Topic: Grindhouse Rpg (by Audition Only)

RULES

1.    YOU MUST AUDITION TO PLAY VIA PM
2.    THE GAMEMASTER’S (MY) WORD IS LAW
3.    FOLLOW THE BFFC TERMS OF SERVICE
4.    HAVE FUN

TO AUDITION

THANK YOU FOR CHOOSING TO TRY AND TAKE PART IN THE BEGINNING OF A HIGH ADRENALINE EVENT DO YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES TO PLAY…AT THE GRINDHOUSE???

1.    CLICK ‘SEND NEW’ IN YOU PM BOX
2.    SELECT YOUR ROLE
3.    FILL OUT THE FOLLOWING CHARACTER SHEET

Character Sheet
Name:
Occupation:
Species:
Gender:
Age:
Appearance:
Personality:
Skills:
Equipment:
Other:
Brief History:

4.    SEND WITH THE CHARACTER SHEET YOUR OPENING POST
5.    I WILL BE PAYING SPECIAL ATTENTION TO CREATIVITY, SKILL, AND ENTHUSIASM
6.    IF YOU ARE NOT SELECTED FEEL FREE TO TAKE PLACE IN ONE OR MORE OF THE MANY OTHER RPGS ON THE FORUM
7.    WE’LL PM YOU IF YOU MADE IT OR NOT
8.    YOU MAY TRY OUT FOR MULTIPLE ROLES THOUGH I WILL ONLY ASSIGN ONE
9.    ANY QUESTIONS? PM ME! OR CONTACT ME AT BROKEN_WHEELS@YAHOO.COM

The Empire
…Sits watch over the planet of Drago…
The enormous strength of the Imperial flee, from huge Star Destroyers to shrieking Tie Fighters, surround the planet from high in space in an impenetrable blockade.
…As their well-laid plan…
Large metal canisters burn into the atmosphere of the green world. Heavy canon fire from the planet’s surface causes half  them to explode into raging balls of flame. The others open into lethal raining clouds of purple gas…the poisoned and undead victims of the plague walk the streets with dead eyes and lifeless steps…feeding on the living,
…Goes astray…

Suddenly a zombie hit the ground in an explosion of blood to reveal behind him the purple-blood –covered Defel with fur that mixed with the shadows, and waving dual E-11 blaster rifles in a fit of hysterical laughter, “Woo! Yeah! I got another one!” He gloated aloud with sheer glee over to the side, then fired again on the rotting corpse, “EAT THAT ZOMBIE SCUM! Wooha!”
He skipped off the screen still laughing excitedly.

ACTION!
The four heavily armed bounty hunters stood in a line and open heavy fire on the mob of living dead.
An explosion tears through the streets and sends a heavy carrier-speeder with ‘the mule’ tagged on the side flying over the graceful, yellow-haired Jedi with her lightsaber bared and she bent elegantly out of the way underneath the screaming and fire-torn metal.
DRAMA!
“If…I don’t make it… out... of here…tell…Arcuse…” The dark haired killer coughed weakly from underneath the cloth mask tied over the bottom half of his face, “…He’s weird.”
ADVENTURE!
“Everybody! This way!” A professional athlete armed with throwing knives charged through the hall, then quickly changed direction away from the hall filled with zombies, “Other way! OTHER WAY!”
AND
ROMANCE
“Heri!” “Dash!” The mercenary in black and red Mandalorian armor hanging from the starship by a cord from his wrist gauntlet desperately tried to grab onto the blonde haired Jedi falling with the tall building collapsing under her, tearing the two apart.
HOW
The helmeted- hunter in heavy armor from Uba III gazed at his bloody and ravaged arm silently, then activated the lightsaber in his other hand and cut off his arm at the shoulder.
DO YOU SURVIVE

A pair of void-black eyes now completely devoid of any white stared devoid of all life.

The black haired bounty hunter no longer wore his signature mask or his notorious smile, and where his heart should have been was a gaping hole bleeding blood. The glaring light of Heri’s outstretched lightsaber revealed the growing army of zombies just behind him the darkness.[/i]

AN ENEMY YOU CAN’T KILL?

NOW OPEN FOR AUDITION “TERROR PROOF”

OPTIONAL ROLES: (FEEL FREE TO MAKE UP YOUR OWN)
RUNAWAY SLAVE
GANG LEADER AND HENCHMEN
LOCAL LAW ENFORCEMENT
CITYFOLK
VILLANOUS CRIMELORD
INVESTIGATING JEDI
THE GAMBLER
THE MERCENARIES
BOUNTY HUNTERS
PRIZE FIGHTER
SENATOR

NOW FOR OUR FEATURE PRESENTATION

If Tattooine is the armpit of the universe…

Then this is the planet where crime REALLY happens.

Welcome to Ord Mantel.

“WOOHOOoo!” The open speeder screamed through the morning traffic among the high towers. Across the hood of the speeder, an albino Zeltron with bright orange hair held on tightly, sliding with the high-speed movement of the vehicle, the jerking swerves and turns of the driver, and the shrieking wind overhead.

The speeder dived down through the criss-crossing traffic lanes of and the unwelcome albino Zeltron on the hood held on by his fingertips at the front of the speeder, laughing at the top of his lungs at the danger threatening to take his life.

The bright-orange haired and pale-skinned Zeltron slammed his hand twice on the hood and twirled his finger around.

The red-skinned Zabrak at the controls turned to the reptilian Trandoshan and the female Devaronian with a lip full of piercings, “This freak is OUT OF his mind!”

“Just go faster!” The Devaronian with vibrant white hair shouted with shrieks of glee and kicked her sexy sandaled feet excitedly.

“Alright.” The driver shrugged, “Everybody strap in!”

The speeder wove through the wild intersections heading ever downward sending the Zeltron on the hood sliding up toward the windshield, his loose jacket close to being pulled off by the sheer movement of the air passing by and the faded shirt he wore under it was being pulled up from his sliding around on the slick polished hood.

The driver gave a sudden hard turn left then right, only to clip the side edge of a huge public transport being held hostage by a group of zealous Arconian terrorists. The speeder was sent flying out of control through the mess of other speeders and flight transports until it slammed square on into a luxurious long-speeder. The Zeltron on the hood slammed into the side of the hover-vehicle and then hit the clear windshield in a loud CRACK sent through the thick transparisteel. Orange blood from his mouth smeared across the window when he opened his mouth in a wide smile and laughed.

