Log:The Shadowport: The Urban Wild
Shadowport mingles in the hangar and get a surprise!
OOC Date: May 13, 2021
Location: Nar Shaddaa
Participants: Eriu Jynx as GM, Khalim, B'haav Adasta, Netep Muri, Saturi, Zhu Yan, Rale, Zyrette
The hangar is wide open and that is likely due to the fact a band of loader droids is seeing to the loading of a few crates that perferated sides that allow for the occasional sound to get out. Whatever is inside is living and its not exactly pleased with its current situation. Eriu stands off to the side, the cowl of fabric is swept free from her head as the loader droids rock the crate. "Careful now. I am not paying for anything that gets damaged." Warning as it is she turns about to cast a look over the hangar, a hand going up through her ruffled hair.
She glances back out at the abyssmal day on Nar Shadda, as per usual. Rain is drizzling down but a distant boom makes certain that things are going to get far more violent in a little bit. "Hurry it up." There is music playing from over the speakers in the hangar and she steps aside towards the waiting butler droid who still holds her Reserve. She takes the whiskey, sniffs at it and then downs the several fingers worth.
"Don't get yer wires in a wad, I'll be back in time to make the fix, then off we go. If I don't do it NOW, I'm gonna forget about it!" Netep Muri argues with a droid via comlink with the same exasperrated tone that a teenager wields against their overly concerned parental unit. It's super professional. The Doaba Hermi's captain picks up her pedestrian pace a notch when that boom cracks overhead and that hop-scurry sees her crossing the threshold from public domain into the private hangar with more efficient haste.
Soon, the mobile tarp (couldn't find her poncho, had to improvise) is trotting in the direction of loading action, angle cut toward the supervising Hapan. "JYNX!" tarp flaps, Muri runs. Droid complains. She holsters the comlink to belt, choosing to ignore what admonishment comes next.
The thunder rumbles, as that incessant Nar Shaddaan rain patters against the acid-scarred duracrete tarmac outside. Khalim enters the wide-open flung personnel door next to Zyrette, both under the transparent shells of plastic rainslickers. Once inside Khalim unzips and shrugs out of his slicker, folding it over an arm to drip along the floor - at least for a few moments. First noticed are the array of vented crates, and the Mirialan's dark brown gaze fixes, a hint of a frown at the noises that come from within the large boxes. Second noticed, Eriu in the midst of downing a glass of some golden liquid. Khalim nudges Zee, head nodding in her direction, and they continue their entry. Thid, Muri, a tarp-flapping blur crossing from the other direction. When close enough, the Mirialan asks, "Eriu. Did Yan mail-order some pets?"
Arriving with Khalim, the tallish Falleen woman glanced about, before stepping within Ej's sanctified domain. She slips out of her transparent, hooded rain cape and drapes it folded over one arm. Berthed as they were in a nearby section of the Space port, they hadn't needed to travel far. When Khalim nudges, she nods, lifting an olive hued hand to wave at Ej, should the pair get her attention.
Zee wears a one piece leather jumpsuit, and hip pouch. No obvious weapons or armor is worn. However, this is Zee, meeting up with fellow SPers. It can be assumed she is wearing both. Armor, and hidden weapons.
Rale is the only one, save perhaps EJ, who was already in the hanger, which works as a parking garage for his collection of old starfighters. He's currently parked himself, atop the nacelle of a Y-wing, as he tinkers idly with an open access panel. He is keeping one ear perked toward the crates though, casting curious glances that way even before anyone arrives. A deathstick curls smoke from one corner of his lips, and he makes one last rotation with his spanner. The engine COUGHS and SPUTTERS for a moment, causing a grumble and a shrug before he turns and slides down the side, brushing off his casual overalls and waving to all who approve. "Friends! Glad you're here, I was worried Boss EJ was about to...I don't even know." And this clearly concerns him, if less than it should, as he moves to hug Zyrette, Fist-bump Khalim, and gives an aside grin to Muri. "Heya, Party Foul. Personnel problems?" He is, of course, armed with his usual weapons. This is Shadowport. Crates. EJ. Possibly YAN SOMEWHERE. Being armed is just smart.
B'haav Adasta is dressed down today, a simple gray silk suit with a matching gray bowler to cover his palps. The bowler, with a sharp-looking black-and-green slashed band, is being covered and protected by an umbrella the Balosar had acquired on the way to the hangar. Behind the Balosar rolls a small, pure-steel colored BB unit, chirping and blaating away. B'haav looks behind him and shakes his head. "Don't worry, I will introduce you. I'm just as proud as you are that you've found a suitable name for yourself, even if I tried to dissuade you about it." As he crosses the threshold into the hangar through the wide open door, he pulls the umbrella sharply closed and drops it only a few inches inside the door, managing not to jump at the crack of thunder. His gait is punctuated by the click-tap of the ornate silver cane in his left hand, moonstone-capped and always within his reach.
