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STAR WARS: ASHES of the OLD REPUBLIC - Scene 1
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<blockquote data-quote="narayan" data-source="post: 6781671" data-attributes="member: 6677509"><p><strong>Jeril Rain</strong></p><p></p><p><img src="http://i1345.photobucket.com/albums/p662/crowsontheskulls/STAR%20WARS%20Ashes%20of%20the%20Old%20Republic/Lanthrym%20Outpost_1.jpg~original" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /><em><strong></strong></em></p><p><em><strong><span style="font-size: 18px"><span style="color: #696969"><span style="font-family: 'Lucida Console'">Fuar</span>_____________________________________</span></span></strong></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Jeril Rain:</strong> stumbled down the interior walkway of Fuar Settlement Station with a terrible hangover. Despite the fog of his aching skull he still notes the blizzard has finally abated, affording a much better view of the through the transparisteel windows than the preceding icy storm allowed.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><span style="color: #008080">~With the storm gone, trains should get through. My contact may arrive today afterall, I better get my head right to meet him...~</span> Jeril paused to lean against the wall, shutting his eyes and steadying his mind, allowing the force to flow through him absorbing its healing powers.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Jeril:</strong> (Heal Self Check: = 22, restores 8 Vitality Points) <span style="color: #008080">~Much better!~</span> He thinks to himself, blinking away the fog. </em><em><span style="color: #008080">~Damned power-rationing to the climate controls is in effect again... per usual...~</span> Jeril cursed inwardly, stuffing his hands deeper into fur-lined pockets of his grey overcoat and quickening his pace a bit to keep his blood moving.</em><em> </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Lanthrym was a poor, miserable world full of poor, miserable inhabitants. Some of the richer settlements actually heated their interior corridors to a more tolerable level but Fuar wasn't so fortunate. The administrator of this particular station was stingy, even by Lanthrym-standards. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Mining settlements like Fuar excavated beneath icy craters all over Lanthrym's frozen crust seeking sodium deposits, the only mineral worth anything on this doleful ice-ball. Facilities like this one were only interested in one thing, profit from the misery of its laborers. Heating interior corridors above freezing was a secondary concern.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>As he reached the boarding lobby for repulsor-trains Jeril glanced at the status monitor. The arrival of his mysterious guest appeared to be imminent and on schedule. Repulsor-trains were the regular means of travel across Lanthrym due to the frequency and severity of its storms. Airspeeders were a risky prospect at best with winds in excess of 200 kph and temperature drops as low as -60 centigrade.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Occasionally smaller starships, piloted by novices, ignored warning broadcasts on the METOSP channel attempting takeoffs or landings during a storm. Search-parties usually never bothered to search for wreckage or survivors until the storm passed, which might be several days, sometimes weeks. Locals referred to most fools caught in a blizzard as 'corpsicles' and pilots as 'flying corpsicles'.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Even during a calm between the storms the surface of Lanthrym was a treacherous place. Avalanches, hidden-crevasses, and a multitude of dangerous predators kept surface exploration to a minimum (except by droids) Every local Jeril met stayed indoors or underground as much as possible. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Only once did he strike out into the snow-drifts and glaciers on foot seeking help after the repulsor train he boarded was de-railed by a particularly sudden and violent gust leaving him stranded and many others injured. The creatures he encountered out there kept his lightsaber busy to say the least...</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Jeril shivered with the memory of that day and unconsciously groped through the hidden slit in his pocket for the hilt of said lightsaber on his waist. <span style="color: #008080">~Best not to dwell on that... fear leads to the darkside~</span> He reminded himself. