Log Date: 3/28/98, 4/7 Log Cast: Lara Meiryn (Meileani Kirand), Gavril Turlon (Han Solo), Kierdan, Torin'maal, Morbid, Jairen, Drak, Avid Log Intro: At last, the _Black Eagle_ and its small contingent of undercover NR personnel has arrived on Tatooine to try to carry out their mission of recovering a pair of stolen New Republic vessels. Among their number are counted Han Solo and Meileani Kirand, who have managed to hit it off well over a game of sabacc, and who both have concocted cover stories to explain their presence on the Imperial-occupied desert world. But while Meileani's mission is primarily involved with the recovery of the missing ships, she has no problems with teaming up with Han to help him accomplish his own goal of locating the woman he needs to find in Mos Eisley spaceport. Neither of them know, however, that at least one other old 'friend' of Han's is aware of his coming to Tatooine.... ---------- Laya enters from the main accessway Laya has arrived. Laya enters Forward Lounge Laya peeks her head into the lounge, looking about. Forward Lounge This is the lounge, part bunkroom, part rec room, part kitchen, and part maintenance area. Off to one side is a double bunkbed, set flush into the wall. Near the center of the room is a large, circular table that serves a variety of purposes. One one is a counter with a variety of automatic cooking machines. Tools are stored off to one side, and there is a high-intensity light over the table for close work. A couch is over by one wall, aparrently built into the wall. Thie room has a well-worn feeling about it. Over to one side is the door to a small bathroom, which has a commode and a shower. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Laya -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-

ort leads to Main Accessway. Han Solo is the only person in the room at the moment. The Corellian is standing at the bunk he'd commandeered for the duration of the journey, a half-open tote bag before him on the bunk. He's in the middle of taking off the rumpled white shirt that appears to be his usual choice of garment; the rest of him still sports the blue pants with the stripes down the side, and the blaster holstered at his thigh. Laya leans up against the edge of the door and grins just a touch, enjoying the show. She drawls evenly, "Getting ready for a trip to town, Mr. Solo?" Laya This young woman is a bit tall for a human female, slender and lightly-boned with a striking coloring; her hair and eyes are dark, while her skin is very fair, almost pale. Her hair tumbles to just below her shoulders in length, a shiny mass of inky blackness so dark it's almost blue. Her features are average, for the most part; dark blue eyes with short, spiky lashes; an upturned nose; and a full mouth with white, even teeth that peek out when she smiles. Her build is very slender, with long, coltish legs that move with surprising grace and lightness. Her bones are lightly structured and yet she manages to be softly curvaceous, filling out her scant clothing with little left to the imagination. She is wearing a silky sheath of midnight blue fabric, so sheer it's almost translucent. Little star-shaped silver clasps hold it in place at her shoulders. It is very short, it's hem falling about three inches short of indecent -- it's neckline is a mere slash down the center of the shift, ending at her waist, where a silver lace ties it together just above her bellybutton. Her hair is curled in scented waves down her back, held out of her face with a matching set of silver stars. Slight touches of cosmetics highlight the blue of her eyes and pale creaminess of her skin. Shiny black thigh boots with low heels cover her legs. "Turlon," drawls the Corellian in reply, turning around to eye the woman who's greeted him. "You can call me Gav Turlon." Apparently unbothered by being seen shirtless, Solo reaches into the carry bag before him, pulling out a shirt of a fairly non-descript brown and shrugging into it, beginning to button it up along his trim frame. Three long scars can be seen to slash across his upper chest. The woman smiles, "Nice to meet you, Gav Turlon. You can call me Laya. Laya Meiryn." 'Turlon' keeps his eyebrows lifted as the name 'Laya' is pronounced; a slight smirk crosses his face, along with an even slighter glint of something undefinable in his gaze. His hands finish the buttoning job, stopping by what's probably habitual reflex before the last two are secured. Then he somehow seems to... shift, his expression going deliberately open and guileless, and he says in an earnest tone rather higher than his normal pitch, "It's very nice to meet you, Miss Meiryn." Laya actually grins, "Nice...Sure you wouldn't like a job in Intelligence?" She adds evenly, "You might want to button those last two...It's a bit out of character to be so...relaxed." The Corellian blinks, glancing down at the hint of his breastbone visible between the shirt's still partly open collar, and then he allows himself a bit of a lopsided smirk as he finishes buttoning all the way up to his collar. "Just hope I can stomach myself for the duration," he murmurs dryly, back down to his gravelly baritone. His attention diverts down to his blaster, and it's with noticeably more reluctant motions that he unfastens the holster from his thigh. The spy looks down at her own outfit and grimaces faintly, "You and me, both. At least you get to keep a bit of your dignity intact." She grins, lopsidedly, "Of course, I get to make some Imperials into fawning idiots, so it's a fair trade-off." "Yeah, sweetheart, but I have to _be_ a fawning idiot," replies Solo. The holster and its weapon free of his thigh, he lifts it up and unfastens it from his belt, then stares measuringly at the weapon. "Some kinda idiot to go into Mos Eisley unarmed, I'm here to tell ya." He abruptly stuffs the blaster, holster and all, into his carrysack, and then crouches down on one knee, reaching for an ankle -- or, rather, for the bottom of the red stripes that grace either side of his blue trousers. Laya sighs softly, "I agree...Saris nearly had to demote me to get me to leave my knives behind." She