"What is-" He begins to ask, but trails off just as quickly as his steel-grey eyes are drawn to the crates and the clearly-living cargo within. "Er... What's going on now?" He offers a nod to each in turn of his fellow Shadowportians as the BB spins faster and faster behind him to discard any remaining water from its chassis.
Staying dry isn't as simple as moving under the roof of the hangar. Acidic water beads up as it runs down the length of the Pantoran's cloak. Saturi instinctively jolts as she approaches the gathering. The droplets are cast off violently, the aqua pearls blasted into a fine mist. A look of disgust dominates her facial expression as the moisture comes into contact with her exposed palms. Audible frustration emanate from the depths of her chest. "Hmpft." Her spindly fingers work to draw back the hood of her garment after giving her body one last shudder.
"Hurry up, get in here. No reason to stand outside when we have plenty of room." We likely being Yan but could also include the live in Chadra-fan and his love of ships. Eriu glances aside to him and smiles all the more as he greets the crew that wanders in. "I believe there is take out coming in at some point soon. You are all welcome to it. I was going to use it to stock the apartment for a week but this works."
She turns to Muri and glances to the comm unit. "You sure you shouldn't get that?" A wave is given to Khalim and Zyrette before she glances past to see B'haav and not far behind him Saturi. "It seems we have a gathering and a good thing I was doing my weekly order of food too. Should be something for everyone. Going to eat and then see this precious cargo off to its undisclosed drop off point. I am being paid very well to transport these animals. Normally I would say no after the cattle incident because the smell is hard to get out but..its a handsome payment."
"Personnel problems?" Muri turns from offering a returned flash of palm to Zee/Khalim to look around and UP at little Rale. "Nah, I mean...n'less ya count me? Probably yes, then." Wince. "My arc welder's power pack is toast and I haven't got a spare because...well that WAS my spare, so don't suppose YOU might --"
"--Cattle incident?" Muri's attention span is wanting, this evening. "Manure's not so bad. What sorta drek /those/ gonne excrete?" Netep thumbs a gesture at the crates of disgruntled mystery over yonder while wadding up the tarp awkwardly under an arm. Water dribbles out all the crinkled bits and down her sleeve, side, trouser leg. It's fine. "Eriu I've got somethin for ya. Picked it up on a run while back, figured you'd put it to best use. Better'n me, at least."
The tarp is given up on and just dropped to tarmac while she roots around the many pouches and packs strapped to her utility belt.
A pear-hued wave is sent Eriu and Muri's way, alongside a very Khalim quirk of a grin. "Dinner sounds great," he says, sounding legitimately enthusiastic at the prospects. "Is it in those boxes?" The Hapan's waves sent behind Khalim and Zee prompts the Mirialan to slow and turn, and noting the Balosar and Pantoran not far behind both are greeted with a raised hand as well. "B'haav, Saturi, evenin'," he grins, "I hope we brought enough stun guns, I think dinner's extra fresh tonight."
The ancient Y-Wing looms, still under refurbishment but looking substantially improved since last he'd seen it. Khalim taps an olive Falleen hand with his own and breaks from that gravity pull bringing the group in around Eriu to divert in Rale's direction. Seeing the little Chadra-Fan, the Mirialan offers a smile equal parts mirth and barb as dark brown eyes scan the nearest engine cowling. "Is there actually an engine in there?" he dead-pans.
Zee glances about as further SP members start to fold in, more glad than ever she was armored and armed. She motioned to Bee, and Uri in turn, greeting them with a muted wave. Rale of course she hugged, the small Chadra-fan the only being aside from Khalim she showed no hesitation in sharing public displays of affection. Within reason, of course.
As Ej motioned them further in, she coalesced with the others. "Well, I don't wish to eat your planned provisions.." She began, though her argument trailed off as Khalim accepted the invite. "Yes, dinner sounds lovely, thank you." Zee amended smoothly. Gaze shifted between Muri, and then the crates, trying to determine the contents. the tip of tongue slide briefly along the inside swell of bottom lip.
"MOTHER F-"
The next words were blanked out by a loud crashing clattering chaotic cacophony coming from somewhere in the spaceport nearby. Then, hopping into view immediately before a collapsing tumble of poorly stacked crates was the man, the myth, the miracle himself, Zhu Yan.
He needed a haircut.
'Hopping' was the correct term, as he'd obviously caught his leg on said pile and had hurt it because really it's Yan he has all the spacial awareness of a lemming. "Ssssssss, hhhhhhh, ssssssss, hhhhhhh," were the noises he was making as he now hobbled over to the entrance of the hangar, trying to get out of the rain that /dared/ get his fluffy collar wet. "I swear to sithspit," began the rant, "WHO in the everloving frack decides to stack a bunch of absolute nothings in a pile right next to the door?! Ten credits says Mandalorians!"