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em></em>[HR][/HR]<em></em></p><p><em>The arrival of the repulsor-train brought his attention back to the present. A throng of miserable laborers stirred around the lobby, many of whom were fiercely-strong, tusked, Gamorreans. At times Jeril envied them, the heavier layers of body-fat around their porcine-bodies served as natural insulation against the cold. They rarely complained as much as the other species.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>The trains outer doors opened with a hiss offloading a crowd of several dozen laborers, a few droids, and perhaps a dozen irritable spacers seeking to cross the threshold between the train and the warmth of the facilities interior in vain. As the crowd surged through the boarding gates Jeril finally spotted the elderly off-worlder he was waiting for trailing behind them. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Unfortunately a pair of settlement law enforcement officers also took note of his contact and meandered towards him. The local's knack for spotting an offworlder never ceased to amaze him. Jeril knew he had to distract them or they'd likely spook his guest into really making a target of himself. </em></p><p> <em></em></p><p><em>Jeril glanced around and noted a particularly tired-looking tech-specialist clutching a steaming thermos in shivering fingers taking sips while he waited in line to get his facility repair permit. <span style="color: #008080">~Sorry about this friend~</span> Jeril thought as he reached out with the force. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Jeril:</strong> (Move Object, DC 10: = 19)(Ranged Attack w/ Thermos vs. Defense 14: = 19, Hit)(Location: Chest) </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>As the officers pass by the techie his thermos inexplicably hurls its contents unto the nearest ones chest! </em></p><p><em><strong></strong></em></p><p><em><strong>Law Enforcement Officer:</strong> -shouts- <span style="color: #808080">"Ahh! My uniform! You got a problem with the law buddy?!"</span> He curses, reaching for his stun-baton. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Techie:</strong> Grows very pale as the offending thermos clatters and rolls unto the dura-crete floor. -stammers- <span style="color: #a9a9a9">"It-it wasn't me! I swear!"</span> </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Law Enforcement Officer 2:</strong> Pulls out his stun button reaching over to grab the techie by the collar. <span style="color: #808080">"You've got some nerve! On your knees!"</span> He orders shoving the tip of the baton into the techies stomach. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>The shock debilitates the poor techie instantly. As he collapses several bystanders in the crowd look at the scene with mild-amusement or mild-irritation at the excessive use of force. Meanwhile, Jeril uses the distraction to stroll up to the older man near the boarding gates.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Jeril:</strong> <span style="color: #008080">"Lovely weather today isn't it?"</span> He says in a low voice. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Old man:</strong> Stares suspiciously at Jeril, but answers with a pre-arranged remark of his own. <span style="color: #800000">"Only if you prefer the cold to the suns of Rodan III."</span> </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Jeril:</strong> <span style="color: #008080">"The suns of Rodan are eclipsed this time of year. Lets go get a drink."</span> </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>The old man nods and falls in beside Jeril as they walk out of the boarding lobby into the same interior corridor he entered with. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Jeril:</strong> -Hands over an identity badge- <span style="color: #008080">"Take this... it's your new ID badge. Forged of course. It gives you access to all the upper levels of the facility as a visiting representative of an offworld mining guild. Nobody likes off-worlders here of course, much less competing mining interests. You shouldn't be bothered so long as you wear that."</span> </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Old Man:</strong> Glances at Jeril. <span style="color: #800000">"You don't have a badge?"</span> </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Jeril:</strong> <span style="color: #008080">"I don't need one, I'm a local, or at least I've lived here long enough to be considered such. I have ID papers to prove it."