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Patience: A Virtue
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| Rath-Deschain | Date: Sunday, 27 Dec 2009, 0:11 AM | Message # 1 |
 Colonel general
Group: Users
Messages: 857
Status: Offline
| Drasek Cale sat in the center of the library on the upper-most floor of the School of Hidden Wisdom. Before him sat one of his lightsabers, fully disassembled. His arrival at home had been uneventful, though the journey had been unproductive. His craft, of course, had been checked for homing devices (of which there were none). The only real item that he had come home to had been a memorandum from Jeph Stomwell, Baltimn's current Ambassador. Within were detailed the conversation that had occurred within the Senate. It would be a blow if Stomwell resigned, at least to Cale. The Ambassador had been a long-standing friend of the family and, despite his lack of self control at times and certain views, had never steered them wrong. Cale had snorted in amusement when he read of the comments calling him a 'half-trained Force-user' and the talk of trying to send a committee to his personal residence to investigate him. If they tried, they'd simply be standing on his proverbial front porch for a while. The New Republic had no jurisdiction in his private quarters. In Cale's eyes, that would be the same as if he barged into the rooms of Senator Tiure or Kruus and began asking questions. Either way... it was Tiure who could be an ally... or a problem. Pushing the problems from his mind for a time, he reached out with the Force and reassembled his lightsaber, placing each piece carefully where it belonged through the Force. He was curious though, as he listened to the parts clicking together, as to whom the New Republic would send. Things weren't nearly far along enough in his plans to afford too much scrutiny. Perhaps it had been a mistake to request that Stomwell request to join the Senate at this time. Cale still needed his easy income. If nothing else, the leftover spice would suffice to make a starting profit. Poor Anjiliac... the Hutt wasn't going to like the cuts in his spice market. Hell, he wasn't going to like a lot of what was going to happen. Then again, Atropos wasn't easily crossed. There were times when even Cale felt a shiver of fear at Atropos' ambition. Going to war with a section of the Hutt Cartel was not a deed easily undertaken. Time to wait and see.
(ooc) This is an open RP /(ooc)
Rath Deschain
High Inquisitor
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| Paul-Gemmell | Date: Sunday, 27 Dec 2009, 3:33 AM | Message # 2 |
 Major
Group: Users
Messages: 88
Status: Offline
| Paul had landed some way away as Cale did his pondering. He took from his fighter his normal utility belts and also his lute and saber, as well as a sizable sack of bakery products. Letting H8 know he would be back soon before going for a run towards Cale's accomodation, instead of using the turbolift he squatted and jumped upwards using the force to multiply the distance he could jump. He jumped in between the turbolift shaft and the bulding a few times, before acrobatically swinging up onto the platform. He took from his back his lute, and stood outside Drasek's door and took the lute from his back, speaking into his new ear mounted comm piece "H8, Let Master Skywalker im just at Drasek's house coming to see him as his best friend" he then set about loudly playing the lute, pressing the microphone on the door security console so Drasek could hear better. A warm smile would appear across his face as he spoke into Drasek's security camera next to the microphone "HELLO BESTY!!! HAPPY LATE LIFE DAY!! I BROUGHT YOU LOTS OF WOOKIEEOOKIES AND HOTH CHOCOLATE!"
Paul Gemmell
Lieutenant, IntCon, Internal Organization Bureau, Imperial Intelligence
Poet
Player of Lutes
Message edited by Paul-Oriel - Sunday, 27 Dec 2009, 3:34 AM |
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| Rath-Deschain | Date: Sunday, 27 Dec 2009, 8:46 AM | Message # 3 |
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Colonel general
Group: Users
Messages: 857
Status: Offline
| Well, it certainly was a good thing that Oriel was known to Cale. After all, a spacecraft that did not identify itself it Baltimn's air traffic controller and simply flew in was quite subject to being shot down. Baltimn, not being an actual member of the New Republic, was able to do things a tad differently at the moment. Fortunately, when word came to Cale of the type of craft incoming to his home, he waved off the request to shoot it down. He also took a moment to mentally deactivate the automated defenses he'd paid to have installed about the School of Hidden Wisdom, as well as close and lock nearly all the doors within his home. Oriel's voice, muted as it was over the speakers (which automatically regulated the tone of the speaker, raising or lowering it as necessary) nearly made Cale smile. After dealing with Hutts, Oriel was practically a welcome presence. Tapping his earpiece, which let him connect to the audio system within the building (as well as issue any defense-related commands) he replied to Paul. "Paul Oriel! A pleasure as always. My dear man, you should have taken the normal way up! I'm relieved to know you weren't hurt. Most people who live alone have defenses, you know. Please try to think ahead next time?" Opening the door from the foyer to the arrival platform, Cale would welcome Oriel with a rather large smile. "Happy late Life Day in return, my friend!"
