Log Date:
	7/21/97

Log Cast:
	Andrew Phalanx, Aislinn, Elette (NPC), Roki (NPC), Tog (NPC)

Log Intro:
	The streets of Coronet City are not the best of places for a young 
woman by herself, although so far, the human female known only as Aislinn has 
managed to survive, plying her trade by dancing on corners and reading her 
cards for willing customers. But as of late she has discovered three others 
that Coronet has left on their own: two human children named Roki and Elette, 
and a young Drall named Tog. By herself, Aislinn could survive with relative 
ease, but with the children, she has been forced to seek shelter in the 
homeless refuges under the city more often... and has begun to worry enough 
over keeping these youngsters fed that she is not too proud to accept charity 
when it presents itself...

----------
Homeless Shelter --Under Coronet <Corellia>
The shelter area is a large cavern with walls of steel giders and other scrap 
  castaways from construction of the city above. The area is sprinkled with 
  bodies of the sleeping homeless, curled up in whatever kinds of cloth they 
  can find to keep their bodies warm. A soft moaning echos at all times from 
  the restless in their nightmares. There is a burning trash drum over which 
  food can be cooked if there is any to be found. If no one else takes it 
  first.
Contents:
Andrew Phalanx
Obvious exits:
 <E>astwards leads to Underside Way -- Under Coronet City <Corellia>.

Andrew Phalanx walks into the homeless shelter with two other fairly 
  well-dressed men, surveying the area as they begin to set up a small food 
  table, beginning to distribute food to the even more crowded homeless 
  shelter.

It is, unsurprisingly, dark and dismal in this huge chamber. Sound carries 
  fairly well -- among the sounds that carry are the sniffles of a crying 
  child, from somewhere not too far off. The strangled little noise is 
  erratic, interspersed with someone's soft and soothing voice, pitched 
  deliberately low, so as not to carry any more than necessary.

Andrew Phalanx frowns at the chamber, obviously unused to such concentrated 
  poverty, but shrugs to himself, continuing to set up the small food kitchen 
  and waiting for the various beings in the shelter to line up as the other 
  two start ladling out hot soup into simple bowls.

Wreathed in shadows, kept reasonably well out of sight by one of the 
  lower-hanging girders, a figure with dark curling hair and dusky blue eyes 
  peers consideringly out at the activity. Seeing that the source of noise off 
  in the distance does not appear to be anything harmful -- and indeed, 
  perhaps the opposite -- that figure eventually emerges. When it comes into 
  the light, it is demonstrated to be a young human woman, carrying a small 
  child in her arms. After a few moments, two more children, slightly bigger, 
  trail after her.

Andrew Phalanx
        A human male with dark black hair is before you. He seems a little 
  edgy or anxious, but his brown eyes are friendly and show humor. He stands 
  quite tall, just around 1.8 meters, but his average length black hair 
  doesn't seem to stick out. He looks fairly agile, but his build is merely 
  average. His face has no wrinkles, giving him a young look. He is usually 
  quick with a smile, and equally quick with a frown or glare. When he speaks, 
  a tinge of a Chandrilan accent is detectable in his voice, obvious to those 
  who are used to living in the Core.
        Currently, he is wearing somewhat typical upper-middle class 
  Coreworlder clothes. A black silk shirt is visible under his blue 
  windbreaker, the small, round white buttons contrasting sharply with the 
  other dark clothes. In sunny times, he wears a pair of dark, roughly 
  circular sunglasses. He is wearing navy blue slacks that look fairly well 
  pressed, and new looking black sneakers, a touch of white sock visible 
  between the two. He wears a fancy gold chronometer on his left wrist.
        Although he seems outwardly neutral, his eyes seem to smolder, as if 
  he is angry about something recent. He also seems somewhat transient, not 
  knowing what to do or where to stay.
Carried Objects:
Blaster Pistol 
MedPac

Andrew Phalanx distributes the soup, handing a bowl of soup to each of the 
  beings lined up, giving each of them as comforting of a smile as he can 
  manage. He glances around, squinting into the darkness, frowning at the 
  large number of beings in the shelter.

