Toys, toys, for all bad boys

It would be pretty difficult to walk past this door: it's easily the width of a normal hallway and though the dungeon limited its height, it seemed to want to be as tall as it was wide.

Push open the door (and it'll take some effort) and you'll find yourself in a smuggler's palace in a galaxy far, far away, where the air is pungent with the smell of unwashed aliens and humans, the smoke of any number of illegal substances, and the tang of ozone from a recently fired laser pistol.

Music--surprisingly upbeat for a place as dingy, crowded and obviously dangerous as this--came from a band led by a sentient blue elephant in a corner that made the zombies at Caritas look almost normal. The band was loud enough to almost mask the near constant hum of smugglers, mercenaries, and bounty hunters making bargains, trading lives, and buying and selling weapons, but not enough to cover up the not-infrequent fistfights or the occasional scream as someone fell through a trap door and was eaten by whatever lived below the stone floor.

If you're quick and stealthy, you'll be able to find some weapons (if not exactly Fandom-standard) and some food (especially if you're not picky about eating things that are still wiggling). Get caught staring at the wrong slave girl, talk to the wrong bounty hunter, or stand on the wrong spot on the floor...well, we'll miss you.

[Ping us down here if you want an NPC bounty hunter to threaten you/shoot you a little bit/shoot you dead. If you fall into the pit, you've gotten eaten by the nameless monster under the floor and will end up in stasis for the rest of the plot.]

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This was Cade's kind of place!

Fifteen minutes after arriving, Cade had new (well, the guy who'd been wearing them wouldn't need them now) clothes, a better blaster, and most importantly to him, a beer and a pocketful of death sticks.

He also had a slightly wary bubble of space around him. He'd managed to freak out bounty hunters with his entrance, which took some doing.

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suitably_heroic

After the last room Atton'd wandered into, he really needed a drink.

Or to get shot. He wasn't sure he was exactly choosy at the moment about which one he wanted more.

So he came to the right place completely by accident. Well-- mostly the right place. There was something on his face that made a whole bunch of the locals step out of his way. (They probably knew guys like him and didn't want to tangle. Or maybe he just smelled that bad.)

He sank down at a chair with a strong drink. He wasn't going to ask questions.

[[ room 2/3 ftw! open. ]]

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"Of course you're here," Cade grunted, toasting Atton with his own glass-that-hadn't-been-cleaned-in-a-decade of something brown.

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suitably_heroic

"Yeah," Atton said, taking another big gulp of his own drink. "Where else would I be?"

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"Good point," Cade replied. "Think we can just karking stay here today?"

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suitably_heroic

"I don't care about can," Atton announced, slamming back a drink. "Just wandered into another room, don't want to deal, gonna keep drinking. You better do the same."

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Cade shrugged, then toasted him with his glass. "Works for me."

Re: A Brass Door

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suitably_heroic - Date: 2013-04-11 08:24 pm (UTC) - Expand

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ultron_junior

Victor felt an overwhelming sense of relief when the door finally cracked open. There was music here, and living people, and even if it seemed more than a little grungy there had to be somebody in there who knew the way out, right?

Then he paid more attention to the merc currently getting a punch in the .... tentacles and realized the patrons weren't all exactly people. Some -- no, most -- of them even looked pretty alien-ish, which did not reassure Victor this was a friendly place for him to be. In his experience, aliens tended to be dicks about AIs.

On the other hand, it was the first living group not from Fandom he'd seen. He ducked out of the way of the fight and sat down at a table in a corner, munching on something not entirely unlike rancid peanuts as he tried to suss out who would be nicest to an android.

[OOC: NPCs, please shoot at him a little!]

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"That's my chair," rasped a blue...being...in a giant hat. "Move."

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ultron_junior

"I didn't know anybody was here," Victor returned. And he'd stand up, really, he would, but it had been three days since he sat on anything but a sack on the ground and his butt was enjoying the whole chair experience immensely.

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Maybe the blaster pointed at him would convince him to move. "Everyone knows it's my chair," the bounty hunter rasped.

