dot 'til I get an alias together.
I'll have to find out how you put that crawl together, much cleaner than mine.
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I actually found it on one of the FFGforum threads. I think it's the one that OggDude had shared. You should be able to download it from my Dropbox and open it in something like notepad to edit the text. :)
Getting a proper dot.
Red 5, standing by.
Kara sat cross-legged in the crew quarters, camouflaged tarpaulin spread out in front of her. Parts and accessories of various weapons were spread across the tarp, in a well-organized array. The smell of cleaning fluid permeates the air as she cleans each piece meticulously, with practiced ease. When each piece meets an exacting inspection, Kara assembles them.
Within minutes, her Czerka Arms UH-8 heavy blaster rifle, Blastech model 80 pistol, combat knife, and several grenades are assembled and packed away in her load-bearing gear.
She stands and puts on her backpack and web gear, leaning this way and that to check balance, then hops up and down a few times. The tiny creaks and pops of her gear causes her to frown, and she unslings the gear to add various lengths of a black cloth tape. She then repeats the process. Satisfied, Kara sets the gear aside, and brings up her rifle and pistol. She sits down again and applies a black blindfold to her eyes. Then, cross-legged on her tarp she rapidly disassembles and re-assembles her weapons. This goes on for several rounds, until she is satisfied she can do it while blind.
With a nod, she stows her gear under her bunk and lays down, feet up on the helmet of her dark green and black laminate armor.
huh... comes a voice from the doorway. A tall human male with a wry smile on his face leans against the bulkhead. You will have to show me how you do that so fast some time.
how long have you been practicing your technique?
Having busied himself with the task for several minutes within his quarters and with the door shut and locked, Arannis is finally finished. Like the Chiss soldier -or is it ex-soldier?- it has become a ritual of sorts for him, but unlike her it is not born of military training or tradition, but rather a desire to keep himself connected to things and people now past.
It is a thing of beauty, he finds as he looks at it. Comfortable to hold, almost becoming one with the hand that wields it, and undeniably elegant, indicative of his "father"'s artistic bent. But although it appears complete, it is in truth far from that. It is missing its heart, that which gives it its power turning it from a piece of art into a weapon. Rann sighs softly, the act betraying a certain feeling of melancholy that passes almost as quickly as it came over him. With that heart now gone, long discarded, and with the chances of coming across a new one slim at best and none at worst, it seems almost certain to him that he will never have the privilege of seeing it awaken, of feeling it in his grasp, of wielding it. It will remain a relic of the past.
Done admiring it and musing about what could be, he begins the task of disassembling it, taking quite a bit less to divide it into its components before carefully placing them into several of his utility belt's compartments. Although it did take him longer to put it together, truth be told he could do it quite quickly if need be, having done so so many times now it has almost become second nature; he could even do it blindfolded probably, he thinks to himself with a smile of amusement. But there was no need to hurry at the moment, so he took his time.
Perhaps he could try something else now? It would be a simple enough thing to reach out and feel those of the crew busying themselves with this and that. Or have one of the various items in the room float from one place to another. Shaking his head, he decides against it. Even if he could do with the practice, it is not something he should attempt without good reason.
Instead he stands up and unlocks the door, opening it and coming out to the ship proper. He briefly wonders what the others are doing, but sure enough he has that question answered at least where some of them are concerned, as he sees the one called Kellen -if memory serves anyway- trying to introduce himself and strike up a conversation with the Chiss woman.
"I wonder how that will go," he mutters softly for only himself to hear.
Kara reaches up from where she reclines on the bunk to shake the man's hand. "Savyn, Kara Savyn. Lieutenant, 3rd Commando...well formerly 3rd Commando...sorry, habit."
She pauses at Kellen's question. "How long? Since the beginning, I guess."
Her sentences are crisp and curt, her accent definitely Imperial.
Formerly?, I bet that is a good story. with a smile as he thinks to himself, I wonder if that story will wind up with trouble? A 'former' commando on board a ship to pick up a rebel admiral, well as long as I get paid who cares.
"It isn't."
A dull tone comes from the intercom system, followed by Jan's voice.
"If you ladies are wrapping up 'bonding time,' we'll be coming out of hyperspace within the hour. Make your final preps, and prepare for the smoothest docking you've ever experienced!"
The coms cut with a sound that could almost be mistaken as a groan. Fitting.