Rale
"Actually, my spare arc welder was in that pile. Probably was crushed your foot," Rale supplies helpfully, grinning as he gives a wink to Khalim and Zee before offering more seriously to Muri, "Of course, no problem. I have one in the Vague, I'll have Friend bring it over later." The massive P2 can carry a lot of things around, handy as can be. He shoves Khalim at his jest (Which has zero effect, given his size) and grouses something about the pear-colored man being all up in airs, with his new hyperdrive. "I swear, gonna strap two hyperdrives to my ship, see how you like it." But he's grinning all the while, and keeping a FAR distance from the crates as he moves around the Shadowporters, sparing a smile and wave for Saturi in particular. "Heya Friend Saturi, so happy to see you, it's been a hot minute."
The loud cacophony of sound is enough to silently set Saturi off. She knocks off the remaining water from her water-resilient cloak. "Ten credits says..." Her faint voice fades with distance making it impossible to hear the rest. It's a mumble and not intended to be a complete thought. She sends a polite gaze in everyone's direction, save for the noisemaker. "If it's in those boxes, I'll be forced to pass." Golden eyes lock onto Khalim, adding to his theory for dinner.
The soft thud from her sandals comes to a close as she halts a few meters away. Her palms are firmly planted into her sides. A flash wink at Rale in acknowledgement might be mistaken for an accidental bat of the eye. Otherwise, her almost judgemental attention seems centered on the group as a whole rather than any one individual.
B'haav, a little surprised at all the faces, re-itemizes as it seems the entire Shadowport is gathering, or growing in that direction. "I don't want to take up any of your provisions, though I'll still stick around for company, if that's alright Eriu Jynx." He'd mainly come to offer up something rare he'd found on his trade route - and, of course, introduce his newly-designated BB unit, after his insistence - but now that people were accumulating, the Balosar felt that he ought to do his best to be sociable. You can't work forever. He makes his way over to Rale and all, thinking perhaps to save the peek into his satchesl for later. He cranes his neck over to look at Yan as he crosses the small distance.
"Do Mandalorians have a moving business I haven't heard of, Zhu Yan?" But pithy joke aside, he turns to the Chadra-Fan.
"Rale, I have something for you." He reaches into his pocket and holds out a small flimsiplast card. "That's a one-time authorization code. Swing by the Pharple and beam that to the ship. J43 and AN7 will bring out that... Item you had me acquire for you." That item had taken quite a bit of haggling, but it was far too big to carry around and B'haav doesn't know how to drive. "I'm always at the starport in the Corellian District, unless I'm on the route." There's a twee-woop from behind him. "Oh... Also," he raises his voice to let it be known to more than just the Chadra-Fan. "This is BB-AV. Or..." There's a long pause. "Bav." He turns, and offers a tip of the hat-brim to Saturi.
"I will just order some more for tomorrow. No problem. It is just fortuitous and as for what they will excrete? I have no idea but I have prepared the Majestic." She leans a little closer to get a look at whatever Muri is now digging out of her pack. "Consider me intrigued."
"No no, dinner is yet arriving and a little late but nothing that will ruin the meal. Those things are..." She does not say but there is a trilling scree from inside the latest container that is slid onto the ship. There are five in total and the last two are begin positioned.
Two loader droids are needed to move them.
"Again, everyone is welcome to eat..." but then Yan is making his entrance and she starts to say something, mouth opening before she just closes it. Now the BB unit is being introduced and she clears her throat. "Oh my...its named after you."
Rale gets a solid thumbs-up of approval from Netep, regarding his plan to use 'Friend' as a courier. "I'm docked at A but might taxi her over to the EG hangar for convenience's sake!"
Yan's assault by an unruly gang of idle crates draws a look void of sympathy but tweaked with amusement. "I uh..." What was she doing? OH Yeah. "This." The item is transferred to EJ for inspection, not much bigger than Muri's hand. "Just a little, y'know. Ain't a fancy gown or nuthin but it fetched a pretty --"
The BB's name is Bav.
Eyes wide in their momentary glance - turned perma-stare, Netep does her best to temper her lips into a slooooooooow upcurl and not outright laugh. "That's just...well, that's just very cute." Her eyes drop fractions of a degree to pass a briefly searching glance over his neckline for...something. In the wake of his hat-tipping, she grants Saturi a little upnod, followed by some little hand signals to 'comlink me' and other mimed actions and/or things that might not be as translatable as she thinks they are.
This isn't Lorrd, afterall.
"Y'know, the rock?" Equally ambiguous words follow ambiguous gestures.
"I swear, if it's the Mandalorians, I'm gonna go and find Sumi and sh-" it was at that point that Yan stopped hissing (shin-clutching still a thing though), looked at the Bav The BB Unit, looked at Bav The Person, looked back at Bav The BB Unit, and then shook his head as though he were seeing double.