The albino Zeltron is Zenth Fad.

Name: ZENTH FAD “Z”
Occupation: FREELANCER
Species: ZELTRON
Gender: MALE
Age: NINETEEN
Appearance: VERY PALE ORANGE TINTED SKIN, BRIGHT ORANGE HAIR STICKING STRAIGHT UP, ORANGE EYES, AND A WORN SET OF CLOTHES INCLUDING A JACKET COVERED IN VARIOUS COLORED PATCHES OF POPULAR COMPANIES AND LOGOS
Personality: TWITCHY, BIPOLAR, FEARLESS AND FRIENDLY
Skills: JACK OF ALLTRADES WITH STRONG SENSE OF STREET SMARTS…SOMETIMES
Equipment: A SINGLE SWITCH BLADE
Other: ZENTH IS AN ALBINO, AND UNLIKE THE REST OF HIS EMPATHIC SPECIES, CAN’T FEEL THE EMOTIONS OF OTHERS OR EVEN HIMSELF EXCEPT UNDER EXTREME CIRCUMSTANCES.
Brief History: EXILED FROM HIS HOMEWORLD THIS WAYWARD ZELTRON SIMPLY DOES WHATEVER HE CAN TO SURVIVE OR HAVE FUN.

The speeder fell powerlessly down through the empty and polluted air. The Zabrak driver struggled to bring the engine back to life among the horrified yells and screams of the passengers and Zenth’s crazed laughing.

The engine sputtered to life and the Zabrak frantically turned the vehicle out of oncoming vehicles and crash landed along a high platform-walk sending the crowd screaming in panic as they darted out of the way.  The speeder crashed head on into a compilation of trashcans and dumpsters, sending the Zeltron on the hood flying into the wreckage.

“I’m okay! I’m okay!” He hopped up and down excitedly from the mess of tall cans of garbage to see over the gathering crowd of people.

“Your shoulder is dislocated!” The driver pointed sternly at the Zeltron’s left arm hanging limply out of place. The two passengers in the speeder broke out laughing.

“Oh, oh yeah!” The albino Zeltron looked up with an amused laugh and popped the arm back into the socket without a cry or any normal show of some sort of pain, and moved on through the busy crowd, pushing aside a Rodian being pick-pocketed.

Suddenly a series of tricked-up speeders filled with local gangsters whooped and yelled uproariously opening fire on the crowd as they sped past. The sentient beings caught in the open panicked and screamed trying to get out of the way of the deadly fire. The orange-haired albino Zeltron stood gazing dumbfounded among the crowd that dove to the floor around him as he watched the three beings in the speeder cut down by the drive-by.

Sirens screamed past after the wild speeders and the crowd got up and continued business as usual. The Zeltron looked intently at the three beings lying in their own various colored blood on the blue synth-leather seats for a moment looking more confused than anything else.

He then shrugged, and entered the open Cantina behind him. A series of signs were flashing, “FREE-FOR-ALL!” “Open Fight Tonight!” “100% FEMALE GIRLS!” “PURE SABBACC” “EVERYONE’S A WINNER!” “GAMBLING!” “FIRST DRINK ON THE HOUSE!”

Hi Gojan, thanks for the invite.

Character Sheet
Name: Kalu Resnick
Occupation: Sniper for hire
Species: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 22
Appearance: Kalu wears a black body glove, lined with hidden armour. A short navy skirt and grey jacket. She wears lace-up ankle boots.
Personality: Kalu has a dry sense of humour. She keeps to herself and has no hesitation in taking a life if need be.
Skills: Expert marksmen, skilled in hand-to-hand combat.
Equipment: Specialised sniper rifle that has been modified so far from any normal model, she simply calls it "my long arm"
Other: Kalu is Force-sensitive. Although she has no training, she has the ability to heal herself if give time and has extremely fast reactions.
Brief History: Kalu grew up on Corellia, but wanted a life of excitement. She ran away from home at the age of 15 and learnt the hard way about life. She doesn't like to discuss her past.

I may join later.

OMFG! Gojan!!! I love Tarantino (Rodriguez is okay)! I loved Grindhouse! And I love you! This is the most kickawesome idea ever and I'm auditioning right now! Don't listen to green helmeted fett, I can already tell that nobody loves him. This is about to be so epic! You're a genius for doing this! Ugh! I can't even tell you how pumped I am for this!

EDIT: (I tried sending you the audition in a private message, but it said your inbox was full. So I'll just post it here. Tell me if I make it.)

Role: THE GAMBLER
Name: Ace Valerno
Occupation: Card Shark
Species: Chiss
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Appearance: Ace always wears his trademark club attire in public. Black trousers with swirling designs, a flashy red and silver jacket, and expensive red boots. Although he possesses the blue skin and red eyes of a Chiss, Ace has dyed his jet black hair a solid shock white and slicked it back to make more of an image for himself.
Personality: Once Ace discovered his talent for gambling, he lost respect for all other individuals in the galaxy. Arrogant, cocky, and sarcastic, Ace only looks out for number one: himself.
Skills: Nobody can play cards quite like Ace can. This skill comes with a stone cold Sabacc face meaning he can lie without a single twitch. His mastery of probability aside, Ace knows how to shoot a blaster when he needs to.
Equipment: A Q2 hold-out blaster concealed in his jacket. A red and silver chace cube he likes to show-off and roll when making decisions.
Other: To get where he is now Ace has cheated a few folks on occasion. But most of his success comes from pure skill. He also just happens to be a particularly lucky barve.
Brief History: Ace never had a direction in life growing up. He worked a series of odd jobs before one day taking on some of the galaxy’s high-rollers by some fluke. Ever since then he’s been living it large.

