Log:Defiance Guild: The Joy of Stealing
The Joy of Stealing
OOC Date: January 25, 2017
Location: Nar Shaddaa
Participants: Defiance: Jehni'va Cihn, Hex, Rheisa Dirleel, Kasia Ashkuri, special guest star Sienn Ko, and excellent first time GMing on AoA, Tarion Tavers
The short story: The touching tale of how Tarion Tavers came into possession of his ship.
The long story:
An illicit art gala will really draw a crowd.
A few levels down from the Nar Shaddaa we all know and love, not quite in the seedy underbelly but just above it, the seedy navel of Nar Shaddaa, an estate lit from above by artificial lights sprawls, massive and decadent, with its rear edge hanging out over the yawning drop of this particular skyscraper/district. The moon is so built up it's hard to tell the difference sometimes.
Those going in and out are dressed in various levels of class, most of them trending toward the higher-end, but almost all accompanied either by an edgy-looking muscley person or with a bit of an edge themselves.
The bouncer at the door is running IDs for those going into the estate, a sinister but modern-looking structure, checking to make sure that those being admitted are the sort of person that should be at an event like this, but more importantly that they are /not/ the sort of person who should /not/ be at an event like this, AKA law enforcement or anything remotely similar.
"Just remember to be yourselves and you'll make friends," Tarion's voice repeats in the heads of those going undercover, from the earlier briefing. "And wait until stuff starts exploding to steal anything." Hex is going in on his own as a musician, by golly. Rheisa and Kasia are tag-teaming it as art dealers because Rheisa is an art dealer and Kasia is an adult. Sienn and Jehni are stuck with Tarion because they're pretty and single. Also they all fly and they're gonna steal a ship. They're outside the estate, near the landing pad where a number of ships have already landed. Let's do this.
"Can I see some ID, ladies?"
Let's set a few things straight right off the bat: Jehni'va is overwhelmingly average and not at all single, but she can fly alright and steal adequately, so she has accepted her post as grease-monkey and arm candy with all of the grace with which she is capable. To be fair, this isn't much. "Sienn, right?" The pilot chats amiably, picking a wedgie as her jumpsuit rides up.
This is why she isn't breaking in for the art with the actual ladies. "What's it like to be purple?" Jehni'va casts a look over the ships. Rich people, man.
Hex is, against all odds, actually a musician. Who would have thought? He handles instruments the same way he handles weapons, a confidence that speaks to long years of familiarity. Maybe even more so with the instruments. Including instruments that are actually mostly made of shoulder-fired missile launchers. And because the band at this disreputable event are all dressed as creatures... poor Hex, he is inside the gala area where the band is, dressed as a creature. This is what Rheisa paged me about the costume:
It's made of an unholy blend of material and yet...it is a thing of beauty. Or total disgust, your choice! The actual clothing bit consists of commonplace, synthetic fiber crudely stitched into a pair of shortish shorts and edged with thick strips of green, reptilian hide. Some painted plates of scavenged armor - shin and thigh pieces, just a little warped - have also been coated in the front by the same skin. Pauldrons of the same. There's headgear - green, leather straps forming a loosely connected mounting place for a huge 'beak' shaped from gut'kurrr shell to fit over the nose/mouth, and FEATHERS. So many feathers. THey're mostly green and black and arranged into a brilliant mane that forms a stunning crest of layer upon layer of long flight feathers, edged with downy fluffs. A collar of green leather fits loosely around the neck as a holdfast for the long, leather strip that runs the length of the spine and beyond, ridged with - you guessed it - more feathers. Hello, big sexy Varactyl.
I just realized this costume involves short shorts so that's you know, HORRIFYING, but Hex is wearing it all the same. His lekku are twitching, either because he is being tickled by the massive amounts of feathers, or because that's what they do when he's contemplating the odds of hitting Tarion with a missile.
Sure. Rheisa can be Rheisa. She already fake-smiled her way through last night/this morning, so what's another round on zero sleep? The Togruta is, in fact, wearing the same stunningly civilized - daresay exquisite - ensemble she was at her own affair. She hadn't time for a bath, so simply touched up the existing paint job that complexifies her natural stripes into scrolling, intricate designs. The downside to this wispy gown is that there are zero places to conceal her knife. She has brought her blowgun, but it might pass as a flute. She's even drilled a few holes in it.