"Now hang on," he began, with the indignance of someone who was clearly seeing a crime against good taste (akin to looking at yourself in the mirror, Yan). "You're Bav. But the droid is Bav. But you're Bav." It was quite possible Yan was developing a headache to go with the shin-ache. He was not a smart man. "But... the droid is also... this is too confusing, something needs to be renamed."
Rale doesn't even try to hold in his batlike little cackle, dancing in close to the BB unit and peering at it in great amusement from his (slightly) taller height. "Well, ain't that just the cutest damn thing. I mean, keep in mind my P2 named itself 'Best Friend', so...Damn that's cu-" He pauses, wide dark eyes peering at the one-time code and then BEAMING broadly. "Oh Friend B'haav, that is the most glorious of news! Oh, I could kiss you, if I didn't think I'd break skin." He practically dances as he takes the code, turning to the others and dancing in place, exciteable even for a Chadra-Fan. He finally focuses on Khalim, and waggles the card. "You are gonna be so jealous you might actually die, my friend. DIE, it's that good. Dinner, my ship, I have a gift for you anyway, but you MUST see this."
He has almost forgotten the whole 'bav-and-bav' thing, he's too excited. Probably a good thing.
The Falleen glanced at Yan, as the diminutive smuggler made his presence known. "Are you alright?" She asked casually. "I do hope it won't require surgery." Teasing? Possibly, who knew! Her attention then shifted to the Balosar and his droid. Zee did not speak a word of Balosur. None the less as one that made a study of other cultures and languages she could -distinctly- hear the differences in the two names. She calmly watched the others as the reacted to Bav's Introductions. She stooped beside the BB, along side Rale. "Bav, a pleasure." She said with a politely serious tone. To Bee, the Balosar, she said. "Dr. Adasta, I think your droid chose well."
Zee stood again, hands smoothing down her hips as she did so. Gaze moved between Rale and Khalim as the brothers from another mother teased one another about ship parts.
There are times where you strike a pose and suddenly realize how much of a mistake it was. Discomfort comes in all shapes and sizes. Saturi shifts about before removing her hands from her sides. The excess fabric from her outerwear was too much to bear. The covert message from Muri is received...difficult to decipher, but she thinks that she has the just of it. The Pantoran responds back with her own nearly indecipherable set of hand signals.
She fiddles with the cloak whilst the conversation shifts from food to the ball droid. Her eyes jump to the new being...at least...new to her.
[ B'haav Adasta (Bav)]
B'haav looks to Yan, very confused. "What, no. He's Bav. I'm B'haav." Of course... To ears unfamiliar with the intricacies of Balosur... He just confirmed what the smuggler mastermind had said. He turns to the red-haired Hapan and nods, a little embarrassed.
"He's been searching for his designation, and I've offered him a great many ideas. But... Somehow, he decided that he wants to be like me." He looks down to the BB, who chirps and tweeps happily at all the attention. The droid is far, far cuter than its namesake.
B'haav catches Muri looking his direction and unconsciously, perhaps instinctively, his hand raises to cover his chest, towards the top of his sternum, and he offers her a meaningful glance in return. What she sought at his neck was hidden by the collar of his shirt, but he had not left it aside. He smiles a little at Rale's excitement, returning to the present of the hangar, a grin of satisfaction as he has done his job well. At the compliment, BB-AV tweeps happily to Zyrette.
"He says thank you, he's glad to..." A sigh. "He's glad to have a proud name to live up to." The Balosar's cheeks burn.
B'haav looks to Yan, very confused. "What, no. He's Bav. I'm B'haav." Of course... To ears unfamiliar with the intricacies of Balosur... He just confirmed what the smuggler mastermind had said. He turns to the red-haired Hapan and nods, a little embarrassed.
"He's been searching for his designation, and I've offered him a great many ideas. But... Somehow, he decided that he wants to be like me." He looks down to the BB, who chirps and tweeps happily at all the attention. The droid is far, far cuter than its namesake.
B'haav catches Muri looking his direction and unconsciously, perhaps instinctively, his hand raises to cover his chest, towards the top of his sternum, and he offers her a meaningful glance in return. What she sought at his neck was hidden by the collar of his shirt, but he had not left it aside. He smiles a little at Rale's excitement, returning to the present of the hangar, a grin of satisfaction as he has done his job well. At the compliment, BB-AV tweeps happily to Zyrette.
"He says thank you, he's glad to..." A sigh. "He's glad to have a proud name to live up to." The Balosar's cheeks burn.
