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A cantina, some ale and a nasty sandstorm


IlikeFandango

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(( Please, RP decently if you post here...no one-liners, or I shall eat you. ))

 

The sand whirled around and a man could be seen with his eyes forced shut and his mouth sealed. Damn Tatooine. Damn sandstorms. Damn on him for not thinking of bringing something to keep sand out of his nose. All he wanted was to get to the cantina and have a drink...but nooo. Mother Nature clearly had a deep, fiery loathing for him and wanted to see him destroyed.

 

Destroyed!

 

So, Aarynndo Dana was forced to stand there, still as a rock until the wave of sand stopped. It did eventually, and he immediately bolted for the cantina.

 

Once inside, he shook himself and brushed sand out of his hair and then sneezed hard enough to remove the small grains that were lodged in his nostrils - painfully, of course. Upon looking up from his sneeze, he was immensely glad that he wasn't wearing his republic uniform. All sorts of swarthy types. He'd probably get mauled.

 

He sat down and snapped his fingers once, as a Twi'lek waitress came over. "Some of your ale, please," he said. Thankfully, she understood him. He could not try and speak Twi'lek without totally butchering the language. Last time he tried to politely say 'hello', he sent a man running away screaming.

 

When his ale was brought back, he took a deep swig and grinned. If he was lucky, the freighter he was..er. Supposed to be on, wouldn't leave for another day or two. Good stuff, the ale was. Maybe he'd look around some if the sandstorms ever stopped. Talk to the locals, buy the droid the chief had wanted. Yeah, that'd be a good idea...

 

(( Basically...this is just a pure, simple RP. No huge plots or anything. It's just for fun. Oh, and you may NOT be a character from KoToR I or II. I guess you could be a Jedi...but for realism sake, keep yourself as a Padawan. No 'OMGSOPOWERFUL' people please. ))

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(( Fine....This is an innocent bump with an RP attached to it...hope that's okay seeing as I've clearly been ignored. :p ))

 

Despite it all, the man could definitely say that the cantina was a excellent place to get lost in. None of the colonel's annoying cronies were trying to track him down, and if they were they clearlly weren't having any luck. He grinned, thinking of the oafs thundering down the road, kicking up sand as they went...idiots.

 

Still, despite the fact that he felt very alone, he kept his blaster rifle slung over his back in the harness he had fashioned. Tatooine was a dodgy place, and he preferred not to get mugged and murdered simply because he wasn't an outlaw and he had a few credits. He took another deep swig of the ale, smiling. The splash of liquid was soothing, especially after loitering around on a planet with two suns.

 

He looked around wryly and blinked. Twi'lek dancers...what was the big deal? He couldn't see why anyone particularly enjoyed watching them. What...did the fact that they looked like that had slugs on their shoulders interest anyone? There were many human women he thought looked much better...to each his own, he supposed. Even if their own was yellow and had headtails.

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*A well covered man enters the cantina, his clothes dusty and sand-whipped. He pulled off his hood, revealing striking, cold steel-vlue eyes and somewhat tousled silver-and-gold hair. His cloak wrapped itself around him as though by the wind. He shook it free, dusting himself off. Two, somewhat large and powerful-looking blasters hang from his belt, as well as a slender, tube-like object. He quickly pushes the object back, as though he doesn't want anyone to see it. He walks forwards, past Aaryyndo, and up to the barkeep.*

 

Man: The strongest you have.

 

Barkeeper: *Surprised* Are you sure?

 

Man: Yeah.

 

*The barkeeper goes back a little, preparing the toughest drink that he has. He soon coes back with a large glass, and hands it to the man, who throws down a 20-cred chit.*

 

Man: That enough?

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A girl with pitch black hair and silvery blue eyes pushed her way into the cantina, running her fingers through her hair to get as much sand out of it as possible.

 

"Bad day to be out," she muttered. She wore a long black cloak which concealed whatever weapons she might have, but as she moved for an out of the way corner of the cantina, it opened just enough to show a blaster pistol and lightsaber.

 

"Nothing hard, please," she said when asked what she wanted to drink. "Water, if it's clean... something non-alcoholic... no, no, that will be just fine. Thank you."