Aislinn(#3888P!OXenACF)
This is a young human woman, perhaps 5'3" or 5'4" of height when she is 
  standing. With a dusky dark golden complexion, and a shoulderblade-length 
  riot of brown-black curls, she looks like a creature born under a hot home 
  star, a creature of blazing day-heat and sun-fire. But on the other hand, 
  her eyes, almond-shaped and set at a tilt in her fine-boned face, are of a 
  deep blue-violet, a shade that speaks of the last vestige of sunset before 
  the coming of night.
She is clad in a gauzy peasant-style blouse of a vivid shade of rose; over 
  this, a form-hugging, wraparound vest of a pale beige. Trousers of some sort 
  of flowing black material swish about her legs when she moves, billowing 
  down to be caught around her ankles; a pair of sandals, also black, trimmed 
  in tiny sparks of golden thread, cling to her feet. Her hair is swept up and 
  back out of her face, secured by a black and gold clasp that glints in her 
  curls.

Aislinn draws near on silent feet, carrying in her arms that rather 
  distraught-looking child. With the other two younglings in wary tow behind 
  her, she takes a place in the line, dark brows lowered musingly as she 
  watches the interaction of those ahead of her in the line, and the three men 
  at the tables.

Andrew Phalanx serves the various beings as he glances upon them, smiling at 
  them as best he can manage, handing small pieces of candy to the youngsters 
  while handing soup to the other homeless, looking at the dwindling supply of 
  soup with a frown.

When the woman with the children reaches the tables, the two on the ground 
  linger just behind her legs, peering around her with dubious eyes; one of 
  the small ones is a grubby little boy with flame-red hair and green eyes, 
  and the other is, of all things, a young Drall, its (his? her?) fur ratty, 
  looking rather more pathetic than cute as is usually the norm for its race. 
  The child the woman is carrying is a pale, delicate thing, with near-white 
  hair and skin, made all the paler by the woman's own dark complexion. Now, 
  the woman surveys the table before her, and asks gravely, "Fair master, is 
  there a fee for this bounty being given?"

Andrew Phalanx glances upon the woman with a surprised look and shakes his 
  head, "Of course not, ma'am." He attempts a comforting smile, noticing the 
  several children and giving the woman several bowls of soup to compensate. 
  He nods, offering an explanation, "It's all provided, part of the Republic 
  welfare system." He fishes into his pockets, retrieving two pieces of candy, 
  offering them to the children with the woman.

Black eyebrows remain crinkled over blue eyes, and the young female stares 
  hard for a moment at this man before her; when he makes the overtures to the 
  small ones, the redheaded boy and the little Drall both look up at her 
  expectantly, and after another moment, the dusky-skinned woman nods, 
  reaching down with her free hand to push the two littles forward, murmuring 
  encouragingly to them. Then she puts down the tiny pale girl she's been 
  carrying, right on the table, and makes sure that that child is handed soup 
  from her own hands.

Andrew Phalanx watches the woman put the little girl on the table and looks 
  concerned as he hands an extra bowl for the little girl to the woman with a 
  smile, "If she'll grow any", he comments, "She'll need some decent food."

The boy and the Drall settle down to inhale soup at prodigious speed, while 
  the tiny girl lifts plaintive, timid dark eyes to the man. She doesn't make 
  a sound, and she pauses a moment over her bowl as if afraid it will be taken 
  from her. The woman who is apparently her guardian leans over to murmur 
  again to her, before looking up once more and saying, "It is so, fair 
  master." She, too, retains a hint of wariness about the eyes, though she 
  seems willing enough to accept this generosity for the moment.

Andrew Phalanx gives the child a small smile as he watches the group at the 
  table, continuing to glance over as he hands the last of the soup of the 
  people in line, mournfully announcing, "I'm sorry, there's no more food 
  left."
Andrew Phalanx looks at you for a moment.

The little girl blinks dewily up at the smiling man; still, she doesn't make a 
  sound. Beside the woman, the little boy and the Drall, already having 
  emptied their bowls, frown disappointedly, but at a reproving look from 
  their apparent guardian, they creep forward and offer the empty bowls back. 
  "Thank you," mutters the boy, sheepishly.

Andrew Phalanx watch the disappointed crowds who didn't get food file away as 
  he murmurs something about unemployment, shaking his head. He smiles to the 
  boy, handing him another piece of candy as the two other helpers begin 
  cleaning up. Phalanx even grins slightly, and winks, "You see, there's a 
  reward for being polite."

