::Star Wars RP Sample::
July of 2008
Playing Kin Creeda and my NPC, Felox
Somewhere between Dantooine and Dathomir, Kin completely forgot what she was doing. The near-silence of the cockpit was so foreign to her that each train of thought required excessive concentration in order to keep it. She was entirely capable of flying on her own- she'd spent enough time at the helm to perform all operations one-handed. The fact of the matter was that she wasn't supposed to do this alone. There'd always been a second in command, a crew to fall back on. That had been her whole purpose a few days prior. Now, there was no one to answer to, no flank to cover and no orders. As much as she denied it, she truly was drifting. There was no rhyme or reason to the courses she set. She had rarely left Phindar space in past few weeks and only stopped to make port at Laressa in order to trade what dwindling food stuffs she had left for useless astromech parts, which now littered her quarters- untouched. Most hesitated when she offered her wares, taken aback by the glazed eyes and disheveled attire. Now, more than ever, she truly was a disgrace to her species. Lofty gossip had made them out to be perpetually graceful creatures, incapable of homeliness. Kin was testing those words; wandering bantha fodder sporting a tattered flight suit and fraying head wrap, not to mention the hyperdrive coolant stains she just couldn't bring herself to scrub out. Her cheeks had become magnets for grease and grime, giving off the impression that she'd wrestled with a protocol droid and lost. The worst part? She simply didn't care. The apathy drove her to wander about the ship in hyperspace dressed merely in undergarments. It was this same abandon that had led her into the cockpit barefoot, wearing tight black undershorts and a chest wrap for modesty. Her head band had disappeared into the clutter of her room for now and would probably resurface a few weeks from now when necessity called upon it. Lavender eyes gazed at the control panel, but saw nothing, peering out from above heavy blue sacs of exhaustion. Sleep continued to escape her, despite her active efforts to claim it. It had nothing to do with her bunk, though cramped and narrow as always. The captain's quarters were vacant and alluring, but the captain's absence was still a fresh wound and she couldn't bring herself to breach the threshold. She hadn't touched it since... For all she knew, everything down to his socks were still in place, right where he left them. Kin had left the bulk of the ship in a similar state, refraining from touching the remnants of a bustling crew. What little nerve she had only supplied her with the nerve to enter the cargo hold where she took her pick of various goods they'd hoarded from previous deals, only to swap them out for more ship parts and labor.
The Anooba Rush had become a worm hole, sucking at her life force indiscriminately. Kin was torn between the promise to keep the ship in working order and the screaming need to escape its durasteel confines for sanctuary far from this prison. Her heart lay in space, but the memories soaked through the walls and bloated around her, constricting and choking until she felt as though she'd suffocate on the very air. Perhaps it was time for an extended layover- but where? She hadn't the credits for lodging and she was in no state to trade work skills. There was nothing of value aboard the ship save some peculiar dried fruit, but even then they were novelty items, lure for tourists who'd only dreamed of the lush fields of Naboo. Regardless of her hesitation, her hands moved without her consent and pulled the freighter out of hyperspace, filling the view shield with the blackness of space. Almost immediately, the ship's comm panel whined at her. A single red light blinked at her, urging her to answer the call. Someone had found her frequency- a difficult feat for those who had no previous dealings with the iRush/i. Kin thought to leave it be, fearing her own voice inappropriate for conversation. She hadn't spoken to another living thing in days and wondered if her vocal chords would even support the effort. Still, the combined assault of curiosity and hope forced her to open the beam. She remained silent as the static spilled into the cockpit and destroyed the silence. Kin waited, refusing to offer the first word. A few seconds passed and a man's voice spilled through, pervading the ship and filling her with such nostalgic longing that she almost list her nerve.
"This is the... Anooba Rush?" The voice came off tentative and plenty confused. The fact that he had access to this channel and knew the ship's identity by it's flight signature alone stirred Kin's interest. This had to be someone on the inside if he knew to make contact without offering a visual first.
"Affirmative," Kin croaked in reply, sitting up from her draped position to punch in a new set of coordinates, trying to lock onto the signal's location.
"Conroy! Stang, man, you had me worried! You've got one hell of a cold there. Didn't think you Zabraks could get those. You sound like kark," the man's voice broke through, considerably more confident and all-around friendlier. But the spoken name hit her like a blaster bolt to the chest and stole the air from her lungs, rendering her speechless for a moment. All at once, her limbs felt like ferrocrete, pulling her down into the abysmal pressure of grief. She opened her mouth to release the words, but they felt strangled in her throat. Feeling stupid despite her entirely abandoned cockpit, she shut her mouth and tried again, finding her voice the second time around.
"Dilik Conroy's not on board," the words came out monotone; she hadn't expected anything more.
One heavily pregnant pause came and went, bringing the stranger back to his tentative questioning, "He's dead, isn't he?"
Kin couldn't reply. More so, she wouldn't reply. If she'd meant to inform the stranger of his death, she would have told him so in the first place. The truth was much than she was willing to give at this point and why give what one couldn't take? Still, the silence seemed to be enough for the disembodied voice, who now lacked the conversational playfulness he had minutes ago.
"I should have known when you didn't start the comm. Conroy never did like anyone else taking his calls..."
Still, words escaped her. Nonsensical jibberish filled her head, abstract ideas and raw emotions swarmed her, but coherent speech remained elusive. Everything she needed to say- everything she wanted to say remained locked in a vault, forcing her to continued on in the most detached manner. She couldn't even bring herself to answer the most pressing questions. "What can I do for you?"
"The name's Grid Felox. I'm captain of the Counter Measure. Dilik and I used to outrun eyeballs back in the day for the Hutts before he got out of his contract. One of the best spice runners I ever met and a damn good man... Though if you're the one he left in charge, I'm sure you know that just as well," Felox continued, his words a mix of somber respect and bright admiration. Kin began to interrupt him, but he continued as if anticipating her interjection.