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ultron_junior

Victor's butt was a lot fonder of being alive than it was of that chair -- the seat of which had been a little on the sticky side anyhow. He stood carefully.

"I promise I didn't know," he repeated. "Chill, dude. You don't need to pull a gun over a chair."

Re: A Brass Door

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solo_sword

Okay, this Jaina could deal with.

She'd spent a lot of time in places like these, mostly putting an end to the kind of stuff everyone was doing, but she knew how to deal with these people to get what she wanted out if them. Plus she knew a lot of smugglers in general and was Han Solo's daughter specifically. So it didn't take her long to manage to get her hands on a couple blasters without worrying about that problematic money thing.

By luring a guy out back, knocking him out and taking his weapons. Don't judge.

She had a little while till that guy came back to start trouble,so Jaina was taking a moment at a table to see if anyone else came in, and to look totally innocent really.

[So open to 2/3/NPCs]

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playsforkepesh

After losing Kaidan in the memory room and wandering through the corridors, back through camp, and through the corridors again, Sam opened the next door she came across and was immediately reminded of Omega.

In fact, she thought this might even be Omega, which almost, almost had her wondering if Aria T'Loak was around, because, well, Sam had had a fantasy or two about that woman.

But no: no Aria, and Sam was pretty sure it wasn't Omega either, if only because the species of aliens around were all wrong. Regardless, Sam knew how to deal with this place. She wasn't a soldier and she couldn't run or fight, but she certainly knew how to navigate a bar. How did you think she'd managed to live off tips back at Oxford?

Without too much effort, she managed to stuff a knapsack from yesterday full of what she assumed was food, and she even managed to find a weapon or two which, sure, she wouldn't know how to use, but maybe someone else would. Yes, this was the place for Sam.

Before leaving, she had a drink. Blue milk. Who would have thought that would be good?

[[open to camp 1!]]

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so_hawkward

For all his flaws and issues, Clint had many special talents. One, he could go into a seedy bar and blend right in, even in his comparatively weird clothes. Two, he could convince a slave girl who didn't like talking to customers to not only talk to him, but to tell him all about how she'd ended up in her current situation. Three, he could spend enough time talking to the slave girl to convince some mercenaries to grab him and drag him off to a dark corner to be taught a lesson. And four, he could come back from said dark corner without the mercenaries, and with an entirely new outfit, as well as a pair of gun-like things. Really, things could have been a lot worse.

[Open for 1 if anyone wants!]

Edited Date: 2013-04-12 12:19 am (UTC)

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"You look like you've done well for yourself here," Jessica said, stopping by to talk to a familiar face that probably didn't know her. OH, UNIVERSES.

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so_hawkward

Clint quickly holstered his blasters and grinned at her because at least he knew she was from Fandom? Ah, universes. "Eh, some of these guys are lightweights. They shouldn't be armed, they might hurt themselves."

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"So you're not going to claim that they hurt themselves by picking a fight with you or anything?" Jessica offered. "Because if I were you - and I'm not, obviously, but if I were - that's the way I'd phrase it."

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so_hawkward

"Picking a fight with me might not have been the smartest thing, no," Clint admitted. "Do you need any money? I don't think I quite took everything they had."

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Jessica wasn't usually big on hives of scum and villainy like this, but she was mentally exhausted, the music was good, and they had food and drink. Not good food, necessarily, and definitely not good drink and she didn't exactly have money to pay. But whatever, dining and dashing would probably be the eighty-ninth most illegal thing happening here tonight.

[OOC: Open to Camp Onederful or bounty hunters, which I'll be requesting shortly mwahaha.]

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There was a man in full body-armor openly staring at her from just a few feet away. Well, staring. His helmet was facing her way, that was what, so it was an easy assumption to make.

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Jessica waved. "I know what you're thinking. The sweater vest is genuine argyle," she said. "I know, it's kind of fancy for a place like this, but it's laundry day."

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"What are you doing here."

Well. That was flat. And hostile. Though at least the bounty hunter gave the sweater vest some visual attention?

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