!"

 

'That' was a roughly cut wooden crate about the size of a coffin. Mark thrusted a finger towards the crate, or more specifically the bright green sticker pasted on the side of it that read 'delivery confirmation; signature requested.'

 

"It asks for a signature. I will get my signature, and until I do it stays here, and I stay here."

 

"E chu ta! Then can I give you your blasted signature?"

 

"Yours is not the signature I need. I need their signature." Mark nodded to the address on the box.

 

Thick, red lines formed the slow, deliberate, but highly awkward hand akin to a child that instructed Eisley Delivery of the package's intended location. The poor writing was difficult to read, but one could make out the Mos Eisley Cantina's address, complete with planet, system, and sector, however just above the address where by all rights it should have read "Mos Eisley Cantina," instead the words "The Galactic Empire" appeared there, and then sprawling in smaller words under it "Or any officers of its service." For the return address there simply was "Frank."

 

"I don't care who you--look! It could be dangerous! I don't need to danger my patrons." For such an establishment it was a poor excuse, but it was the one the bar tender made anyways.

 

"Nope. No danger. We've already scanned it. No explosives, tracking devices, active computers, blast, the closest things to weapons in it are a hammer and a few nails."

 

"Then what's in it? Besides your blasted hammer and nails!"

 

"A traffic control droid. His right hand is up to his power switch." Mark put his fat hand up to his equally fat neck to illustrate. "Apparently he addressed the box, nailed himself inside, and powered down. Not sure why a droid would do that, but there's a lot of things in the galaxy I don't get. For example I don't understand how you speak basic, but don't seem to understand it. Once more: I will get my signature, and until I do it stays here, and I stay here."

 

"Gazon's Razor! Fine!" The Bar Tender threw up his hands, and spun around away from the deliveryman. "But if you don't have it in an hour's time I'm having some of my patrons remove you however they please."

 

Mark made no promises.

[Guest]

When the name 'Mos Eisley' is spoken, most thought of cantinas, gangs, bounty hunters, smugglers, mercenaries, and nothing else. If you asked for someone to speak of something of Mos Eisley besides these things, they might struggle for a while, and then perhaps name the somewhat infamous spaceport, or its close proximity to the Jundland Wastes. Nobody ever seemed to think of what actually supported the economy; the scum of the city needed a place to sleep, clothes to dress in, and places to have their equipment repaired. Those inns, street venders, and workshops in turn needed services of their own, such as the shipping of goods that cost less than a smuggler's pension.

 

Eisley Delivery, working in conjunction with Galactic Mail and Packing Services, serviced this need. It was an unusual job to deliver things in Mos Eisley; packages often offended, were addressed to those who didn't exist, or--worse of all--exploded on occasion. The last could be avoided by scans or trusted relations, the second by address checks, and the first by a show of force to quiet any anger before it began. For this reason Eisley Delivery men were some of the men in their profession in the galaxy that packed a heavy, military grade pistols. For Mark Gamarti, this 'show of force' was came into play in one Mos Eisley Cantina.

 

"Look, all I want is a signature." Mark scowled, waving his fat hand dismissively. His right hip and holstered weapon were turned forward to make the pistol as obvious as possible.

 

"Not in my cantina!" The bartender roared. "Get that thing out of here! This isn't a delivery station! I don't need that taking up room in here!"

 

'That' was a roughly cut wooden crate about the size of a coffin. Mark thrusted a finger towards the crate, or more specifically the bright green sticker pasted on the side of it that read 'delivery confirmation; signature requested.'

 

"It asks for a signature. I will get my signature, and until I do it stays here, and I stay here."

 

"E chu ta! Then can I give you your blasted signature?"

 

"Yours is not the signature I need. I need their signature." Mark nodded to the address on the box.

 

Thick, red lines formed the slow, deliberate, but highly awkward hand akin to a child that instructed Eisley Delivery of the package's intended location. The poor writing was difficult to read, but one could make out the Mos Eisley Cantina's address, complete with planet, system, and sector, however just above the address where by all rights it should have read "Mos Eisley Cantina," instead the words "The Galactic Empire" appeared there, and then sprawling in smaller words under it "Or any officers of its service." For the return address there simply was "Frank."

