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Post by Daughters of Nekarra on Sept 16, 2015 0:21:54 GMT
The level 27 docks attached to Dhura were no picture, but typical enough of Omega. Traders and passengers loitered around clustered of somewhat grimy chairs, idling away the time with omni-tool games and keeping a wary eye on their luggage whenever anyone strayed nearby. Muffled shouts and arguments drifted from a half-open doorway to a storage room which had been hastily set up as a fly-by-night gambling den, watched over by an ill-tempered krogan. A gaggle of youngsters waited by the airlocks connecting to docking corridors, quick to offer their services as porters or guides to new arrivals, the clever of which rebuffed them without slowing down. A row of shop kiosks offered travel arrangements, stores, weapons, or appointments in nearby brothels which couldn’t possibly be as luxurious as their holo-banners made them seem, overseen by bored clerks or ill-maintained VIs, while a batarian spruiker in a corner tried to convince passers-by to have their photo taken, for the trifling sum of five credits, with a battered, bullet-ridden set of Cerberus armour whose former owner (he claimed) had been sent to the next life by Aria T’Loak herself.
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Druss Jorkakt
Explorer
Name: Druss Jorkakt
Race: Volus
Occupation: Security guard - Cision Motors
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Post by Druss Jorkakt on Sept 18, 2015 18:26:23 GMT
Exiting a skycar with a vorcha, a batarian, a hanar, and a missed punchline, Druss waddled over to the docks, steering clear of any one. Glancing down at her omni-tool, hoping the map she bought was accurate, and would lead her to the Traxi and not a free mugging.
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Post by Daughters of Nekarra on Sept 19, 2015 12:53:10 GMT
The map led Druss to a nondescript counter, currently being used to prop up the feet of a turian wearing what had probably once been a uniform for some one-system Terminus nation before it had been stripped of its insignia, then washed and left to dry on its occupant repeatedly for years. She looked up from sharpening her talons and gave a quiet scoff at her customer.
“Titans, you expecting a skycar crash?” she snorted, gesturing at Druss’s armour. “You ‘ere for something? Or just got lost on your way to the front lines?”
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Druss Jorkakt
Explorer
Name: Druss Jorkakt
Race: Volus
Occupation: Security guard - Cision Motors
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Post by Druss Jorkakt on Sept 21, 2015 4:41:58 GMT
Her face hidden behind the mask, Druss looks up at the turian. "*hssk* You know where the Traxi is? Doing some business with the Iron Eyes." Good, keep it brief and watch her movement, Druss would think to herself, checking her omni-tool for no reason other than to appear busy. "*hssk* They said they'd be here."
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Post by Daughters of Nekarra on Sept 21, 2015 5:18:09 GMT
The hand holding the sharpener stopped moving at the mention of Iron Eyes, and while the turian’s posture didn’t change much, she all of a sudden didn’t seem so casual. Wary would be a better word.
“Traxi?” she repeated, with deliberate nonchalance. “Yeah. This is 'eir desk. You uh, you got business with the ship’s master, or you afta' passage off-station?”
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Druss Jorkakt
Explorer
Name: Druss Jorkakt
Race: Volus
Occupation: Security guard - Cision Motors
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Post by Druss Jorkakt on Sept 29, 2015 17:29:28 GMT
"*hssk* Passage off station. This is the right place for that?" Trying to keep a casual demeanor, Druss appears to glance around, keeping her eyes on the turian, knowing she couldn't see her eye movements under the mask.
"*hssk* Looking to get off Omega, yeah?" She was either just trying to act like another dumb customer or *was* a dumb customer. Both were quite possible given Druss's intelligence.
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Post by Daughters of Nekarra on Oct 2, 2015 15:53:27 GMT
Mistakenly thinking Druss wasn’t looking at her, the turian didn’t do much to hide a significant glance cast towards someone behind her before she returned her attention to the volus.
“Yer,” she shrugged. “You and ev’ryone else on this pile. Traxi’s taking passengers.” She eyed her potential customer warily. “You in a ‘urry to leave? Someone gunnin’ for you?”
“Anyone with a quantum of common sense is in a hurry to leave Omega.”
