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STAR WARS: ASHES of the OLD REPUBLIC - Scene 1
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<blockquote data-quote="narayan" data-source="post: 6782297" data-attributes="member: 6677509"><p><strong>Cossa, Gorg, Tie Pilot</strong></p><p></p><p><em><span style="color: #696969"><span style="font-size: 18px"><span style="font-family: 'lucida console'"><strong>Outskirts of Dorok's Pirate Base</strong></span></span>_____________________________</span></em></p><p><em></em></p><p></p><p></p><p><em>Your hand touches a half-burried sensor pylon a kilometer from Dorok Zalander's base that detects your life signs. He dispatches a pair of roughneck pirates on swoops to respond named Gorg and Cossa. Gorg is a Gamorrean, Cossa is human. Both wear thermal overcoats with blast-vests and helmets, scarfs wrapped beneath their visors for good measure. Even so, riding swoops on Lanthryn is damn miserable business, but when alarms sound its the fastest way to check the perimeter. </em></p><p></p><p><em><strong>Gorg:</strong> Activates his helmet-comlink, unable to shout directly at Cossa through the gusts of icy wind even though he's less than three meters away -Speaking Gamorrean- <span style="color: #808080">"This better not be another ice-spider!"</span> </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Cossa: </strong>Answers through his helmet-comlink-Speaking Gamorrean- <span style="color: #a9a9a9">"Ah what's the matter Gorg, last one wasn't big enough for you?" </span><span style="color: #000000">-Laughs- </span></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Gorg:</strong> <span style="color: #808080">"Laugh it up! I'll make sure I miss this time if it comes after you."</span></em></p><p><em><span style="color: #808080"></span></em></p><p><em><span style="color: #808080"></span><span style="color: #000000"><strong>Cossa: </strong></span><span style="color: #a9a9a9">"I'm faster than you Gorg, it'll end up getting you even if it comes after me first!" </span><span style="color: #808080"></span></em></p><p><em><span style="color: #808080"></span></em></p><p><em><span style="color: #808080"></span><span style="color: #000000"><strong>Gorg: </strong></span><span style="color: #000000">Sneers inside his blast helmet. He was heavy it was true, even by Gamorrean standards. There wasn't much on this miserable planet he could outrun, even on his swoop. </span></em><em><span style="color: #000000">The repulsorlift engine was already whining near overload carrying his extra bulk. If he tried to push it to full-throttle he might not make it back.</span><span style="color: #808080"> ~I should get my own swoop with an upgraded engine!~ </span><span style="color: #000000">He reminded himself.</span> </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>The pair continue on, two streaks in the wind, circling the perimeter towards the signaling sensor pylon. Each swoop was modified with a large cowling/windscreen to keep the brunt of the wind off their faces. Both Gorg and Cossa had heavy-blaster carbines, grenades, and several other weapons at their disposal to deal with intruders. </em><em>As they approached the pylon, each one slowed and surveyed the area, looking for movement in the rocks and snow drifts. All there was to see was a huddled form at the base of the pylon, half covered in some sort of bloody fur. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Gorg:</strong> <span style="color: #808080">"What is that?"</span> </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Cossa:</strong> Glances at his data readout <span style="color: #a9a9a9">"Looks dead to me... according to the sensor it's still alive, barely."</span> Cossa said halting his swoop a few meters from the pylon. Cossa was an older pirate, shrewd and experienced in the ways of killing. He knew a possible trap or decoy when he saw one. <span style="color: #a9a9a9">"Gorg, keep your eyes open and cover me!"</span> He grunted hopping off his swoop before his boots sunk a good half-meter into the fresh snow-pack. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Gorg:</strong> Throttled his swoop down to an idle, hefting his blaster carbine into his hands, glancing around in case of ambush.