Can't PM you either, but I'm interested in this organized RPG.  Can't promise I'll contribute reguarly, but I'll do my best. 
Yeah, let me know if I don't pass your qualifications.  ;) 

Character Sheet
Name:  HUN-90
Occupation: Wandering Force entity.
Species: Unrevealed
Gender: Male
Age:  aprox. 4,000 standard years, quite likely more.
Appearance: Signature wide-brimmed hat and dark mask, thinner body + trenchcoat than Stolen Bride HUN.
Personality:  Vague, detached, malevolent, contemplative, silent.
Skills: Various ancient Sith / Force cult techniques, firearms and martial arts proficiency.
Equipment: Just the twin N'gant carbines for this one.
Other: Cannot utilize Force for telekinesis, persuasion, lightning, etc.  Can astrally project a semi-real form, cannot truly die.  Can graft appendages onto his person.  Several other as-yet unrevealed techniques.
Not so Brief History: Origins are unknown, except for a vague connection to the Sith Lord Naga Shadow.  Did not appear on the galactic scene until about 4,000 BBY, where appearances were sighted on Outer Rim backwater worlds. 
He is an enigma in every sense of the word. Wandering the galaxy in dozens of incarnations over the millennia, studying Force techniques and aspects of extradimensional entities.  Served as high priest of the B'omarr monks from 2200-1600 BBY, and various force cult leaders spawned from increasing fascination with his seemingly immortal persona and wealth of arcane knowledge.
Around 1100 BBY, HUN gathered several of his most devoted followers, and other entites he had encountered in his journeys, to form an organization of nine individuals dedicated to their leader's as-yet unrevealed intentions.  Save for a few entities that share his longevity, positions are open in this troupe upon the death of any of its members, to members hand-picked by HUN to take up the mantle of one of his dark compatriots. 
HUN's appearance changes occasionally over the millennia, and the numbers following his name denote the number of incarnations he has lived through. Whether in conflict with a powerful enemy or in his dealings with extradimensional entites, his body is occasionally reduced to broken bones or irradiated atoms; his signature mask, however, is protected by numberous Force techniques to be virtually indestructible, and will provide the template for each subsequent incarnation, usually when some hapless individual stumbles across the relic and unwittingly provides him a fresh host to function from.  His mask has been left floating in deep space and buried beneath molten lava on seperate occasions, yet his tenacity lies in his patience; a millennia is no more than a day to him. 
His motives are entirely unknown to the galaxy at large.  His involvement in any public affairs is mysterious at best, and he prefers to retain his anonymity and seclusion.  Occasionally however, he may decide to pursue challenging bounties or spawn Force cults dedicated to himself in some persona or another.

HUN-73, as head of the Dianoga Society, circa 450 BBY.

((Yeah, I couldn't PM you either. Let me know if I did ok.))

Character Sheet

Name: Firlov Dresden
Occupation: Villainous Crimelord
Species: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 51
Appearance: Short grey spiked hair, grey eyes, very fit and trim. He wears a tailored black Imperial uniform without rank bars, tailored black trenchcoat and gloves, and polished Imperial officer boots.
Personality: A bit psycotic at times, and will shoot anyone who displeases him, but has a slight sense of humor.
Skills: He is an exellent marksman, and a master at stealth.
Equipment: An SE-14C blaster pistol, sawed-off double-barrel projectile shotgun, and a small hand-held datapad he keeps on him at all times.
Other: Firlov enjoys playing cards and collecting blasters on the side, and also an organization fanatic.
Brief History: Firlov Dresden is an ex-Imperial military officer, tactician, and veteran stormtrooper. He was known for his cruelty, and previously handled a slave trade buisness for the Empire, but got out of it in favor a weapons deal he couldn't pass up. So, now, he is currently an arms dealer on Ord Mantell.

((Here's the Shotgun)) -> http://www.madmaxcostumes.com/images/shotgun.jpg

((This is pretty much what I was going for))

(My PM went through but I'm slightly worried it didn't make it to the right person.)
(Hey familiar group, hopefully I don't screw this one up like I did Stolen Bride, etc...)
Character Sheet:
Name: Kin Fauller
Occupation: Imperial experiment
Species: near-human
Gender: male
Age: 28
Appearance: shadowed eyes, hair to ear length in dire need a comb, 
Personality: depressed or agrivated
Skills: tracking, blades/blaster proficiency
Equipment: Imperial Heavy Repeater, restraining neural collar   
Other: Partially unstable. Mind continuously trapped beneath the strangle hold of his neural collar keeping him so far under wraps escape is achieved through delirium.
Brief History: Born into a military family on Coruscant, Kin was eventually deported because of an 'accident' in a swoop bike shop. Accepted to an Imperial labratory on the pretense of fixing all his problems. Of course that eventually became a cruel metaphor. What's left of a being, blueprint for a new age of proccessing.

Green, let's not insult.

I can't get through either.
Character Sheet
Name: Zek
Occupation: mercenary
Species: various
Gender: male
Age: two months/ various
Appearance: seven feet tall (If that's too tall, I'll lower it), different colored pieces of bodies sown together, long black hair and pants
Personality: calm most of the time, but can go insane at a moment's notice, not nearly as idiotic as he appears to be
Skills: good fighter, but does not think before he charges into battle
Equipment: minigun-esque weapon attached to his right arm
Other: Occasionally hallucinates of scores of bizarre creatures with large, neon hair, a bolbous, red nose, a strange attire, and chalk-white skin surronding him, getting closer, closer...
Brief History: An Imperial scientist  bonded various parts of corpses from many different species in an attempt to create a super-soldier. He escaped, killing the deranged scientist and guards, and became a battle-hungry mercenary.

Inbox still full :(

Name: Orsusk "The Drake" Jerricko
Role: Local Sheriff (not actually sure what that's called in SW)
Occupation: Ord Mantell
Species: Trandoshan
Gender: Male
Age: 54
Appearance: 6'4", Dark grey skin and sanguine eyes. Usually wearing a black and yellow ribbed flack jacket.   
Personality: Normally laid back and easy going. At first glance he may look like a slacker, but he is determined when he needs to be. His life lessons have just taught him that getting excited about most things is just a waste of an effort.
Skills: Average marksman skilled mostly with long range rifles. Unkown to most people he is actually quite skilled in hand to hand combat, but in his usual state you wouldn't believe it.
Equipment: While on a normal day (if there ever was one) his black and yellow uniform has minimal protection from energy attacks, he is known to carry a modified Tenloss Syndicate Disruptor Rifle in extreme situations. Mostly just for show, but he has vaporized a few hooligans going too far. Is sarcasm a weapon?
Other: While he is the local sheriff, Orsusk realizes the futility of trying to maintain order in the sector. His only real concerns are thugs and psychos threatening at least half the popluation. Less than that just isn't worth it.
Brief History: Orsusk's past isn't dotted with sadness and death. His life isn't a torment of spiraling hate. While working as a clerk at nearby arms shop, he dropped 3 would be robbers and landed the job as local sheriff. Orsusk never saw himself becoming a man of the law, and he still doesn't consider himself one. He just does what he can to keep the planet from destroying itself, and it's the only paycheck he is qualified to earn.

