Avian Gamers Network

OOC: Anyone remember The Raid? I thought so. This is a new attempt to combine the creative talents of all those RPers here in Avian. The setting is the same as The Raid, SWG era, Avian City is on Correllia in it's pre-release envisioned glory!

There are a few rules/suggestions to follow.
- Please ask permission to use another person's character before doing so.
- If you're going to put in heroics, try to make it realistic to your character's ability (no single-handedly taking out SSDs, ok? ).
- Try to leave parts of your posts open for other people to interact, if there is no way to follow then the thread will just die out.
- Introduce your characters descriptively when you bring them in so everyone knows who they are (don't give everything away, if say you have a shady character, but give enough so that people get a sense of character).
- If you want, organise possible plot ideas in the OOC thread in this forum.
- Above all, Have Fun!!

IC:
Evening was drawing in and the sky turned a pale red as the sun set. The passenger transport shuttle arrived at Avian City's Shuttleport with passengers direct from Coronet Starport. The doors opened and in amongst the tourists a man wandered out. He was of average height and build but walked slow with a slight limp. His sandy rags heralded that he had just arrived from Tatooine.

As he walked further and further from the shuttleport, the limp became more pronounced and he hobbled faster and faster, heading straight for the city's visitor centre. By the time he got there, he was virtually running, clutching his side, face held tight with lines of intense pain. He crashed through the doorway and ran straight into the reception desk opposite, before crumpling into a motionless heap on the floor. His hand slipped from his side revealing a deep blaster wound. A bloodied datapad was left on the desk.

_________________
X2-PB

Pathfinder Kingmaker Campaign:
Gednan Malithanar - Wizard (1)
Dukin Thunderstrike - Ranger (1)

Star Citizen: - https://www.robertsspaceindustries.com/
AntanKarmola on their forums

Star Wars: The Old Republic: - Not really playing
Antare Karmola - Jedi Guardian (32)
Antan Karmola - Jedi Shadow (21)
Arianae Karmola - Gunslinger (20)

"What is it about Mondays?" the Deputy said with a sigh.

It was just turning out to be one of those weeks. First, two ranchers dead over the weekend when a tavern brawl got out of hand. Just this morning, there were reports that Mynocks had chewed through the shielding on ol' doc MacGregor's bacta supply... and now, some Big City tourist passes out onto his desk.

"Aww, Captain. He's bleeding all over the carpet!"

The Deputy was big -- almost as tall as some of the Wookies that used to live in town. Nowhere near as smelly or hairy though. Sheriff al’Can chuckled at the thought of a two meter tall shaven wookie crying over a dirty desk.

“Well, pick him up – and watch that side. Smells like an ion wound.” These volunteer merchants were such babies at times. It wasn’t always this way, of course. Avian City used to be something… a shiny metropolis full of the best shops in three sectors. Throngs of mercs flying from other systems just to get the newest gear and best droid upgrades. The Devel Per Wars had stopped all of that frontier capitalism dead in its tracks. Young idealists had left in droves, leaving their shops padlocked and empty.

Sure enough, there was a charred and glassy hole in the man’s hip. Looks like he was shot point-blank… from just a couple centimeters away. A blast that close wouldn’t be heard, and the flash probably wouldn’t even be seen…. Just the smell of cooked hamburger and an overloaded nervous system. Assassin techniques… and no bacta tanks to bring the poor bastard back, either.

Looks like the guy dropped a pad, as well. If he made it this far, he must have only been shot a few minutes ago… which meant there was an assassin loose in their dying city. Sure enough, a typical Monday.

_________________
--The Hermit

"Just as I thought," came the deep, sighing voice, thick with the guttural accent of Mon Calamari. A webbed, wrinkled hand of pale brown dropped down on the young deputy's shoulder, pulling him around and face to face with old Doctor Kracken. The elderly Mon Cal had some trouble kneeling beside the injured figure, but was quick to pull out the stims he always carried. "I thought there was something up with this one. He looked about to collapse as we came over from Coronet. I tried to stop him at the shuttleport, but he was in such a hurry..." Onto's bulbous eyes swung up to the sheriff, the thick whiskers on his chin twitching with concern. "Now then, let's get a look at his face." He instructed the Deputy to remove the man's wide, thick hat and the wraps around his mouth.
"Quarren!" exclaimed the doctor as the hat was pulled free, revealing a thick orange crest, pointed at the back of the head. A mass of tentacles sprung out as the wraps came free, fully removing the clever disguise. The yellow eyes were already dim, the tentacles barely twitching. "He's been on stims for days. This wasn't the first attempt on his life. Any more stims could overload his system...glar!" Onto gurgled with surprise as the dying Quarren shook violently, his arm shooting out to rigidly grasp the doctor's thick forearm.
"Essid quio..." the Quarren croaked, then gasped, his arm falling to his side.
"He's gone. But if I recall Quarren correctly from my youth, he said...'Forgive us.'" The startled doctor looked up at the deputy and the sheriff, big eyes bulging with trepidation.

_________________
65 min: Fastest Accepted Member in Avian History (as far as I'm aware)
ARCHITECH (Peace to GG)