</span></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>The pair continue to walk in silence around the interior corridor until they get to the other side overlooking the huge crater. Near the rim, a dozen starship hanger bays are excavated into the rock shielded by heavy blast-doors. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Old Man:</strong> Stares down at the yawning crater pockmarked with at least a dozen mining shafts surrounded by huge loader droids carrying salt-ore to the refinery depot. Jeril notes a twitch in his eye and a tenseness in his face that makes him wonder what this crater reminds him of? </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Jeril:</strong> Attempts an 'Empathy Check' with the force. (The target is not aware of this mind probe)</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Old Man:</strong> (Will Save, DC 12: = 19, Saves)</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Unfortunately the old mans will is far too strong for Jeril to sense anything besides the obvious. He decides to simply make an inquiry. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Jeril:</strong> <span style="color: #008080">"What is it?"</span> </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Old Man:</strong> Swallows. <span style="color: #800000">"Have you ever been to Derilyn?"</span> </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Jeril:</strong> <span style="color: #008080">"I'm afraid not."</span> </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Old Man:</strong> <span style="color: #800000">"If you do, be sure to visit the ruins of Paran. It has more in common with this crater than it should."</span> He says with a underlying crack in his voice. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Jeril:</strong> Frowns. <span style="color: #008080">"I don't understand?"</span> </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Old Man:</strong> <span style="color: #800000">"Paran was Derilyn's third largest city, the birthplace of Senator Wuxod who dared to speak against the supreme chancellor's power grab to be emperor. After his mysterious disappearance the emperor targeted our world for 'reconstruction'. Orbiting Star Destroyers effectively leveled Paran into smoking rubble. We sent aid to the blast sites, looking for survivors. That's when squadrons of TIE bombers deliberately targeted the helpless civilian shelters, leaving nothing but craters in their wake."</span> </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Jeril:</strong> Lowered his eyes. He didn't need the force to sense this mans pain. He knew it all too well. <span style="color: #008080">"Your part of the resistance aren't you? That's why you came here looking to buy arms."</span> </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Old Man:</strong> <span style="color: #800000">"Aye, I won't deny it. Will you help me?"</span> </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Jeril:</strong> Pondered his answer carefully. As a middle-man for Sawthawne the crime boss he really wasn't supposed to offer more help than his boss was willing to give. In this moment however, Jeril acknowledged a terrible guilt filled his heart. <span style="color: #008080">~How can I go on avoiding the empire all these years when men like this risk everything to resist them? My master would be ashamed of me!~</span> Jeril took a breath and looked him in the eye. <span style="color: #008080">"I will help you, but first lets get that drink..."</span> He says gesturing to a spacers bar nearby called 'The Icebreaker'. </em></p><p><em></em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="narayan, post: 6781671, member: 6677509"] [b]Jeril Rain[/b] [IMG]http://i1345.photobucket.com/albums/p662/crowsontheskulls/STAR%20WARS%20Ashes%20of%20the%20Old%20Republic/Lanthrym%20Outpost_1.jpg~original[/IMG][I][B] [SIZE=5][COLOR=#696969][FONT=Lucida Console]Fuar[/FONT]_____________________________________[/COLOR][/SIZE][/B] [B]Jeril Rain:[/B] stumbled down the interior walkway of Fuar Settlement Station with a terrible hangover. Despite the fog of his aching skull he still notes the blizzard has finally abated, affording a much better view of the through the transparisteel windows than the preceding icy storm allowed. [COLOR=#008080]~With the storm gone, trains should get through. My contact may arrive today afterall, I better get my head right to meet him...