Hayabusa's Dawn of Defiance: Chapter II: A Wretched Hive

[Binder Fred]

Darga gives a slight knowing smile at Sloor's suggestion.

Not exactly the enthousiasm the besalisk was hoping for (Sloor looks out into the main room for anything that might be distracting the Hutt, but can't spot anything out of the ordinary, just people milling about, eating, softly talking...). "Should I gaw get Demaws?"

Just then...

"Lord Darga should not drink the wine. There is foul play and he is betrayed."

Mir looks about now for who might show some sort of sign of guilt.

Frek, frek, frek, frek, FREK! Perhaps understandably considering his occasional stints as an enforcer, Sloor's response is a bit more dramatic: he surges to a shielding spot directly in front of the hutt - facing out, three arms spread out like some sort of frecking blasterfire goally - even as he draws his heavy blaster with the fourth, eyes looking for a target. Where are those frecsing Iron groupers? Where is frecking DEMOS?!

«Assuming nobody immediately fires back:
"What the freck daw you mean: he is betrayed?"

TB glides to his right side, a little back from him, increasing their joint cover of their employer.

 

[possum]

Darga looks incensed as Mack warns him and Sloor moves in front of his large body to deflect any blaster shots that never come. "WHAT!" he yells out in Huttese that is translated in a meek voice by the translator droid. He then asks Mack how he knows. And who is responsible...

 

[perrinmiller]

Mack Granger, Human Male Soldier

Mack appears to be nonchalant by the whole ordeal, preferring to be the steady rock in the soon to be erupting chaos. Jerking a thumb at the slave girl, he replies to what he is sure is a request for information, "The twi'lek dumped something in Lord Darga's drink. You want us to detain them drekheads?"

He has his blaster rifle in the crook of his arm and bring it ready as he pops his helmet into place with his left hand.

[sblock=Mini Stats]DP: 4 (Rescue) FP: 6
Init: +10 Perception: +10(+8 without Helmet)
HP: 55 (17 Threshold) Current: 55 CT: 0
Reflex: 21 (18ff) Fort: 17 Will: 15

Weapon in Hand: Blaster rifle (single shot/stun)

Attack Options: Point Blank Shot, Precise Shot, Battle Analysis, Cover Fire, Running Attack, Quick Draw, Rapid Shot[/sblock]___________________________________

Mack Granger

 

[Binder Fred]

Not Demos then. Sloor's blaster glides to point straight at the head of the Iron Ring delegation, while his eyes dart out purposefully across the room, catching the gaze of several of Darga's spirks - Gol Karg, Zayda, that trandoshian he asked about Rattatak pre battle, Gand (a gand merc who somehow managed to win 250 creds off him post party (humble son of a...)) - inviting them to do the same with their own frekking weapons. Let the groupers know just who has the frecsing homecourt advantage here!

OOC: Don't know if that requires a persuassion roll or not (seems like a fairly standard thing to do when your sponsor is threathened). Here it is if you need it, Possum: 1d20+9=16. I'd consider his targets Friendly to begin with.

 

[possum]

The leader of the Iron Ring looks on in horror and quickly goes on the defensive. "Honorable Darga, you can't believe that we'd..." The Devaronian motions for one of his lieutenants to nab the offending Twi'lek. "Schuta acted on her own," he says. "We have our disagreements, Lord Darga, but we wouldn't kill you!"

 

[perrinmiller]

Mack Granger, Human Male Soldier

Mack watches the Devaronian try to weasel out of trouble, looking to see if he can tell if the slaver is lying. He comments aside to Sloor, "Not that I am a huge fan of slavery, but if a someone's property misbehaves, is the owner held responsible? Ignorance would not be an excuse, since they should have known what's going on."

OOC: Take 10 on Perception (+10)

[sblock=Mini Stats]DP: 4 (Rescue) FP: 6
Init: +10 Perception: +10(+8 without Helmet)
HP: 55 (17 Threshold) Current: 55 CT: 0
Reflex: 21 (18ff) Fort: 17 Will: 15

Weapon in Hand: Blaster rifle (single shot/stun)

Attack Options: Point Blank Shot, Precise Shot, Battle Analysis, Cover Fire, Running Attack, Quick Draw, Rapid Shot[/sblock]___________________________________

Mack Granger

 

[possum]

OOC: He doesn't seem to be lying from what you can tell.

Darga's anger subsides slightly at the explanation that the slave was the one fully behind it. He declares that the discussion is over and that he'd better not see the slavers again for a long time. The Twi'lek slave, however, is destined for Darga's dungeons...

 

[Binder Fred]

Sloor watches the delegation file out with very little satisfaction. "Haw the frek did a frecsing slave get pawisan, nawble awne." The besalisk doesn't bother putting a question mark at the end of that! "*Sawmebawdy* wanted you dead," a shrug, "maybe - *maybe* - with them as the patsies." Maybe.

"Sentients sometimes lie with the truth," points out TB so that only those close to the dais can hear (including the Hutt). "Maybe the wine should be analyzed? My now considerable medical database suggests a wide variety of possible effects short of death..."

"Uh... Gawd pawint, TB." Sloor singles out a spry looking human near the side exit: "You! Get a med drawid in here fast, will you? And tell him taw please grab a med kit."

As they wait, he gesture the serving slave still carrying the offending drink to a nearby spot, where nobody can get to her without being seen by frecsing everyone.

<Response Darga? I'm assuming he'll also gesture permission for the messenger and the serving girl if he agrees with those steps>

Mack comments aside to Sloor, "Not that I am a huge fan of slavery, but if a someone's property misbehaves, is the owner held responsible? Ignorance would not be an excuse, since they should have known what's going on."

"Abawt as much as a pet biting the neighbawrs," figures the besalisk. "Nawt gawd fawr the awner, much wawrse fawr the pet. Gawd catch by the way." He thumps the soldier on his armored back, chuckling deep in his alien throat.

 

[Dr Simon]

Darius narrows his eyes and frowns slightly, not entirely happy with the turnout in events. He suspects that the twi'lek girl is destined for a fairly short and miserable existence, and wonders how much choice she had in the matter.

He moves closer to Mir.

"How well developed is your sense?" he says, sotto voce. "Could you read her? Find out where she got the poison from? Obviously I wouldn't ask you to do it in front of..." his eyes move around to encompass the Hutt's throne room.

 

[perrinmiller]

Mack Granger, Human Male Soldier

Mack pops his helmet back off and smiles ruefully, the plight of the twi'lek not much cause for mirth. His eyes remain serious, portraying his mood, "Thanks, buddy. Score one for the Crimson Fists again."

Once again, he is reminding himself that the mission goal must come first, regardless of the events that are beyond his control.

[sblock=Mini Stats]DP: 4 (Rescue) FP: 6
Init: +10 Perception: +10(+8 without Helmet)
HP: 55 (17 Threshold) Current: 55 CT: 0
Reflex: 21 (18ff) Fort: 17 Will: 15

Weapon in Hand: Blaster rifle (single shot/stun)

Attack Options: Point Blank Shot, Precise Shot, Battle Analysis, Cover Fire, Running Attack, Quick Draw, Rapid Shot[/sblock]___________________________________

Mack Granger