*gasp*  Jerricko is an Anzati surname...and grey scales signify advanced age...should an old fogie Trandozati be dispensing justice?  :P  jk

Shhhhh you may be revealing plot secrets :) j/k I know Jerricko is Anzati, it just sounds cooler than most Dosh names. The grey scales will actually come up later. And Trandos dispence their own style of justice :P  (This all also depends on whether I pass the audition)

I don't think Gojan'll be too critical of the applicants so far, no n00bs yet as far as I can tell.  ^_^  Though my character can be a bit overpowered....lol, I used to game as "Shrike Jerriko", that's why I was so quick to bring it up. :P  Hmmm....what could those grey scales possibly signify?  *pondering*
Gojan!  Hurry it up and let us know if we need any changes!  ^_^

BalanceSheet, would your character happen to be, or be based on, Nyarlathotep, Randall Flag, or the Men in Black (not the ones from the movie and such)?

Thank you Green for not talking in the theater.

As for everyone else....

Let the show begin!

The characters so far are a wonderful collection of Grindhouse material. I don't have an era set in stone yet but recently I've tended toward the Rise of the Empire. I like it because there is basically a little of everything for everyone to play with, but if you guys want to push for something else I'm open to any ideas.

Everyone who's posted their characters so far is free to begin with their characters in, around, or near the Blue Sun Cantina. The night's planned entertainment includes drinking, dancing girls, gambling, and an open Free-For-All Fight for anyone to sign up for or watch. Watch out for for Con Artists, desperate thieves and bounty hunters eager to escape the price on their head, all around scum and villany...and of course the host of slightly less than sane characters. :P

I find the funnest part about RPGs is interaction, a whole lot of freedom, and twists.

So expect a lot of that good stuff, and HAVE FUN. That's a rule. Once you stop, you're not allowed to play anymore. :D Seriously.

I'm afraid I don't know who those first two names are, and he doesn't operate like the MiB.  He's still an evolving character, but the only figures I was basing him off of was Alucard (being nigh-immortal) and Lord Canti (originally, not so much any more). 
Edit: Looked up Nyarlathotep on wikipedia, lol, I wasn't intending it but they do have a lot in common.  XD  The multiple manifestations and spawing cults to themselves....interesting, I wasn't intending that. 
Not so much Randall Flag though; he isn't quite such an embodiment of evil.  Still working my way through Dark Tower.  ;)

Zek, too paranoid to eat any food at the establishment, was eating fried slugs that he brought. He was too far in his moral zealot state of mind to care for the less than sophisticated dancing. Some hoodlum kept eyeing him all night, staring at the scars. The assembly of corpses went over to the punk, and shouted "The only thing you'll be looking at from now on is yo' puny brain, boy!" The walking freak of nature proceded to bash the hooligan's skull in without a second thought. "What the bloody heck are all of you puss-filled infidels looking at!?" he yelled at the top of his three lungs. After this intimidating question, all of the patrons turned the other way.

Gojan, I would prefere if it was set during the Galactic Civil War era, but I'm fine with any time period ;) .

Post script: I'm almost finished with the first novel in the Dark Tower series.

The B'moarr have yet to fail me.

My darkest son is here. 

(Lord Canti? Like the god from the video game that girl plays from Fooly Cooly?)
Kin enjoyed the sensation of watching. All that movement outside the door. Olive green was just so fascinating. Sitting in the dark corners, staring up from the floor in such a way.
"Are you sure? He's not exactly in one of his moods."
Sounds? Those were sounds right? Voices, olive green was talking to tan. The nice man was back, with all those other nice men in white. White didn't say much.
"Alright sir."
Door was gone, Kin slid forward tired. Moving still uncomfortable. All those lights. Standing dodgedly.
"Take him along...keep the collar in place...Night boy."'
White tapped Kin's neck, falling loose. Waking up outside of that haze. Quietly sitting, examining the floor of the transport with such entinsity it might as well have caught fire. One Stormtrooper guard, weapon always pointing. Kin stretched his arms, getting attention from the surrounding figures. Turning his head to watch the skyline, just a matter of time wasn't it.
They'd let the monster out to have some fun. As overjoyed as possible when the modest craft landed outside a promising cantina. Even more so to take the heavy repeater from the stormtrooper's hand. Mock saluting to see the uniformed imp enter the back, hand a picture timidly over. Kin ripped it from the man's hand, followed by the same guard out. The man standing silently by the entrance. Kin resting the repeater across his shoulder.
Saddened to see he'd arrived just after a conflict. Taking a seat as close to the entertainment as possible.
Glancing over the picture, unexciting personage. Finding this chap, he'd start looking with a drink.

(Yup, Lord Canti...I just liked the character, and HUN was originally a droid similar to him, just more sinister and in a trenchcoat without a TV for a head.  ^_^  But he's changed a lot, Lord Canti was just one of the characters I had in mind when I came up with HUN.)

Zek. 

Thank you BalanceSheet. That is actually pretty similar to the image that I had in mind.

His next move had to be perfect, anything less would destroy everything he had worked for already. The dosh's eyes twitched as he readied himself. No use stalling, make the move. His hand moved to the glowing button, the deed was done, now to wait. The holigraphic creature moved slowly across the dejarik board into its new strategic postion. The R5 droid made its move, ending the game swiftly. The droid rolled quickly off as Orsusk threw his shoe and a few choice words at unit. He was inches from sitting down when a large crash followed by blaster fire robbed himof his seat.
"Wait for it..."
The transmitter on his waist beeped and flashed wildly as he walked to his arsenal. He glanced over to the viewscreen as it transmitted the recorded event from one of the few remaining security cameras. Jerricko watched closely to see whether he would need more "persuasive" weaponry.
"Just another group of lowdown scum joyriding, and it looks like they got what they deserv..." his voice trailed off as the screen started voicing the coordinates of the event. "I don't need the coordinates dangit I heard the whole thing!"
Cursing under his breath, Jerricko set the defences and sulked out the door. His DL-44 strapped tightly into his back holster. Normally a routine disruption like this would be fine, but Orsusk knew where he was going. The Blue Sun Cantina was unfortunately not host to a myriad of friendly folk, then again where on this damn planet was?

