The Good, the Bad and the Wookiee

[Crim]

Aboard the Scarlet Sparrow
Daytime
​

Tap. Tap tap tap tap.

Tap tap tap tappitty tap.

Tarek Lawson sat at the communications chair in the Sparrow, hunched over an antiquated device. He pressed a button in a series of repeating taps. Morse code. Delivering information to and from places without the use of a hologram was quite a chore in those days of old. Even on the same planet, with minimal satellite coverage, sending complicated forms of communication could get tricky. The message could be unreadable if it even reached the intended recipient at the end. For now, the detective would have to just rely on sending a tightbeam signal to the nearest settlements.

Mos Pelgro has fallen. -STOP-.
Do not approach the outpost. -STOP-.
Prepare your defenses - Mos Espa is next. -STOP-​

He send the message a few times to various sources before reaching over and tapping his Wookiee partner on the shoulder. "Put the Sparrow on autopilot and take over for me, will you? I need to check on our guests?"

The Wookiee grunted softly and nodded. After flicking a few buttons at the helm, the Wookiee took Tarek's seat. The detective walked to the ladder at the back of the bridge and climbed down to meet the people he had just survived Mos Pelgro with. They had gathered in the galley after fleeing into the boarding ramp. The two Mandalorians (@Arclight and @Kori Buor) who had helped him fend off the Sand People were the first people to catch his eyes. Tarek smirked and looked at the state of his galley. He really needed to clean. "Sorry about the mess," he said casually. "I've got Gar flying us to the nearest settlement. A place called Mos Espa. I'm not sure if you want to help the folks who call it home or not, but it's always an option," he continued.

Frankly, Tarek wasn't sure what he was going to do. He didn't like the idea of leaving that place without help, but he just wasn't that person anymore. The one who showed up, helped save people out of sheer altruism, and fly into the sunset with a twinkle in his eye. He was done being a hero.

A scampering set of footprints grew closer as D0, his diminutive droid with a foul mouth and sour demeanor, walked into the galley. "I heard you were picking up vagrants, but I didn't think you were evacuating the whole town," the droid protested. Tarek, paying little attention to the droid, said, "I need a cup of coffee. Anybody needs anything, you get it for them."
"What am I, your kriffing secretary?"
"Well... yeah. By the way, black coffee."

Tarek approached the Jedi (@StarWriter) and the injured Theelin (@Diva Tumi). "How are these two doing?" he asked.

 

[Kori Buor]

"Don't worry about it," Aethon replied with a wave of a gloved hand to the pilot of the ship they were on who he had learned was named Tarek Lawson once the excitement had died down a little. A little. Apparently, there was still plenty of excitement to be had as this appeared to be the first in an almost coordinated assault by the Tusken Raiders, or at least that's what it looked like to Aethon. It was quite unusual for the Sand People to operate this largely or this unified from what he could tell from what he had read of the planet after getting an assignment there with Aryn. The Mandalorian wondered if something had happened to cause them to make such an attack.

Smirking a little, Aethon added, "Well, I guess we'll see what the this Mos Espa is like when we get there. Thanks for the ride by the way. Whatever its state, it sure as kriffin' hell beats what we just came out of."

Upon the entrance of a droid and the short exchange between droid and master, Aethon chuckled. "We could use some cleaning fluids over here, and some clean rags if you've got them." He remarked before turning to his olive skinned friend and pulling out a cleaning cloth from one of his flight suit pockets. Offering her the cloth, Aethon looked at his young companion. "Here, you'll need this more than I will. At the very least it should take care of the smell in the helmet. Not sure we'll be able to do anything about the stuff in your hair. Maybe you can try the refresher and see if there is a sink in there."

Glancing over at where the Theelin lay, Aethon looked back over at Aryn while he cleaned his weapons of the sand and carbon scoring that had built up during the swoop ride and the fight at the cantina. "So, what's her story? I take it Diva is supposed to be someone important if you know her name. Manda, you practically said it like you just met the Supreme Chancellor!"

 

[Arcangel]

"Blegh!" Aryn grunted in disgust as she removed the vomit perfumed helmet from her head. Shuddering with another surge of nausea, she managed to bury the urge to vomit yet again. While not weak of stomach, stewing in the stench of bile while breathing deeply in combat would be wearing on those of even the strongest constitution. Accepting the rag from Aethon meekly with a shy "thanks..." Aryn proceeded to scrub out the internals of her helmet. At the mention of stuff in her hair, Aryn's hand shot up to her head, a gloved hand running over her hair to come away damp with Diva's spew. Blushing in further embarrassment, Aryn spotted the 'fresher out of the corner of her eye and made a beeline for it.