The speaker was a tall batarian, in battle-scarred armour, who loafed in a leisurely fashion out from behind Druss and leaned against the counter, flashing the turian a winning smile which didn’t seem to please her at all.
“I’m quite sure the lady is simply engaged in some profitable venture or other, and has no wish to be delayed,” the batarian went on, giving Druss a glance while his lower eyes remained fixed on the desk clerk. “Nothing to cause undue alarm, for such a simple transaction as a berth on a ship.” He half-sat on the counter, which had the effect of bringing the wicked-looking heavy pistol fixed to his hip into the turian’s view.
“Uh. No,” she shook her head. “No ‘course not. So,” she looked at Druss, “Traxi’s onna run out ‘round the Snare Sea, all ports onna way. Yer book a bunk it’s yers fer the round trip, but she don’t wait fer tourists, if’n yer stoppin’ anywhere awhile.”
“Forgive my intrusion,” the batarian leered at Druss, while the turian took payment and made the arrangements. “But I can’t abide menials who forget their place. The galaxy is not what it once was, but we hoi polloi must stick together, no?”
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Druss Jorkakt
Explorer
Name: Druss Jorkakt
Race: Volus
Occupation: Security guard - Cision Motors
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Post by Druss Jorkakt on Oct 15, 2015 4:28:54 GMT
She didn't understand half of the words the batarian said, not for her translator being broke, but by the words simply being too big for her tiny brain. Nevertheless, she nodded in agreement, looking over at the ship, fearing that saying anything would reveal her stupidity, for some reason in the rare scenario where she knows how unintelligent she is. Perhaps it was the batarians reputation? They weren't exactly known as the consorts of the galaxy after all.
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Post by Daughters of Nekarra on Oct 15, 2015 7:01:12 GMT
“Then we shall be ship-mates for a little while,” the batarian grinned, displaying a sharp set of teeth. “I have some minor commercial holdings myself on our way, perhaps we may even do business at our destination? My friends call me Able. Of course you must do so also.” He gave a courteous bow, evidently feeling very pleased with himself, and made his own arrangements with the clerk before joining Druss at the airlock to embark.
~~~
Traxi was no luxury liner, but her weathered old hull was sturdy, and once inside the halls and quarters were well-maintained, if spartan. The captain of the tramp freighter made a brief audio announcement from the bridge, welcoming the passengers - of which there were only a handful - in a bored tone, and indicating firmly that anywhere beyond the sleeping quarters and the ‘lounge’, a sparse rec room with a mediocre library of films several years out of date, was off-limits no matter the circumstances.
Aside from Able, who continued to air his flowery amiability whenever he and Druss crossed paths, the other passengers were a quiet lot. A turian engineer, who made one attempt to ingratiate himself with a passing tech from the freighter’s crew and then withdrew into sullen silence at being rebuffed; a salarian who seemed to have no interest in anything outside the work he was doing on his omni-tool; another batarian, wearing coveralls branded with the logo of a mining consortium, who avoided socialising, and seemed to shrink away from Able especially.
~~~
It wasn’t much of a trip, and the one bright spot was that the journey to Nuatan didn’t take long. The third day out from Omega the ship came into sight of an asteroid belt, and in time neared one of the larger rocks, several dozen miles across. A force field stretched across one of the larger craters, glimmering like a lake in the dark, and as they neared it proved to be protecting about half of a reasonable-sized city, the remainder built outside the field, burrowed into the rock and sealed against the vacuum. Within the crater though people were going about in open air, great crowds milling around between commercial sectors and the docking array, loading and unloading cargo from modules steered down on thrusters from hovering ships, or from smaller freighters crouched on rough metal landing pads.
Traxi made for one of the gantries on the outside of the docking sector, and before long the airlocks rolled open and anyone who wished to leave - the turian and the batarian remaining on board - was free to do so. The salarian hurried off the moment he could, obviously knowing his way through the crowded ‘streets’, while Able stopped at the threshold to admire the view, with the teeming mass of traders and crews moving here and there, shouting and bargaining, and the tier after tier of habitat modules built into the crater wall stretching up to one side.
“Taste the vitality in the air, my friend,” he proclaimed, venturing to thump Druss gently on the shoulder of her armoured suit. “Metaphorically in your case, my dear, no slight intended. You won’t find zest and verve like this on any overpopulated junkpile such as Omega. Ahh, see there!”