The conversation continues about the BB unit and Eriu is giving a look back and forth until Muri deposits the treasure from her pouch into EJ's own hands. There is a blink and she stares for a moment at the item. It takes her a second more to realize what she has been given. "OH! Oh this is beautiful." Her fingers smooth over the glider knife with a look of affection...maybe adoration? Sharp edges are amazing and catch the light in beautiful spectacular ways. "Thank you, Muri. This is very thoughtful. Its going to look pretty next to the sword." Which she is not wearing presently.
"That food should be here.." she begins again, admiring the gift as she gives a light bump to Muri in thanks. "Course he is," in regards to the unit being proud of the name. That being said she starts for the bay doors to see if she can spot any lost courier.
At this very moment the last crate being loaded onto the ship catches against the deck and the loader does not compensate. It tips and spills to the side, damage the lock as the thing springs open with the extra gusto and push from the beautiful creature that emerges.
Its colorful plumage of teal and blue fans out in irritation as the beaked, feathered gecko like creature worth about three Karr'roga's in size lets out a shrill cry and rushses Eriu, the nearest organic figure after slamming its tail into the loader who beeps and boops.
"BY THE MOON!" She tries to cry out, duckign the first slam but the second sends her skidding across the floor unceremoniously against a landing strut of one of the parked ships. "Ow." Is said only after she is able to fill her lungs with oxygen again.
Khalim had just made it to the BB unit, an admiring glint behind dark brown eyes - always appreciative of finely made tech, even if his person proclivities skewed more... ancient. "Good choice, Bav," the Mirialan gets out, another affirmation of the little droid's choice, when...
A CRASH. And then a -SCRAPING- CLANG, as the crate's lopsided fall springs the door open. Khalim's attention shifts to the juvenile varactyl just as it muscles its way out and charges Eriu. "Kriffing always," he grunts, feeling the chaotic mixture of both Nar Shaddaa and so many Shadowportians in one place at one time. It was a flagrant dare to the space gods, and they have answered.
The Mirialan winces as the Hapan is thwapped by a feathered, muscled tail, and it's at that point Khalim's hand slips, like an oiled piston, to holster. Fingers grip, and that piston cycles back up, out, and that familiar Merr-Sonn heavy blaster is - in one smooth motion - stun-cycled, quick-sighted, and double tapped. Two blue-ringed stun bolts leap forward with muted blaster reports, one striking the creature while the other is absorbed by a far wall.
B'haav jumps back at the sound of the crate's lid flying open, releasing... Some sort of giant bird? There isn't much time to think about it though as it immediately leaps for EJ, bowling her over. The cane is tossed to his right hand as the Balosar flips a switch on it. The moonstone cap pulls back, revealing a glowing power tip as he charges forward. "Eriu Jynx," he calls out, quickly trying to jam the power tip into the bird, but being buffeted back by massive wings at every turn. B'haav's hat is knocked off, leaving his palps bare - including the right palp with a large, industrial durasteel ring piercing its base. He spits out some feathers and jumps back. "Stun it, quick!"
The sudden appearance of the Varactyl was a surprise to be sure. Aside from the cooling shock, Saturi facial expression espouses focus and determination. It's easy to be stoic when the feathered beast isn't rushing you. She reaches into her cloak, drawing a bright golden blaster with one fluid motion. The weapon seems to slide right into her hand. It's as if the holster was a friend gently passing her a gift. "No." Her voice is dulled by the commotion. The comment is said to nobody in particular.
She isn't about to wait around to see if the thing can be stunned.
Aiming for the creatures head, she holds the blaster out, shifting her feet to a solid firing position. A bright red bolt of energy leaves the glimmering gun's barrel, striking the cargo square.
"Eh, I thought it'd suit you," Netep reaches up to scratch under her collar at a pesky tag and also turns to look toward the hangar doors. She's not destitute by any means(any more) but she'll never turn away a free meal. But of course a simple depletion of food stores meant for the hosts can never go simply and smoothly. That last crate falls and before the riled creature inside comes bounding forth, Muri's declaring it a "Skrag" moment.
What does emerge with a hellacious, forward bound, is a beaked lizard - something she is not supremely UNfamiliar with, having come across many a strange mount (hah) in her perpetual travels 'tween the galaxy's far corners. The Guardian watches o'er her, she's certain, for this beast is NOT a carnivore. Rampage aside. It charges, she gets small, Eriu gets batted aside, Netep feels the breeze. It's unsurprising what happens next - blasters discharging, weapons flailing, but for once in her colorful history with Shadowport, Muri bellows a lungful of air for it to "STOOOP! DON'T HURT IT!" Because she'd be behaving much the same, were she kept in a small cage and trundled about for a spell.
This odd circumstance is one in which the woman's wardrobe and choice in personal aesthetic might serve a purpose. Her jacket happens to be green, reptilian hide of some sort, though it be paler than the Varactyl's more verdant green. Her hair - a slightly damp but no less wild fray of blue and purple curls - might stand up to the brightness of the reptavian's own mane. Netep's got a gun, but she doesn't reach for it. Instead, her hands go quickly patting down her pockets, in search of that namana fruit jerky that she SWORE she had -- dammit, did she eat it all on the walk over here? She did.