ID? Rheisa flicks a glance to Kasia while she reaches a hand beneath the sheer cut of fabric over her shoulder and fishes out her curator card.
Sienn is single but half-wishes she wasn't. Sadly, her crush doesn't seem to share her infatuation. She's also in a jumpsuit, but it still looks pretty decent on her. She nods at Jehni's question. "That's right. What's it like to be purple? Pretty much like it's being peachy-colored like humans are." She smiles at the guard asking for ID, hoping it's vacant enough.
Kasia is certainly an adult, with a closet full of clothing that looks like it belongs in a place like this, and likely some experience at places like this as well. She is dressed in an eye-catching gown that clings more than her is her usual wont, and the accessories to match. She might not know that much about art, but she does know how to look like money when the time calls for it. The man asking for ID is flashed a vibrant smile as she dips two fingers beneath the collar of her dress to withdraw the card, and then hold it out to him. If she's armed, she's done a damn good job of concealing it.
Inside the estate where Hex is, there's an ample amount of party-goers. Many, many have come to view and bid and covet the art collection of one Grodak Ongur or whatever Tarion said his name was. It's Grodak Ongur. The whole lot of it is valued somewhere around 800 million credits, and the scheming, tubby man with the criminal connections that would rival a Hutt's left arm is looking to change out some of his pieces.
"...you can go in," the bouncer decides, after scanning the curator card Rheisa hands him, nodding and waving her on. A pervy little grin stretches across his face when Kasia dips into her dress for hers, but after a cursory glance he waves her on also.
Out on the landing pad, amongst the ships, Tarion Tavers is chilling against the leg of someone's YT, because those giant dish shapes make a great hideout. Sienn and Jehni are there with him, discussing what it's like to be peach cream or something. "Listen, that Firespray could be landing at any minute," he chides to both of them, suddenly less rowdy and playful than normal. Less angry, too. He just seems focused. The man pulls a commlink up to his face, and his voice chirps in the ears of all the undercover crew. "Big Bird, this is Sexy Wampa, do you read me? Still no sign of the Firespray." It's the fourth time he's called Hex to say exactly that same thing, and now Kasia gets to hear the comm channel too. Rheisa doesn't, because montrals.
Inside, waiters and barstaff circulate throughout the guests with hors d'oeuvres and other appetizers and drinks, and one approaches the pair of Gruta and Gal almost immediately to offer some sort of meat-based snack. "Welcome to Ongur's manse."
Jehni'va Cihn purses her lips in thought. "I've never been peachy-colored, so I can't quite say what that's like either." The Coruscanti mutt responds, unperturbed by Tarion's urgency as she raises a hand to tuck a flyaway strand of jet-black hair crudely back into her braid. It pops back out the moment her fingers leave it.
Unlike the fancy pants (or fancy short shorts, in Hex's case) inside, Jehn doesn't really have to go about concealing a weapon; she just doesn't have a proper one, but her sports knife is thrust through her belt as usual. She falls into a general state of contented silence to watch all the pretty ships glitter on the landing pad. La-di-da, Jehn sees nothing.
Comm static crackles over the channel, a little extra interference in there from the FEATHERS, so many FEATHERS. "This is Eat Shit n' Die to Bad Attitude. Ka, I read you, just like the last FOUR TIMES. Just be patient, it'll come."
"Ongurrr has nice place," Rheisa commends the waiter with a throaty purr. If there's any particular emote showing through on her face at the moment, it's likely muddled by the artistic paint job. Gruta makeup, 'enhancing' the design nature already put there. Cept for the green-stippled lower lip. That's all vanity. Sickle-shaped nails pluck a meat skewer from the tray and she lifts it up for closer inspection. Her head tips back amid the quiet tinkling clatter of overthetop headress. So small. Stomach so empty. "Thank you," She bows her head forward again then disappears the morsel down the hatch.
(GM) The band Hex is part of for the night, the Howling Crashwagons, are set up near the rear of the estate, which doesn't take long to reach as wide as it is. The back wall overhanging the edge is made almost entirely of glass, allowing a breath-taking view of Nar Shaddaa, mostly breath-taking because of how not-terrible it looks from far away when you can't smell it. There's a pipe player dressed like a Nexu, one dressed like a Rancor, obviously Hex is rocking the Veractyl on the drumweller harp.