 

"I don't care who you--look! It could be dangerous! I don't need to danger my patrons." For such an establishment it was a poor excuse, but it was the one the bar tender made anyways.

 

"Nope. No danger. We've already scanned it. No explosives, tracking devices, active computers, blast, the closest things to weapons in it are a hammer and a few nails."

 

"Then what's in it? Besides your blasted hammer and nails!"

 

"A traffic control droid. His right hand is up to his power switch." Mark put his fat hand up to his equally fat neck to illustrate. "Apparently he addressed the box, nailed himself inside, and powered down. Not sure why a droid would do that, but there's a lot of things in the galaxy I don't get. For example I don't understand how you speak basic, but don't seem to understand it. Once more: I will get my signature, and until I do it stays here, and I stay here."

 

"Gazon's Razor! Fine!" The Bar Tender threw up his hands, and spun around away from the deliveryman. "But if you don't have it in an hour's time I'm having some of my patrons remove you however they please."

 

Mark made no promises.

[Slicer]

((Watch out for double posts FTTD))

 

Slicer was done with the fitting of his ship to his armor, and soon he would be on the move again. However he now had charges to consider, and while they had not returned yet, he could do something for them. So he stalked the streets, and was able to scounge up three projectile smart sniper rifles, and three gel form fitting droids.

Upon aquiring those items as well as suffient ammo, he loaded them up onto his ship, and began to practice his lightsaber skills as to not get rusty.

[Karnage]

Karnage was walking through the desert of tatooine like a guy walking through a vast expanse of really hot sand on a barren planet. He had become dazzed, weak, inferior to nature, but then again”¦aren't we all? The sun was beating down on his armor and reflecting back up right into the sun's face again. He was a mirror in the desert. A diamond in the rough some might say, but in the eyes of a wise man, he was nearly another doomed life. For out of the face of tatooine could be heard the distant notorious cries of the planet's native hunter: the tusken raider.

 

”œHUUURRRRRRR!!! HURR!!! HURR!! HURR!!! HUUUURRRR!!!!”

[Guest]

Racao landed his YT-1300p in Hanger 986 on this unfamiliar desert planet. Racao had heard of Tatooine, but had never actually been there. He had heard of the notorious gangsters, known only as the Hutts, and of the podracing that had millions of The Galaxy's citizens screaming over hunks of metal being driven by idiotic, suicidal adrenaline junkies. Of course, their was also the Tusken Raiders, which he had heard were vicious, but not very clever, and then their was all the junk dealers, pickpockets, and scum that filled their cities. Racao honestly felt at home when he thought of all this though, and walked out of the hanger with a smirk on his face. He wore his normal robes, with his sword, belt, and boots as well.

 

 

The reason he had come here in the first place though was not to see all of this, but to meet with someone who had contacted him only a few days ago. Racao had been drifting through space on his ship for the past few months, only making a stop when fuel or supplies were needed, as he had nothing better to do. He had stolen plenty of credits to live off for a while, but yet, up until he received that message calling him to Tatooine, he had felt something was missing in his life. Maybe he was just bored, but he still felt obliged to come to this pathetic planet. It had better be worth his time. He had nothing better to do than to wander and explore his surroundings.

 

EDITED: For a change of clothes. I decided that I didn't need the shirt and pants. I added those after I was accepted and really had no use for them. Racao only took the robes, with the boots, belt, and sword/sheath, with him.

Edited August 18, 2007 by Guest

[Darth Halál]

Halál strode across the barren sandy Tatooine streets with an air of confidence. He scanned the immediate vicinity, looking for his current target. It was time that he passed on his abilities and skills that he had learned to a new and able apprentice. He needed someone that could be taught easily, and who could learn with great aptitude. Someone that was quick yet strong. A person with these traits would be the one he wanted. Halál continued his search, carefully sizing up each person as he went.

 

This could take some time, he thought, however, the perfect choice is a necessity. I cannot slip up and make a dull choice.