"I don't need to know how it happened or who to blame. If you're who I think you are, it's all been taken care of. The Rush is in good hands."
Kin stiffened at that, eyebrows quirking quizzically. Felox added no more and Kin took advantage of the silence, her interest in the man growing exponentially with each passing moment. "You know who I am?"
"That depends," he began mildly, "If you're the Creeda girl, then I suppose I do."
Genuine surprise came over her, unsure of how a completely faceless stranger would know of her name, much less of her existence. He answered the unspoken question matter-of-factly, "Conroy and I didn't do too much business together after he split, but we kept in touch. He had a client base that kept him in the know and never minded sharing information when needed. I returned the favors- don't worry. It was purely mutual. He kept me posted on going on's of your bird there... Warned him about taking on that Rodian way back when. He mentioned you and your scheme- nicely done, by the way... He took a teacher's pride in your progress with the ship. Says you might have been just as good as him, if not better. Dilik was a man of his word. If he says it's true, then by all the stars in this galaxy, it's true."
Kin snorted in what should have been a laugh. It was a humorless sound though, brimming with bitterness. She ignored the compliments, uncomfortable acknowledging Dilik's posthumous compliments. The Zabrak in life had never been one to flatter. Rather, he'd been a man quick to tear down confidence and build one up with criticism and experience. He'd never admit her own success to her face and this relay of confidence felt like a betrayal to his character. It inspired no pride, no gratitude- only prolonged the mourning.
"Well the Rodian's no more. Reet never had much of a spine about him anyway. Dagnor and Hayle were pretty quick to follow," she muttered, each name bringing with it a catalogue of memories. Final words, incessant pleas for mercy, and vile smiles with no regrets. Villains she mistook for compatriots.
Another pause. "Wish I was more surprised, but I'm not," Felox finally replied. "Figured the only ones who'd ever take him down would be the those he let get close. You're the exception of course. Like I said though, don't need to know. You obviously somethin' right if his bird's still flying."
A nagging pressure was building up in her forehead, beginning the cloud thought. She scowled and brought a bare hand to the bridge of her nose, where she attempted to rub out some of the phantom tension. "I got it out of traitorous hands, sure... Doesn't mean I know what to do with it. Runnin' out of rations, cannon's not calibrated, hyperdrive's humming like a class one..." She listed off just a handful of the issues plaguing the poor freighter and assumed the guilt herself. Kin felt like a poor excuse for a parent, letting a once-loved ship fall into disrepair. It wasn't that she no longer felt at home here, it was just that the scene had changed so drastically that she hardly recognized the Rush as her own. The company that had once made it hers no longer bantered within its hull. It was a ghost ship now, haven to one Twi'lek set adrift among the stars.
"You pulled into Ka-Zorn recently?" Felox chirped back, background chatter polluting the comm wave. Kin frowned, the name nagging at the back of her mind but revealing nothing.
"No... why?" She mumbled, feeling sluggish and dumb in her questioning. Kin was supposed to be picking up the slack here, but instead she felt like a maladjusted youth who wouln't know her way around a moisture vaporator.
Felox remained patient with her despite her reservations, "Old stomping grounds for us. That's where Dilik had that second turret installed for a very modest price. The station manager is an old friend of his and knows the Rush by sight. You press for clearance, tell him what happened, and he'll fix you up. I'd take you there myself, but I'm flying hot over here. I'll send you the coordinates... It's just a couple jumps out."
Sure enough, the coords came in and had her landing in the Mid Rim system, taking her painfully far from the territories she'd come to haunt of late. Still, this was an opportunity to escape the drudgery she'd immersed herself in. Deft fingers punched in the digits as she straightened in the pilot's chair, scanning the readouts as she readied the ship for another jump. "What's the manager's name?"
Felox was speaking to someone in the background; a voice she didn't recognize and in a language she'd not heard before. His attention eventually returned to her. "Name? Oh, sorry. Ask for Yaz Men'lil. He's a big Devaronian guy- can't miss him. He'll set you straight."
Kin was already preparing for the jump to lightspeed as Felox continued to talk. She only made out a few bits and pieces, her mind occupied with the jump ahead. She'd picked up her fallen vest
from the cockpit floor and put it on, straightening a pitifully crumpled collar to the best of her ability. Finally, she had a bearing and something to spark her interest. Kin even took a stab at rubbing off the muck from her face.
"Thanks, Felox. I'm making the jump now. Keep in touch," she said in earnest, her voice gradually regaining its strength.
"Stay alive, kid. It'd be a shame to see you go up in smoke after what you've done for Dilik," Felox's voice wavered, static slipping as the Rush hummed and whirred, power reverting to the hyperdrive.
What had she done? What could she have possibly done that warranted gratitude? She'd been a pain in his side since boarding. She'd made demands and scowled at refusals. She'd unloaded her perverse sense of pride upon him; a man who lived among the scum of the darkest worlds, and expected him to swallow her ideals. He'd called her brash and foolish, ignored her obstinate fits, and expected her to accept his word for law. But after the dust had settled and bodies were counted... after screaming matches and name-calling, she was better for it. He had given Kin the resources to survive and thrive; when she wanted to do so. He knew which battles were worth fighting and honored her refusals when he saw their logic. Beneath the exterior of chaotic disagreement, he'd cared enough to keep her happy. She'd just been too ignorant to notice then.
She hesitated, but knew she'd burst if the words weren't spoken to someone- anyone. Even a faceless stranger drifting in the darkest depths of space. "Doesn't even come close to what he's done for me. Rush, out."
Kin shut the comm link and propelled the ship into hyperspace.
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