It's this point that Grodak Ongur comes sweeping out into the room, descending one of the twin staircases that curls down into the main ball-room like chamber here at the rear, a long ridiculous cape fastened around his chubby neck that drags on the steps behind him.
"Oh yeah, Big Bird, Grodak's a big fan of the drumweller, that's why the band needed you so bad," Tarion's voice pesters in Hex's comm unit, just as Ongur spies the blue/green-feathered Twi'lek. "THE DRUMWELLER!" He shouts with glee, clapping his chunky mitts together. "I demand a solo!"
"'Sexy Wampa'?" Sienn mutters. "You are deeply confused." She smiles at Jehni, though. "Well, I like your color anyway." She doesn't see anything out of the ordinary either. No Firespray. "At least this isn't boring."
(GM)Inside the estate, a short central hallway funnels Rheisa and Kasia toward the music, and, incidentally, Hex. Paintings line the walls, some almost reaching the floor and the ceiling at once, statues set in recesses between them. The whole place seems to have been designed with art in mind.
Kasia knows that sort of smile, and is the type who can just keep smiling back at it, as nice and charming as can be. "Thanks," she says to the man at the door as she plucks the ID from his fingers, then tucks it away back under the collar of her dress before turning to head inside. She appears to take it all in stride, how nice the place is, the view, how fancy it all looks, but then she looks pretty damn fancy herself. She waves off any offers of food or drink along the way, eyes moving over the artwork, but she doesn't linger on any one piece. She seems intent to get inside to where the band is located, rather than loiter. Maybe not the best move for an art dealer, but the art world can suck it. Sorry, Rheisa.
"Listen, there's a whole big story behind it," Tarion starts to reply to Sienn, rolling his eyes at her ignorance on his personal biography. Page 217, Sienn, paragraph 5. "We were at the Lost Carnival. Jehni and I. She was a taun taun, I was a wampa. I only had one arm at the time and I was passing out candy to the kids- wait." Something catches his eye. Something Firespray-ey. "Oh krif, he's here. Okay, uh. I'm not sure what his plan is but he's probably landing here, so just. Try to hide. And get your blasters ready, this guy is a madman. Did I tell you about how he broke out of Oovo IV?" He probably did. At any rate, the bounty hunter is scrambling to get behind something a little lower to the ground and more defensible than the leg of a YT.
"Aw, thanks." There is a beam from the brownish human to the purple Twi'lek. "I like your color too." How cordial! Jehn must be stoned. In the lapse of idle chit chat, there is a moment of thoughtful pause as she eavesdrops. "I wanna code name." Jehn pouts quietly, more to herself than either of her companions, and is opening her mouth to add something to this tale of wampas and sexy taun-taun bikinis when they are hushed. Ah, the Firespray. Tentatively, Jehn pulls the knife from her belt and scuttles backwards to occupy the spot behind the landing gear Tarion just abandoned because it wasn't safe enough.
Demands. Demands. Music, and a rich, powerful man who makes demands. Hex watches their host for a long, long moment while perhaps entertaining some kind of inner struggle in which the explosives go off way too early, but it's so satisfying... there's a brief glance around the room, and there he spots Kasia, doing her thing, lookin pretty. Tension ebbs out of his feathery frame, and in the end, he is good, he doesn't start shit he ought not to start. He wordlessly nods, and plays the drumweller harp. The Mostly Drumweller Harp. This one does have special features and all.
Rheisa doesn't keep pace with the highlife expert here. She's already pausing in the hallway to examine the paintings and a..mask? It's red, mouth twisted into a terrifying expression and an array of horns protruding devilishly from the forehead. Oooh, those fingers itches to touch but she knows better and neatly folds her hands behind her back. Before too long she's caught back up to Kasia and instantly her face animates with a smile. Just over there, her costume has been brought to life! She's positive Hex is pleased, maybe even appreciative of her including a special piece of dead gut'kurrrr he himself gave to her during their dead animal bits swap. It's been finally put to good use. A light thrum hums forth from the depth of her chest. "Much to see," she observes in a whisper aside to Kas. "I wonder if many of these have been 'gifted' in the same way Lord Eebua's came to be in his possession."