smiles wistfully, "Ah, well. Weapons are nice, but they aren't necessary." Solo begins peeling the red stripe off the right leg of his pants, slowly and carefully, rolling it up in his hands as he goes. Glancing up, but not fully at the agent, he snorts softly and mutters, "No match for a good blaster..." Odd; there's that touch of wistfulness about his expression again, before he goes entirely businesslike once more. Right leg de-striped, he shifts position and goes to work on the left. Laya leans against a chair, playing with one of her hairpins. "They're so...clumsy and inelegant." Standing again, a rolled red stripe in each hand, Solo turns and deposits these with somewhat more care into his carrysack, and drawls, "I ain't never been accused of bein' an elegant man, sweetheart." Blue eyes regard the Corellian for a moment before saying lightly, "Elegance has its place. And it isn't out here in the trenches." She grins a bit and straightens, tugging absently on one of her boots. "And right now, I'd give my left foot for a good blaster and a set of throwing knives." Solo manages a smile, before he turns and tugs a vest out of his carrysack, a light, sand-colored garment with a hood, clearly mostly intended for keeping the sun off one's head. This he slips on over the brown shirt. As he then sits down to change his black spacer's boots for a pair of light brown ones, he answers, "That makes two of us. So..." And he stands. Laya watches with a gleam of interest, "You look good, Gav. Very...dusty. You should fit right in." She grins. Solo ducks his head slightly, probably to hide the fact that he isn't actually blushing, though his posture suggests he ought to be. "Oh, I'm nothing special, ma'am," he sallies back, his voice lifting once more to that nervous tenor. Laya stifles a laugh, "You know, I hope whoever you're impersonating doesn't find out about it..." Laya looks at you for a moment. Gavril_Turlon(#1491POUAx) This tall, rangy man doesn't seem like anybody particularly noteworthy, just one of countless human denizens of the galaxy. Hair, a mustache, and beard that can all be classified as short, full, neatly trimmed, and a sandy light brown frame a set of ruggedly handsome features... though one might wonder whether their owner is aware of their general appeal, for he meets the galaxy with a pair of slightly befuddled brownish-green eyes, and he typically speaks in a high, nervous tenor. He is currently garbed in a non-descript dark brown shirt of a coarse weave, fairly loosely cut, a desert-dweller's shirt, held securely round his waist by a battered utility belt. As for the rest, it's simple, well-worn blue pants tucked into equally simple, scruffed light brown boots, and a light, sand-colored vest with a hood that can lifted up to keep the sun off the wearer's head. "Not very likely, ma'am," 'Gav Turlon' replies in wide-eyed seriousness, gesturing with one hand off towards the hatchway out. Back in his baritone, he suggests, "After you?" Laya smiles slowly, "Thanks, handsome." She saunters through the door in a way that would make a call-girl proud. Laya walks out the hatchway, into the main accessway. Laya has left. You walk out the hatchway, into the main accessway. Main Accessway This is a largish room, a criss-cross of accessways with the sides opened up in a circle. Off to one side is the main engineering status board, and there are several large storage compartments across from it. Next to the airlock is a weapons rack with a couple of blaster rifles and several assorted pistols on it. Over in a corner is the accessway to the twin gun turrets, and over in the floor is the access to the engine core. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Laya -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- tarboard leads to Forward Lounge. ft leads to Cargo Hold. ore leads to Bridge.

ort leads to Airlock. Gavril_Turlon enters Main Accessway Gavril_Turlon stifles his leer -- it would, after all, be out of character -- and shuffles almost timidly after his companion. Laya is apparently practicing; she sends a flirty look over her shoulder before heading out through the airlock. Laya presses a button, waits as the heavy pressure door slides open, and walks through to the airlock. Laya has left. The heavy pressure door slides open, and you walk through. Airlock This is a small room, used as an airlock and entry foyer for the ship. Starboard, a single heavy pressure door leads to the rest of the ship. Next to it is a control panel, with a handprint ID reader and the controls to the atmosphere and lcoking systems. Set into the floor is a large drop-down access ramp that leads outside. Against one wall are several spacesuits in a storage compartment, and a rack of breather masks hangs by the door. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Laya => Torin'maal => Kierdan -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- tarboard leads to Main Accessway. ut leads to Docking Bay 87 -Mos Eisley-. Gavril_Turlon enters Airlock Gavril_Turlon shuffles out into view after Laya, glancing with a guileless hazel gaze around the room. Laya walks into the airlock in front of Gavril...Well, 'walk' might be an inaccurate term. She saunters, looking like a call-girl on the prowl. Kierdan is standing up near the entrance to the ship's interior, looking consideringly between a carbine in his right hand and a pistol in his left hand. After a moment, he shakes his head, and stores the pistol in his belt. Laya breaks character long enough to look longingly at Kierdan's pistol. The blaster, of course. She turns away and smiles at Torin'maal, "Evening." Even her voice is suitably pitched for a lady of the night. The fellow with the sandy hair and beard and the shy look that's almost too ingenuous to be real pauses long enough to glance at Kierdan and Torin'maal, then he jabs a thumb at Laya and murmurs guilelessly, "Laya's going to, ah, um, take me out and, ah, show me the town...?" One well-manicured hand latches onto Gavril's arm and gently steers him for the door, "That's right, honey...You're going to have the time of your life." Laya winks just a little. Torin'maal