 

He was about to give up on that street, when he suddenly saw someone who might prove to be worthy. It was a man of average height, with dark brown hair. He seemed secure in the somewhat hostile environment, but not to the point of arrogance. It was a person who had faced the hardships on the streets, so he was comfortable with his surroundings. Well built, he also looked like he had been through many a street fight before. This was the person who Halál chose to teach. Quickly calculating a plan of action, Halál decided to what he wanted to do. It would have to be brute force and nothing else, to test this man with. He would make his final decision after this harsh test that he thought up.

 

Halál sprinted across the street, swift enough as to not be detected by his quarry, though slow enough so he wouldn't be making a scene. Upon reaching the man, he slammed his fist in a hard uppercut, sending the man sailing off his feet and about three feet off of the ground. With a roundhouse kick, Halál brought the man suddenly back to earth, ending his short yet painful flight. Using the heel of his boot, he ground his shoe into the man's face, so as to hear the first shriek of deafening pain. To finish, Halál used his tail, and picked up the man, slamming his head into the stone wall of a nearby building. The man fell unconscious soon after, his body most likely overheated with hurt and ache. Halál checked the man's vital signs quickly, and was pleased. He checked out to be pretty good, save for the broken nose and the inevitable bruises and cuts. However, this man had taken a good beating, and proved himself.

 

At least he is not completely worthless

 

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Halál placed the unconscious man into his X-Wing next to him. It was time that they went to the jungle training grounds of Kashyyyk, there, his newly made apprentice would be taught.

 

You have much to learn, my young apprentice, Halál thought as he lifted off, much to learn indeed.

 

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(Not an action: Technically, this would be an illegal one post capture, however, for training purposes, this was used to speed things up. Second, as you can see, I used four attacks in one post. Try to make a maximum of four attacks in a post. That way, you are not god modding and not allowing the other person to have a chance. Post again on Kashyyyk.)

[Ripper]

Ripper lay in the dirt on his hill, still viewing the base through the sights on his rifle. Over an hour had passed, it was well into the night, and Karnage had yet to arrive. This is bull. If wait for him, this whole plan will be blown. I have to act now. With that, Ripper abandoned waiting for his comrade and began to put his plan to work. He would have to adjust it as he went, as he did not have a partner at the moment, but it would work none the less. He knew he had a few options on how to complete his mission here. The easiest would be to use his inherent abilities and walk right up through the base. The other, bring down the entire base. I like the second of these two plans. A little excitement.

 

In the split second that Ripper had made up his mind, he refocused the rifle on the guard tower on his side of the nearest entrance. There was a guard with a blaster, and a guard sitting behind a turret. On the other tower, there were four guards, and a turret. He knew if he didn't bring the turrets down first, he would be in a load of trouble. The crosshairs drew in on the head of the guard manning the first turret. This would be his first kill with a sniper rifle. He knew that. He was nervous. He squeezed off a round, but immediately realized the kick had caused him to miss a good bit above the guard. Shit. This spray of dried clay around the guard from the bullet woke the guard up, who was hastily trying to figure out what was going on. Good, he doesn't know where I am yet. He reloaded and re-aimed at the man, this time a bit lower to adjust for the kick. This time there was know error. The man dropped out of the turret's chair and fell to the floor of the tower.

 

The second guard had noticed this time, as he came running out of the inside of the tower. He looked around, seeing his fallen comrade, and radioed the other tower of what happened. Ripper saw commotion in the other tower, as well as several armed landspeeders revving up and exciting the base. He realized that the guard that had radioed everyone else had just confirmed his location. Ripper had to get rid of him quickly. In such haste, he squeezed off a shot, which connected with the leg of the guard, who dropped out of sight after being hit. He wont die from that, but he wont be using his leg for a while. The turret in the other tower suddenly opened fire around him, causing him to duck back behind the mound of dirt. Ripper Immediately relocated himself twenty yards or so farther along the hill, as to avoid the gunfire.