Rath Deschain
High Inquisitor
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| Agent_Blount | Date: Monday, 28 Dec 2009, 10:05 PM | Message # 4 |
 Lieutenant
Group: Users
Messages: 51
Status: Offline
| Colonel Gregory Blount stood gazing at the School of Hidden Wisdom, a formidable structure that certainly seized one's attention. He'd had no difficulty landing in Murmamn City, the capital of Baltimn; he'd arrived in a modest transport, unarmed, of a sort that was common on the Outer Rim. The ship was falsely registered and his identity, too, was false. But customs hadn't noticed anything amiss when he, a simple, weary traveler, had requested to land and lodge overnight in the city. Once he'd landed, paid his fee, refueled, and locked down the transport, he made immediately for the School of Hidden Wisdom. It was by far the most prominent structure in Murmamn City and, although somewhat removed from the city proper, was nonetheless quite easy to find. Blount, however, avoided the more crowded thoroughfares and humble tourist districts and opted, instead, for less frequented streets (he also made certain, though, not to stumble into any restricted areas or private property). Even as he stood, now, watching the building, he was sure not to enter upon its grounds. He had stopped into a tavern, moments earlier, and having noticed that the bartender seemed to enjoy talking, he asked him about the building. "Oh, that?" the man answered, "That's the School of Hidden Wisdom, or it used to be—a dueling academy of sorts, before they closed it down. Now the Duke lives there. Fine fellow, that Duke. Drasek Cale's his name. He's a private fellow, though. Don't see much of him in these parts, and I hear he's got automated security somethin' fierce around the building. Doesn't like people showing up uninvited, I s'pose. So anyway, what'll you have?" Blount had a beer, tipped, and left. Now, he looked up at the clouds gathering over the School of Hidden Wisdom and felt a slight drizzle from the night's sky. He zipped his jacket shut and stuffed his hands into its pockets; inside, a comlink, a few credits, his false identification and, of course, a blaster pistol. He was dressed simply, with no suggestion of his affiliation or his rank. For now, he simply stood and watched. The memorandum he had recieved from the Chief of State himself was still fresh in his memory, and he allowed his thoughts to dwell on it for a time.
Gregory Blount
Imperial Intelligence
Message edited by Colonel_Blount - Monday, 28 Dec 2009, 10:08 PM |
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| Paul-Gemmell | Date: Monday, 28 Dec 2009, 11:07 PM | Message # 5 |
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Major
Group: Users
Messages: 88
Status: Offline
| Paul gave a warm smile "H8! Let master skywalker know Im just going into my old Pal Drasek Cales house to see him" he entered happily "I thought I would give you a suprise! Sorry I am late old friend but we were dreadfully busy down at the academy, you know, filling all the apprentices stockings and the like." He moved to give Drasek a hug before moving into his house "This is a nice setup youve got here. Lovely architechture. Must be a bit lonely though on your own." he gave a smile "We should have a sleepover!" Pulling off his rucksack he took out the cylinder of hoth chocolate "Wheres your kitchen old pal? Il go get it nice and warmed up. You look starved, I bet you haven't eaten properly for a month! No matter, ive got plenty of food with me! And a little Corellian Ale too!"
Paul Gemmell
Lieutenant, IntCon, Internal Organization Bureau, Imperial Intelligence
Poet
Player of Lutes
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| Rath-Deschain | Date: Monday, 28 Dec 2009, 11:25 PM | Message # 6 |
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Colonel general
Group: Users
Messages: 857
Status: Offline
| "What can I say? It's luck of the draw. The house came with the planet." Cale chuckled as he escorted Oriel beyond the foyer and towards the kitchen, which was the second door on the left. "The Academy was always a busy place... part 0of the reason I left to be honest. Peace and quiet are hard to come by these days. Too much trouble in the galaxy... bah, no point in talking about the past." Returning the hug, Cale gestured about the room, "Loneliness is relative. I have to deal with the Ambassador and other heads of various businesses. I don't spend as much time here as I'd like, unfortunately. When I do get time here, it's always more than welcome. I'll pass on the ale, if you don't mind. I've never been much of a drinker. It's not a good idea to have one's senses dulled by drink. It's a lesson well learned. But enough about the past! How did your work on Nar Shadda go? Slaving rings are such a detriment to our galaxy." With a twist of the Force, he re-engaged his security systems. It never hurt to be safe.