glances up from where he stands with Kierdan, his brow arching slightly as he looks over the two new arrivals to the airlock. "I see. Take care of yourselves and don't get into trouble. At least not too much," he murmurs quietly, leaning back against the bulkhead. Kierdan rolls his eyes towards the ceiling and studies the carbine he has chosen, turning it over in his hands a couple times. His eyes occasionally slip suspiciously to the ship's exit, watching warily. Managing to look both excited and nervous, "Gavril Turlon" flicks a sheepish half-smile at the other two men, before adding in a gravelly baritone -- Han Solo's gravelly baritone -- "We'll try not to blow anything up while we're gone." He winks, too, then lets Laya 'drag' him off. Laya grins, a very Meileani grin, and 'drags'. You place your hand on the ID scanner, a light flashes green, and the heavy pressure door slides open. Docking Bay 87 -Mos Eisley- The largest an best kept docking bay in Mos Eisley. Cleaning droids scurry about busily sucking up sand and dirt. The high wall wich surrounds the port is a mis-match of patch work and color, where the locals have attempted to cover up the blaster holes. There are cracks covered with steel glue all over the landing platform. If this is well kept, imagine what the rest of the city looks like. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Economic Presence -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => STARFIGHTER: Corellian YT-1300 -- Sable Fox => STARFIGHTER: Corellian YT-1300 -- Exodus => STARFIGHTER: SubPro Ilyrian Gnat -- Stone Temple => STARFIGHTER: Corellian YT-1300 -- Black Eagle => SQUAD: StormTroopers - 5135 => SIGN: AEC Ships => starport computer -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- est leads to Customs Station 2 -Mos Eisley-. Laya exits from the YT-1300 Black Eagle. Laya has arrived. Laya looks around as she exits the ship, sniffing a little and nearly coughing on a lungful of dust. "Charming." The man letting himself be dragged out the airlock pauses a few moments to squint, his eyesight adjusting to the general glare and drabness of Mos Eisley, before quickly stifling a grin and settling into the sort of nervous shuffle that seems to be marking his steps for the moment. "That's Mos Eisley for ya," he mutters in an undertone. A well-manicured hand playfully tugs the incognito Corellian towards the main part of the city, and 'Laya' smiles, "Let's tear up the town, handsome." 'Gavril' doesn't blush, though he does a good fascimile of a sheepish expression, as he asks naively, "Won't they make us put it back together?" as he's tugged along. The ebony haired 'lady' giggles, "You're so clever." Well, okay, he's not going to stoop to actually scruffing his toe in the sand and saying "Aw shucks"; he'll settle for another sheepish lopsided grin. Accordingly, the man calling himself Gav Turlon, sheepish grin in place, lets himself be dragged on out of the docking bay, even as he surreptitiously scans his surroundings. Laya seems to be doing the same thing as she moves, although she is -quite- solicitous to her client, of course. Laya heads off through the blast doors into Customs Station 2. Laya has left. The blast doors hiss and slide open, the smell of sand blowing in as you leave. Customs Station 2 -Mos Eisley- Station 2 might at one time have been a modern facility, then again maby not. As it is now, the only thing going for it is it's realative lack of sand and dirt. Cleaning droids constatly sweep and vaccuum the area, even following around the diritiest of occupants. The customs building sits between docking bays 86 and 87. These happen to be the larger of the four bays in Mos Eisly, thus attracting a little care and up-keep from the city officials. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Laya => SQUAD: Stormtroopers - 9665 -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- orth leads to Docking Bay 86 -Mos Eisley-. ast leads to Docking Bay 87 -Mos Eisley-. outh leads to Main Street -Mos Eisley-. est leads to Market Place East -Mos Eisley-. The dark-haired woman clings to Gavril, eyeing the Stormtroopers as she looks around. Under Laya's grasp, Gavril's arm can be felt to tense up for a moment -- just a moment. But he remembers to wear a slightly frazzled and deeply earnest expression as he and his companion pass the patrol; he even turns his head to guilelessly watch them go by, almost as if he were a gaping tourist. Once they're passed, and only when they're passed, do his hazel eyes harden briefly as he redirects his gaze forward along the street. Laya leans up to whisper in her companion's ear, while at the same time snuggling against his arm, "You've got a knack for this sort of thing." The snuggled arm stays a little tense. Reaction to the passing patrol, or to the snuggling? Judging by Gav's face, it might be either, as he gives the woman beside him an expression that comes across as nervous. "You're, ah, too kind," he warbles out in the too-high tenor. The lady winks, "That's my job, handsome." She glances around again, noting the tension in the others who walk the street. Tatooine is not a happy little hive of wretches and villainy lately. You head into the blowing sand of Main Street. Main Street -Mos Eisley- It is difficult to determine, wich is the better or worse section of Mos Eisley since they do not differ all that much. However, if one were forced to label this section, they would most likely say just left of seedy. The less than respectable group that tend to congregate in the city do not venture into this neighborhood very often. Everything is, of course, covered in sand. Towards the south comes the stench of Dewbacks, emitting from their stables. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => SQUAD: Stormtroopers - 8208 => TKC Guard -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- orth leads to Customs Station 2 -Mos Eisley-. ast leads to TKC Office -Mos Eisley-. est leads to Main Street -Mos Eisley-. Laya arives from the north. Laya has arrived. Nights in the desert are chilly, that's for certain. Laya tugs her slinky silk cloak a little closer, and murmurs under her breath, "This outfit is not meant for warmth, that's for sure." Managing to look embarrassed again at the second or third time he's been called 'handsome', Gav promptly, and probably for the benefit of the sentients edging along nearby, pipes, "You, ah, you need my vest?" She purrs, "Your vest is the last thing I need, handsome, but it'll do for now..." Gav clears his throat, sounding either nervous or perhaps startled or both, as he pauses to disengage himself from his companion's grasp -- he does have to get the vest off, after all. Laya puts her hands behind her back, an incredibly fake look of innocence on her face. The effect that position has on her chest is anatomically quite amazing. Once more, Gav clears his throat; his hazel glance in the direction of his companion's... ah... er, assets does linger, though he jerks it quickly away as he shrugs out of the sand-colored vest and makes a show of awkwardly draping it around the lady, holding it out so she can slide her arms into it. "Ah, um, here you go..." Laya snuggles into the vest with an appreciative sigh (accompanined by an equally appreciative jiggle) and smiles dazzlingly, quickly giving her companion a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you." "Quite, ah, quite welcome," comes the tremulous tenor reply. Either Gav is quite the actor, or else Laya is making _some_ kind of impact on him, for he's now apparently having a hard time looking at his companion where they've paused there on the street. The lady's smile is just a little sly, but not exactly as composed as she should be either. Laya's eyes flicker to the surrounding areas, and she murmurs, "Not much to do here, is there?" "Don't look like," comes Gav's low murmur in reply, as he conveniently avoids paying undue attention to the next passing trooper patrol by sliding his companion a nervous-seeming sidelong glance. A slim arm slips around Gavril's waist, "Relax, hon...We'll figure something out." Laya smiles easily. "I'm not nervous!" Interesting. The exclamation is suitably too-swift, but it comes out gravelly-baritone, rather than warbly-tenor. Gav then coughs and adds, back in the tenor register, "I'm, I-I'm not nervous!' Dark blue eyes twinkle just a moment before she drawls, "Well, then, let's keep walking?" "Oh! Oh, yeah, uh, right..." And Gav hastily turns his attention back to the street. You head up Main Street. Main Street -Mos Eisley- The air here seems to consists of about 50 percent sand and 50 percent odor. If you've ever seen a more miserable place, it was probably a block east of here. Around you the dregs of many races go about their unimportant lives doing their unimportant jobs. Smack in the middle of the block, with only a gaping dark open door leading forth to it's innards, sits the towns first blockhouse, the notorious Mos Eisley Cantina. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => SQUAD: Stormtroopers - 5565 -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- orth leads to Market Place East -Mos Eisley-. ast leads to Main Street -Mos Eisley-. outh leads to Power Station -Mos Eisley-. est leads to Main Street -Mos Eisley-. antina leads to Chalmun's Cantina -Mos Eisley-. Laya comes down Main Street from the east. Laya has arrived. High-heeled boots click on the dusty pavement as Laya half-clings to her companion's arm, hips doing that little wiggle that professionals all across the galaxy practice. She suggests in a husky voice, "Buy me a drink?" Inwardly beginning to wonder if half the beings in Mos Eisley are stormtroopers, the face presented to the city as Gavril Turlon's remains a little nervous, a lot earnest, and easily judged as flustered by the scantily clad lady on his arm. He bobs his head, and gestures his companion off towards Chalmun's, waiting until his face is pointed in the direction of that august establishment before grinning fleetingly, and with undeniable memory. The expression vanishes, though, the moment he steps through the door. You bravely enter the Cantina. Chalmun's Cantina -Mos Eisley- NOTICE: The place code is temporarily halted as I update to the new code style, thankyou for your paitence. BC_Tatooine The infamous cantina is just as it's been for nearly four decades. Dark, smokey and filled with some of the most notorious and dangerous characters Tatooine, or the galaxy for that matter, have ever seen. Dimly lit, the cantina is filled with shadows, and many of the patrons use this to their advantage. The blue droid detector hums as it scans those entering. The place smells of countless tabaccs and liquids, as well as unwashed bodies. More noticeable than the stench, however is the sense of danger and foreboding that hangs here. OOC Note: Type 'PLACE HELP' for commands. Important: If you plan on putting an object in here contact a wizard or BC_Tatooine before doing so. Disruptive puppets or Objects not approved may find themselves @nuked. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Lirin => Poster => Slot Machine => Wuher -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- ut leads to Main Street -Mos Eisley-. Laya comes in from the street, brushing the sand off of her. Laya has arrived. Laya crinkles her nose faintly as she enters, presumably at the smell. She leans close to Gavril, murmuring, "I'll get us a table?" "Oh, uh, sure, um..." The Corellian pauses there at the entrance, smiling uncertainly at his companion, while disguising a scan of the place as a nervous swallow. "Drinks, uh, drinks, right?" The lady winks, "A Corellian Ale will be fine." She saunters into the tables, working her way to a quiet booth with a natural view of the rest of the Cantina. Left to his own devices, the... gentleman sets a tentative course for the bar. An air of wary restraint not unlike what had been out on the streets can be sensed in the place, for all that on the surface of things, everything seems normal enough. Band of aliens on stage belting out a number; motley beings of several species providing their patronage, dubious or otherwise. But tonight, at any rate, the buzz of conversation in the place is muted, and most if not all heads seem interested in