~[/COLOR] Jeril paused to lean against the wall, shutting his eyes and steadying his mind, allowing the force to flow through him absorbing its healing powers. [B]Jeril:[/B] (Heal Self Check: = 22, restores 8 Vitality Points) [COLOR=#008080]~Much better!~[/COLOR] He thinks to himself, blinking away the fog. [/I][I][COLOR=#008080]~Damned power-rationing to the climate controls is in effect again... per usual...~[/COLOR] Jeril cursed inwardly, stuffing his hands deeper into fur-lined pockets of his grey overcoat and quickening his pace a bit to keep his blood moving.[/I][I] Lanthrym was a poor, miserable world full of poor, miserable inhabitants. Some of the richer settlements actually heated their interior corridors to a more tolerable level but Fuar wasn't so fortunate. The administrator of this particular station was stingy, even by Lanthrym-standards. Mining settlements like Fuar excavated beneath icy craters all over Lanthrym's frozen crust seeking sodium deposits, the only mineral worth anything on this doleful ice-ball. Facilities like this one were only interested in one thing, profit from the misery of its laborers. Heating interior corridors above freezing was a secondary concern. As he reached the boarding lobby for repulsor-trains Jeril glanced at the status monitor. The arrival of his mysterious guest appeared to be imminent and on schedule. Repulsor-trains were the regular means of travel across Lanthrym due to the frequency and severity of its storms. Airspeeders were a risky prospect at best with winds in excess of 200 kph and temperature drops as low as -60 centigrade. Occasionally smaller starships, piloted by novices, ignored warning broadcasts on the METOSP channel attempting takeoffs or landings during a storm. Search-parties usually never bothered to search for wreckage or survivors until the storm passed, which might be several days, sometimes weeks. Locals referred to most fools caught in a blizzard as 'corpsicles' and pilots as 'flying corpsicles'. Even during a calm between the storms the surface of Lanthrym was a treacherous place. Avalanches, hidden-crevasses, and a multitude of dangerous predators kept surface exploration to a minimum (except by droids) Every local Jeril met stayed indoors or underground as much as possible. Only once did he strike out into the snow-drifts and glaciers on foot seeking help after the repulsor train he boarded was de-railed by a particularly sudden and violent gust leaving him stranded and many others injured. The creatures he encountered out there kept his lightsaber busy to say the least... Jeril shivered with the memory of that day and unconsciously groped through the hidden slit in his pocket for the hilt of said lightsaber on his waist. [COLOR=#008080]~Best not to dwell on that... fear leads to the darkside~[/COLOR] He reminded himself. [/I][HR][/HR][I] The arrival of the repulsor-train brought his attention back to the present. A throng of miserable laborers stirred around the lobby, many of whom were fiercely-strong, tusked, Gamorreans. At times Jeril envied them, the heavier layers of body-fat around their porcine-bodies served as natural insulation against the cold. They rarely complained as much as the other species. The trains outer doors opened with a hiss offloading a crowd of several dozen laborers, a few droids, and perhaps a dozen irritable spacers seeking to cross the threshold between the train and the warmth of the facilities interior in vain. As the crowd surged through the boarding gates Jeril finally spotted the elderly off-worlder he was waiting for trailing behind them. Unfortunately a pair of settlement law enforcement officers also took note of his contact and meandered towards him. The local's knack for spotting an offworlder never ceased to amaze him. Jeril knew he had to distract them or they'd likely spook his guest into really making a target of himself. Jeril glanced around and noted a particularly tired-looking tech-specialist clutching a steaming thermos in shivering fingers taking sips while he waited in line to get his facility repair permit. [COLOR=#008080]~Sorry about this friend~[/COLOR] Jeril thought as he reached out with the force. [B]Jeril:[/B] (Move Object, DC 10: = 19)(Ranged Attack w/ Thermos vs. Defense 14: = 19, Hit)(Location: Chest) As the officers pass by the techie his thermos inexplicably hurls its contents unto the nearest ones chest! [B] Law Enforcement Officer:[/B] -shouts- [COLOR=#808080]"Ahh! My uniform! You got a problem with the law buddy?!"[/COLOR] He curses, reaching for his stun-baton. [B]Techie:[/B] Grows very pale as the offending thermos clatters and rolls unto the dura-crete floor. -stammers- [COLOR=#a9a9a9]"It-it wasn't me! I swear!"