(I agree with Draco on the Galactic Civil War)

Galactic Civil War it is!

(I'll post more in a few hours)

Zek, calmer now, walked away from the scum-ridden booth from which he enjoyed his burnt, home-cooked slugs. He went over to the blood filled arena and yelled "Which one of you dirt-bags want to fight?!"

Firlov was sitting at the corner of the bar in the the VIP section in the cantina, puffing on a cigar. Waiting. Waiting to collect on the big Sabacc game taking place. It was a seemingly usual night, with the exeption of the speeder crash. He was concerned that the local law enforcement might get entagled in his little "deal" with the hopeful winner.
The would-be winner walked over to Dresden. "I'm sorry...I...He bluffs like he's holding all the cards.
"Well...You look like you need a drink." Dresden motioned to the bottle sitting in front of him.
"Yeah, I could use one." The man replied.
After the man finished his bottle, Dresden took the him out the back door. They walked about halfway down the alley, then Firlov kicked the man in the back, causing him to drop down on his knees, and shot him executioner style in the head.
"Hmm." He looked down at the smoking corpse with a sigh, then walked back inside and sat down in his seat, just in time for the authorities to arrive.

(How do you like the Dark Tower series so far Draco? Pretty crazy stuff huh? Cool picture Revan, and I like how Firlov takes care of his own business. :P My pm account is acting really glitchy so I'm sorry if anyone still can't get a hold of me. I've got some crazy ideas for the plot so but feel free to surprize me and add your own stuff in.)

“It’s busted.”

“No I swear! Earlier! Earlier this thing picked up some cray-zee stuff.” The being was hidden by the dark shadows of the cantina and blinding colorful lights. He struggled with the mess of technology on top of the small table in front of him.

“Oh yeah?” The being on the other side of the table downed another shot and slammed it on the table next to all the other empty glasses, “Like what?”

“Get this,” The insectoid creature began excitedly, “Someone’s hiring some expensive assassin or other to take out Governor Telk!”

“Govenor Telk?” The other being asked disbelievingly, "The Imperial Governor Telk?"

“Yeah! The very same guy who’s on some secret mission to take out all the crimelords over all of Ord Mantell so he can take over operations, and you know what I heard over this ‘so-called-piece-of junk?’ I heard him, the governor Telk himself yelling down the local law enforcement to ‘deal with’ some punks who absolutely trashed his long speeder. Wants 'em alive. For torture probably. That human's got anger problems.”

“Uh huh yeah, whatever you say. Hey! More shots over here!”

"Get's better though. Would you believe the Governor's on his way to this very Cantina? Apparantly he does most of his business here. You know, it's the perfect place to find and hire mercenaries while havin' a little fun."

Zenth Fad strode past the occupied table near the front entrance and made his way through the throbbing mass of sentient beings to the main bar. He accidently got knocked into a Chiss gambling at one of the tables, but got up again and kept moving.

Zeltrons have an odd trait where they looked familiar to everyone they met. Zenth didn't have that, instead he went easily unnoticed wherever he went.

Zeltrons are an empathic species able to feel the emotions of everyone around them. Zenth could hardly feel any of his own.

The albino Zeltron with bright orange hair leaned on the counter of the main bar and looked at his reflection in an abandoned liquor glass. He used a forefinger to try and scrub the orange blood from his white teeth. Off to the side a loud uproar was coming from the Caged Arena. Curious, the ever emotionless being set down the glass and moved over to where he could get a better look.

And it looked like fun.

Zenth gave a widening smile.

An enormous seven-foot tall being...covered in ugly stitches that held together various unmatching body parts called out at everyone in the arena.

"Hey! Over here! I'll fight!" The pale-orange skinned humanoid shouted over the crowd then pushed through a pair of hesitant Weequays to stand in front of the strange challenger.

"I'll play." Zenth looked up at the being expectantly with his eerie smile...strangely devoid of any emotion and leveled his hands defensively eager to fight.

I love the Gunslinger.

(I'll post about the fight later.)

(Great drawing, Revan, love the angle on the face. ^_^
Suggest we move Dark Tower talk to a different threat?) 

This planet is starting to annoy me.

HUN paused in the middle of the causeway, electing grunts of complaint from the passerby's swarming around him, insects traveling on their own threads in a web of unseen reality, hopes, ambitions, fears.  All framed in the slowly setting sun of Ord Mantell against the garishly bright neon facade of the Blue Moon Cantina. 
The wind picked up, streaming HUN's trenchcoat out behind him.  The tide of sentients moved faster as a light rain began to fall from the darkening sky.

Finally....the pieces are coming together. 

A couple of gruff human security guards exited a hovercraft on the side of the causeway, prompting the crowd to dissolve further.  The light rain deepened.  The crowd further dissolved as the duo approached the Blue Moon, passing an arms width from the trenchcoated figure.

HUN followed them through the doorway.

"You can take your whiskey soaked, foaming at the mouth, toilet talking, pea soup spewing, sweating blood demon breath out of my face!" yelled Zek. The walking sideshow proceded to belt the orange creature in the head with his bulky gun.

In the process of doing so, the orange combatant started saying "It's me!, It's me, your old pal Steven!" About a second later he was laying on the ground, with a plethora of fractures and internal bleeding.

"You want some too Zeltron? Or maybe you Weequay scum!?"

Post script: I included four references to Alice Cooper's "The Last Temptation" album, though one is also a reference to the "Welcome to My Nightmare," and "Goes to He**" albums.

"Pure Sabacc!" spat Ace grinning. He shoved his winning hand on the table towards his Ithorian opponent. The victory was accompanied by hoots and applause from his usual posse behind his seat. Ace smirked and rested his hands behind his head.

"Shall we continue friend?" said Ace yawning. "No worries, I can take your credits all night believe me."

Ace reclined back in his chair allowing Dreeda and Kita to give him another massage. He'd made a point of gambling with the scantily clad Twi'lek twins whenever possible after he noticed how his opponents reacted when the two started to get tender.

His opponent bitterly threw his last few credits on the table and stormed off without a word.

"Nice day to you too," muttered Ace scooping up his winnings.