Djebelle stalks into the room, scowling. "Did you know the shower runs cold after 5 minutes? Five minutes!? I've barely even started to relax by then - I had to wash my hair in cold water! Brrr." The teenager shivers, rubbing her bare arms (adorned with purple markings, the same shade as her hair), and wraps her tattered cloak around her: while expensive, her vest-top and leggings evidently do not provide the warmth she's looking for.
She has also broken a fingernail, but has the good sense not to complain about that. It is a problem, though: now she has to decide whether to let it grow back, or whether to cut the others to match. If only she hadn't been in such a hurry to board the ship! That's when it happened, she's sure of it: she recognised one of Projane Farr's goons at the spaceport, and ran for it. Honestly. It's been over five years - can some people just not let things drop?!
That was at their last stop, and she didn't ask where they were off to - the thing she's learned in 19 years of living is that the from is the important thing when you're running. However, it's clear that something is up: her attuned senses pick up things more easily - yes, yes, I know, she murmurs inwardly, trying to soothe the presence that she has now come to know as the Force, that presence that has always been with her, that she long ago grew comfortable speaking to - but she doesn't need them to tell her that the tension has risen with Jan'Tar's announcement,
Making a determined effort to change the subject, she brushes her hair back with one hand and smiles. "So, um, where are we going?"
Kara shakes her head at the purple-haired woman. "First off, " she says from her bunk, "you're lucky to have a shower, so don't complain. Second, the mission is a straight escort-and-guard. Admiral Akbar and a prototype star fighter. Simple."
"Hopefully I'm not the only one who reads the briefings...."
"Oh? Am I to have a bunkmate then, and an Admiral no less? And I thought you were not in the habit of taking on passengers," Arannis remarks; his tone is joking, that much is plain enough to see. "I count myself as an exception, mind you," he adds, turning to look pointedly at Kellen as a smile appears on his lips.
"What can I say, I got really lucky at that game of sabacc. Beginner's luck probably, or at the very least amateur's?" The shrug that accompanies the words appears nonschalant, as if dismissing that luck as one of those simple occurences that do not happen all that often.
His eyes seem to linger a little longer on the purple-haired young woman than on the other two members of the crew present before speaking again. "Eh. I do not mind the detour." Another shrug. "In fact, I think I rather like both the ship and the company. Certainly an upgrade from my previous circumstances. Not the cosiest of bars, where we met, yes?"
"I am Arannis. I am sure you already know my name just as I do yours; we have spent a day or two -has it been that long?- together already in this ship. Even so, we have not been properly introduced, have we?" He looks at Kellen again. "Well, you and Jan'Tar -I am saying it right, yes?- I have already had a game and a drink with, I will give you that."
"Of all people, Djebelle, I'd think you would appreciate any facilities after what we went through to get off Ryloth and away from those Imperial bounty hunters.'
Djebelle pouts mock-sorrowfully at Kara's remarks. "I help you out of a tight spot, getting horrible icky mud all over my designer Klaviener boots and limited-edition Olskensky longcoat and this is the thanks I get - the whole Galaxy's against me..." Smiling mischievously at the blue-skinned Chiss woman, she finds a seat (as far away from the others as she can manage) and retreats into her cloak, drawing her knees up to her chest.
Her gaze regards Kara solemnly - Djebelle's eyes appear different colours depending on her mood and the lighting: currently they appear a smoky grey. "I can cope, of course - I grew up with nothing; but I get used to the little luxuries, you know? We all have parts of our past we'd rather not re-live, amirite?" Her disconcerting eyes hold Kara's for just a fraction too long, before Djebelle dissolves into a fit of giggles at Kara's expression.
Arranis' speech changes her mood again: she's tempted to ignore this one, he gave her a scare earlier when he arrived, stepping out noiselessly from behind a bulkhead and startling her. Her first instinct was to draw on the Force and vanish, but her power ebbed away even as she grasped for it. Fear is not the way, she sensed her inner voice saying, and it's true - the Jedi might've been a buncha losers, but their little 'fear/anger/hate' schtick was absolutely right.
Djebelle sighs within the folds of her hooded cloak. She can feel the presence within her, admonishing her. It was my fear, not his - if I take it out on him, I'm simply giving in to it. Jeez, will these lessons ever finish?!
Throwing off her cloak, she stands (not that it makes much difference to her height), folding her arms across her chest and regarding the youth with eyes that are now a piercing blue. "I'm Djebelle. Djebelle Torr. Sometime fixer & negotiator for the Hutts and other notables, now on a different and less profit-driven path, to my friends' dismay."