 

She leaned against the wall nearest to her and sighed, happy to be out of the storm.

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*The man regards this question with quiet thinking. He had never freely given his name out, nor did he give it to those who asked... they were usually bounty hunters, looking for a kill. But he trusted this one.*

 

Man: I am Raphael Griffinhart... now that I have given you my name... what is yours?

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"I hate sandstorms," the girl in the corner muttered, again dragging her fingers through her hair to release another cascade of sand. A waitress brought her a glass and the girl took it, thanking the waitress. She took a drink, but almost immediately spit it out.

 

"You call this water?" she exclaimed, staring into the glass. With a small sigh, she shrugged and took another drink, this time managing to keep it down, but making a horrible face. A shiver of disgust rolled down her spine.

 

"Surely you know what moisture farmers are," the girl said when the waitress returned. "I want their produce, not whatever this is."

 

"That's rather expensive," the waitress objected. The girl shrugged.

 

"Do I look like I care about price?" she demanded. "Give me what I asked for!"

 

The waitress nodded and returned with true water. The girl put the glass to her lips and drank the entire glass in less than three seconds. Without a glance, she paid for the water and sat back to watch what was going on in the cantina.

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Lalasko observed the conversations from several tables away. He didn't mind being the janitor for the cantina. He learned a lot of interesting things from the conversations he overheard. Sometimes they actually proved lucrative. In the long run, usually, though several times in the past he had had "instant payoffs", so to speak. Like the time when the two men talking ended up killing each other. That had proved to be a financially sound venture, on his part. Both men had 2000 credits on thier persons.

 

This particular batch of people seemed different from the usual rifraf that washed up in the cantina, though. Lalasko eyed the Mandalorian armor one of the men wore. Unfortunately no provocations seemed to be in the works. Lalasko could only hope that maybe one of the men would mention where he hid his "secret hoard of riches", and Lalasko could get there first. Fat chance. That had only happened once. And it had cost him his eye. And his ship. So really, it wasn't worth it, no matter how dashing the eyepatch made him look. "For now", he thought to himself, "lets just sit back and watch. No need to rush, I'm on break anyway." He leaned back in his chair, watching the group of people. ...

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*Raphael turned away from the man clad in Mandalorian armor; he wasn't replying. Raphael instead set onto drinking, watching, waiting for something, anything, to happen. Something that he could do things about. A fight, or a revolution. A revolution... in only an hour?*

 

Raphael: Impossible...

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Finishing her water, the girl stood and began walking slowly around the room. She seemed a little irritated to be kept inside due to a sand storm and kept looking at the door.

 

"Gotta love a storm," she muttered sarcastically. With another glance at the door, she returned to her seat in the corner.

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*There wasn't much to do. Raphael was a loner; he didn't like companions. Now he didn't have anyone to talk to. Normally, that wouldn't be so bad, but he was trapped amongst other people. He was getting edgy, and bored. He'd rather be out there, doing something, helping others. But no, the damn sandstorm kept him stuck inside. He looked at the girl again. Something about her interested him, but he couldn't put his finger on it... it wasn't an attraction; Raphael had been trained not to feel things like that.*

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The girl knew she was being watched and she didn't like it. She took a moment to glance in the man's direction, but quickly acted as though she had lost interest and directed her eyes elsewhere. What could he want that made him stare so hard?

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Lalasko enjoyed feeling the undercurrents flowing through the bar. It reminded him of the old days, during those tense negotiations. The man in mandalorian armor seemed to be drunk, or very intent on becoming so. No interest there, yet. The other man, who had tried unsuccessfully to rouse the inebriated mandalore, seemed to be flitting his gaze near a woman sitting at the bar seat nearby. Lalasko surpressed a smile. This kind of thing wasn't uncommon, but always played out differently. He shifted in his chair, so he could see them with his good eye.

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The girl's sharp eyes caught Lalasko's slight movement and she glanced at him. As she had done with Raphael, she quickly acted as though her interest in Lalasko was short. For a short time, she stared at the wall opposite her seat. Then, with a little sigh, she stood and went to the door, as if wishing she could see through it to know if the sandstorm had run its course. But she knew the storm still raged and, with a sigh of defeat, she returned to her place in the corner.