"_You_ were handing out candy, for free?" Sienn asks, unbelieving. "That doesn't seem like a very Sexy Wampa-sort of thing to do." Tarion is warning them about their target coming in for a landing. She looks for a spot to hide in but a service droid waiting on the landing surface just isn't likely to cut it.
Though Kasia doesn't focus too much on the band, her eyes to stray to Hex frequently, watching him, his demeanor, whether or not he's going to snap and blow everyone up. When he finds her in the crowd, she gives him a subtle smile, not big, not bright, but just for him, and then her gaze moves on to other faces in the crowd, people watching. When Rheisa steps up beside her, she smiles again. "Probably," she replies in a low voice. "It's the way of things here."
The Firespray is streaking along far faster than it probably ought to be, and comes spiraling in for its iconic 'turning parallel' landing. Disembarking from the craft is a man, or at least it looks like a man. He comes prowling down the gangplank, and the first thing that can be noticed about him is the fact that he's dressed in some sort of security outfit, toting a blaster pistol and a bag of high-powered explosives. Tattoos cover every inch of exposed skin, twisting and writhing around in serpentlike patterns that look far more fiendishly tribal than Rheisa's coloration ever has.
And he immediately senses that something is amiss, noticing a trio of idiots clustered nearby under a YT. One of them is pointing a blaster at his chest, an insubordinate-looking man in grey.
"Dorian Soto!" Tarion yells, since they're blown regardless, and blasts a shot past the escaped convict's head. Shit is getting real on the landing pad.
Jehn is too tall and awkward to easily hide: something is always going to stick out. A leg, an arm, her whole head - there is at least one part of her showing here, but she isn't the only one. So that's good. With the landing of the ship, the sight of the creature that stumbles off, and the failed shot that Tarion volleys off, the pilot sums things up with an eloquent: "Well, shit." She sucks in a breath - and /runs/. She may not be good in a fight, but if she can get to the more secure cover behind the landing gear of a heavy freighter, then she might just have a shot at rushing the ship when this guy clears out. Hands pumping, Jehni'va Cihn charges in her gangly, awkward fashion and manages to roll in behind cover. SHE DID IT.
Hex is getting a better feel for this instrument, such as it is, and is making pretty solid music come out of the thing, but it's hard not to be distracted by wondering what's going on out there on the landing field. Sounds of drumweller harp solo come over the comm as his voice remarks to the rest of the team, "Everything ok out there...?"
"I go talk to him," Rheisa whispers back to Kasia with her eyes on Grodak. "Grrrodak Ongur..." the Muse's curator purrs in an unabashedly thick accent as she /almost/ flawlessly glides across the floor to meet their host this evening. Her muscles are tense, posture cautious, doing her best to get the limp under control. "It is a pleasure to meet a man with so big a...collection." The sinewy Togruta settles in alongside the rotund man with just a little twitch of her nostrils. What did he eat?
Sienn curses in Ryl as the firing starts. "We could have waited for him to come off the ship first!" she complains. But, the firing does start and so she produces her little Czerka from somewhere and squeezes off some snap shots, probably to keep the man's head down. Only one shot hits and that not a very useful one, but that should get his attention. Of course, if that's a good thing is another question.
(GM) Inside, Ongur is tickled pink by Hex's playing. He's just pink, really. He was always pink. "I do love the drumweller harp," he enthuses, grabbing at the arm of the nearest security personnel and pointing at the Twi'lek. "Give that one a tip." Turning away, he tosses his cape imperious behind him, which roughly amounts to a small ripple in the fabric, and he notices Kasia and Rheisa. Swallowing heavily, he adjusts the clasp at his neck and goes over to address them. "Well, well, well, what do we have here? I don't recall purchasing these two lovely pieces. I thought mine was the only collection on display, and yet here I find two marvelous creations I have no memory of." Short stubby fingers run over his bald head before he reaches out to shake with each in turn (Rheisa first). "Grodak Ongur. Welcome to my manse." Anyone who says 'manse' is a prick.
"We're fine, everything's fine out here," Tarion calls over the commlink, with the sound of blasterfire in the background. Dorean, (Tarion said it wrong, wrote it wrong, knows it wrong, /obviously/, combat-rolls down the gangplank as the bounty hunter and his lekku'd compatriot open fire, grunting as Sienn's shot takes him in the shoulder on his way down. He springs up again, raising his own blaster to return fire on the larger of the two targets. He fires, but it goes sailing past the hunter, running between the legs of the YT. "We're fine!" Tarion yells again.