She smiles, warmly, at Arannis, before gently mocking him. "You have a surname, a history, a life, or what? Not much of an introduction without 'em, is it - wanna try again?" She offers him the same mischievous look she gave Kara some minutes earlier.
"Hey now, Blue, it could have been a lot worse if I hadn't been there to fly you lovelies outta there!"
Jan'Tar was suddenly in the doorway from the cockpit, arms crossed and leaning nonchalantly against the frame. A cheesy grin seemed permanently asfixed to the deep pink skin of his face. His blue hair was currently loosely tied back by a string, with a couple strands dangling to frame his features, impossible to tell if it was designed that way or a lucky accident. His orange flight suit appeared to fit his body shape well, but was dingy to the point of looking more brown. A black vest hung over top of it, ever one for fashion and appearance over practicality, it would seem.
He grins playfully at the Chiss before winking at the younger. "I'm still working on that Hutt thing, Djeb. If I had a credit for every time I had to pull your butt out of trouble... well, it would have been a slow three years. But before that? Millionaire!" He flicks a coin up into the air and catches it blindly, slapping it against the backside of the other hand. He looks, loses his smile, and shakes his head to himself. Never mind that you usually caused the trouble to find you both. Shh, details! He sighs.
"So, what's so special about this job, anyway? I mean, it's got to be pretty important to these, uh, Freedom Fighters, eh?" He quirks a dark blue eyebrow toward the crew.
Kellen listens to the banter then with his usual smile says to Arannis "What makes you think you were lucky, maybe we just wanted you along for the ride?"
"As for the hot water, we can adjust the timer for the right price."
"What do we care Jan't, we get paid and you will probably get to outrun someone. Seems we always get chased by someone."
"Kara, want to verify we are all up to speed with the security details of this meeting?"
"A fair point," Arannis consents after a moment's thought. "Indeed, I do happen to have all three of those, Ms. Torr," he continues, addressing her by her last name if only because she mentioned his neglecting to give his own. "But for now, how about I indulge your curiosity concerning only the first of those things? It is Crane, Arannis Crane. Friends and sometimes not friends take to calling me simply Rann on occasion though."
He smiles then, a friendly enough smile. "As for the other two, I think I will keep some things to myself for now, if it all the same to you? I have only met you gentlemen and ladies a day ago or two. Not that my history and my life have been terribly interesting so far anyway, mind you."
"Although with you speaking of Admirals and freedom fighters," he adds then as Jan'Tar joins them, "this little detour is going to make it a little more so, I am assuming."
He then turns to the pink-skinned pilot with a sigh, even if it is one of amusement. "I take it I am not going to be getting to my destination any time soon then? Profit calls and all that?"
Kara gets up from her bunk, walking over to where Jan'Tar stands in the hatchway. Her Mk3 armor liner fits her form well, but doesn't hide the musculature underneath. She sidles up to the pilot, well within his 'space', and breathes in his ear. "Next time you call me Blue," she says softly, reaching down to poke the Zeltron in his 'gear', "you'll be the first hotshot pilot in the galaxy missing his joystick. Verstehe sie? She pulls back the combat knife that magically appeared in her hand as she walked up, and sheathes it with one motion.
Without looking back, she walks out of the room.
Djebelle feels the laughter welling up within her as Arannis speaks. Not simply laughter, she realises, but actual mirth, of the sort she hasn't felt since the destruction of Alderaan, that cataclysmic event that rent the Force asunder, depriving her of her powers for days afterwards.
The mirth is not, however, directed at Arannis, but at her colleagues: they have agreed to let a complete stranger on board during a secret mission, without bothering to find out anything about him! It's so typical of them. She opens her mouth to mock Jan roundly and to ask exactly how drunk he got in order to agree to this, when Kara acts.
The mood instantly dispelled, Djebelle sighs, and looks with steady grey eyes at Jan. "Do you even bother to find out anything about the people on board? Kara worked for the Imperials - a bunch of racist scumbags," she spells it out for him. "Don't you think she might have got slightly tired of references to her skin colour?"
"You talk about what I owe you - how many times have I talked people out of giving you the kicking you so richly deserve? Whatever that number, add one more."
"Jeez." she finishes. "It's like I never went away." Apart from the fact that there's far less of the spoiled child in her voice or manner these days. What there is, is a glimpse (a very occasional glimpse) of someone different from the person Jan remembers. Wiser. More insightful. Mystical, on occasion.
Shaking her head, Djebelle wraps her tattered, ancient cloak around her like a security blanket and follows Kara out the room.
