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    1. Dblade26 11 yrs ago

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Khan Sainen, 13th Hour


Khan was filled once again with a deep self-loathing. He thought he had conquered his fear through meditation with his Master's help, but seeing him get taken away to be tortured had wrecked that supposed feeling of inner peace. Especially since once again, he'd frozen up with fear when the torturers had arrived to take Denso away. He was trying to move through the steps of a moving meditation, to focus himself only on the flow from one movement to another. But his anger at himself, and the feeling of fear cold and wriggling in his guts wouldn't leave him.

Khan was still struggling with the moving meditation when his Master was dragged back into the cell. He had expected to see pain, despair and a shattered person in his Master's stance, and there was certainly weariness and a certain level of exhausted numbness there. But there was also, at least to Khan's eyes, a core of determination radiating out still and this mystified and awed the young Padawan Echani. He went hesitantly to his Master's side and tried to check his injuries as the guards left.

"Master, you are...unbroken?"

Khan meant it mainly in reference to Denso's physical injuries, the secondary meaning momentarily escaping him as verbal language had never been his strongsuit

@Heat
Batotoi Island


The flag and sails of a raiding ship of the Blackwell pirates was spotted by the small township on Batotoi Island's sole watchtower about half a day out from making landfall. This gave the townspeople plenty of time to scrub the rust off of old swords and sharpen them, clean out a small collection of seldom used guns, mount up and ready the town's sole, ancient anti-ship cannon and get together their decently trained but practically untested militia of scared and determined folks at the shore in front of their town's big wooden perimeter wall and equally sturdy heavy log gates.

They had all heard the stories of how the Blackwell pirates would sweep onto an island, then take anything and anyone that wasn't nailed down before reducing whole towns to rubble, unless they were feeling particularly mean and did the whole thing in reverse before picking through splinters and ashes for anything still alive. The homesteaders gathered there were pretty reasonably terrified. They all knew that the crew of the raiding ship hadn't bothered concealing their approach because they were confident that it wouldn't matter what resistance they faced. Still, it was better to die fighting a group of Blackwell pirates than to live and be taken by them, in the opinion of many of those there.

So as night fell and the raiding ship pulled up just short of the range of the town's cannon and sent out an odd looking little boat shaped like a big box towards the shore instead, the assembled townsfolk were practically giddy with relief! Maybe it meant the Blackwell pirates were willing to negotiate! It could be that they'd just wanted supplies, or medical attention for their crew, or if nothing else just valuables instead of people! Maybe they were saved after all, or so they whispered excitedly to each other.

This new, hopeful attitude lasted up until about two seconds after the strange little crate-shaped boat made landfall right by a particularly curious young hothead who had volunteered to lead the talks, as the front of it popped open like a ramp to reveal its only passenger.

"GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRGH!"


Everyone saw the unfortunate young spokesman go flying through the air like a rocket-propelled ragdoll but what happened after involved too much chaos, death and lightning-fast destruction for any clear picture to emerge from the handful of survivors. One young guy who liked to think of himself as the town's best swordsman swore that a demon charged out of the floating crate, caught the first sword swung at it in its teeth and then bit the blade clean in half. A woman leading the town's few marksmen said that it was some kind of a malevolent wind spirit that danced around her friends' bullets and made their rifles fall apart in their hands before slicing everyone up with razor wind. An old man who'd once served with the Marines and manned the cannon from his wooden palisade insisted he'd got the best look at the thing. He said it was a pale, shrouded Death God with a white, dark-eyed face like a skull and two black blades that drank in the light from the rising moon before they turned a dull red from all the blood. The old man said he'd fired the cannon at the creature in a panic, only to watch it bat the cannonball back at him with its swords so it smashed the old artillery piece to scrap and knocked him from the wall.

The rest of the old wooden fortifications were mostly reduced to splinters in seconds, and whatever it really was the rampaging monster was strong enough to pick up one of the a mast-sized wooden stakes that had blocked its way and use it to start crushing houses. After that, even the bravest defenders on the island ran for their lives and hid while their town was destroyed overnight by a single attacker.

In the morning, the rest of the Blackwell pirates came ashore and picked through the debris for survivors to capture and what little intact loot there was. Four of them together very gingerly escorted their now sleeping 'pet monster' back into his little crate-boat, then made sure he was bound up tight with chains and tied to an anchor that was bolted to a catch in the floor before sealing his makeshift prison up tight. With any luck, he would be exhausted enough to sleep straight through until their next raid, when they would provoke him into a rage again and repeat the whole cycle.

Then again, the chains were there for a reason and they'd learned that they could never be too careful when dealing with someone as unpredictable as Mushuro Takeuchi.
and here's my swordsman!



H i r o h i k o
• Ishin Academy, Sapporo (Japan) •




It was at this point that Hirohiko finally unfroze from where he'd been facing the wall. Who was it who'd shouted down the flashy boy who was practically the only one his height?

It...seemed to be a little girl? But...did that mean Knightmare was actually a robot or a suit that she piloted with her quirk? That'd be awesome! If someone like that could use her quirk to become a powerful hero in spite of NEVER getting taller, maybe he could do the same thing! Clearly, she was actually the best choice to teach someone like him and...well, wasn't she actually really, really mean and scary though?

Hirohiko got to his seat, still pleasantly surprised that he was nearly half-way away from being at the bottom like he'd expected he'd be in the end. Still, he wanted to know why Knightmare had chosen not to hide her now-obvious smol-ness, given that he struggled to be taken seriously himself at times for that very reason.