 

"Blasted storms," she muttered, glaring at the door from her seat. Though it seemed her attention was no longer on the two men watching her, her mind had not left them. She sighed slightly, wondering what they wanted... why were they staring?

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*It was easy to see she was confused. But then, she had a right to be; when two men begin to stare, one can't but help wonder. Raphael mused over this thought. If she had been so disturbed by his attentions, why not ask? But he decided not to delve; humans had such confusing motives and emotions. Instead, he relaxed a little, waited for the storm to end so he could get out and about.*

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The girl finally gave up her attempts to act as if she wasn't aware of what was going on around her. She looked directly at Raphael, staring straight into his eyes. Her gaze was not unfriendly and her curiosity showed in her eyes. Finally, she stood and approached him.

 

"You seem to be wondering about me," she said, her voice quiet. "You stare, but outward appearances are often decieving. I imagine that you are the kind of man who has a clear understanding of this."

 

She sat in the seat directly across from Raphael. "Tell me. What is it that you want? Why do you stare?"

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OOC: Goody, finally something happens...

 

BoT:

 

*Raphael is not surprised by this question.*

 

Raphael: Hmm... it's just that you seem quite interesting. Most others here are quiet, but you, you are unbridled, unreserved, candid. It just struck me as strange, as most other humans would have kept quiet in a quiet environment... It's nothing. An odd feeling is all.

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Lalasko, who had found himself drifting off into a light sleep, came sharply to his senses. The girl, who seemed to be slightly on edge, had gone over to the other man, and talked directly to him. The man replied. Interesting. Few strangers chose to converse in such an environment. He blinked. Strangers? Yes, they had to be. Thoughts entered his mind. Did they have a ship? Where were they going? He quickly banished these irrational possibilities. Lalasko promptly removed his gloves, suddenly becoming very interested in his hands, as he listened to the figures at the bar.

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"So tell me a little about yourself," Nadira said, smiling. "Only as much information as you feel safe giving." She glanced toward the door. "I get the feeling we'll be here for a while, so we may as well get to know each other."

 

Her eyes brushed over Lalasko again before returning to rest on Raphael as she waited for his response.

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*Raphael cntemplates her words for a bit.*

 

Raphael: I am the son of a famous man on my homeworld. He married my mother, who was said to be the most beautiful woman in the galaxy... maybe so, maybe not. So was undoubtedly the most beautiful one at home. My father was a soldier, turned politician. But unlike others, he had morals, things that he actually believed in. Maybe that's what drew my mother to him... I would not know. But soon after their marriage, my mother gave birth to me and my Brothers... triplets. We would have been identical if it were not for or somewhat striking superficial differences. I was always considered the 'elder', as I had always heeded mother and father to the utmost. I kept my brothers in check... as much as I needed to, anyways. I was born as you see me: silvered hair, streaks of gold, eyes of blue-grey steel. I had always been one for the outdoors, although sometimes I would devote entire days, if not weeks, to studying. I read what I could read, and if I could not read it, my mother or father would.

 

My other brothers were truly different than I, both in demeanor and appearance, although we were triplets. Tyravael, the maturest of the us, was born with white hair, grey, nearly white, eyes. At first the doctor had thought him blind. He was the read of us. He would read all he could. SOmedays we had to force him outside, he was so fond of sitting in his room.

 

Brother Razael wa the flamboyant, rash, wild of us three. He was born with hair of red and black, screaming and kicking at the doctor, his wild red eyes shooting daggers. Only when he was with mother was he happy. Only mother and father did he treat with respect. To his brothers, he gave us brotherly love, but was still immature and mean at times, but never to truly offend us. Razael was fond of running around outdoors, sometimes getting lost in the woods upon the mountain behind our home for days on end, only to return with scars and torn clothing. Mother always wanted to teach him sewing so she herself would not need to mend his. He was always late with his school work, and although he didn't do well in school, he at least learned.