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Cossa:</strong> stepped closer to the pylon, slowly pulling a vibro-dagger from his belt ready for anything. <span style="color: #a9a9a9">~Ok what the hell are you!~</span> He wondered, leaning forward to prod at the fur with the deadly-sharp tip of his weapon. Immediately the fur slid off revealing a familiar black flightsuit!</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em></em><img src="http://i1345.photobucket.com/albums/p662/crowsontheskulls/STAR%20WARS%20Ashes%20of%20the%20Old%20Republic/485c639e-ea29-4276-8845-a9cf21f01f84.jpg~original" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></p><p></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>The Tie Pilot's suit was heavily caked with snow and ice as if he'd crawled his way through the drifts for days. He noted his helmet was heavily raked by claw marks, likely from the same creatures fur he wrapped himself in. He was also clearly unconscious and no threat. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><span style="color: #a9a9a9">~Tough bastard!~</span> Cossa muttered inwardly, removing the Imperial Munitions KK5 blaster pistol from the pilots holster, just in case. <span style="color: #a9a9a9">"Hey Gorg! You won't believe this!"</span> He called out over his helmet-com. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Gorg:</strong> Hesitated to climb off his swoop, largely because it would be embarrassingly difficult to remount it once he started wallowing in the snow. <span style="color: #808080">"What is it?"</span> </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Cossa:</strong> <span style="color: #a9a9a9">"Get your fat-ass over here! I need help dragging him over to my swoop!"</span></em></p><p><em><span style="color: #a9a9a9"></span></em></p><p><em><span style="color: #a9a9a9"></span><strong>Gorg:</strong> Relented with more curiosity than actual obligation. He fell twice on his way over to Cossa's side but shares his disbelief when he actually sees the intruder. <span style="color: #808080">"What in the hell?!"</span> </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Cossa:</strong> <span style="color: #a9a9a9">"I think I shot this one down myself, never imagined I'd see him again!"</span> He laughs. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Gorg:</strong> <span style="color: #808080">"Screw him, let him die. He deserves it!"</span> </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Cossa:</strong> <span style="color: #a9a9a9">"No doubt he does, but lets ask him some questions first. Help me get him unto the swoop."</span></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Gorg:</strong> <span style="color: #808080">"What if there's more of em out there?!"</span> </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><strong>Cossa:</strong> <span style="color: #a9a9a9">"Imps? Nah, using decoys isn't their style. Hurry up my balls are freezing off!"</span></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Together, with much cursing, the pair straps the unconscious pilot to the back of Cossa's swoop and head back to the pirate base...</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em></em></p><p> <em></em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="narayan, post: 6782297, member: 6677509"] [b]Cossa, Gorg, Tie Pilot[/b] [I][COLOR=#696969][SIZE=5][FONT=lucida console][B]Outskirts of Dorok's Pirate Base[/B][/FONT][/SIZE]_____________________________[/COLOR] [/I] [I]Your hand touches a half-burried sensor pylon a kilometer from Dorok Zalander's base that detects your life signs. He dispatches a pair of roughneck pirates on swoops to respond named Gorg and Cossa. Gorg is a Gamorrean, Cossa is human. Both wear thermal overcoats with blast-vests and helmets, scarfs wrapped beneath their visors for good measure. Even so, riding swoops on Lanthryn is damn miserable business, but when alarms sound its the fastest way to check the perimeter. [/I] [I][B]Gorg:[/B] Activates his helmet-comlink, unable to shout directly at Cossa through the gusts of icy wind even though he's less than three meters away -Speaking Gamorrean- [COLOR=#808080]"This better not be another ice-spider!"