staying pointed at the drinks being held by their owners. Among them, "Gavril Turlon" shuffles towards the bar, and if multiple pairs of eyes follow his path, neither their owners nor he give any sign of acknowledging it. Laya crosses her legs, the little shift that she wears inching upwards. The leather of her skin-tight boots squeaks slightly and she smiles, awaiting 'Gavril's return. A few of the more human eyes turn to notice her...Understandably, she's a bit more interesting than the dusty fellow at the bar. Poster This is a 4 foot by 4 foot poster. It shows an Imperial stormtrooper captain, with a grinning teenager on one side, and a grinning old man on the other. The words beneath this poster say, "The Empire is your friend" in 32 different languages. Lirin Lirin Car'n, the Bith mecenary and back-up Kloo Horn player in Figrin D'an's band, The Modal Nodes, sits quietly at a table. Lirin looks like any other Bith, and has a large oval head that's gleams, noting it is a light beige. His ping-pong sized eyes, pitch black, and gleam when the light hits it right, look around, as if waiting for someone. Under his strangeeyes, are a few wrinkles, leading into a a small circle, which is the Bith's mouth. Lirin simply wears a black shirt, with a light brown aged long sleaved shirt. His pants are wrikled and ripped in some areas, and are a messy black color. Around his waist, he wears a aged bantha hide utility belt. Survival gear, food andtools are stored in small compartments. The belt is obviously old, and blood isfound in a few places, adding a evil effect to Lirin. Lirin casually collects money from various people watching the Modal Nodes, collecting a "cover charge". OOC Note: Lirin is here as someone to talk to in the Cantina when no ones on. Just type 'GREET' to start, and to continue talking type anything in the ' 's. Comments and suggestions, /please/ @mail Mahraccor. Enjoy!) Wuher A gruff middleaged human standing at average heighth. He is clothed in typical attire for a Tatooine native. A tanish tattered long sleaved shirt with a pair of sand coated tanish light cotton pants. His hair is thining and his face shows signs of age. He wears a stern placid expresion. He looks almost angre and you'd probably think twice about aproaching him but he's the only one behind the bar. His gut is slightly overweight, lending a grumpy air to him. Wuher is very much like Tatooine, dusty, hard and desolate. OOC NOTE: Type 'BAR HELP' for commands. The gruff-looking bartender eyes 'Gavril' up and down bemusedly for a moment or two as the Corellian draws near; the moment Gav pipes out a wavering request for a couple of Corellian ales, however, the 'tender's expression settles back down into disgruntled indifference. Ales are provided, credits forked over in return, and with an ale in each hand, Gav turns to make his way over to his companion. The lady waves Gavril over, silver hair pieces sparkling a little in the dim light. Even as she does so, she's tuning an ear to the conversations of the room. "I, ah, got ales, like you wanted," are the words with which Gav heralds his own arrival. He eyes their table for a moment, dubiously, and then gingerly settles down into his seat. Hazel eyes glance in apparent nervousness about the place, and he promptly and awkwardly thrusts forth one of the ales. "Uh, here you go?" Slim fingers with brightly painted nails wrap around the glass, "Thanks, handsome." She takes a sip, running her tongue along the rim of the glass. Gav clears his throat again, looks even more nervous, and then sticks out a hand, starting to decisively jab a finger at the woman sitting before him. He segues the motion, however, into a sort of wobbly gesture, as he pretends to blurt, "My, uh, my name is Gavril, remember?" Laya sets the glass down with a smile, "I know, Gavril. Would you rather I called you that?" Her voice is a notch short of a purr, and one booted foot finds your own under the table. "Well, I mean, y'know, you're just sayin' 'handsome' every other sentence and all, so, well... uh..." Gav trails off, momentarily pointing his gaze at the wall and rolling his eyes. Probably at his own inane burbling. The gaze then drops briefly tableward, and for a moment, dark brows rise, the foot contact noted. Laya props her chin on her hand, looking at you with wide, almost innocently devious eyes. "I like calling you handsome." Her foot rubs against your leg playfully. Quite the coquette, isn't she? All the while, she seems to be listening to the sounds of the Cantina. "Well, uh," is Gav's eloquent reply. "I'm not all that really--" He trails off, though, smirking slightly, and quickly hiding it as he starts nursing his ale. Just for atmosphere, he coughs on the first swallow. Her grin is cheeky, but she hides it in her own ale. "This place is dull..." Morbid comes in from the street, brushing the sand off of him. Morbid has arrived. "Oh, I dunno," Laya's table companion hazards in his warbly tenor, "it's, uh, got.. ambiance?" Hazel eyes glance round the place in that sort of almost touristy curiosity. It makes him rather noticeable given that most of the sentients in the cantina seem to be stoically ignoring one another as they consume their chosen intoxicants. Laya leans forward a little, her silk tunic gaping just a touch, and smiles warmly at Gavril, "Ambience isn't exactly what I'd describe it as...But the company is quite good indeed." She licks her lips and resumes sipping her ale. Morbid looks at you for a moment. Morbid laughs Gav eyes that slightly gaping tunic, coughs down another swallow of ale, and smiles sheepishly at the woman sitting before him. "Uhhh, thanks," he manages. "I mean... well, you know, I'm not all that _fun_..." Laya's dark eyes twinkle a little bit, "I think we can remedy that, handsome..." She sips her ale, again licking her lips to catch the excess, and adds, "In a more private place, of course." Morbid stand at his full highet as Wuher ask If he like his usal Wuher grunts as he fixes a Trandoshan Killer and hands it to Morbid. "Oh, oh, nah, I really couldn't!" Gav blurts, grabbing at his ale and gulping down an awkward mouthful, avoiding