Rath Deschain
High Inquisitor
Message edited by DrasekCale - Monday, 28 Dec 2009, 11:25 PM |
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| Agent_Blount | Date: Monday, 28 Dec 2009, 11:38 PM | Message # 7 |
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Lieutenant
Group: Users
Messages: 51
Status: Offline
| The Colonel considered the building studiously, rubbing the stubble on his chin as he sized up the structure, the turbolift, the platform, the balcony on the top floor, and then let his gaze wander about the grounds looking for the fabled security measures. He saw none, but did not doubt that they were there. Standing there, rubbing his chin, a thought occurred to him; he needed to shave. It had been a long flight. He glanced up at the clouds once more and, fearing a more substantial rain was imminent, turned and began to make his way back into the city proper. The bartender had recommended an inn downtown, and assuming a room was open he'd lodge there and continue his plans tomorrow with the benefit of a good night's sleep. The room turned out to be a modest one, but good enough for his purposes (and far more comfortable than many places he'd slept before, on assignment). He retrieved some things from the ship, returned to the inn, shaved, changed and went to sleep.
Gregory Blount
Imperial Intelligence
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| Paul-Gemmell | Date: Monday, 28 Dec 2009, 11:43 PM | Message # 8 |
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Major
Group: Users
Messages: 88
Status: Offline
| Paul smiled, handing Drasek the meat and tasty wookieeookies and other delicacies "You go set the table and Il go heat this up?" he shook the hoth chocolate to mix it and began shaking it to mix the Hothyness, taking a subtle sip of it even though it was cold "Mmmmmm delicious" he couldnt help saying to himself with pleasure. He moved into the kitchen, pouring the Hoth Chocolate into a pan and begining to warm it, speaking loudly to Drasek so he could hear him in the other room "Drasek! It smells delicious! Master Skywalker really excelled himself this year" he turned around leaning against the wall leaning his weight against it as he gently stirred the heating Hoth Chocolate.
Paul Gemmell
Lieutenant, IntCon, Internal Organization Bureau, Imperial Intelligence
Poet
Player of Lutes
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| Rath-Deschain | Date: Tuesday, 29 Dec 2009, 0:02 AM | Message # 9 |
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Colonel general
Group: Users
Messages: 857
Status: Offline
| Cale, just a room over in the dining room, set the food down on the immense table that had not seen more than two or three people over the last decade as he called back to Oriel, "Master Skywalker always was a good hand in the kitchen. The younglings loved his cooking... a shame he was so often away. A shame that there are always so many problems he has to deal with. I've a g0ood deal of admiration for the man, what with his lineage and all. It has to be difficult for him around the holidays." Moving from the dining room to the kitchen, Cale stretched as he leaned against the door frame. "How are things in the New Republic these days? I get a few bits and pieces of news from the Holonet, but half of it I discount to rumor and bad reporting. Is it true that they're trying to ban the lightsaber in the Senate?"
Rath Deschain
High Inquisitor
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| Paul-Gemmell | Date: Wednesday, 30 Dec 2009, 1:57 PM | Message # 10 |
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Major
Group: Users
Messages: 88
Status: Offline
| As he leaned against the Wall (the interior wall of the kitchen), stirring the Hoth chocolate with the force he unwittingly had dislodged one of the anti-ship thermal detonator mines he had strapped to his back, it fell down from his utility belt on his back. He had a moments thought, not remembering what he was carrying, and if it would detonate on falling to the floor so he pushed back to the wall. As he pushed back he engaged the clamps of the device, fusing it with the wall. He thanked his stars it had not been anything else and turned around quickly, unfortunately the pin for the device snagged in the utility belt and as he spun was pulled from the device, activating a 5 second chemical fuse (similar to a grenade) and the handle the pin was through before spun across the room. Paul looked with a look of absolute shock, horror and distress at Drasek "Drasek, No!" he said despairingly looking at the device, "ITS GOING TO EXPLODE!" he then focused with the force, he had to get away. Assisting himself with the force he smashed his way through the door to the dining room and through the window of the dining room. Jumping from the 4th floor window and assisting his landing with the force. As he landed he rolled and began to run, still assisting himself with the force. Even as he was in mid air the massive power of the Thermal Detonator charge was unleashed, exploding catastrophically. The charge, designed for dealing with capital ship hulls and bulkheads blossomed spectacularly within the building, causing massive destruction. One could only hope Drasek also managed to escape. Paul turned around when he was clear of the rapidly exploding building and behind some rocks so shrapnel wouldnt be an issue (as fuel lines and pipes within began to detonate), he flicked on the comm to H8 "H8, tell Master Skywalker there was an accident. I am okay though."