And now everything is running and shooting and Jehn sees a chance to go in swinging and get this over with before anyone gets seriously injured. Of course, because this is Jehn we're talking about things don't go as planned. The pilot rushes the Firespray, knife drawn and clambers up the ship to slash, swing, and - miss completely. So completely, that she is sent crashing off the base of it to land in a heap on the group. Right on her ass - ouch. Is that the worst part? NOPE! From bad to worse, a blaster bolt grazes her butt as she goes down, searing through jumpsuit and powder blue athletic briefs and making the fall that much more painful. She scrambles upright, and the hapless mechanic pins herself against the side of the ship as cover, hoping this psycho won't shoot up his own property in an attempt to get keep going at her.
"Alright," Kasia murmurs to Rheisa, with the intention of remaining just where she is, because there is yelling taking place on the coms, which makes conversation harder. Except that the man in question is also approaching them, so rather than make both he and Rheisa come to her, she closes the distance and smiles warmly at the bald man. "It's so nice to meet you." She reaches for his hand when it's offered to her, though she does the drapy sort of fingers against his hand rather than a proper shape. You gonna kiss my hand, rich man. "I'm Tana." Just that, she doesn't give any other name, just that one, which IS the name that was on her ID, so it'll work if anyone checks.
"Krif," Tarion mutters, realizing his next shot has hit Jehn across the arse. "I know we could have waited," he fires back at Sienn, "But he'd clearly seen us. RUSH THE SHIP!" That will solve this problem, it solves all problems. <<And Hex, you can uh. Do the /other/ drumweller thing now.>>
"Escho'ka ni tal'kan, su muchi," the feathered soloist says in return to Grodak's applause, which is surely some kind of grateful statement in his language! Kasia's got enough Ryl to know it's not. He bows. And... listens. Oh. Well. That does sound like it's going well. He lets the rest of the non-soloist band take up the music while he starts making adjustments to the 'drumweller harp,' and they're probably wondering wtf, Hex, you're supposed to play! But he's clearly having an instrument issue, guys! And in any event is ignoring any looks he receives as he starts to get set up for 'the other drumweller thing.' "Everybody hold on tight, ok ka," he comms over their channel, "Either I'm about to bring down the house, or... I'm about to bring down the wrong piece of the house."
"Is because we were not for sale," Rheisa points out, in case Mr. Ongur is being literal and not making coy riddles with his words like she's learning men - and women - tend to do. Her arm mechanically bobs with an unanticipated handshake. Her skin prickles under his touch and she's happy to relinquish it and any accompanying lips to Kasia's. The creepy sensation is short lived in her memory though, when she reaches with her left hand to brazenly inspect the shimmery glory of his cape. At the sudden shift of instrumental tune, she quirks a look around at the stage to witness Hex's unmusical fiddling. Did he break it?
Slender, orange fingers are still admiring the jolly man's splendor. It can't be helped.
(GM)Grodak does indeed lean forward to kiss Kasia's hand. It doesn't have much of a downward element to it, that lean, because he's short and chunky, kind of like a credenza. And then he proceeds to hold onto her hand for far too long, starting to do creepy finger-movements against her palm. "Such a pleasure to meet you both," he chortles happily, having already had a fair sip of the bubbly before he made his appearance down the stairs. Beady little eyes turn toward Rheisa, delighted at her appreciation of his collection. "You flatter me, you really do, it's just a /small/ collection of the galaxy's greatest masters," he replies with mock-sincerity, as a member of his security looks very... focused back there, listening to his comm.
"Mr. Ongur, we've got a situation on the landing pad. Shots fired. And what is that musician doing?!" Meaning Hex.
The lavender Twi'lek had been bracing her arm on the service droid but the little 'bot wisely decides to get out of the way, which unfortunately means that her aim is messed up severely. Still, her hail of little blaster bolts ought to help keep the target from rushing back up the ramp, or something. Hopefully. "Rush the ship?" Sienn asks, surprised. "This had better be worth it!" she complains and then is rushing the Firespray like an idiot.