[/COLOR] [B]Cossa: [/B]Answers through his helmet-comlink-Speaking Gamorrean- [COLOR=#a9a9a9]"Ah what's the matter Gorg, last one wasn't big enough for you?" [/COLOR][COLOR=#000000]-Laughs- [/COLOR] [B]Gorg:[/B] [COLOR=#808080]"Laugh it up! I'll make sure I miss this time if it comes after you." [/COLOR][COLOR=#000000][B]Cossa: [/B][/COLOR][COLOR=#a9a9a9]"I'm faster than you Gorg, it'll end up getting you even if it comes after me first!" [/COLOR][COLOR=#808080] [/COLOR][COLOR=#000000][B]Gorg: [/B][/COLOR][COLOR=#000000]Sneers inside his blast helmet. He was heavy it was true, even by Gamorrean standards. There wasn't much on this miserable planet he could outrun, even on his swoop. [/COLOR][/I][I][COLOR=#000000]The repulsorlift engine was already whining near overload carrying his extra bulk. If he tried to push it to full-throttle he might not make it back.[/COLOR][COLOR=#808080] ~I should get my own swoop with an upgraded engine!~ [/COLOR][COLOR=#000000]He reminded himself.[/COLOR] The pair continue on, two streaks in the wind, circling the perimeter towards the signaling sensor pylon. Each swoop was modified with a large cowling/windscreen to keep the brunt of the wind off their faces. Both Gorg and Cossa had heavy-blaster carbines, grenades, and several other weapons at their disposal to deal with intruders. [/I][I]As they approached the pylon, each one slowed and surveyed the area, looking for movement in the rocks and snow drifts. All there was to see was a huddled form at the base of the pylon, half covered in some sort of bloody fur. [B]Gorg:[/B] [COLOR=#808080]"What is that?"[/COLOR] [B]Cossa:[/B] Glances at his data readout [COLOR=#a9a9a9]"Looks dead to me... according to the sensor it's still alive, barely."[/COLOR] Cossa said halting his swoop a few meters from the pylon. Cossa was an older pirate, shrewd and experienced in the ways of killing. He knew a possible trap or decoy when he saw one. [COLOR=#a9a9a9]"Gorg, keep your eyes open and cover me!"[/COLOR] He grunted hopping off his swoop before his boots sunk a good half-meter into the fresh snow-pack. [B]Gorg:[/B] Throttled his swoop down to an idle, hefting his blaster carbine into his hands, glancing around in case of ambush. [B]Cossa:[/B] stepped closer to the pylon, slowly pulling a vibro-dagger from his belt ready for anything. [COLOR=#a9a9a9]~Ok what the hell are you!~[/COLOR] He wondered, leaning forward to prod at the fur with the deadly-sharp tip of his weapon. Immediately the fur slid off revealing a familiar black flightsuit! [/I][IMG]http://i1345.photobucket.com/albums/p662/crowsontheskulls/STAR%20WARS%20Ashes%20of%20the%20Old%20Republic/485c639e-ea29-4276-8845-a9cf21f01f84.jpg~original[/IMG] [I] The Tie Pilot's suit was heavily caked with snow and ice as if he'd crawled his way through the drifts for days. He noted his helmet was heavily raked by claw marks, likely from the same creatures fur he wrapped himself in. He was also clearly unconscious and no threat. [COLOR=#a9a9a9]~Tough bastard!~[/COLOR] Cossa muttered inwardly, removing the Imperial Munitions KK5 blaster pistol from the pilots holster, just in case. [COLOR=#a9a9a9]"Hey Gorg! You won't believe this!"[/COLOR] He called out over his helmet-com. [B]Gorg:[/B] Hesitated to climb off his swoop, largely because it would be embarrassingly difficult to remount it once he started wallowing in the snow. [COLOR=#808080]"What is it?"[/COLOR] [B]Cossa:[/B] [COLOR=#a9a9a9]"Get your fat-ass over here! I need help dragging him over to my swoop!" [/COLOR][B]Gorg:[/B] Relented with more curiosity than actual obligation. He fell twice on his way over to Cossa's side but shares his disbelief when he actually sees the intruder. [COLOR=#808080]"What in the hell?!"[/COLOR] [B]Cossa:[/B] [COLOR=#a9a9a9]"I think I shot this one down myself, never imagined I'd see him again!"[/COLOR] He laughs. [B]Gorg:[/B] [COLOR=#808080]"Screw him, let him die. He deserves it!"[/COLOR] [B]Cossa:[/B] [COLOR=#a9a9a9]"No doubt he does, but lets ask him some questions first. Help me get him unto the swoop."[/COLOR] [B]Gorg:[/B] [COLOR=#808080]"What if there's more of em out there?!"[/COLOR] [B]Cossa:[/B] [COLOR=#a9a9a9]"Imps? Nah, using decoys isn't their style. Hurry up my balls are freezing off!"[/COLOR] Together, with much cursing, the pair straps the unconscious pilot to the back of Cossa's swoop and head back to the pirate base... [/I] [/QUOTE]
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