===============
"Are you ok, hon? He didn't mean nothing by it. You have to remember, he's a simple person. A hotshot pilot. A speed junkie. You know: a moron. Please don't knife him, I'll probably need him someday."
She looks anxiously at her alien friend.
As Kara and Djebelle exit the room, the latter going after the former, Rann rolls his eyes, doing so just a little theatrically.
"Well," he says with a sigh, "I suppose one could say that you could cut the tension with a knife..." He leaves the adjective usually associated with such a saying unspoken -it hardly fits the situation after all, he finds... well, probably anyway...- and the relevance of the word 'knife' when just moments ago there was mention of Jan'Tar's 'joystick' is not lost on him, even if he himself makes that connection just as he finishes making his remark. "Eh...," he mutters, apparently the sound a sort of apology for his somewhat badly timed pun.
A moment of silent awkwardness passes and then another. "Gentlemen," he then reminds Kellen and the pilot just as it dawns on him too apparently, "perhaps we should remove ourselves from a room not our own?"
"Listen," Kara says, turning to the woman following her, "while I appreciate what you've done for me, I'm no one's 'hon', okay? As for Jan'Tar, he's nothing. The only thing his words will get him is a broken arm, maybe castrated, it just depends on how close to hand my knife is. And seeing as how I always carry it, you can put money on number two." She stalks away down the corridor, looking for a little solitude.
As the conversations break up, and everyone begins to move about, the klaxon sounds, indicating the ship's arrival to the edge of the asteroid field.
Djebelle smiles, crookedly, as Kara walks away. "You're on the run from the Imperials, and you try to alienate the few people around you? I knew there was a reason I liked you..." she mutters softly to herself.
You could her like you... Yes. Yes she could. But she doesn't do that any more. Not since she learned about what it was she was really doing - giving life to her worse instincts. The Jedi called it the Dark side of the Force, but that avoids responsibility, in Djebelle's view.
Patience. That is what's needed.
As the klaxon soynds, Djebelle walks back to the others, dropping her tattered cloak onto her bunk, and sits again, carefully keeping her distance from everyone else. "She'll be alright. She's just been through a lot. But Kara's not stupid - give her some time and she'll realise we're on her side."
She giggles. "Gonna be interesting times ahead!"
Kara spends a few moments alone in one of the Folly's cargo holds, lost in her thoughts. Too soon, the alarm klaxon breaks her reverie, and at that she swiftly walks back to her bunk. With practiced ease she dons her gear, and moves out to the cockpit without a word.
As the klaxon starts to sound Jan'Tar's eyes light up and he gives his cocky half-grin.
"Looks like it's time to do something awesome. Duty calls, Fellas!" The last word, of course, is emphasized to Djebelle as he winks, before spinning and heading to the cockpit.
He slides down into the pilot's chair with a familiar ease and begins hitting buttons, flipping switches, and completely ignoring indicator lights with a sort of natural grace. As Kara appears in the cockpit next to him he gives a brief glance over his shoulder and turns back to the streaks of white ahead.
With a long-press on the comm system, he announces, "Preparing to leave hyperspace. Might want to sit down for this one, we don't know exactly what we're getting into..." He points to the chair next to him without ever looking backwards, "That goes for you too, tough-guy. Would hate for all that heavy armor to knock ya over."
After a moment he reaches forward and begins to slowly pull the hyperspace jumper back, the streaks of white ahead vanish and are replaced with the standard star-field of normal space.
"Fella?! Either your eyesight's gone or my clothes are too loose..." Djebelle has ditched her ultra-fashionable attire for something a little more practical (and in which body-fitted plasteel plates can be seen by a skilled observer), but still figure hugging.
Lurking by the entrance to the cockpit (the interior's a little too crowded for her), Djebelle watches Jan'Tar at work, noting his confidence and ease. Good to work with friends who know what they're doing. She grins as Kara arrives. "The closest I'd get to being a 'fella' is if Kara here cut your nuts off and handed them to me - on a silver platter, if you're going that route, please ho-" she cuts the endearment off with a cough - "I mean, Lieutenant." Djebelle gives her Chiss friend an amused look from the corner of her eye.
"I'm short on silver platters. Better to just feed 'em to a Nexu, less chance he'll get 'em back."
"You do like your words...," Arannis starts to comment before pausing for a moment, trying to find the appropriate description, "...colorful." And then he simply shrugs. "Eh... Nothing I have not heard before once or twice. Not in reference to me, mind you."
"So, here we are then. Mind if I tag along? I have come this far after all, what is a little farther?"
"Suit yourself. Pays the same." Kara says with a shrug.