"Um, excuse me sensei! Why did you choose to walk into the classroom out of your armor? I mean, people are more used to your armored appearance, so why did you want to make this kind of first impression instead?"

The fact that asking such a thing might be suicide didn't occur to Hirohiko at all, a testament to the mental density that came with his physical density.
...seriously? There's a Co-GM label right next to Alf's name. You're talking to a Co-GM for the game.
Skidder and Koren Part 2


“I ask because there’s a shipment of Umbaran weapons and technology being sold in Hutt Space. I need you to go verify the legitimacy of the weapons, purchase them if they’re the real deal and bring them back to Paradise.” Koren wasn’t in the habit of stockpiling arms, however this was a serious game changer and could tip the scales of the conflict in Hutt Space. He wasn’t ready for anyone to have this kind of an advantage, if they were fraudulent then he didn’t care as much. Though these weapons could turn a small time player into a big player, and that was a power upset he didn’t want to witness.

“I’ll pay the usual rate, and I’ll even include money for a protection detail. However the stipulation is that a hired gun with you does not see, or touch the merchandise. That’s a no go. Any questions?”

Well, Skidder hadn’t expected that! It might almost be worth it to be able to say he’d traded genuine Umbaran weaponry. Rare feats like that helped build a reputation. On the other hand, “Your terms are good enough. But am I allowed to know who the initial seller is, Your Generousness? I mean, I am one of only a handful of sellers who could authenticate such weapons, so I’d like to know who I’ll be dealing with if it suits you.” And with that information, the sorts of people who’d likely be trying to kill him over the merch, though with such a rare find the list was going to be long. “Not to mention where the sale’s taking place. Can’t go there if I don’t know where it is.” Skidder knew that Koren liked to keep details on certain jobs close to the chest, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d just been dropped a set of coordinates and a pass-phrase for whoever he was buying from or selling to in the least.

Koren shrugged. “The initial seller? Not terribly important. He’s an old contact from the Clone Wars, a Neimoidian. Turns out he apparently managed to smuggle out a ship full of Umbaran weaponry. He’s been living quite happily as an arms dealer, turns out he’s managed to make quite the killing out of selling combat droids. Nothing quite like the amounts serving in the Clone Wars of course. Though apparently a couple of years ago the Empire found his factory and destroyed it, he’s lived quite happily off his riches for a long time though with the fall of the Emperor and the instability needs to do some upgrades to his compound, and while he has money he doesn’t want to use all of it, hence the shipment of Umbaran tech he’s been sitting on for years.” Koren brought up a hologram flicking through the apparent catalogue of items. From blasters and bodysuits to droids and mines.

“He doesn’t have any vehicles apparently, though I’ll see if your ability to talk can find out if there is truth in that. In terms of Venue, there’s few places that don’t have a large criminal presence. I’m sending payment to a new group of mercenaries on Ques-” Not that he actually believed them to be mercenaries, though the planet and their suspected origin would work to his advantage “-to clear a landing zone big enough for your ship, and his. Completely neutral, I’ll forward you the coordinates once you leave. I should point out, you’re not selling. You’re not redistributing, or keeping for yourself. These weapons are being brought right back here. Any questions?”

Skidder took in Koren’s meaning well enough. Try to hold onto a portion of the stash himself and it would be a violent violation of their agreement. Not that he wasn’t tempted, but even Skidder wasn’t foolish enough to try and keep a secret like that from Hutt Space’s most notorious information broker.

“None, now that that’s cleared up. Seems like a fairly decent point-A-to-B deal unless the information and location have already leaked to other ears-” Skidder was hasty to add “Not that I doubt your security and discretion. I’ll still take you up on that payment for extra muscle. Being shot by a glitchy old Battle Droid from the Clone Wars isn’t how I want to get out of the business. Unless there’s anything else, I’ll start my search for talent. I’d appreciate any suggestions in that direction, but only if they come free of strings or charge.”

Koren shrugged. “You’re perfectly capable of picking your own bodyguard.” Koren stood up. “Alright, are we done here?”

Skidder stood up as well, still grinning albeit less from nervousness-although a certain queasy feeling remained- and more from excitement at the thought of such rare weaponry and his being associated with it.

“Yeah, we’re done Your Perspicaciousness! You’ll have your guns shortly! Just be sure to give me the credit and the credits when the job’s through!”

Then, Skidder turned and walked out with as much dramatic dignity as he could before scurrying off to find an mercenary he could trust to not get too curious about his soon-to-be cargo.
Paradise
The Tipsy Rancor, dive bar


Skidder just quietly sipped his Kowakian Rum while the woman at the bar demolished two of the more stupid patrons hanging around. He made sure that he had his back to one of the corners and his eyes on an exit just in case any real trouble started up. Taking in a barfight or two was okay, especially since he was just killing time until whatever errand the pleasure ship's owner had summoned him for began. It wasn't like anyone had any cause to pick a fight with Skidder right now either, and if some old grudge showed up looking to punch his lights out he could easily slip under the table and scurry for the exit while the Wookiee bouncer played interference. He was pretty sure the big fuzzy treeman would step in if any such trouble came Skidder Grace's way, after all he was the Best Gun-Runner in Hutt Space and the big bossman of this place had sent for him personally. They did have something of an officially unofficial business relationship of course!

So for now he just sipped his drink, waited to be called up, and kept his eye on the woman who looked like a bar-hopper and fought like a killer.


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