Oh you creepy little creeper. Kasia's hand is kissed, but she smiles through it, as though she's just charmed as charmed can be over the short, pudgy man and his continued hold on her hand. She is a consummate professional. "The pleasure is all ours, I assure you." It's not, man. It's really not. She does her absolute best to look as though she has no idea what's happening, that the musician might be doing something, that there is chaos out on the landing pad, that there will probably be explosions soon.
"Just aim for the pillar," Tarion replies over the comm to Hex, aiming at Dorean's chest as the escaped convict makes life difficult for them, pulling the trigger and sending that signature blast of red plasmatic death flying out. This time it's a good clean hit, taking the scary-looking 'bad men' right in the chest. The tattooed wonder is blast back against the walkway, sliding down near Jehn, but he's still got a grip on his blaster and that bag of freaking detonators, guys.
Inside, things are opulent and elegant and feathery and just a little bit creepy. Outside, Jehn's ass feels the piercing fire of a thousand suns and they're rushing the ship. "/FINE/." She hisses, still pressed against the side of the Firespray, sucking in a breath through her teeth as she gets a limping start and hauls herself up on top of the ship once more, wielding her knife with a snarl. "HEY. ASSHAT." She shouts, rushing him with the knife as he is staggered by Sienn and Tarion's shots.
(Kasia don't look) ...And the blade sinks into the soft squishy flesh somewhere near his kidney. Blood bubbles up over her fist, and the pilot whimpers a disgusted apology as she staggers back and away, wrenching the weapon from his midsection with another spray of gore.
(It's safe again) Woo! Victory for - THAT SHOULDN'T BE BEEPING. "NOPE!" Jehn shouts, tucking the bloody blade between her teeth and diving for a detonator about to recreate Hex and Kasia's wedding night. Before the thing can prematurely blow them all to pieces, she snatches it and chucks it as hard as she can. It lands by Tarion and the YT. On accident, on complete accident - seriously, it's /totally/ an accident.
(GM) The detonator beeps more rapidly and promptly does what detonators do- it blows up, destroying the cockpit of the unsuspecting YT and showering the area with shrapnel.
What IS that musician doing? Turning his drumweller harp back into a shoulder-fired missile launcher, is what he's doing. Hex peels off his headdress to get a better view of his target, a pillar, and then kicks pieces of cymbal and strings and Formerly Harp aside. He's got limited time to aim and fire the thing before someone figures it out and tackles him. "Ayyyy do I still get that tip though?" Hex shouts in the general direction of Grodak, and then BOOM, a Strictly Outdoors kind of weapon gets fired inside the manse. The maaaaaahnse.
(GM) Grodak and his security realize a split second after it's obvious what Hex is about to do, and one John Wayne even manages to clear leather before the rocket launcher fires. It's all for naught, though. The charge goes sailing forward, off-venting gas and smoke, and crashes into the base of a giant pillar shaped vaguely like an angel. An instant after, it detonates, blowing chunks of rock in all directions, including one that hits poor John Wayne over there right in the temple.
Grodak's eyes are wide with shock and more shock, staring at the smoking stone as the pillar wobbles once and then decides to tumble forward, right through that enormous, three-story-tall observation window. Crash.
"KEF!" Rheisa had almost forgotten this part of the plan and in her moment of panic, she goofs the swear word. The curator twists and scrambles for cover, which sadly necessitates the release of Grodak's cape. She curls into a defensive ball as the rubbly chunks rain down, arms wrapping protectively 'round her beloved montrals. "Did not like this plan!!" she laments shrilly.
Three more shots come out of the Czerka, only one out of three hits home. Better than nothing. "Reloading!" Sienn shouts, and she replaces the pistol's power cell as she runs for the ramp. Just in time, as a detonator ends up behind her and throws shrapnel past her head. She heads up the ramp, it seems the safest place. "Hutt Cartel! Let's see your manifests!" she calls in case there's someone in the ship. They're likely to get a facefull of blaster bolts for their trouble.
Kasia doesn't have to feign surprise when things go boom, the sound, the concussive force of it is more than enough for her to register genuine surprise as she ducks and flings her arms over her head. Lucky for her all of the worst of the rubble misses her entirely, and when the rain of debris lets up, she reaches for Rheisa's arm to give it a tug in an effort to pull her toward the art. STEALIN' TIME.