Paul Gemmell
Lieutenant, IntCon, Internal Organization Bureau, Imperial Intelligence
Poet
Player of Lutes
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| Rath-Deschain | Date: Sunday, 07 Feb 2010, 9:52 AM | Message # 11 |
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Colonel general
Group: Users
Messages: 857
Status: Offline
| Time seemed to slow for the former Jedi as he heard Oriel's words. The training he'd received over the years made his body react even as his mind was processing; indeed, his thoughts were hardly his own: there were two people in one after all, and Atropos hardly needed permission to use Cale's physical form. While Drasek's legs thrust him backwards, his hands rose, seemingly of their own accord as he unleashed a tremendously powerful and highly focused Force repulse, targeted at the very wall section and condensed down where the thermal detonator was fused to. Even as his back struck the floor outside the room, the Force repulse ripped through the wall, carrying chunks of stone and durasteel and all manner of other debris outwards. The detonator exploded roughly two seconds later. Cale felt the immense heat upon his face, felt his body lifted from the dining room floor and hurled to slide across the polished wood, fetching up against the far wall with a bone-jarring thud. Numbness shot through his left arm as he struck. That's likely to be a break, he thought momentarily. He couldn't see; the blast had momentarily blinded him, its aftereffect still on his eyes. The ringing in his ears sounded like a thousand bells. What he couldn't see, of course, was that the split-second move had saved more of his home than he had assumed. Aside from a massive, gaping wall in his kitchen (widened, of course, from the blast) that extended somewhat into his dining room and a horrible burn scar that extended further upwards along the outer wall of two of the guest rooms on the floor directly above the kitchen and dining room (windows were blown out as well, an unpleasant item to deal with had anyone been in the room), the damage had been relatively mitigated. As the charge was meant for dealing with bulkheads and the like, odds were it was a shaped charge of sorts and, upon being shoved out and away from the building, would lessen the damage. Even if the explosion was standard, being out and having free room to explode upwards would have greatly lessened the damage to the upper floors. The hiss of flame-retardant foam spraying down over the entire floor brought back his senses slightly. All over the School, automated damage control items would be kicking into place, along with defensive measures. The building would be locked down, with the turbolift no longer working until the proper codes had been punched in. Seconds later, there was a jarring crash as part of the guest room above the kitchen collapsed downwards, dumping rubble everywhere. Oh, it was a mess indeed. With his eyesight finally beginning to return, Cale grunted as he dragged himself to his feet. With his right arm, he held his left close-in, gazing at the mess. Oh, this was going to cost a bit to fix up. Added (03 Jan 2010, 3:13 Pm)
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It was apparent that Paul had escaped unharmed. The rush with which he had flown past Cale was testament to that. One less thing to worry about, thankfully. As to his whereabouts, Cale was not concerned at the moment. The household security system told him that he was the only life-form within the structure and that, save for a gaping hole and some serious damage, the rest of the School was quite secure. That was a relief in and of itself. The heaviest security, focused on the lowest level, was unbreached. Grimacing through the pain, Cale took a few steps back from the damaged room. First things first. He needed to seal off the damaged areas. A command to the security system as he left the room would bring heavy armored doors sliding down, almost compartmentalizing the damaged areas as one would on a capital ship. That was one issue. It was obvious Oriel hadn't meant to do the damage; he was clumsy and a danger to himself and others, not to mention annoying at times, but he didn't do it on purpose. Added (03 Jan 2010, 3:13 Pm)
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It was apparent that Paul had escaped unharmed. The rush with which he had flown past Cale was testament to that. One less thing to worry about, thankfully. As to his whereabouts, Cale was not concerned at the moment. The household security system told him that he was the only life-form within the structure and that, save for a gaping hole and some serious damage, the rest of the School was quite secure. That was a relief in and of itself. The heaviest security, focused on the lowest level, was unbreached. Grimacing through the pain, Cale took a few steps back from the damaged room. First things first. He needed to seal off the damaged areas. A command to the security system as he left the room would bring heavy armored doors sliding down, almost compartmentalizing the damaged areas as one would on a capital ship. That was one issue. It was obvious Oriel hadn't meant to do the damage; he was clumsy and a danger to himself and others, not to mention annoying at times, but he didn't do it on purpose. Added (07 Feb 2010, 10:52 Am)