meeting Laya's amused gaze. Wuher goes over to Morbid and starts a converstaion about young ones. Morbid just smiles Laya tosses her hair lightly, looking warmly at Gavril, "Why not? You aren't sick, are you?" She leans forward in mild concern, and her tunic does that gaping thing again. Morbid nods as he see his small friend Morbid takes a drink of his Trandoshan Killer. Jairen steps into the room, hands resting on his sword hilt as usual. Nods to a few regulars, then steps from the dias towards the bar. Jairen looks at you for a moment. Morbid motions Jairen to join him "Well, ahhh, _no_," Gav hazards. That gaping tunic _is_ awfully obvious. He hastily casts a hazel glance, seemingly at random, off across the cantina. "I'm okay, really!" His voice carries rather well, too, occasionally poking its warbly tenor out over the background buzz. Jairen smiles at Morbid, nodding to the large reptilian. Receives his usual drink and moves over to Morbid. "Good eve my friend. How fare you?" Jairen Jairen stands about 5'7" tall and has long, sliverish colored hair that comes down to about the middle of his back and is usually worn in a pony tail with a silver clasp. His body, though small, is obviously almost completely muscle. He moves gracefully, almost seeming to glide over the ground, leaving hardly any trace at all as he steps. His eyes are a piercing blue color. They are more almond shaped than perfectly round and seem to have a slight slant to them. The tips of his ears also seem to have a slight point to them, but that could be just a trick of the light. He wears rather simple fair, a dark green tunic with a brown leather vest designed to stop knives and such. His brown trousers are made of some sort of leather-ish material, and he wears soft black leather kneeboots that fold down at the top. On his left hip is an intracate blade in a scabbard suspended in a baldric. The rapier-like weapon has a swept basket hilt that is ornately carved with scences from what seem to be some sort of story or fairy tale. The blade, when seen, also has ornate engravings in some odd language. Attatched to his belt on his right hip is a leathal looking dagger, perhaps eight inches long. Directly below that on his right leg is a holster containing a powerful looking blaster pistol. The blaster is set up in a semi-cross draw position so that it would be easy to draw with either hand, but simpler to draw with his left. To his back, strapped in a quick-release harness is a formadable looking Vibro-axe. The handle to the weapon is straight up, allowing easy drawing with either of his hands. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Protective Vest => Sword => Vibro-Axe => DY-255 Heavy Blaster Pistol => Vibro-Knife -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => muldes Morbid You see a 7'2" trandoshan that you estimate to weigh 600 lbs.He has pircing green eyes. As you look at him you notice that his arms are extremly long when compared to his body as they end in claws right below the knee.On his left hand he has what appears to be a human bite mark . He has a dark green skin and a battle scared face . You notice a sheth on his hip that holds a sword incrested with jewels in the handle you notice an ornate dragon. Across his back he has a holster for a rifle he has it positoned that ethier hand can draw it rather easyily. He is wearing a light cape over a flight suit that can has an holster for a small pistol and hidden pockets in witch he could hide a dagger or anthoer small weapon. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Sword Morbid says, "I do well my friend and you just enjoying the entertainment of these young one" Laya sits back, ebony curls sliding down her shoulders as she looks away. "Oh...Then is it me? Am I not desirable enough?" She almost pouts, just a little. Jairen chuckles as he looks over at the two indicated by his large friend. "It is a stage we all go through." Morbid smiles Morbid nods to his friend and sighs Do you rember lady Venome The rather nervous-looking fellow with the beard promptly blurts guilelessly to his companion, "Oh... no... you're really pretty, honest!" Hazel eyes go quite innocently wide in that lean face. Either the man is rather younger than he looks, or just rather more, ah, wet behind the ears. Jairen hmms for a moment in thought. "I think so. A rather frail young woman at that." Morbid nods " She was my love before she died The lady tilts her head, long-lashed eyes blinking slowly, "Then why?" Jairen cocks and eyebrow. "Truly? How interesting indeed." Jairen leans back, watching the pair of young humans. Turns to the reptilian at his side. "You've been in this culture longer than I. Is this some sort of mating ritual?" Morbid says, "here to Love and Lust may we nevr go thourgh it again" Morbid nods Morbid takes a drink of his Trandoshan Killer. Jairen hmmms, shaking his head slightly, then toasts with Mobid. "Well, um... you knooooowww..." Gav shoves a hand through his hair, apparently wrestling for an answer to his companion's question. "I gotta, well, you know, sweetheart back home, you know?" For the briefest of instants, hazel eyes rest their gaze squarely on the lady. But only for an instant. Morbid says, "May the young grow as old as you and me my friend", in Basic. Jairen chuckles slightly. "I may be older than you timewise my friend, but I am still young within my people. I have not reached the wonders of old age quite yet." Morbid looks at his friend "How goes the hunt? Jairen cocks his head. "Hunt? Oh yes..." suddenl seems to remember. "It has taken a couple different forms, none of which were the original intention. The Quarry and I have both found a mutual respect for one another and no longer bother each other in the wastelands." Morbid says, "the only thing I hunt now is trouble or should I say it hunts me and I eliminate it" Jairen chuckles slightly. "That sounds typical of many I know." Laya ahhhs softly, leaning back, "A sweetheart, hmm? She's a lucky lady." She smiles warmly, "Well, then, keep me company for a while. No...fun required." Drak comes in from the street, brushing the sand off of him. Drak has