 

Peaking back above the hill, he knew he had to get rid of the turret before he could even think of entering the base. He immediately noticed that two of the three speeders that were leaving the base, obviously coming after him, were those that he had stuck with thermal detonators. Excellent. Noticing one of them was about to pass the tower with the turret dangerously close, he timed when the vehicle would pass it, and just before, hit the remote for the bomb to go off. The wreckage of the vehicle, combined with the force of the explosion collided into the tower, and demolished it on the spot. There was no more turret fire. In fact, there was no more turret, or tower. Time to move . Ripper slid down the hill with his sniper rifle and PTL rocker launcher strapped to his back, and his blaster in his hands. Once on the road he noticed that only one of the two speeders that was coming after him was still moving: the other, coincidentally the one with the detonator on it, had turned back into the base. The speeder that had kept coming now though had a turret mounted on it, and was within range of him in seconds. Ripper had ducked behind an outcrop in the hill, barely room for him to get cover. He poked around the side of the dirt with his blaster and let a few shots out, but only really to assess the situation. He ducked back behind the dirt, after seeing that the man on the turret was still focused on him, while one of the men from the vehicle was crouched behind it, fire a blaster at him. In that split second he had also noticed that the other man was scurrying off into the brush to the left, apparently trying to flank him. He would deal with that in a minute. For now, he had a turret focusing on him. He pulled out the PTL rocket launcher, loaded it and whipped it above the dirt mound instantly. Staying above the mound just long enough to aim and fire, he ducked back below the dirt. After a split second of apparent ceasefire, he looked around to see that the speeder had been thrown back about ten or fifteen yards, and the man on and behind it had been crushed.

 

He still had the man in the brush to deal with though. He left the rocket launcher on the ground where he was, still with two rounds attached to it, and rushed off to enter the brush where the other man had entered. To outflank the flanker, Ripper thought. He hustled through the brush trying to sneak up on the man from behind, but could not catch up to him before the man had reached the road. Ripper watched from a few meters down, as the man, apparently confused on why Ripper had left his weapon there, walked up and was about to pick the launcher up, when Ripper himself ducked out of the brush, onto the road. With both towers disabled, there was little threat of being shot at, at the moment, so Ripper could cross the road safely. Ripper decided to use a weapon he had obtained long ago. As he approached the man with grace and speed, the man bent over to reach down for the launcher. Ripper shot his hand towards the back of the man's neck, and with a twitch of his wrist a blade the length of his forearm projected from underneath his arm into the man's neck. The soldier twitched as he fell, but the placement of the blade pretty much killed him instantly.

 

Ripper pulled out the blade, wiped it off, and shoved it back down into its spring-loaded sheath. He quickly picked up his weapons again, took all the ammo and a couple thermal detonators off the dead bodies, and made his way to the demolished guard towers. He jumped through the rubble, only to find on the other side a mass of guards coming after him. With multiple buildings to his left, he figured he could funnel them down, at least enough to give him the upper hand. He stood at the corner of the building, and began pulling off shots into the oncoming attackers”¦

[Slicer]

WIth the rifles and droids in plac,e his ship full modifed to obey him, and lots of free time on his hands.

 

He found himself doing more and more small bounty work, at most getting his name out there. None of them howeve,r were raking in any real true dough. THe payouts were small by his standards, some not even breaking tenthousand credits.

 

But at this poing every credit counted for what he was building up for, so he was more than willing to suffer through, practicing saber and force skills while carrying out bounties kicking and screaming once caught in his grasp.

[Guest]

The ewok by the name of JIHAD and his eleven deciples landed on the desolate planet, knowing that it would be an excelent place to hide while the heat cooled off. They could hide among the common slime in this planet while they regrouped themselves.

 

They shaved their thick hair, as to create a small, hairless race of ewoks. They tatooed themselves on many parts of their body, to show rank and culture.

 

And so they began their own version of "Chinatown" in the slums of Mos Eisley...

[Ripper]

Damn. Ripper muttered under his breath, as he realized the predicament he had gotten himself into. Dozens of soldiers were funneling towards him. Even if he had all the ammo he could possibly use there seemed to be little to no hope for him. He knew he at least had to fortify his position a little bit more if he wanted to stand a chance. Lets make a stand, he thought to himself. He turned to his left and tumbled down a few crates, to form an ”œL”

[Karnage]

The comfort of a deep sleep was leaving the togruta. He found himself sitting in a chair in the frontal lobe of his ship. Karnage went to wipe his eyes, but was unable to when he remembered he had his helmet on.

 

”œSheila, take us on a vector inline to this location.”

[Slicer]

He had been busy at work, cleaning weapons and the like, making sure his stuff was in working order, ect ect, when quite the sight came to his attention.