Plan B has her staying low but darting aside to keep within the Varactyl's sightline. A little cough and clearing of throat, followed by a thickened rolling of her Rrrr's gets her throat warmed up in attempts to mimic the animal's trilling vocals.
And she does it. Again. Again.
All the while bobbing her head and giving her own mane a little toss and shake.
End with a lighter, softer rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrllll. Sloooooooooooowly edging back toward that crate. Away from people.
Muri's done some weird things in her life for sure, but this has gotta rank in the top...20. Maybe 15.
History repeats.
"MOTHER F-" WHRUHWHRUH?! This time, Yan was rendered inaudible by the warbling of one of the most prized pieces of cargo he'd ever seen, a beast with such beautiful plumage that a couple of friends of his had named a ship after it way back when. Yan of course hated the damn things. Why? Well, the varactyl had caught Yan's /other/ leg, knocking it out from under him. It was hard to determine what was harder upon impact, the hangar floor or the back of Yan's head. BONK.
This was just not his day.
"Somebody either kill that thing so we can stuff it, or get it back into its box so we can sell it!" Yan burst out, trying to drag himself to his feet, but winding up just flat on his backside holding both his legs in one arm and the back of his head in the other. "Ssssssss, hhhhhhhh, ssssssss, hhhhhhhh..
Rale has seen into the deepness of space, and knows the dare that Shadowport makes when they come together in certain numbers, so he isn't at all surprised when suddenly things go pear-shaped in a way that isn't just Khalim. He swears violently in a language that only he understands, darting back away from the creature and toward a knocked-over pile of crates someone left nearby. Convenient! He vaults over it as he pulls forth his carbine and rests it across the top of a crate, letting rip a couple blue-tinted bolts of stun energy. He's not heartless, and the thing is valuable, right? "Hurt it?! If it hurts my kriffin' ships, I'll do worse than hurt it!" He's got his priorities, and his very valuable, collectable fighters could get damaged.
...And his friends, I suppose.
Zee finds herself in the muddle of a ..well, a kerfluffle. Guns are going of power canes are being discharged, Muri is.. is Muri cooing at it? Zee has nothing. She has no idea what to do with this giant Reptavian. That said, she does seem to agree with Muri. "Please Rale don't kill it.." As sh starts moving away, to get out of striking distance, and shifts to address the Chadra fan Amber gaze does notice the harness and pulley system of the vehicle transferring do-dad. "Wait." She says quietly, though it's unlikely any have heard in this noise. She moves to the wall, and up the latter to the cat walk.
Eriu is just getting to her feet when the shots are half way through being volleyed. The creature was interested in Muri and the sounds she was making - the color of her hair notwithstanding. Approaching slowly it was leaning down, still looking frightened and erratic when more bolts slam into the poor thing and it warbles out right into Muri's face. Whether it means to or not it swings around too quickly and slams its body into Netep as it buffets Eriu back off her feet, though this time she manages to lift her hands. "Stun it! Dont' kill it. Its worth a great deal of money! So much money." She is reaching for her own gun, disliking the feel of it compared to her sword. Its a pretty animal but she is not so altruistic as Muri. Money is involved
The thing cries out, tilting its head back to fill the hangar with its booming sound. Bruised. Saturi receives most of the attention presently the thing bristling as it hisses and lowers into readiness.
Eriu notices movement from Zyrette as she heads for a set of controls and Eriu glances up. The rig for moving parked ships in the hangar is off to the side but can be moved. "YES!"
Khalim's pistol is still out, sighted, feathery menace... scared feathery menace looming. On the verge of yanking that trigger, he hears Muri's appeal. And moments later, somewhat behind him, following a barrage of carbine fire, Zyrette's words to Rale.
Those dark brown eyes fix on the veractyl, and the Mirialan makes a - perhaps fateful - decision. See, he and Zee had planned on a jaunt to The Pulse after this little gathering, and beneath that simple long sleeved shirt and synth-fiber pair o' pants he wears THE GARB OF A DANCING MACHINE. Royal blue contrasted with reds and white, and a bloodstripe-like slash of silver, a more colorful Khalim is revealed as his shirt is pulled off, and his pants, de-pantsed.
And Khalim is transformed... become THE DANCE KING OF NAR SHADDAA. What the hell kind of dance is performing, really who knows, it's a mimic of what he thinks a club-going bird-lizard might throw down. There are GYRATIONS people. GYRATIONS. What's he going for? Distraction. Calming. He hopes the bird thing doesn't get any funny ideas. He's not actually that into the veractyl.
