Kaillan
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- Kaillan
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From Molotov: There's a moment where I'm just squinting at Trespass and my magnum is dangling from one hand. And then it's over with a sigh. I holster my gun and nod at Sims, who's just standing around like who the fuck knows, pockets full of jingl…
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From Molotov: Is obvious what we did, but I'm behind this ice-covered trash anyway. I mean, da, I am Molotov, but... fuck it, why am I hiding? I stand up to shrug at Trespass. "He talked shit about Rox," I slur just a little bit, squinting, "He wa…
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From Molotov: "Why aren't you not getting the sleds started then, huh?!" I retort in Bonk's direction, dropping low behind a frozen pile of trash. Shit. Suddenly, really great feeling is twisted upside down, like I'm walking on sky and everything i…
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[Trek] Observing Kelborn: (Rolled: 2d6+1+1. Rolls: 5, 4. Total: 10)
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[Trek] Kelborn's looking me up and down, like I'm a Tailhead dancer. I'm used to this, but not by somebody so... real. The scorched armor. The scars. The intimidatingly large dossier. She can keep her weapons, but I'll give her pause before using …
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OOC: And drugged up, poor choice-making Molotov picks... • one barter • one barter • one barter
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OOC: Troll for Barter. Roll+Hard (Rolled: 2d6+3. Rolls: 4, 3. Total: 10)
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[Trek] I knew her as Commander N. Selv Torug — an instructor of mine during my training at the Imperial Naval Academy; she had also been, among other things, briefly, my lover. Sithspit. It takes a moment of checking my shoes for scuff marks befo…
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From Molotov: "Hah!" I roar, stumbling out of Nedd's van and into the presence of my boys, the freezing cold feeling amazing. Hell, everything is feeling amazing right now, with the ice around my head like clouds. Why is that? Who cares. "Awy nuffe…
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From Molotov: "Da," I wheeze, which continues into a cough. I'm holding it back with one hand, and pointing to Sims with the other. He's in here with me, with the batteries. Bonk's outside drinking the rum.
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[Trek] Hm, pleasure indeed. "Lieutenant Trek Pira Ores of the Imperial Frigate, Starburn II," I crisply reply, with all the authority of my uniform. "We're going to be docking with you, portside, Ebon Hawk — I trust that I don't need to fully artic…
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[Trek] I adjust the tip of my hat and smooth down my hair. Trisell gets a flash of my condescending smirk. He's Rodian, an abo of Rodia. "What do you think, cadet?" I don't hold it against him, he didn't choose to look like the rats I'd find in th…
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[Trek] Hrmph, according to this file our Mandalorian friend has been quite the party animal. She's been charged with thirty cases of deadly assault, twenty-three of espionage, and five attempts to perverse the will of the Emperor. What is really qu…
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From Molotov: As the time is stretching on, I am thinking, is sad, but what can I do? Nothing. She will lose Poke, and grieve like those sorts do, and I'll still have this bullet inside me. So, I stop looking for birds, push off the wall to my feet…
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[Trek] I'm giddy from head to toe as I walk down the steps, head high, hands behind my back. My gaze slips by Darf without pausing, heading for the expansive viewport over the heads of my pilots. Ord Mantell is looming, a stationary cesspool off to…
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OOC: Salary. Roll 2d6+2 (Rolled: 2d6+2. Rolls: 6, 6. Total: 14)
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[Trek] I've been staring at this ceiling since 0200. Just sweating my sheets sodden, waiting for my first real operation to begin. I'm warp-lagged, anxious and alone in the dark when Darf's voice rides a wave of static into my quarters. He details …
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From Molotov: I hear Dice chatting Poke up, like, I know where to put those horns and tune it out. He's too much. I'm still looking out that window, and the landscape calms me, birds drifting across the ice, the calm sun. A part of me waits for gu…
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From Molotov: I get one last, good glimpse at Ross' tinted eyes, then lower my magnum. I've nothing more to say. As he's is walking off, I look down, at Poke. There's bandage, scalpels, and all sorts of medicine fuckery strewn about the pair. I'm …
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From Molotov: He shot Poke. He shot Poke. This place will be swarming with dogs, guards, Gnu. I'm trying to sort out the facts. But, all the while, my heart is wrenching at the sight of young Poke on the ground, breathing blood. I stumble away fro…
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From Molotov: All I am wanting is in that clinic, my wounds stitched up, and some bloody strong meds. This fuss, it's not necessary. So I'm putting my hand on Ross' shoulder, and pulling a little bit, like put down that fucking gun and I'm looking …
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OOC: Interfere. Roll+Hx. (Rolled: 2d6+2. Rolls: 2, 2. Total: 6)
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From Molotov: I push off the cone and into movement, shambling towards the confrontation a few steps away. This is getting out of hand, but why? What the fuck is up Ross' ass? "Poke," I greet my old, well, would not be calling friends, but they kn…
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From Molotov: Maybe, to keep me awake. Maybe, because there are no birds in sky outside, and still I am hearing whining-crying-sobbing from weak people. Maybe, for whatever reason, I am in mood to fill silence, so I idly note, remembering that Poke…
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From Molotov: I...did say that, I think. I'm not so certain right now, everything is spinning just little bit. So I say with nod, "Da, was little shoot-out, no big deal." And I'm digging my fingers into the plastic wafer, because like fuck am I fal…
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From Molotov: "And you," I remind Ross, letting him stew for a little bit, before shrugging a shoulder, "But, I got to him first, and now his gang is my gang. I've got one of them here. He is out fetching me strong drink. Poke is little bitch somet…
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From Molotov: Ross and Dice cut in line, together, like, right here, and I'm leaning against an ice-cream waiting for Poke. I clear my throat which isn't needing to be cleared. "You're looking like shit, Ross," I tell him, but I'm looking at Dice.…
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From Molotov: Why? The first word is 'control,' and second is 'freak.' I mean, do not be getting me wrong, Poke is a genius, like better than anybody at what he does, but I used to wonder if it's more than that. Maybe, if Poke had decided one day, …
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From Molotov: "Da," I tell Gnu, looking through the door, then back to him, "It was matter of responsibility. He was responsible for being jerk-off, so I shot him." I shrug my shoulder, like no big deal, "I'm over at Grease Park now. Let me know if…
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From Molotov: Hah. Gnu knows I do not care for his wife; though I suspect he does, despite all of our guard duties being spent bitching about how miserable he was. "Da, da. Your life is awful," I dismiss his misery, shaking my head, and lifting th…