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Everything posted by HeavyMetalSunshineSister

  1. Hey, I have no idea if you'll ever see this. Hope you're doing well!

  2. and then Gal Gadot went ahead and starred in the best movie DC's done so far
  3. IC (Isariah, ISD Insight): The Inquisitorius was nothing if not efficient. After the freelancer's ship had managed to limp into orbit, docking arrangements were made with one of the bays aboard the Star Destroyer, and, following a smooth prisoner transfer, Isariah was now fretting over her beautiful, broken ship as a crew of technicians worked at repairing the damage inflicted by her last job. While she tried to stay out of the techs' way, a mix of curiosity and protectiveness might have made her a little bit of a nuisance. Regarding the prisoners she had transported for the Inquisitors... they'd made their bed. The easy way had been offered to them, and they'd refused it with extreme prejudice. While her gut told her that nothing good awaited them, she couldn't bring herself to feel too worried about it. --- IC (Varis, ISD Insight): In her quarters, Inquisitor Kalaf sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, eyebrows raised, and a tattooing needle raised to the skin of one eyelid. Her left hand moved in quick, precise movements, guided with the aid of the Force to fill in a design within the hemisphere she had already drawn upon that eyelid. As she sat, eyes closed, expression placid, she remembered the view of Taris from space; a shimmering jewel, incandescent, iridescent, alive. And she remembered what she had seen on the ground, what Taris was like up-close. Choked by smog, desiccated, a broken world limping along to no end. Neither vision was really false, but the two could not coexist. Taris the Jewel concealed and denied; Taris the Corpse shattered and stained. Incompatible truths. Past and present, intermingled, at war with themselves and each other, and no clear vision for the future. A beautiful atmosphere did not give the people of Taris hope; the scars of the past did not give them a plan. And so the Zabrak Inquisitor, the seeker of truth, tattooed what she had seen upon her eyelids. As abstract shapes were impressed upon the right, forming the image of a shattered hemisphere, a single tear escaped her eye, running down her cheek as it mingled with the blood inherent to the process.
  4. IC: "Right, so the thing about shoes, see, they're the hardest, like, the physically hardest thing you wear, right?" Cynegild was sitting on top of his liquor cabinet, sipping from a steel thermos of red tea as a group of mercenaries ate roast chicken to celebrate moving the last of his things into his new apartment. Their leader, Drachentocht, lay on a fluffy rug and stared at the ceiling as Cynegild continued talking. "So they're harder than any of your clothes, but what's always the thing that wears out first? I can make a pair of pants last two years if I'm good to them, I've had this shirt, this one with the ruffles? Ten years I've had this shirt. But shoes? Three months, tops." "Picker." A hint of exaggerated patience there, like someone about to explain basic addition to a toddler. "Aye?" "You run along railings and rooftops when you get bored, occasionally jumping off of both. You brought in the New Year by stabbing fascists in the neck and dancing around explosions, and you do much of this in heeled boots that would make King Louis the Fourteenth jealous, and you're asking me to explain to you why your shoes wear out?" There wasn't much sound in the apartment for a few minutes, beyond the occasional slurp as Cynegild drained his tea, but when he set the thermos down with a clink... "Yes. Yes that is absolutely a thing I demand an explanation for."
  5. IC (Isariah): Given the choice, the smuggler decided she would much prefer to carry the unconscious prisoner than the one who was still twitching, and therefore scooped the prisoner up and over her shoulders in a fireman's carry, continuing on, somewhat slower, towards the door. "I'm guessing one of you two is going to carry the other guy? I hope, anyway, I mean... if it's all the same to you, I'd really rather not carry both."
  6. IC: "Alright, while we're on the subject of food, horror, and terrible things you've done, do you have any schematics for the Baconator? I feel like that's the only way I'm ever going to understand exactly what kind of monster you created." "Or have they locked those in a vault and refused to disclose the location to you?"
  7. OOC: ayyyy new computer IC (Isariah): The smuggler - and now, apparently, Inquisitorius hireling - flashed a cheery hand signal to the boss-lady, laid down as generous a tip as she could for her meal, and folded the last of her crabs in a napkin. Nodding to Sgt. Raltz and the Inquisitor assigned to her, she started for the door. "Right then, it's not too far to the drydock I had to leave Khorshid in, but your friend's cunning entrance just might have stirred up a bit of panic on the street, so... ah, you know what? You're trained for this. Just do what you do and we should get there fine, yeah?"
  8. IC: Fairuza continued to stare at the part for a moment, finger hovering only a few centimeters above it, before straightening and turning, slowly, to look at Ben. Her hand was now about as far from the workbench as it could get without her waving it in the air above her head - which, in this working environment, seemed nearly as likely to get her electrocuted. "You and I," she said slowly, "have very different approaches to workbenches, loose parts, and live currents, and I am not really certain whether to be frightened or impressed."
  9. IC(Varis): As the special boy in shining armor laid down suppressing fire against Liare, Varis turned her pistol on the star of every Inquisitor's headache, laying down a stream of fire directly targeting the aggressor so that he could not devote all of his attention to keeping her colleague pinned down. Her aim was a little less than perfect, as she had one hand still keeping her lightsaber ready to deflect incoming fire, but perfection wasn't necessary to make a nuisance of herself. With some regret, she noted that her own options for cover near the door were somewhat less plentiful than the tables and chairs in the bar proper, but moving away from the door would make it too easy for one or more targets to slip out.
  10. I have literally blasted Doom, the bonus track from Beyond the Red Mirror, for about five hours today. Still listening to it.