 

Moving with a sort of jerky liquid grace, came the alien, fully clad in body armor from head to toe. Rasing an eyebrow at the apperance, he remember briefly noting what the alien looked like in his armor, in his last transmission with him.

 

Moving to the back of his ship, he disappered from view before returning with a smart projectile sniper rifle. As he took the items the man had brought him, he tossed him the sniper rifle.

 

"Here, clean it, learn it, and I will teach you to shoot it."

 

Placing the items the man had collected into his ship, he made a quick transmission, to something, that when it delivered its payload would leave him quite joyful.

 

Then leaning against his ship, he began to study the armor of the Alien, while awaiting the other guy to show up.

[Ripper]

Ripper's ship entered the proximity of his master's hangar, and lights and buttons immediately began whizzing, notifying him of the necessity to land his ship. Ripper gathered himself, and the items he had collected, and put the ship down right beside where Karnage had landed.

 

He hopped out with the items in hand, and presented them to Slicer, as he turned to Karnage and spoke in a joking voice, ”œWay to show for the mission,”

[Slicer]

Slicer raised an eyebrow at this arrival too, but for different reasons. Reaching into his ship with the force, he flung the sniper rifle at the new one too, as he simotanously took the items this one had with him, and depostited them next to the others.

 

Speaking into a small communication, suddenly two of the three droids marched out, and continued marching out into the desert.

 

"You job now is to practice with thos rifles. You have to stalk those two droids, then deliver a killing blow with the rifles I have given you.

 

Just so you know the droids have split up into two different directions. And further more, you are to take more than one shot. THE droids are special, because they are self repairing.

 

So once you take the shot, they wil begin to repair themselves automatically, after falling like a dead target would.

 

In the time it takes for them to repair themselves, you are of course to try and practice a diferent position for firing. Keep at it until you run out of bullets, the droid breaks or both. dismissed."

Slicer leaned aginst his ship as he watched the pair. Things were at last on track again.

[Ripper]

A droid apparently assigned to Ripper approached him just after Slicer called for them. Ripper looked it over, realizing it was meant to take the form of a human. He thought to himself, I wonder if this thing will fight back. I hope so. He looked the droid over, noticing he could program it to take any form he programmed into it. Ripper received his orders, and gave a hearty salute towards Slicer, and knew that they should get moving. He walked towards the droid, and slipped in codes for a nice size man, relatively tall, muscular man who could easily resemble a target.

 

He gave the droid coordinates of a nearby canyon, which would serve well for a sniping situation. With lots of options to avoid a pursuer, it should present a decent challenge for him. Once the droid had formed fully into human form, it left, heading for the canyon. Ripper took the opportunity, letting it get a head start, to take a small R&R break.

 

He ate a good meal, and then set out on foot to track the droid. Packing a good amount of water, he ignored food as to make haste. He knew it may take a lengthy time to catch up with it, but he was confident he could take up the slack quickly. Ripper set out, heading north, and within an hour was out of site of the hangars, even though the ground was vastly flat. Picking up clues of the course the droid had taken as he went, he cut corners to make up time as he went, as he knew the general area of where the droid was headed.

 

He arrived at the canyon, sunset approaching, and knew he could not rest, as his subject would not rest either. He headed up the side of the canyon, as he was sure he would be able to see his target within the canyon. Being on the ridge, he was able to make quick time, and get ahead of where he believed his target would be. He set a simple camp, took out a set of night vision goggles as to stake out for his prey.

 

Soon, within possibly a quarter of an hour even, the droid entered the small open area, about halfway down the canyon wall. This droid is slightly smarter than I had expected. Ripper noted as he had nearly overlooked the droid as he expected it to be at the bottom, not on a path halfway up the wall. Even so Ripper set up the sniping rifle hastily, and once prone on the ground with the droid in his sights, he started his breathing routine. One breath in, and out, and hold. He repeated this pattern as with each set he got steadier and steadier. Finally he felt he could take the shot, and with his last breathing segment, he held his breath and squeezed the trigger with the tip of his finger, hopefully giving the most accurate shot. The projectile left the barrel with a loud bang and flash, wizzing through the air faster than the eye can see”¦