It is stealin' time inside. The ladies have some time before the security figures out exactly what the hell just went down, also known as the Window of Opportunity, which the giant window Hex has just smashed shall hereafter be called.
Outside, the Very Bad Man named Dorean has run out of luck. He probably should have never managed to escape from Oovo IV, and coming here so soon after was pushing it. Tarion is about to trot over and run up the gangplank when Jehn decides to chuck a thermal detonator past his head, and the explosion knocks him stumbling forward, but leaves him otherwise unscathed. "Everyone on board, we gotta get to the Window of Opportunity!" He runs up the deck, grabbing at Jehni. "Get down in the engine hold and make sure everything is set to the highest capacity. Sienn, get on the gunner seat, you're on secondary turrets."
BOOM. Pause. ANOTHER BOOM. Things are blowing up left and right - because Defiance. Nodding dumbly, blood streaked over her hands (and now her face from where it flicked from the blade), Jehn allows herself to be dragged aboard and hurries to the engines. "Okay, okay." Jehn hums anxiously to herself as she twists and notches and - "YOU'RE ALL GOOD!" She hollers, scrambling for a handhold.
Hex throws his missile launcher over his shoulders on its strap and runs, pauses, grabs his headdress, that shit is actually kind of cool, then runs! He's public enemy number one now probably, thanks to the Window of Opportunity and the demise of poor Wayne, so he's running just as fast as a fat guy in short shorts can. "/Ladies/," he greets Rheisa and Kasia as he gets closer, looking in paranoia over one shoulder. "Tick tock, ok ka, grab what looks val.... /needs rescuing/ and take it to the window. Anybody shoots at you..." Well. "I'll try to get shot instead."
Hey guys, remember that time the AT blew Raim in half? Rheisa does. She still sees it every night in her sleep. Loud noises and spattering debris don't register well with the woman, but at least it's not Chiss dust in her mouth this time. She's shaking.
Somehow, the disoriented, temporarily deaf and subsequently 'blind' 'gruta wobbles to her feet under Kasia's persuasion and stares miserably at Hex. This is a bad party. She's ready to go home. Rather than making fast tracks for that window though, she staggers for the hallway they'd entered through because /now/ is the time to touch that mask. Its hideous snarl called to her, relating to some base, feral side of her personality. Also, under all that thick paint she'd caught a glimpse of something pitted, something old. One arm keeps out in front as she pinballs along until her hand smacks into the thing and she grasps it like a lifeline.
(GM)Inside, Grodak is looking a lot less intimidating than he ever did, scrabbling forward on his knees, the long cape trailing behind him and weighing him down. "What is happening. WHAT IS HAPPENING." The security guards in there are probably fired after tonight. "Don't just stand there gawping, you idiots!" he shouts, struggling to his feet. "Shoot that feathered harpist!"
"Secondary, my butt." Sienn replies but she heads for the seat. She powers up the weapons and the targeting. "Looks like everything is nominal." So long as the booming is outside, all is much better. "Give me something to gun down and it'll go away."
"Ka," Kasia calls to Hex as she attempts to haul Rheisa upright and keep her that way, though the twi'lek gets a frown. "Don't you get shot!" she protests, and then she's off to do the art stealing thing. Except she's not an art expert, so she really just has to rely on the fact that this guy had expensive taste in all the art that he wanted, because she's just grabbing whatever looks easy enough for her to carry, or stuff either in the small cloth bag -- lightweight but sturdy -- that she just pulled from her cleavage, or small enough to be tucked under her arm. She goes for a figurine, paintings, masks, she's not picky here she's grabbing as much as she can as fast as she can before they run for the Window of Opportunity. Or just the window. Wherever they're meant to be taking it, because she would totally know this.
On the landing pad, the Firespray fires up, as Tarion straps himself into the seat and flicks the switches at the control panel, bringing the system back online. A moment later, and a little too early, he's already pushing it forward without even bothering to tilt it up into the proper position. As they accelerate and rise, he tips it up to at least a 45 degree angle so he can see the estate up ahead, bringing it around hard and sailing in fast towards the Window of Opportunity. As they come in, he banks it back to the boarding position, so they can see the sky. And the skiff coming in to stop them. "Sienn." Over the comms, he calls to Hex, nudging the craft into the side of the building, spraying glass as he sort-of sets it down. "Everyone get on board!"