  11. No, you're right. They're mostly going to panic and try to get out of the crossfire.
  12. I love how there are two wildly different bar-fights going on at the same time. On the one hand, we have a handful of Inquisitors and a contingent of elite troopers working to maintain control and apprehend a specific group of suspects. Stun-rounds flying everywhere, lots of smoke, civilians are broadly encouraged to take cover. On the other hand, we appear to have an actual bar-room brawl featuring a large crowd of various aliens just sort of duking it out for no reason.
  13. IC(Varis): As the Zabrak Inquisitor saw a Togruta making a move for the back door, and very few people of any nature making a go for the front, she relaxed her stance slightly, taking one hand off of her lightsaber to quicky draw one of her blasters from her belt. Flicking the fire-control switch to stun, she took aim just ahead of where the Togruta was and fired off several shots, leading the target slightly with each so that she could not simply dodge once and continue to the door. "Sit. Down," she called across the bar. "Your instructions were not unclear on that point."
  14. IC(Isariah): As much fun as taking pot-shots at gutter-rats had sounded initially, the troopers had quite thoroughly discouraged any such heroics, and really seemed to have a decent handle on things. Taking discretion as the better part of valor, she had flipped her table sideways, hidden behind it, and continued eating her soup, peeking around the edge to make sure the grenadier hadn't popped back up. "Y'know," she called out, over the general noise of the bar-fight, "if you're hiring pilots, I could use a steady job. My Khorshid's a bit roughed-up, and I'm not exactly at risk of scraping together enough credits to fix her on Taris, yeah? So... non-disclosure agreements, security clearance, moral ambiguity, whatever sort of red tape you need, I'd be happy to reach an agreement, long as you've got work for me and hangar space for the tub."
  15. OOC: Let's dance. IC(Varis): It was amazing how little literally every kind of superiority seemed to mean to these people. The smoke grenades had been a dirty enough trick, but there was only so much you could do against the Force. With her orders from Liare clear and backup in the building, she activated her lightsaber and brought it up into a guard stance, focused on keeping any of the bar's patrons from making it to the door; in the confusion, it would be too easy for one of the fugitive's co-conspirators to slip out unrecognized, so it was better to keep everyone in and sort it out once the fighting was over. "Listen to the nice man and keep your seats, folks, you do not want to find out whether the fellow with the grenades cares that you didn't plan on dying today, so keep your heads down, stay out of the way, and don't even think about making a move for the door until we've got this under control." IC(Isariah): The Inquisitors were giving out fantastic advice. Really, they were, and any civilian with an ounce of sense would have listened. It was, therefore, to their credit that Isariah had pulled her table back against the bar, and was still eating soup. Her pistol was on the table, yes, in case the grenade-happy guy made another appearance, but she was undeniably still eating her meal.
  16. Having convenient access to things I said years ago is rather humbling.

  17. Hokay, so, in case anyone comes scrolling through the least interesting blog on this site, some context Back when this entry was made, there was a pretty big kerfuffle on the blogs between two sides. One side was undeniably wrong in their beliefs, while the other side was angry. There were some, myself included, who, while nominally agreeing with the people who were angry, insisted that being angry made them less right. This is an incredibly silly belief, and a dangerous one. While I still, generally, believe that people are deserving of a basic level of respect, the same cannot be said for beliefs. There are beliefs that deserve no respect, which ought to be eliminated as soon as practically possible. For the people who hold these beliefs... Sometimes the best thing you can do for someone is tell them that they are wrong, and hold firm in that until they recognize it. Gentle treatment is not necessarily called for.
  18. IC(Isariah): "Well, that sounds like politics to me, so I'm going to finish my soup." Lowering her arms to a more comfortable position, the cargo pilot sat back down, picked up the half-eaten crab, and dipped it in her soup. While continuing her meal, she kept her eyes fixed on the Zeltron Inquisitor who seemed to be running the show. Isariah was getting more of a weird feeling off of her and the other Inquisitors than the rest of the bar, and while she couldn't quite place what it was, ignoring it didn't seem like the smart bet. IC(Varis): The most obvious source of trouble, as Varis saw it, was the large sentient the Chief Inquisitor was addressing. Removing the helmet could defuse the threat to some degree, but if they chose to respond poorly to Vespula's request, things could get ugly fast. Maintaining position near the doorway, Varis kept her gaze steady on the armored one and practiced breathing exercises, keeping herself relaxed and hoping no one in the bar was planning to do something stupid.
  19. IC(Isariah): She'd been getting some creepy feelings off of about half of the people in the bar for a few minutes now, but it wasn't until the Inquisitor made her announcement that Isariah was able to piece it together and confirm that this was probably somewhat more than the bar's usual level of discomfort. Setting aside a half-finished crab, she stood up slowly, carefully, with both hands raised to about eye level, and addressed the Inquisitors. "Pardon me, don't mean to be a nuisance, but what exactly is he wanted for? You don't seem like the sort who'd get sent to haul in tax-dodgers." IC(Varis): The Zabrak pushed aside a mostly-full glass of water and rose, speaking quietly to her colleague as she made for the door. "Better than leaving it alone. Might even be able to avoid starting any fires, this time."
  20. No one reads PMs from me, but on the plus side my PMs are all either me being salty about things that happened in 2003 or bicycles made of spiders.

  21. IC(Isariah): The second bowl of soup was a bit thicker and a lot spicier than the first. The crabs also tasted pretty great dipped into it, so Isariah was having a pretty good time while she tried to ignore the growing number of people gathered in one corner.
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