He pointed to one group of newly-arrived travellers, disembarking from what seemed to be a converted freighter, with its cargo modules replaced by mass-produced passenger bays. A small number of paying passengers like themselves had left the airlock and made their way away, and now - under the watchful eye of armed guards - the lock opened again, and a group of asari and humans, with the occasional turian among them, were prodded out, eyes downcast. Each one wore a shock collar and had their hands cuffed behind their backs, and their escort, a surly-looking krogan with a coterie of vorcha underlings, held their control, ready to use it.
“Ignore the lacklustre appearance of the ship,” Able said idly. “Smart businesspeople cultivate an air of commonalty so as to avoid attention from do-gooders who have no place interfering in any case. I'm sure I tell you nothing you don't know already. Unless I’m mistaken that shipment belongs to Magister Tol Varman - an acquaintance of mine, did I mention? His stock is prime quality, my dear. If you’re buying, you could do a lot worse than to look in on his auction house.”
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Druss Jorkakt
Explorer
Name: Druss Jorkakt
Race: Volus
Occupation: Security guard - Cision Motors
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Post by Druss Jorkakt on Oct 16, 2015 18:31:15 GMT
She may have been an idiot, but she wasn't stupid enough to voice her opinion on the slave trade, but in any case if things did turn bad she had her gun to- . . . wait where did she put it? It was supposed to be in one of her front pockets and . . . Mentally cursing herself, she nodded as the batarian spoke, still silent, typing the name on a datapad to appear interested, nodding as she watched the row of 'stock' exit the ship, tilting her head to the left, not entirely sure what the custom meant in batarian culture but hoping it wouldn't make the situation worse. Her curiosity told her to at least pay the place a visit, morbid curiosity wondering how much someone's life was worth. Her brain was still working on why the batarian had shown interest in her, perhaps it was just as it appeared and he was simply being friendly? Or perhaps something to do with their castes? In that case, maybe it was her lack of speech that kept him freindly?She hadn't heard of volus being any popular in the slave trade, so it hopefully wasn't that . . . She found herself still wishing she'd packed her gun.
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Post by Daughters of Nekarra on Oct 17, 2015 6:39:46 GMT
Able peered unobtrusively at Druss’s screen as she typed, then glanced around, seeming to catch the eye of someone in the crowd.
“Ah, I see one of my associates,” he beamed, waving to another batarian who was leaning against a stack of crates conversing with a human; both were armed and armoured, and the batarian gave Able back a nod.
“I must be about my business,” he said to Druss. “As you must about yours, I don’t doubt. Do forgive me for monopolising your time as I have, I’m sure you have a full schedule. The Iron Eyes, was it not? I do hope your stay here is prosperous. One only has to think of their reputation...” With a thin grin he pulled on his helmet and started shouldering his way through the crowd, leaving Druss very much alone as the airlock back to Traxi clanged shut.
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Druss Jorkakt
Explorer
Name: Druss Jorkakt
Race: Volus
Occupation: Security guard - Cision Motors
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Post by Druss Jorkakt on Oct 17, 2015 7:02:00 GMT
Well he sure was nice! Wait what was his name? . . . . Able! Ok, not Mantric, good. Well maybe his associate was Mantric? Mantric, Mantric, is that a earth or kar'shan clan name? Waddling over to the airlock, she tried checking her omni-tool, the extranet connection giving a lengthy delay. She'd just have to wing it. With no weapon. Spectres improvise right? She'll be just fiiiine then. Hey what was the name Able mentioned? Checking the datapad, as she waited for the airlock to go through, the name would pop up. Tol Varman, a volus name most likely. That about settles it, as the airlock opened, she'd start making her way through the crowd in what she hoped was the direction of the auction house, her miniscule stature keeping her out of mind of most pickpockets, but leaving her navigation ability in disarray in the tall and large crowd. Time to go meet Tol, see if he knows a Mantric.