The Blue Sun Cantina was packed as usual. His fellow patrons were busy drinking and partying their meaningless lives away. Ace scanned the game tables for another victim when some Zeltron nearly knocked him off his chair. He glanced around wildly, but his guy was already gone.

Sighing, Ace held up two fingers for another java juice from the side bar. Seeing nothing to pass the time he pulled Dreeda into his lap with one hand and protruded a comlink from his jacket with the other.

“Hey… uh, boss?” he tried.

“What!?” answered an annoyed Firlov immediately.

“Well, uh…” started Ace nervously clutching Dreeda’s thigh. “Everything seems pretty mellow in here and I was just- I was just wondering when you were planning to “off” the guy.”

“He’s already gone you fool,” replied the former Imp. “Don’t bother me with these petty matters.”

Dead already? thought Ace. This guy’s good. I better watch my back this time.

“Well you might want to be careful anyway,” Ace said into the comlink. “Looks like the sheriff’s in town.”

Indeed he’d just spotted the uniformed Trandoshan entering the Blue Sun. There was silence on the other end as Firlov pondered this new development.

“Well,” he said finally. “This may turn out to be an interesting night after all.”

“And sir,” Ace tried to put in, “While I love doing these little errands for you, I’m wondering when all my little debts to you will be-”

“Don’t concern yourself with it,” snapped Dresden cutting him off. “Just keep doing what you’ve been doing and don’t let my cantina lose any more credits!”

There was a click as the villain terminated the transmission. Ace pocketed the comlink and looked up as his drink arrived glad for a refreshment. He flicked his red and silver chance cube into the air as he pondered his recent affairs with Firlov Dresden.

“Just between you and me baby,” he whispered into Dreeda’s ear. “Ace Valerno doesn’t like taking orders from anybody.”

“So what are you gonna do?” she asked her pretty little eyes following the descending die.

They were both silent as the cube bounced on the table a few times finally showing red.

“Let’s just say he’ll be getting what I owe him.” said the Chiss quietly.

He chugged the rest of his juice and raised a hand to wave at the sheriff.

“Hey The Drake!” Ace called across the room. “How ‘bout a game?”

Kin hadn't seen scales in a while, overjoyed at seeing a familiar face he stood up quick as possible. Throwing the chair backwards, flipping the table over. Getting close as possible without touching. Planting the barrel of his heavy repeater right at the base of the Trandoshan's jaw. Laughing with such force he coughed a little.
"I can't believe seeing you here, how's long it been? The Drake...I guess that chap wants to play a game. Let's shall we?"
Kin pulled the barrel back, placing it across his shoulders bored. He'd only met the local law enforcement once but Orsusk had been the stand out character. Did it matter if he recognized him? Accepting his presence by the Imperial symbols across Kin's clothing. Seriosuly, they were everywhere.
Kin walked off toward the card table, well aware he'd caught the attention of a good part of the group. Standing next to the fellow who'd called out.
After this he'd have to start working...maybe he was already. His comlink buzzed, Kin ignored it.

((I own the Blue Sun?))

((You do now. Is that okay?))

((Why not? :P I t could be a recent investment. Ooh, that will cause for some interesting conflict. ))

"You want some too Zeltron? Or maybe you Weequay scum!?" The crowded mess of toughened mercenaries went tense and uneasily quiet, not quite drunk or insane enough to know if they really wanted to test the new comer.

Zenth angled his head to look up at the enormous butchered concoction of severed beings, then looked down at the bleeding figure on the filth-covered floor who had just been pummeled mercilessly with a gun.

The orange-haired Zeltron turned and sprinted quickly out of the caged arena.

After a moment he returned smiling and proudly hefting a dented and scuffed metal chair from one of the nearby tables. He spoke with quick eagerness, "Okay,  let's go."

(( I'm still waiting for more players to introduce themselves or show up before I start any huge plot events))

((Go to the chat room.))

"Fine you dirt-eating maggot." Zek raised his right arm and blew the chair away. "You still want a fight?" he said with a grin that could make plants wither and die.

I made a slight addition to Zek's equitment. He carries a sack made of some type of skin. In the sack he carries extra rounds of ammunition. I figured that once the revenants are introduced, he will need more than one.

Any night at the Blue Sun Cantina was bound for some excitement. Unfortunately, tonight seemed like it was going to be a very long night.

"3 steps into the Cantina and I already have a gun thrust into jaw, looks like I'm more popular than I thought." The intense humanoid man lead Jerricko to Ace's table. The gambler shook his head and gave a half-hearted laugh as they approached him.
"Looks like you made a friend Jerricko. Aren't you going to introduce me?"
The trandoshan eyed the man twitching slightly with the repeater still aimed at his chest. "To tell you the truth Ace, I'm not completely sure who I'm being threatened by here. Imperials usually don't shove blasters in my face and I'm pretty sure I would have remembered a similar past event."
Ace eyed the human-esque imperial who was slowly growing less impatient by the moment. "Well what will the game be today boys? Sabaac maybe?" His hand spun the chance cube slowly. A roar from the arena took his attention away from the stranger for a moment.
Kin cracked his knuckles and laughed slightly in a demonic tone. His shoulders fidgeted and moved the collar around his neck.
Jerricko broke the small silence, "I'd prefer Pazaak if you two wouldn't mind." Kin raised the gun to point directly at Orsusk's temple. "Not a Pazzak fan? Too bad, I'd have you blow my head off before I played Sabaac with this cheat." He nodded his head toward Ace. The gambler looked hurt.
"Not even cheating could make me this good."

"Well are we gonna fight, or are you gonna shoot me?" The odd Zeltron tossed the pieces still in his pale-orange tinted hands and tossed them to the floor, and straightened his stiff, high-collared jacket. Zenth spoke with an almost bored tone in his voice, completely unphased even though half of the patrons in the arena and in the audience had pulled their own weapons or gotten the hell out of there.

One of the Weequay's hissed quietly off to the side, "Someone tell him no blasters in arena."

"Yeah, why...uh...don't you do that buddy?" A smuggler patted the weather-worn Weequay on the arm and made his exit.

The pale Zeltron stepped forward and turned his side toward the tall Imperial creation, "Cuz If you're not gonna fight, then I'll find someone else."

Zenth smiled.