B'haav, having had his head sufficiently rattled by the buffeting wings, is readying for another round. But as stunblasts fire across the hangar, and much yelling and hissing happens, it's Muri's chrrrrrrrr'ing that has the cane lowering. The Balosar looks all around, sees everyone attacking the bird, or calling for its capture, and he deactivates the power tip. He remembers a stubborn beast on Socorro, and he moves slowly around behind the Veractyl, towards Muri's heading, to take her place. He holds a hand out and quirks his head low, as though to try to imitate Muri's innate talent with handling beasts, shen something shifts beneath his shirt and he looks down. A hand raises again to his chest and clasps something there as he straightens. He looks to Muri, giving her a knowing nod, then back to the bird. He opens his mouth and begins to sing, his gravelly voice starting to resonate clearly and cleanly through the hangar.
"The Sisters four are stern and strong, To see us all, the right from wron-"
The song is cut off as a feather, lone, rogue on the wind, flutters down and dances just below his nose, much like Khalim now dances in the bird's attention. The Balosar lets loose a gigantic HUAAAAAAAAAAAACHHHOOOOOOOOOOO.
Even with a sturdy stance, it's nigh impossible for a creature of Saturi's size to resist the massive wall that is the feathered animal. She is thrown from her spot, knocked onto the ground, and dazed by the encounter. Her hand reaches for her dropped blaster, holstering the weapon in preparation for a run. She rises from the ground, dusting herself off in the process. Her eyes gaze towards the scene before her, facial expression drooping after considering the...ingenuity...that the others are displaying.
Oh goodness, it's working. Is it working!? It's working! The varactyl slinks closer and Netep keeps up the stupid charade, crouched low without /quite/ going to hands and knees. They really are beautiful creatures, are they not? As it closes the distance, she can admire how the lighting plays within the irridescence of its plumage, turning blue to teal, lavender to red, angles pending. And the scales...she bets they're warm. Being a runner, the varactyl's got some super fueled musculature and that takes some serious vascularization.
Muri's tempted to reach out and touch it, preen a feather, one hand coming away from her side but then...
WARBLEYSCREEEEEE
Fermented juice - that's what varactyl breath smells like.
She gets bowled over by the abrupt about-face, emitting a shrill keeeeening of her own as she goes.
It ends in a squawk. She lays there, trying to remind her diaphragm how to function while listening to B'haav attempt to woo it with a child's rhyme, and when next she manages to suck in a deep enough breath to warble at it some more, it just comes out ugly and hoarse. Even by Varactyl standards, g'damn.
No matter! Netep's on her feet and lurching four steps forward to boldly reach for its neck before another round of fire can pop off, seeing as how Khalim is uh...drawing its focus. Her hands bury into the feathered nape and 'nip' at the feathers with quivering, drawn out motions. Preening. Calming? Irritating? She's about to find out!
It was bedlam.
Yan clambered to his feet as though he were shellshocked in the middle of a muddy and chaotic war holofilm, and to be honest the similarities were dangerously close. Half of the Shadowport were shooting the frack out of extremely valuable cargo. The other half were holding an impromptu dance rave party... thing that Yan wasn't invited to. And amongst it all, searing into a traumatic place in his mind that would forever be associated with jungles and attack thropters was that godawful WHRUHWHRUH?! WHRUHWHRUH?!
He could only stare, mouth agape, and cursing the lack of a beaten-up combat helmet he could drop dramatically. But, as they say in the annals of myth, one pill makes you larger and one pill makes you small. And the ones that Yan gives you, well, they definitely do something.
BLAMBLAM.
The perception of events happened in reverse order. Two stun bolts slammed into the creature, the barrel of the Bryar steamed and hissed, there was a flurry of movement around Yan's right hip, and his hand twitched. "SHUT UP!" That warbling was getting to him. He sounded non compos mentis, one eye twitching like a madman with a hangover (not inaccurate). "Shut up and take the pain! TAKE THE PAIN!"
Rale is utterly bewildered by the display in front of him. "I...but..." But Zyrette and Khalim are telling him to cease and desist, as is Muri, and then the Dance King is revealed, and he just can't. He really can't, both because of the sheer spectacle, and because Muri is really close to the reptavian at the moment. So what does Rale do? He puts the carbine on his shoulder, and shrugs. And begins to gyrate. To spin. To hum and whistle a bit of bat-metal under his breath, which coincidentally sounds pretty similar to the warbling. Coincidence.
Zee glaces aside to the ruckus going on in the hangar. Most of the shooting has stopped... and there's so much dancing. Dance King. Little bitty bat dance, and oh, the warbling... She finds her way to the controls and starts working the levers and pulleys until it seems like she may have the harness rig figured out. She got it moving, hopefully building up enough momentum to get a good wallop in. She didn't really want to harm the thing. But, she also didn't want it thinking Muri was it's mate, either. Her Khalim for that matter. He already had a mate. And there, with one final tug and push of the controls she swung the harness over and into the beautiful Reptavian.