As the streaks of light condense back into the star field of normal space once more a couple of items are immediately apparent. First, you've come out a bit closer to the asteroids of the Roche field than you intended. From what you can see this is probably due to the cloud of dust and debris indicating an collision wishing the field of something fairly large.
Second, two lights have begun blinking on the dashboard. One you were expecting as it serves as a beacon to Ackbar's command base. The other however is the proximity alert indicating something approaching fast from the port side. It's not hard to figure out what it is as a sudden volley of blaster bolts explodes across the bow of your ship, close enough to feel the ship rock a bit. In a blink of an eye, the explosions are followed by a trio of TIE fighters screaming over the top and ahead of the ship. The comm crackles to life.
"Unidentified Freighter. You've entered a restricted area. Turn about and follow us for inspection."
Kara pauses a moment to see what the others do, then speaks in a series of short, staccato orders. "You,"she snaps to Djebelle, "strap in and and watch the ship. Help if you can. I'm for the guns. Rann, grab the dorsal cannon." She turns to go, only pausing to say one last word. "Jan, if you're as good a pilot as you say, better get to it, talk or fly, this lot won't stop to take tea." Then she runs down to man the ventral laser cannon.
She sprints down the corridor, sliding onto the ladder that leads to the cannon pod. It's an easy matter to slip into the seat, her hands feeling the controls...its not a blaster rifle, but it'll do. Kara flips several switches to power up the guns, then tests the traverse. With a look like cold steel, she waits to see what's next.
Despite the tense atmosphere, Djebelle manages an impish smile as Kara issues orders with what can only be described as ... Imperial efficiency. "Yes ma'am, Lieutenant, ma'am!"
Strapping herself into the cockpit seat next to Jan'Tar, carefully not touching anything (or anyone), she looks at him with an (utterly false) innocent expression: "So - are we, um, turning ourselves in like good little loyal citizens?"
Kellen steps onto the bridge "Wow this just got real, Jan where did those TIEs come from, they cant be out here on their own?"
Flipping the switch for the in ship inter com, "Lets get ready for the rough stuff, we will play the role of the "good little loyal citizens" until it is time to bite."
Flipping to the Comm, "Roger that, coming about. When did this become restricted space?"
Kellen slips behind a console and begins attempting to securely contact his rebel contact at the command base.
Kara's orders come out harsh and grating. "I don't have time to sugarcoat this..." She thinks as she runs down the corridor.
"No contact with the outpost", Kellen speaks the words aloud though speaking only to himself.
As the targeting computer on Kara's gun comes online, it confirms what she and Kellen suspect. It shows the targets as TIE/rc models, a faster, more maneuverable long-range recon fighter, but half the firepower of a standard TIE. They're not equipped with hyper drives however, so there is most likely a parent vessel that they are heading for.
The comm crackles with the response from the vessels. "That's none of your concern. Just follow as you're told and this will go smooth."
http://orokos.com/roll/267454
Djebelle takes the comms as Kellen fiddles with the computer "Hello, hello? Please stand by, we didn't intend to be in this area - we're having hyperdrive troubles and had to come out early. Also, it looks like our sublight drive is acting up. Doing our best to cooperate, but please bear with us while we get things fixed."
She pauses. "Actually, can you tell me where we are? We certainly didn't mean to cause trouble in a restricted area! Please could you hold off reporting us? I really don't want to get into trouble..."
Djebelle puts on her best "little girl lost" voice and waits for the outcome.
The use of his shortened name brings a smile to Rann's lips; he has not heard it in quite some time. It seems strange and dangerous circumstances make people awfully familiar with each other awfully fast. Still, his amusement is short-lived as he enters the dorsal cannon pod as instructed. Any argument he may have had quickly vanished in the face of Kara's commanding tone and presence.
"Well," he mutters to himself as he looks at the controls, "this is new. Never have done something like this before, but how hard can it be, right? Move, point and shoot." He runs his fingers over the various buttons and switches before wrapping both hands around the twin joysticks, taking care not to push any triggers by mistake. "Move, point and shoot," he repats to himself.
Nodding his approval to the quick reactions taken by the rest of his ragtag crew, Jan'Tar slides the Kessel's Folly into the flight pattern established by the escorting TIE fighters, waiting for the appropriate moment to do something crazy.
Here we go!
"Jan'Tar, I don't think we have the clearances for this sector. We don't want to get too close to whatever ship these things came from. Trust me, no one here can stand up to an Imp security check." Kara says over the com.
'especially me...'