Kin apologized weakly. Also mentioning the fact that he didn't carry extra credits for cards. The meager allowance he did get was spent for the month. Dryly going over the last Imperial inspection in bits and pieces, making tiny parts more interesting with a few twists. When he got to the part about a caged Rancor he probably should have shut up. Orsusk said something about kind of remembering, or maybe not he hadn't been paying attention to himself much less anyone else.
What he didn't say was how badly he'd failed to learn cards of any kind. Cept pazaak but the Admiral was fond of that one. At least they weren't fidgeting as much anymore. Probably because the clip wasn't in the repeater, Kin had used the slugs for credit chips. Breaking the game to finally answer his comm. Excusing himself in Twi'lek, walking outside next to the guard.
"Hello?"
"Kin...you didn't answer earlier. What were you doing?"
"Playing pazaak."
"I'm ashamed of you Kin, this mission is very important." The admiral said it like a father lecturing his child.
"Alright, if he isn't already dead I'll call back when Governor Telk arrives."
Kin cliked the comlink off, rushing back inside to join the game again. Seems he might have made a couple of friends tonight. Who cares if they agreed with that. Partially watching the fight.

HUN had entered quietly, his wide-brimmed hat covering most of his masked face.  The inebriated patrons had paid little attention, more concerned with the battle taking place in the arena. 

You never get tired of this, do you?   The B'moarr's voice rung in his head. 

  I stopped being tired of things a long time ago.  HUN echoed back across the void of space. 

The monk chuckled.  The show's about to start.  Just hang tight for a minute. 

Zek moved forward, punching with his gun at the Zeltron. Unfortunatly for the mercenary, this happened at the exact same time as one of his episodes (see the "Other" section in his biography). Because of this distraction, he only managed to strike Zenth in the arm. The strength and placement of this punch turned Zenth around, just in time to se the freak attack the air for apparently no reason.

When Zenth had finally found his balance (The Zeltron nearly slipped on the growing puddle of blood on the cfloor) he turned to see Zek battering with mindless abandon at the air. The other creatures in the cage frantically melted away in front of the Imperial Experiment's uncontrolled havoc.

"Uh...okay, you go ahead and warm up then." Zenth called over to crazed assortment of beings and began stretching.

Suddenly, on of the unfortunate beings caught in the cage, a toughened and scarred Rodian, got cornered by Zek's sanelees onslought. So he did something stupid. He turned and launched a powerful punch with his left fist. The Imperial Experiment smashed through the blow with his heavy gun like an armored hover train crashing through any unfortunate creature caught in the way. Flesh splattered and bones splintered. The Rodian didn't have time to scream before another blow hit him in the chest so hard ribs instantly fractured and broke through the thin membranes of the lungs.

"Alright! Tag-team!" Zenth laughed out loud and  loosed a punch on the creature closest to him. The huge furred Cathar roared in rage and drove his muscled arm in a powerful swipe at the odd Zeltron's face. Zenth ducked backward with lethal precision. Without a moment's hesitation he spun on the heel of his boot under the outstretched arm gripped onto it with two vice-like hands over his shoulder and pulled the huge being over him and slammed the creature onto the floor with a deafening WHAM! The quick Zeltron kicked the stunned being in the side of the head like someone would to a grav-ball across an entire court.

With another empty smile he turned again on the other creatures with his deft and extremely lethal quickness. He kicked a blue-skinned reptillian Feeorin in the side of the knee so hard ligaments snapped, then before the creature could fall to the floor with the growing amount of others, Zenth spun and kicked with his other leg into the Feeorin's face already twisted in agony. The entire cage had exploded into a Free-for-all of beings fighting with crazed abandoned, trying to get even, or simply to just get out of the cage in one piece.

Another blow by Zek sent a Klatooinian's face flying in a wave of blood and splashing bits of flesh. The gore caught the albino Zeltron in the face and sent him back a stunned step. With an eerie laugh he wiped the muck from his face with the sleeve of his faded-orange jacket, "I wanna try!"

Zenth bashed his fist with every ounce of his strength into the face of the nearby Kadas'sa'nikto. The scaled and weather-worn faced being's head turned so far it nearly snapped a horde of spit went flying through the air before he fell. Zenth nearly fell forward from the force of the blow, and straightened with shock...staring at his shredded knuckles bleedling freely.

For a second he...he could almost feel the...

Then somthing caught Zenth full force in the stomach and sent him flying into the caged wall, knocking the wind out of him. He fell to his knees, trying to breathe but completely unable to.

His hallucinations over, Zek stretched a bit, and slammed a young Aqualish in the top of the skull as hard as he could. He was dead before he hit the ground. Zek saw a Clawdite who, even by first glance, looked extremly concited. Zek picked op a shard of the metal chair he destroyed earlier and ran toward the shape-shifter.

"What are you doing!?" questioned the too-proud fighter, right before he found he had a slag of metal in his head.

Zek felt something on his back. Not interested in what ii was, he turned around and ran as fast as he could backwards into a wall. He herd cracking sounds and felt the object in question slide off his back. He turned around and began beating a Trandoshan drunk sensless.

“So…” Ace said to Orsusk casually while Kin was on a comlink outside. “What brings our renowned sheriff into the Blue Sun this fine evening?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business Valerno,” growled the Trandoshan flipping over another card bringing himself up to 3.

“Alrighty, alrighty,” he answered coolly adding a 4 to his 5. “No need to get your snout in a twist.”

The sheriff was silent as he drew from his side deck again. Ace leaned forward intently trying to read his opponent’s face; on matters other than the game at hand as it happened. He looked over at the arena where the Zeltron kid and the monster were the only ones dealing out serious damage. Most of the club’s patrons were over there now jeering on the bloodshed.

Hmmm… Maybe I should place a few bets, pondered the Chiss. And why is dear Orsusk playing low cards? Ah, I see he wants to play it out. He knows I have nothing to hit 20. Technically he’s right… sort of.

“Y’know The Drake,” started Ace slapping down a plus 3 card bringing him up to 17. “I’m surprised that anyone wanted to play Pazaak. It always struck me as a dead game for old fossils to remember their glory days. But thanks anyways, I love resurrecting the classics.”

“Your move Ace,” said Orsusk refusing to be swayed by small talk. There was a tone of triumph in his voice even though he had a weak 7. “You might as well stand kid. I know you’ve got nothing.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes you the winner,” Ace shrugged. It was a neat set-up he had to admit. Filling the table was hard to do these days. While the other player was busy trying to hit 20 the other would lay down low cards until he got to nine and won. Simple, yet effective. “Too bad I have this.”