Aislinn's mouth curls up very faintly at one end, as the redheaded boy 
  actively gapes. Then with a grubby hand he snatches the treat, and pipes 
  another thank-you even as the Drall-cub mumbles something grateful-sounding 
  as well. The little girl, however, remains quiet as the woman feeds her the 
  last of her second bowl, before scooping her up gently once more. "Indeed," 
  the woman says softly, "we thank you, fair master, and I thank you. I have 
  not been able to provide them a supper this night."

Andrew Phalanx smiles and spreads his hands, giving her a shrug, "That's what 
  the government is here for. Although times are hard recently..." He lets out 
  a quiet sigh and simply shrugs, "We've had lots of people without jobs, and 
  these places are getting more and more crowded. I used to help with the one 
  here, and we used to always have enough." He sighs once again, shrugging 
  helplessly. He seems to glance up and smiles again, "And you can stop 
  calling me fair master, it makes me feel rather ridiculous. I'm only a 
  volunteer."

As the boy and the Drall-cub peer up at her questioningly, the woman leans 
  over to murmur to them, "A moment..." Returning her gaze to the man, she 
  almost smiles once more, as she inclines her dark curly head. The gesture 
  might be either obedient or simply gracious... or both. "As you wish. And 
  again, we thank you." Settling the little girl against her breast, while 
  tiny pale arms loop themselves around her neck, the woman turns as if to go.

Andrew Phalanx smiles and gives another nod, fishing something out of his 
  pocket, looking truly sympathetic to the woman's tough times. He motions, 
  "Wait", and displays a one-hundred credit chip, "Here. Go get yourself some 
  real food, maybe get a ride, go live with some relatives.", he suggests. He 
  shrugs, "You shouldn't be here, your children are going to starve to death."

Startled, blue eyes widening in her dark face, the young woman turns back. The 
  little girl in her arms simply silently stares at the man, while the boy and 
  the Drall-cub gape again and whisper urgently to one another. The woman's 
  black eyebrows climb in delicate arches, and she says at last, "I have no 
  relatives to ease the burden of these littles, O generous one, but if your 
  largesse extends to suggestions of where they may sleep safely and warmly, I 
  am listening."

The small boy abruptly pipes up, swallowing down the last of his treat, "Linn 
  ain't got nobody, that's how come she takes care of us."

Andrew Phalanx frowns slightly, as he nods. He looks surprised at the child as 
  he nods again, sighing, and murmuring, "If I still had a position, I could 
  give you a bed in the garrison." He simply shakes his head and sighs once 
  again, "I wish I knew. All the homeless shelters are being crowded, and some 
  of the cheaper hostels are raising their prices, just because of the wave of 
  unemployed. There aren't many good places, although Alderaan has good 
  unemployment support, but that's very far from here." He notices that the 
  woman hasn't accepted the credit chip, and motions with his hand, "Take it. 
  It'll feed you and your...", he pauses, considering the child's words, 
  "charges for a few days, at least."

The redheaded boy eyes the chip, biting his lower lip; the Drall-cub's beady 
  dark eyes go rounder in its furry little face, and it chatters out something 
  pleading to the young woman. The silent girl-child simply moves her liquid 
  dark gaze from the man's outstretched hand to 'Linn', who stares long and 
  searchingly at the credits and their offerer. Finally, she gives another 
  graceful dip of her head and puts forth a delicate dark hand to accept the 
  gift. "Once more I thank you, O generous one, and may the Pattern's paths 
  unwind kindly for you."

Andrew Phalanx gives you 100 Republic Script.
Andrew Phalanx smiles encouragingly and nods, "Maybe get a decent place to 
  stay, try to find a job as best you can. You shouldn't be in here, 
  especially not with them." He motions, indicating the children. One of the 
  other men walks over to Phalanx, tugging on his shirt, as if to tell him to 
  go. He nods an affirmative to the other man, giving the woman a smile, "Good 
  luck, and fare you well."

The woman simply smiles a bit, not exactly sadly, but not quite with any kind 
  of hope, either. She dips and raises her upper body ever so slightly in what 
  might be a bow, hindered by the slight weight of the youngling in her arms. 
  The boy and the Drall-cub dare to pipe farewells, and with that, 'Linn' and 
  her little troupe of younglings slip away into the shadows.

Andrew Phalanx watches the woman curiously, shaking his head at the times, and 
  picking up the portable table, looking towards the other man, "Let's go... 
  nothing more we can do here." The other men nod in reply as all three leave 
  the homeless shelter for the dark Corellian night.
Andrew Phalanx goes through the tunnel towards the east.
Andrew Phalanx has left.

[End log.]