arrived. Avid comes in from the street, brushing the sand off of him. Avid has arrived. Drak swaggers into the Cantina, heading like a blaster bolt straight to the bar. Drak sits down at Bar. Drak looks at you for a moment. Avid walks in..the back of his shirt covered in blood and the front opened showing a bandaged chest..he walks over to wuher and says, "d.r..dri..wat..water." he says dryly.. "Well, y'know how it goes," mumbles Gavril, taking a moment to drop his gaze in apparent shyness away from his lady companion. "I, well, I, uh..." Drak Before you stands a man in a battered grey spacer's jumpsuit, by his grizzled appearance probably a vetran of many shipping runs, legitimate or not. He stands at around average height for a human, around 5'9", his face obscured only by scruffy stubble popping up upon it. All WEAPONS ARE CONCEALED OR ICly NOT THERE UNTIL COMBAT IS BACK... -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Field Armor Avid The figure before you is dressed in a course jump suit made of a brown material that appears very durable. His face is completely covered by a wrap of similar material and his eyes are protected from the driving sand by a pair of tinted goggles. Around his waist is a belt of worn leather, the buckle is tarnished and has an inscription of an eagle on it. He wears a long cape that drapes over his chest concealing his upper body and flowing down his back. Drak chuckles at the couple, before ordering a drink. Morbid notice his friend covered in blood and excuse himself fto go talk with him Laya raises her hand to tidy her hair, and winks at Gavril, "You don't have to stay if you don't want to, handsome. But I like you. You're...sweet." She crosses her legs. Wuher grunts as he fixes a Jetjuice and hands it to Drak. Gavril_Turlon leans across his table towards the lady, and confides to her in an earnest whisper, "Well... I gotta find my sister, so I can't go _yet_..." Avid takes the drink Wuher makes for him and downs it straight. He is filthy..nasty and bloody. His skin is red and his lips praticularly bad. Morbid says, "natttthh rrreptss", in Trandoshan. Jairen glances to where Avid is, staying where he orginally was talking to Morbid before the large trandoshan moved. Morbid looks down at his friend Avid Avid looks over at Morbid..still unable to talk well.."Tusken." he says simply The lady tilts her head in curiousity, "Your sister? So that's what brings you to Tatooine." Morbid nod 'Come with me my friend Morbid helps his friend over to his resevred part of the bar Avid hobbles over to where Morbid is and sits. "I don't think I can go very far." he says. Jairen goes back to watching the couple he and Morbid were originally watching. It's more entertaining. The lean fellow with the beard nods a few times, expression either totally guileless or else an excellent sabacc face. "Haven't seen her in forever, I miss her, you know, we been outta touch for so long..." He's looking everywhere except at his companion's... ah... charms, at the moment. His ale, that's a nice safe place to look. Drak takes a deep swig of jetjuice, slumping visibly. Morbid says, "Avid this my friend Jairen The Great hunter" Morbid says, "Sand People got him" Laya takes another sip of her ale, nodding slightly, "She lives here?" She looks around with a touch of distaste. Avid nods to Jarien before vomiting the water he just drank all over the man's boots. "Sor so..sorry.." he mutters and goes to one knee cracking his chin on the bar. He grabs a nearby bar stool and steadies himself.."drank to fast.." he mutters.. Jairen nods to Avid. "An honor to meet you m'lord. The Tusken Raiders are indeed highly territorial and aggressive." "Oh, not _here_," the bearded fellow's tenor voice warbles. "I-I mean -- well, okay, not in the Cantina." He clears his throat, as if having just realized that sounds ludicrous. "Yeah, yeah, she lives in Mos Eisley." Morbid says, "It is ok my friend but ithought I told you not to go out in the desert at night" Drak apparently listening in on the humans conversation, gives a deep rumbling chuckle. Jairen says, "The Raiders are particularly active and more dangerous after nightfall." Avid replys, "it was the middle of the.." he pauses, "fnarken day." He takes another glass of water from wuher and begins sipping it slowly. Laya giggles softly, "Well, of course she doesn't live in the Cantina..." Morbid nod in agreement "half of my scar have came from Radiers Jairen finishes his drink, standing up. "If you'll excuse me m'lords, I have things I must attend to before I retire for the evening. Morbid nod and give his friend a sign of respect The heavily armed man nods back to his larger friend and walks out of the Cantina, hands resting on his sword hilt. Jairen heads back out into the dusty streets. Jairen has left. Morbid says, "Good Jorney my friend" Avid looks at Morbid, "They nearly killed us..Tried to corner us in beggars canyon." he spits in the floor, "Sand storm whipped up..and we ran into it to escape the raiders, my friend nearly was killed by the sand...I got hit by a young one in the back..pack saved my life." he take another drink. Morbid smiles at the humans Gavril_Turlon shakes his head earnestly to his companion. "'Course not. She, uh, well, she works in town. So I oughtta... see if I can find her, while we're here, and hope she remembers me, it's been a long time after all....!" In a huge gulp, Drak finishes off his Jetjuice. Drak gets up from the bar, heading for the exit. Drak stands and leaves Bar. Drak heads back out into the dusty streets. Drak has left. Morbid says, "I see" Laya nods just a bit, purring softly, "Well...Is there any way I can help?" Morbid looks at Wuher for The for a fix up Avid glances over at the young woman, even in his deminished state seeing her brings a glimmer to his green eyes. Then he looks back at Morbid. "I got to get my backed patched up, can you help me get stitched?" Wuher grunts and fixes a Radier on The Rocks for Avid, which was kindly ordered by Morbid. Gav gulps down some more of his ale, brow crinkling in evident heavy thought. "She might not be... too happy to see me," he ventures in a