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Post by Ragath Ngre on Feb 4, 2009 15:03:29 GMT -8
(OOC: It won't let me post a normal thread, just a poll, so here I go.)
The Connie, short for Constrictor, was sitting in the dock. Its gleaming Viridian finish shone in the sun. Its two weapons pylons, one on the port side and one on the starboard, with turbolaser cannons and photon torpedo launchers, were powered down and camouflaged, having been retracted into the ship, making it look harmless.
Inside was a cargo hold with a row of jail-cells along one side, as well as two spartan living quarters, a refresher/kitchen, and the bridge, jutting from the front with a 360 degree view.
This marvel of Aeronautic Engineering was looted from the Yaga Minor shipyard, legendary for centuries of service.
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Post by Ragath Ngre on Feb 4, 2009 15:23:44 GMT -8
(OOC: I typically RP in story fashion, just so you know. My dialogue is done in quotes, and thoughts are usually italicized. Its a habit from years of other RPs.:/OOC)
Ragath remotely opened up the back of the Connie, remotely, and landed his T-32 inside its hold, being careful to fold the wings. Since a lot of the ship is just hold, it was able to fit in half of the hold.
He his Skyhopper alone, allowing the hold's hatch to close by itself, and headed off to the refresher. He let off a hiss of mirth and splashed water into his face, letting it stay there and roll off his scaled jawline.
In his room there was a special armory safe, which held most of his weaponry. Taking from it his neuronic whip and rifle, he made sure to oil them, polish them, and check for scratches before doing the same to his armor.
Ragath had business on other worlds and headed into the bridge, picking up the commset, "This is Ragath Ngre of the Connie to traffic control. Requesting permission to lift off."
"Roger that, Connie. You're cleared. Please take flightpath 217AO and you're off. Fly safe. Traffic control out."
"Thanks for clearance, Sirssss.... hehe..." he hissed under his breath at the thought of asking for clearance when they so obviously couldn't catch him, but he didn't want to make a mess of this traffic controller's day. He knew the paperwork that the poor sod would have to endure.
The ship took off, and after being in space an hour, he plotted a vector to Felucia. He had heard that there was scum there, and that it was his turn to kill some scum.
He headed to his room and took off his armor, sleeping in his silken garments with the alarm set to arrival.
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Post by Ragath Ngre on Mar 16, 2009 16:55:51 GMT -8
He slouched as he walked in, his short snout jutting out in a weary, tyrannic grin. The laments of his prisoner sailed from the hold of the Connie, and he prepared himself for travel. No one knew that he had a prisoner, so his pitiful cries merely bounced off the soundproofed hull and, to him, provided a soft music. Sure, it was twisted, but the pleasure he derived from hearing the pleas and threats was that of the hunter who had finally caught his quarry. The Hunter whose village would feast on the misfortune of the prey. It is appropriate, then, that as his green ship lifted above the canopy of the fungal jungle (TM)[ ] he fell asleep, having set his ship to autopilot on a course to Coruscant. Thousands of credits were in his dreams, enough to buy a ship, enough to expand his fleet. Enough to carve himself a patch of crime-free heaven. He snored softly, adding another sound to the bittersweet harmony provided by the hyperdrive and his prisoner.
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Post by Ragath Ngre on Mar 19, 2009 18:31:17 GMT -8
Ragath pops into his ship through the cargo-bay hatch and rushes into his private quarters where his computer is. He smirks at the relative silence compared to the previous trip.
The computer flares to life, and a friendly avatar rises.
"Greetings, Mr. Ngre. What system would you like to be patched into?" asks the diminutive person, a female Barabel about a foot high.
"Bounty hunter's guild, official bounty list," was his short reply.
"Working, sir....... You're in. Which bounty would you like to take?"
A list hovers in front of her, scrolling slowly. "The Changeling. 28 thousand. Should test my abilities," he says, feeling no need to elaborate.
"Tagged, sir. No one should be coming after that one with you on it," she hisses in a very real sort of way, flicking her tail. It was easy to believe that she was Barabel.
"Thank you, Computer. Plot a course to Nar Shadaa, I've got a rumor to spread," he says, smiling at a stroke of genius. Surely, considering that Nar Shadaa was the biggest crime-hole in the galaxy, the word would spread.
He rests his head on a pillow as the ship jumps to hyperspace.
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Post by Ragath Ngre on Mar 20, 2009 14:44:21 GMT -8
Ragath ignores the rants of the Toydarian dockmaster and closes the hatch, heading to the bridge. "Computer, plot a course to Tatooine!" he barks as the pink Barabel pops up once more.
"Yes, Sir. Is there any other request you'd like to make?"
"Yes, please broadcast on ALL CHANNELS that the Connie, owned by Ragath Ngre, will be landing on Docking-Platform 023 in Mos Eisley once we get into Tatooine's orbit," he manages to get out between hisses.
"Yes, Sir. What's this about you shooting yourself if you should lose to the Changeling?" the avatar asks.
"Oh, you've heard? I've merely set the bait, and am preparing to spring the trap."
The ship shoots to light speed and Ragath leaves hissing cheerfully at his brilliance.
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Post by Ragath Ngre on Mar 22, 2009 12:34:14 GMT -8
With the carcass in the hold, Ragath wordlessly plots a course for Naboo. He has the security cameras take a picture of the changeling and send it to the Bounty Hunter's guild office.
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