 

At a young age, around our eighth year of life, mother and father agreed that we would ned to be trained, as scholars, philosophers, and warriors. Our homeworld was in a constant state of disturbance, as we did not have a world government. So we left to an academy, our country's best military academy. Only the best soldiers were sent there and at fisrt the instructors were incredulous at our age. The youngest trainee there aside from us was 26 years our senior. But it was soon apparent that we were unique in some way. I later learned what it was. One of the instructors... she had these deeps, dark green eyes. She always spoke in riddles, and was our teacher and my mentor... I learned who she was later, and what she was teaching me... she was what many call a "Gray Jedi", an exile of the Jedi, trained in the Force. She trained me in it... and my brothers. I learned that fo some reason, my family was strong in the Force, although my parents had not known it.

 

We trained hard, both physically and mentally, for all of 19 years. Things happened... our country was trying to develop a way to make their soldiers stronger than ever... and my brothers and I, long with 72 others, were chosen... ironically, the older ones died. only a dozen of us were left... I did not have the full details of what happened at that time... but I learned later. They changed the makeup of our bodies, of our genes. They put foreign materials into us, so as to strengthen us... and in doing so, killed 63 good soldiers....

 

After that, my brothers and I were released. We went back home... and were surprised. Mother was sickening, and father was suffering from depression. It seemed that many of our later letters to home did not get through... and so they took me for dead. Mother was sick for us; father was suffering as he had thought that he had sent us to our deaths. Everything bettered for a while... and then we were attacked.

 

Our entire country was attacked. We fought back, but even then, not much could be done. Our enemy had unleashed a horrible weapon upon us... diseases, nuclear weaponry... those that survived disease died of radiation poisoning. Those that lived through the radiation died of disease. Those that survived both soon commited suicide or gave up hope. Soon thereafter our country was occupied by the enemy.

 

Father, mother, and the three of us had hidden away underground. We soon joined up with a rebel faction dedicated to doing anything and everything to defeat our enemy. We stole weapons, technology. My brothers and I soon made great strides forwards in the struggle because of our specialized training. But in only a year, we were discovered. They stormed our major base, killed everyone... except my brothers and I. We fought, fired upon them, did everything we could. We soon escaped in prototype fighters that we had stolen from them in a past operation. We flew away, and the enemy thought that they had won. But it was not to be. We came back, destroyed every single one of their bases.We gathered an army, decimated the enemy, flew in battles in the skies in our ships. Those fighters they developed... powerful, fast, deadly. Nothing like them in this galaxy. We destroyed our oppressors... Tyravael, seeing that the enemy had withdrawn, decided to stop the fighting. But Razael wanted to avenge all the deaths. I reasoned with him, got him tocalm. "Two wrongs do not make a right."

 

After this horrific incident in our life, we parted, flew away from home. I know not where my brothers wander, but I decided to go to Coruscant, ask the Jedi to allow me to join their Order.

 

I told them of my 'Master'. She had been well-known in the Order, not famous, but well known. She had left because of some incident in her life. They accepted me, reluctantly,. I do not know if they were violating their own code in doing so... I never truly learned all of it. But I was taken up by a new 'Master'. He and I were friendly to each other... but I always kept my distance. I was never a trusting person. So I learned. And in learning, I thought. And in thinking, I saw. And in seeing, I knew. I knowing, I left. I had seen the problems of the galaxy, if only for a brief momen. I decided that, although as good and great as the Jedi Order was, I was not meant to be. I told them that I was leaving the Order of my own volition, that it was not of anothers actions or of a dark calling. I told them that it was only because I felt it was not my place. And it wasn't.

 

Ever since leaving the Order, I have wandered, taking the odd job. A soldier-of-fortune, a bounty-hunter. But I only took those jobs that appealed to me... I was soldier with morals. I put everything I had into my ship, and soon mastered piloting it. I was renowned in my own circles as a great pilot. I tried my hand at running trade, and protecting merchants, and soon gathered many credits. But I dod not use it for my own self. I gave much to charitable causes, those that I knew were worthy. And with what I had left I begin to modify my ship, buy and then modify armor, creating my own personal suit. It is light, but protective, and augments my own natural abilities. I wear under this cloak.

 

My arrival on this planet was nothing out of the ordinary. I was looking for a job to do, for some work. I was reccomended o this cantina. As I was about 3/4 of the way here, the storm struck. And now here I am.

 

I have talked enough about myself, and I find it impolite to force one such as yourself to listen to me. Tell me of yourself, please.

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