plaintive tone. Morbid says, "this will fix you up" Avid takes the drink and slurps it down.. Morbid nods A slender hand reaches out to touch Gavril's arm, and Laya smiles, "Why ever not?" Morbid says, "let me see your back" "I, ah, sorta kinda left her in a hurry," Gavril might be heard to mumble. Laya arches an eyebrow, "Oh...Well. I'm sure she'll forgive you." She smiles and leans forward again, murmuring, "How could she not? You're charming." Avid takes off his shirt, his muscled body reddened and scarred, An ugly bruised gash that runs about 7 inches crosses his back from left shoulder to mid-back. it is wide in the middle..and deep. It is also clotted with dried blood and sand. You also notice a huge black falcon tatoo draped over his left shoulder, its wings cover his pectorial muscle and left shoulder bone.. Morbid scans his friend using his infrared vison and see the the blast wound is just a slight one but still needs medical attenion Avid looks at Morbid and says, "I can't go to the medical center..can you help me?" he asks. Morbid says, "I am not going to lie to you it dose need medical attenion and it already looks infected , but I have seen worse" Morbid nods "Well, uh..." Gav leans in towards his lady friend, and murmurs, apparently sheepishly, "she's... awful mad at me..." He considers her, hazel eyes still wide. "You, ah, think you could... go with me... see if her house is still there?" Avid pleads, "Can you just clean it for me and stitch it up..i'll be alright then.. Morbid says, ""Are you willing for Trandoshan medicene" Avid sighs knowing full well what the large reptillian being means.."Yes..I am." he says researvedly.."Be as gentle as you can." he then takes the Tusken on the rocks and downs it all. Laya finishes her ale with one last sip and stands, silhouetted briefly against the dim light source...Whew, there's a reason why people don't wear thin silk like that except in the bedroom...They'd get arrested on a sunny day. She smiles, "I'd be glad to help you, Gav. Like I said, I like your company." Morbid says, "Wuher bring me some Tatooine 110 proof" Gavril can be seen to swallow hard in evident appreciation of the, ah, view. He hastily gulps down the rest of his own ale, and leaps up to awkwardly offer the lady his arm. Morbid extends his claws Avid shakes his head, "And bring the BRooks 120 proof..I can do shots and get stitched at the same time." he boasts. Wuher brings the acolhol the reptillian ask for and guard the glasses The lady smiles and takes the proffered arm, utterly unaware at what her shift is up to. She walks closer to Gavril than propriety would dictate, but then, it's obvious that propriety is one word she doesn't know the meaning of. "Let's go." She's almost cheerful. As he escorts Laya to the door, Gav pauses long enough to turn his innocent hazel gaze back to their abandoned table; he then can be heard to remark to the lady as he exists, "I hope the 'tender doesn't mind the mess, I've always been a rotten host..." You leave the noise behind you as you enter the dusty streets. Main Street -Mos Eisley- -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Drak => SQUAD: Stormtroopers - 5565 -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- orth leads to Market Place East -Mos Eisley-. ast leads to Main Street -Mos Eisley-. outh leads to Power Station -Mos Eisley-. est leads to Main Street -Mos Eisley-. antina leads to Chalmun's Cantina -Mos Eisley-. Drak swaggers over to the bearded man, looking desheveled and poor. Laya comes out from the bowels of the Cantina, eyes blinking as they adjust to the bright Tatooine sun. Laya has arrived. Drak shuffles close enough to look into the mans eyes, and says, "Can you spare a inli credits for a lost spacer?"", in Corellian. Laya's lips twitch once, before she smiles at Gavril and stretches absently, looking at the desert sky. She doesn't really pay much attention to the beggar. Emerging from the Cantina with Laya on his arm, Gav blinkblinks as he's abruptly accosted. For a fraction of an instant his expression shifts, hazel eyes turning measuring, before the guileless look returns and he warbles hesitantly, "Uh... yeah... sure... ah, gimme a minute, will ya?" He glances apologetically at his companion and then starts fumbling around through a pocket. Laya smiles warmly, dark eyes aglow, and leans closer to Gavril to lightly touch his left pocket, "In here, I think?" She smiles again, turning away to watch the Stormtroopers pass in the distance. Drak chuckles softly, nodding to the man's companion, and says, "How are you today Mrs?"", in Corellian. Giving the lady beside him a half-flustered, half-grateful look, Gav searches his left pocket, and comes up with a couple of coins, which he promptly offers to the fellow that's shuffled up to the two of them. "Not much, but, well, uh, you know..." Drak offers his hand to the man, whispering and says, "May the force be with you son..."", in Corellian. Laya smiles faintly at Drak, nodding politely but not answering. Gavril_Turlon pauses a moment or two, then smiles brightly, and says, "Oh, and, uh, with you, too, ah, sir..."", in Corellian. You sense: Drak slips something into your sleeve... Avid comes out from the bowels of the Cantina, eyes blinking as they adjust to the bright Tatooine sun. Avid has arrived. Morbid comes out from the bowels of the Cantina, eyes blinking as they adjust to the bright Tatooine sun. Morbid has arrived. A pair of keen blue eyes glance after the departing figure. Laya smiles at Gavril, easily. Drak heads south towards the Power Station. Drak has left. Drak pages: Small note, says something about meeting, and gives a set of coordinates deep in the Dune Sea... Gavril_Turlon, as his hand is taken for a moment and then dropped, blinkblinks, and looks back to his lady friend. "Well... hope he doesn't spend 'em all in one place," he remarks. Laya slips her hand onto Gavril's arm. "Let's go find that sister of yours...And then you can walk me home? No obligations...I just don't like to walk these streets alone." Morbid smiles "Oh, sure, sure," pipes Gav, as he leads his lady friend off down the street. [End log.]