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(ooc) By all means, post on this and I'll respond when I get my next pass. (/ooc)
Rath Deschain
High Inquisitor
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| Agent_Blount | Date: Monday, 08 Feb 2010, 8:46 AM | Message # 12 |
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Lieutenant
Group: Users
Messages: 51
Status: Offline
| As a military man for most of his life, Blount was in the habit of waking up no later than 0600 or 0700, as he did the following morning even though he was, in fact, on leave. He didn't want to leave his bed—the nature of his job was such that he rarely slept in a comfortable one—but he did so with the knowledge of what was ahead of him; the beaches of Spira, and a certain someone he would rendezvous with there (the word "rendezvous," in this instance, not being used in a military sense). He showered, dressed, and went for a morning walk around Murmamn City. His flight was going to be a long one, and he wanted to stretch his legs while he had the chance. He strolled through the city proper, mostly deserted at this hour, glanced inside shop windows and watched his breath condensate on them in the cold. He stopped into a cafe for some coffee and a breakfast sandwich, and it was here that he first heard about the explosion at the School of Hidden Wisdom as a pair of men discussed it at the counter. If there was an explosion last night, Blount was surprised that it hadn't roused him from his sleep. Well, it was a comfortable bed, and perhaps when he was not on assignment he let his guard down. He tipped and left the cafe, walking, out of curiosity, to where he'd seen the School of Hidden Wisdom last night. Sure enough, one side of the building was charred black (although Blount recognized most of this was superficial; there was no apparent structural damage except for one goodly sized hole in the wall). Fire engines were parked outside, as was a police speeder. Uniformed persons could be seen walking in and out of the building, inspecting it. Undoubtedly, they would want access to all points of the building to assess its structural integrity. Huh, Blount thought to himself, then turned and made his way back to the spaceport. His natural instinct was to help, but aside from the fact that he was on leave, it was prudent for agents of New Republic Intelligence not to involve themselves in crime scenes. It could and often did lead to conspiracy theories. The Colonel returned to his ship to find it, as he'd left it, prepared to leave. And leave he did, as his nondescript transport could presently be seen lifting off from the spaceport and, a moment later, disappearing through the clouds.
Gregory Blount
Imperial Intelligence
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| Rath-Deschain | Date: Sunday, 21 Feb 2010, 2:10 PM | Message # 13 |
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Colonel general
Group: Users
Messages: 857
Status: Offline
| There was an unspoken upside about being the Duke of any particular planet. It came in handy when dealing with certain people. People with titles like ambassador, senator, lord, lady and, in this case, officer. Indeed, the officers to whom Cale had given his report were quite thorough. No, he'd not wantred to press charges. Yes, the explosion had been an accident. Yes, Jedi Knight Paul Oriel was horribly inept and Cale would write to Master Skywalker about the incident. There were no further questions to truly debate with the officers. The fire marshal, however, was a more troublesome individual. Yes, he'd wanted access to the whole building for structural integrity, and Cale had been more than happy to grant him access to the upper floors. The lowest floor, however, Cale steadfastly refused, on the grounds that it was his private meditation chamber and that no sentient could enter for fear of disturbing the flows of the Force within. The marshal had looked more than skeptical; he had given Cale a look that spoke volumes on what he'd quite like to tell the Duke of Baltimn to do with his meditation and Force, but in the end, relented. Construction droids would arrive within the next day or three to begin repair of the structure, under the watchful eyes of the Duke. If Oriel arrived though, he would be warned away at a distance by the automated alarms. Cale did not want a repeat at his home. He needed rest to heal up more quickly. There was still work to be done,
Rath Deschain
High Inquisitor
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