Engines? Good! Jehn is holding on for dear life as Tarion swings this ship every which way. "Have you never flown one of these before?" She snarl-shouts. "/Stabilizers/." Huff, huff, chide, chide.
"Gonna try real hard not to, babe," Hex assures Kasia regarding the getting shot, and so far, he's doing pretty well at dodging blaster fire, almost like he and his people get into this kind of nonsense on a semi-regular basis. He's grabbing whatever art he can, anything Rheisa appeared to look twice at over the course of the evening, but doesn't jump his way into the ship just yet, seeming insistent that Kasia and Rheisa get up in there first. And if they do, he'll probably hand them extra art. "Ladies first, go go, Rheisa, ai'jou, I'll help if you need it..." She's got a janky leg and whatnot, after all. And is kinda getting fried.
Rheisa's not an expert in stealing things, nor is she as good as most amateurs. As such, she didn't rember to bring a stuff sack. She holds tight to that mask though, cradling it protectively against her bosom as she tries to make fast tracks for the window of opportunity. There's a skull-splitting pulsing in her montrals, sending fuzzy flashes of interference into her mental map and turning her belly into knots. Motion sick, vertigo, and she's gonna....jump! Soon. Very soon. All focus is on Hex dodging around there by their exit, beckoning her on. "S-s-sorry," she offers to the cowering host and scurries drunkenly on by him.
BLAST. Her right leg crumples beneath her, just as she's preparing to leap. Story of her life! Fortunately, momentum finishes the job, also a little mid-air flailing like a panicking cat until one hand grabs hold of SOMETHING on the other side. She doesn't get skewered on her own pitfall trap this time. She just smacks her chin a little on the hold.
"I see it." and Sienn brings the turret weapons to bear on the skiff. "Just about..." she mutters. "... gotcha!" and she fires. What skiff? There used to be a skiff there somewhere but now there's just pieces of durasteel everywhere.
If there weren't so much noise and chaos, one would hear the click-click-click of heels on the floor as Kasia moves as fast as one can while in formal wear with a bag full of loot. She's got that hoppy shuffle run that one does when they're unaccustomed to running in fancy shoes, but oh is she moving, grabbing what she can along the way to the window that Hex created for them. Clik-click-jump. That's right, she made it, with loot, lookin' damn fine the whole time.
Masks! Paintings! Ugly sculptures! Hex doesn't care what he's grabbing and chucking up into the ship, he's just grabbing it. What to take? So many options! So many things for an Acquisition Guild to Acquire! Time's running out. Ladies are aboard. What else-- aha. The CAPE. Dodging his way through chaos and rubble and stray blaster bolts, Hex makes his way over to Grodak, the object of his petty revenge, not that poor G.O. deserves it, he just has the misfortune to resemble someone else. Hex seizes the cape and plucks it off, then turns around and shakes his ass at the poor man, because heaven forfend we not have twerking in this RP. "Thanks for the party." Twerk twerk. "I'm a big fan of the arts, ok ka." Then he bundles up his prize and runs for it, making an ugly but successful landing in the Firespray with the others.
Once everyone is on board, Tarion starts to bring the Firespray back away from the building, dropping rock and glass down the side of the skyscraper to probably hurt some unsuspecting terrible criminal way down below. Or like, a poor family or something. Or maybe it will fall harmlessly. At any rate, the bounty hunter laughs with childlike joy, barking "Nice shooting, Sienn," into the comm as he flicks the artificial gravity on to keep everyone from rocking around when the thing goes perpendicular.
Grodak clutches at his neck, wheezing, staring in horror as the feathered harpist with his cape and a rocket launcher jumps onto the craft. "Dorean Soto, that mad git! I /knew/ it was true, I knew it!" Yay, framing the dead guy Tarion shoved in the hold.
Turning upright, the Firespray spins on its axis, putting the twin exhausts toward the building and rocketing forward and away. "Well done, all of you beautiful bastards," his taunting, playful voice rings over the loudspeakers. "I'll drop you off at base, then I gotta get this thing cleaned." Of identifying materials. "Everybody keeps their favorite trophy, congrats." Sorry Jehn, your trophy is blood and a burned ass. He'll get you and Sienn something else.