He threw down the last card in his hand: the double card. That made his last 3 a 6 bringing his total to 20. If there was any surprise in the sheriff’s expression he hid it well.

“Where’d a piece of scum like you get a double card?” he asked.

Ace just smiled.

“Trade secret,” he remarked cockily as Kin arrived.

“So,” said Kin picking up his cards. “What’d I miss?”

“Hey,” called Orsusk absently looking off across the room. “None of you happen to know who’s in the brimmed hat do you?”

Kin and Ace both turned in the direction he was looking and got their first glimpse of the masked entity. Neither of them liked it one bit.

Firlov sat in his private office that overlooked the cantina, puffing his cigar, Watching Ace and Orsusk play pazaak on a security camera. "Eh...I'll join e'm. Haven't talked to Scales in a while anyway." He stuck a few cigars in his coat pocket and proceeded out to the main area.

Dresden pushed his way through the crowd and ended up behind Ace. He walked around and sat in an unoccupied chair next to him. "Greetings Ace, The Drake. How's buisness?"

OOC: Been in Atlanta, GA for the past week at the VEX robotic competitions, sorry for the absence. (Team Impulse took 3rd place in the world out of over 500 teams in the FVC games, forgive the vanity but I'm a bit proud of my team. Now, onto my first RPG in quite some time.)
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Name: Dracmus Kleysik
Occupation: Wandering Zeison Sha Warrior
Species: Selonian
Gender: Male
Age: 20
Appearance: The tall, independent, Force-Sensistive Selonian stands a full 2 meters in height. A proud member of his beast-species, and yet paranoid of the galaxy as a whole, Dracmus hides his shaggy, pitch-black fur under an equally ebony cloak, under which he hides not just his rare coat, but his entire identity as a Selonian whenever possible. The young male does not stand with the tall, proud defiance that normally befits a Zeison Sha warrior; the chaos of the galaxy has robbed him of that, and replaced it with a sharp sense of danger and paranoia. Instead, he sits and walks hunched over and drawn up inside his dark cloak, avoiding physical contact and dodging glances at all costs.
Personality: Dracmus hates social interaction in any form. For now, he is content with surviving, an art the Zeison Sha have perfected over hundreds of years on Yanibar, their desolate homeworld that taught them how to exist in any conditions, under any hardships. That proud, invincible side of Dracmus - or "Drac" as he introduced himself on those few occasions on which he is required - rarely peeks out from under his precious, protective cloak; but when it does, the Selonian acts with the independent conviction of a true Force warrior (Honors the face of his father, may it do ya fine). However, the unique piece of Drac's understanding of the Force is this: Drac has no idea what the Force is. As far as the young man is concerned, he is a mage of sorts, a sorceror born with a rare gift that he tries to hide with everything else behind the thin shield of his anonymous cloak. The mystical power that guides his wayward discblade is magic, the energy woven into the bolts of lighting called forth by his scruffy hands are nothing more than the essence of magic that was granted to him by the gods at the time of his birth. Dracmus Kleysik, son of Chertyl and the den Queen Maronea, fancies himself a wizard.
Skills: Survival in all of its many faces, honed by generations of Zeison Sha blood. The Force, or "His Gift" as Drac considers it, employed as a variety of techniques that Drac has learned and mastered as he trains with his strange talent.
Equipment: A full dozen discblades, the signature weapons belonging to, and only truly mastered by, the Zeison Sha and their telekinetic specialities; a long, black cloak worn at all times whenever he is in the presence of outsiders; and a Shyarn scimitar, a weapon he was given after using it to kill a Cerean in a reluctant honor duel he desperately wished to avoid.
Other: Dracmus is afraid of the galaxy, though his proud Zeison Sha heritage would never allow him to admit it. He hates crowds, and despises conversation. He wants to go his way, but warrior blood and Jedi genes drive him to combat whenever he sees the weak being abused, or the honest being overcome by the wicked; another Zeison Sha law that battles with his cloistered personality.
Brief History: Dracmus was born into the Zeison Sha society of independence and pride that shaped him for the first 18 years of his life. He mastered the discblade, the arts of survival, and the tradition of honor that traced back to not just the beginnings of the Zeison Sha, but the very Jedi Order itself. At 18 Dracmus killed a Cerean by the name of Silvyn Mundo in an honor duel he had no intention of taking part in. Drac was involved with a female that happened to be the consort of Mundo, who upon discovering the relationship immediately challenged Drac to a duel. The Selonian refused. When the Cerean threw a Shyarn at his feet and charged with his own however, the Zeison Sha principle of survival took control. The battle began, ensued, and ended in Mundo's death. To make a long story short, the Selonian was caught with a bloodstained blade over a fellow Zeison Sha, was exiled, and eventually found passage off Yanibar and into the vast expanse of the galaxy which he now hates with such passion. Such hate has led Drac to discover and develop several "techniques" that would be considered arts of the Dark Side in a more Jedi-savvy society. Drac lives, and to live is all he wants...for now.

(( :D  You're alive!  I thought you were banned/dead/bored....great to see you, you've been missed. ))

((Good to know. I've got a post half-done, I'll finish it as soon as I have a free moment, so if no one would conclude the cage fight just yet, I'd be much obliged. If it can't be helped, I'll improvise or re-write it, s'all good.))

BalanceSheet is correct in his statment that you have been missed. I'll make sure the fight keeps going.

((Sci!!! Yeah, now it's a party!))

Kalu Resnick shook her head as she walked into the Catina, she wasn't here to fight nor was she in the mood. She made her way passed the scuffle and found herself a table safely behind the gambling tables. She was not interested in the gambling, though she flicked a credit chip between her fingers, more out of habit then show.

She clicked her tongue against her teeth to get the attention of a waitress who was practically falling out of her uniform. After placing her order, Kalu looked through the crowd for her most unreliable brother. He had claimed to have found a well paying job, the credits had her intrigued though she doubted he'd show.

Kalu's drink appeared suddenly, she had only raised it to her lips as a pair of fighting males tumbled onto her table. With a swift kick she removed both of them to the floor. They didn't even seem to notice her and they continued to wrestle their way across the floor and bumped into one of the gambling tables. Kalu grinned, this should be interesting, she thought to herself.