Confusion. Not just with Zhu Yan who was moving into unknown levels of annoyance but with the Varactyl. It looks from Khalim who it is fascinated with to Muri...to ...Bav? It stares at th Balosar and then warbles at him, as if trying to show him the right way to sing. But the group at large is performing and it is darting its head back and forth like the raptor it is. Another shriek leaves its beaked mouth when Yan's shots hit and it stuns it, dazing the creature from doing further damage to those around it.
Just in time.
The harness for the ships comes rushing down once expertly positioned over the Varactyl. The blue and green feathered creature feels the weight of it and the blow deals the last damage it requires to go down. Stunned into stillness it lays there beneath the harness, breathing, bruised but still very much alive. Thankfully.
Eriu stares for a moment, looking from crew member to the other but it is Rale she stares at. Its almost like the 'awwww' is bubbling out around the corners of her expression and she looks like a contained squee is being emitted privately.
AHEM.
The loader droids having righted themselves begin to approach. But it was not just each other that got to witness this nor the droids but the open hangar droid holds a courier speeder and standing next to it two workers. The driver and his aid. They are holding containers of food and staring. What they witnessed will never be forgotten for they are not even sure how to approach when one finally says. "Uhhh Order for Duchess Supreme Eriu Jynx, Empress Pirate..." the title keeps going when EJ speaks up quickly. "YEP thats me..." "But don't you want us to confirm the name..." "Nope, thats good. I am good. It goes up in the apartment!"
[Khalim]]
"So anyway I started blasting..." Khalim's at the Blue Light, retelling the story. It's next Thursday and the spicy Diatom rings are extra spicy, and the ale is extra bubbly, and the story is extra, extra, EXTRA stupid.
B'haav coughs again and looks around, seeing the deliveryfolk. 'Duchess Supreme Eriu Jynx, Empress Pirate' is all that he can process as his eyes grow wide. He makes his way over to the door, around the now-harnessed bird to approach. "This is a routine training operation, but there were several... Classified techniques that you would do best not to divulge, unless you want black-bag teams knocking on your doors. Do you understand?" B'haav gives them both a very, very seriously arched eyebrow.
"Also, we'll need an extra copy of that receipt with the full name. Government records. I'm sure you'll understand."
So soft and oily slick, those f--
"-RINK!" Netep's interrupted thought ends aloud as the hefty cargo harness comes kerplunking out of the sky and WHOPS into the Varactyl under her fingertips. Her placating ministrations end abruptly with just milliseconds to spare lest she, too, become flattened by impact. Mostly her success is attributed to the stumbling trip she does over her own two feet rather than some athletic spring in her step. Happenstance is oft Muri's friend.
"Ah, sorry 'bout that, min larel," she murmurs softly to the pinned creature and scoots along on her bum to sit near its head. Hopefully not within chomping range, but she hasn't measured. "You wouldn't like the moon anyway...even the air is greasy." A light and cautious scritching is given to its skull, right above and between the eyes.
"'SCUSE ME!" shouted the slightly crazy Zhu Yan at the delivery guy. He didn't follow it up immediately, for he had to put away his gigantic blaster and suppress the visible signs of his impending nightmares. It took a moment. Then, when he had collected himself, he asked, voice even, "Doesn't your boss require full confirmation of the name on the order?"
Oh. THAT'S what this is.
"We need the full name and list of appelations in order for you to deliver without a citation. I mean," he gestured at Duchess Supreme Eriu Jynx, Empress Pirate etc, "she could be /anybody/!"
Zee climbs down from the controls and starts crossing back to the group. Amber gaze shifts over the courier so determined to spit out the entirety of Eriu's name to Khalim, "Can we get one?" She asks in her way too dry to be serious tone, as they begin to thread there way out to the night clubs. Of course meaning a Varactyl, not a courier.
As they continue the previously interrupted adventure and glance, she pauses to look over her shoulder at Eriu and Yan, "Thank you for a lovely evening." A shift of focus to Rale, extending an invite for dancing , "you're welcome to join us."
The Falleen pauses, giving a turn of amber gaze between B'haav and Muri. She did -not- miss whatever it was that was going on between them. That didn't mean she understood it. At all. Keen reptile eyes and all that. That amber eyed stare bores into them each in turn a moment, before she continues out with the Mirialan.
Much to Eriu's chagrin the man holds up a long piece of paper and begins to read off the name. "Duchess Supreme Eriu Jynx, Empress Pirate of the Port of Shadow, Guardian of Moonstrike and Bladedancer of the Twin Moons, Vanquisher of the Heart of Men, Keeper of Zhu, Captivating Beauty Beyond Compare...." it keeps going. The food might just be getting cold.