[/COLOR] [B]Law Enforcement Officer 2:[/B] Pulls out his stun button reaching over to grab the techie by the collar. [COLOR=#808080]"You've got some nerve! On your knees!"[/COLOR] He orders shoving the tip of the baton into the techies stomach. The shock debilitates the poor techie instantly. As he collapses several bystanders in the crowd look at the scene with mild-amusement or mild-irritation at the excessive use of force. Meanwhile, Jeril uses the distraction to stroll up to the older man near the boarding gates. [B]Jeril:[/B] [COLOR=#008080]"Lovely weather today isn't it?"[/COLOR] He says in a low voice. [B]Old man:[/B] Stares suspiciously at Jeril, but answers with a pre-arranged remark of his own. [COLOR=#800000]"Only if you prefer the cold to the suns of Rodan III."[/COLOR] [B]Jeril:[/B] [COLOR=#008080]"The suns of Rodan are eclipsed this time of year. Lets go get a drink."[/COLOR] The old man nods and falls in beside Jeril as they walk out of the boarding lobby into the same interior corridor he entered with. [B]Jeril:[/B] -Hands over an identity badge- [COLOR=#008080]"Take this... it's your new ID badge. Forged of course. It gives you access to all the upper levels of the facility as a visiting representative of an offworld mining guild. Nobody likes off-worlders here of course, much less competing mining interests. You shouldn't be bothered so long as you wear that."[/COLOR] [B]Old Man:[/B] Glances at Jeril. [COLOR=#800000]"You don't have a badge?"[/COLOR] [B]Jeril:[/B] [COLOR=#008080]"I don't need one, I'm a local, or at least I've lived here long enough to be considered such. I have ID papers to prove it."[/COLOR] The pair continue to walk in silence around the interior corridor until they get to the other side overlooking the huge crater. Near the rim, a dozen starship hanger bays are excavated into the rock shielded by heavy blast-doors. [B]Old Man:[/B] Stares down at the yawning crater pockmarked with at least a dozen mining shafts surrounded by huge loader droids carrying salt-ore to the refinery depot. Jeril notes a twitch in his eye and a tenseness in his face that makes him wonder what this crater reminds him of? [B]Jeril:[/B] Attempts an 'Empathy Check' with the force. (The target is not aware of this mind probe) [B]Old Man:[/B] (Will Save, DC 12: = 19, Saves) Unfortunately the old mans will is far too strong for Jeril to sense anything besides the obvious. He decides to simply make an inquiry. [B]Jeril:[/B] [COLOR=#008080]"What is it?"[/COLOR] [B]Old Man:[/B] Swallows. [COLOR=#800000]"Have you ever been to Derilyn?"[/COLOR] [B]Jeril:[/B] [COLOR=#008080]"I'm afraid not."[/COLOR] [B]Old Man:[/B] [COLOR=#800000]"If you do, be sure to visit the ruins of Paran. It has more in common with this crater than it should."[/COLOR] He says with a underlying crack in his voice. [B]Jeril:[/B] Frowns. [COLOR=#008080]"I don't understand?"[/COLOR] [B]Old Man:[/B] [COLOR=#800000]"Paran was Derilyn's third largest city, the birthplace of Senator Wuxod who dared to speak against the supreme chancellor's power grab to be emperor. After his mysterious disappearance the emperor targeted our world for 'reconstruction'. Orbiting Star Destroyers effectively leveled Paran into smoking rubble. We sent aid to the blast sites, looking for survivors. That's when squadrons of TIE bombers deliberately targeted the helpless civilian shelters, leaving nothing but craters in their wake."[/COLOR] [B]Jeril:[/B] Lowered his eyes. He didn't need the force to sense this mans pain. He knew it all too well. [COLOR=#008080]"Your part of the resistance aren't you? That's why you came here looking to buy arms."[/COLOR] [B]Old Man:[/B] [COLOR=#800000]"Aye, I won't deny it. Will you help me?"[/COLOR] [B]Jeril:[/B] Pondered his answer carefully. As a middle-man for Sawthawne the crime boss he really wasn't supposed to offer more help than his boss was willing to give. In this moment however, Jeril acknowledged a terrible guilt filled his heart. [COLOR=#008080]~How can I go on avoiding the empire all these years when men like this risk everything to resist them? My master would be ashamed of me!~[/COLOR] Jeril took a breath and looked him in the eye. [COLOR=#008080]"I will help you, but first lets get that drink..."[/COLOR] He says gesturing to a spacers bar nearby called 'The Icebreaker'. [/I] [/QUOTE]
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STAR WARS: ASHES of the OLD REPUBLIC - Scene 1
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