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Post by Daughters of Nekarra on Oct 17, 2015 15:55:36 GMT
Tol Varman’s business, when the local net connection finally furnished directions, looked like it might be what Nuatan would consider a well-to-do establishment, rising up the craterside and extending back into it. The customer area was a kind of wide balcony, surrounding a lower floor on all four sides - the force-field projectors, ready to keep anyone from trying to climb up, gave a strong hint what that area was for, and at the near end, positioned so as to have the view of the asteroid colony in panorama behind it, was a decorated podium, and auction block.
The place seemed to be between sales at present, with the slave floor empty besides a squat mech ponderously meandering here and there with a cleaning attachment humming away, and the patrons on their elevated floor chatting to one another, or sampling the drinks on offer at the bar. A second balcony overlooking the colony, recessed and in shadow, seemed to be where the ‘quality’ were spending their time, judging by the dimly-visible company they kept of scantily-clad dancers hanging on their arms as they sipped drinks and talked, and the bevy of bodyguards keeping anyone from going near them.
One of them, a turian with serrated metal plates encasing his mandibles, looked down at Druss, crossed his arms, and deliberately stepped into his path with a gruff “What do you want, beachball?”
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Druss Jorkakt
Explorer
Name: Druss Jorkakt
Race: Volus
Occupation: Security guard - Cision Motors
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Post by Druss Jorkakt on Oct 17, 2015 17:48:24 GMT
"*hssk* Woah, hey I'm just here to see Mantric- is he here?" Things wouldn't be so bad if this thuggish turian tried to tussle, as Druss knew she stood a good chance of getting him off balance, long as she avoided any blows to her head. Still, he may have just been a bouncer, in that case she tried to keep her stance and tone as non-threatening as possible while in heavy combat armour. Looking over to see the area, as if she knew Mantric, Druss would be breifly distracted, focusing on an asari dancer, before regaining her focus, having missed a few seconds of speech if the turian in front of her had said anything.
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Post by Daughters of Nekarra on Oct 19, 2015 1:21:58 GMT
The turian had been muttering something into his comms, and whatever it had been provoked quite a reaction from the VIP area.
”MANTRIC?”
Tol Varman - presumably, since nobody seemed to be trying to stop him, and the bodyguards backed into a deferential half-circle - was half a batarian, the other half evidently having been left on a battlefield somewhere just prior to his legs, stomach, right arm, and right side of his head being replaced by what looked like repurposed mech parts. He stomped forward, shoving a dancer out of the way with an arm that was part-gun, and bellowed into Druss’s face.
“Mantric ought to know better than to send his filthy lackeys here, by the Pillars! Am I right?” The bodyguard made various noises agreeing he was right. “Well then! He ought to know, but doesn’t! Luckily we have one of his creatures right here - don’t contradict me sir!” he added in a bellow right into Druss’s face, evidently not caring whether or not she had been about speak, or what gender she was, “I know your type! Bottom-feeders! We shall make an example of you, sir!” The gun built into his arm began to whirr worryingly, but then powered down, as the organic half of Varman’s face split into a grin.
“Let’s us all go for a walk!” he proclaimed. “We’ll throw this insolence in Mantric’s thrice-damned face, so we will!” A pair of the bodyguards grabbed hold of Druss and marched her along in Varman’s wake, with guests scattering out of the way. With the bombastic cyborg in the lead, and the turians shoving Druss along double-speed, they made fast headway through the streets, coming in short order to a run-down-looking office front.
“Show your despicable self, sir!” Varman thundered, pounding his arm on the wall. A security camera whirred around to see what the ruckus was, and a moment later the door cycled open, revealing a squat krogan, dwarfed by his own hump, who peered up at his shouting visitor and conspicuously flipped off the safety catch on the shotgun he was casually carrying.
“What’s got your gears in a twist this time?” he grumbled, as if this sort of thing happened every other day; Varman’s bodyguards, for that matter, didn’t seem especially poised for action despite the shotgun, so possibly it did.
“What have you to say about the impudence of your lap-dog?” Varman demanded, dramatically flourishing his gun-arm in Druss’s direction.
“My what?” Mantric rumbled, peering quizzically at the volus. “That’s not one of mine.”
Varman looked back at him in the ensuing silence, then at his bodyguards, then back at Mantric, then as one Mantric, Varman, and the bodyguards aimed their guns squarely at Druss.
((OOC: Varman is totally voiced by Brian Blessed.))
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