The cramped refresher contained a small toilet, sink and shower, as well as an assortment of the owner's toiletries. A yearning glance lingered on the shower for a moment before turning to the sink, removing her gloves and releasing her long brown tresses from their tight Naboo twist, rinsing and scrubbing thoroughly in the small sink, her body and neck uncomfortably leaning over the facilities. Having heard Aethon's comments as she rushed off, Aryn responded, shouting over the sound of running water. "Have you been living under a rock the past couple of years?! Diva Tumi! THE Diva Tumi! You seriously don't know who she is?! Kes!" She finished her exclamation with a curse as her hair caught on the faucet, spending a moment freeing it.

Looking around the 'fresher for a clean towel, Aryn gave up as the only towel she spotted was covered in wookiee fur. Exiting the 'fresher, quite the comical sight, dripping wet hair framing her face and sticking to the plates of her gunmetal grey armor, which in turn was covered in now drying vomit from the waist down. Grabbing the now soiled rag that Aethon had given her, she glanced at it in disgust before taking it to the durasteel cuisse covering her thighs, scrubbing furiously. "Is she doing alright Jedi?" she shouted as she cleaned, desperately wishing to shed her armor and spend hours under scalding hot water.

@StarWriter @Diva Tumi

 

[StarWriter]

A wave of disorientation washed over the young Jedi, the exertion on his entire system from drawing on more of the Force than he was used to would eventually subside . Enough so that he'd slowly sit up fully, hand pressed to his brow as he slowly cleared and focused his mind. He felt the firmness of the bench at his back and beneath him, that was when he realized he was sitting though he couldn't recall making it here. Tycho had blacked out shortly after making it to the ramp and only had vague recollection of being helped by the ship's captain into the galley.

Drawing his feet up beneath him he sat, lotus, with his hands resting on his knees in deep meditation to recuperate his strength.

They were airborne, that he could feel the way the deck plate swayed ever so slightly as the ship passed through thermals and jostled, he could feel every subtle motion of the ship. He was a spacer, he'd grown up on freighters, knew how they moved. For a moment he felt at peace. Voices of the others and a foul mouthed droid soon roused him from his blissful reminiscing.

He could feel the wounded Theelin beside him and would redirect his senses towards her. She had come a long way since death's doorstep, yet she was still quite weak. As Tarek approached and inquired as such, the Jedi would open his eyes and hold a hand above her body. "I am fine. Healing her and fighting took most of my strength but my wounds are mostly superficial." The wound in his left arm was already healing and the grazes were barely even scars.

"She on the other hand, is going to need a lot of work. She'll live. She might be unconscious for a little while but I will do what I can to speed along the process. I doubt she cares much for my help. I get the sense that she, like so many others despise what I am. But until such a time as she has the strength to stop me from helping her, I shall do so." Tycho smiled to Tarek all while feeding Healing Force into Diva, in much smaller, steadier increments this time. He would make sure to pace himself properly.

When the two Mandolorians carried on their conversation, he would divert his attention and listen with great intent as the one seemed to know who the Theelin was. Given the level of respect and adulation in her tone, this Diva must have been quite the infamous individual. If a Mandolorian was in awe of her, she had to be quite fierce.

"Is she doing alright Jedi?"

Glancing to the female Mandolorian, he would offer a nod. With her hair free to frame her face she looked rather fetching, despite the comical nature of the rest of her visage. "She's not likely to suddenly turn towards death's door anytime soon unless she does something brash to exert herself again. I'll keep doing what I can for her until she's able to mend on her own. Since it's clear to me that my presence disturbs her I suspect she'll try and keep me from helping as soon as she's strong enough." He said in an irritated tone.

"She sounds like a celebrity, the way you speak about her. The way she fought earlier, I can only imagine how dangerous she is when she's completely healthy." Tycho said, hoping that the Mandolorian might elaborate on Diva a bit.

@Arclight @Diva Tumi @Crim

 

[Diva]

SHE can hear all of you...Kriffholes...


Diva grumbled a biting reply to all the general discussion about her health, doing so without budging from her crumpled fetal position, and her eyes resolutely sealed. The cool metal of the ships interior felt wonderful against her blisterd skin, and if she was aware of the Jedi's efforts, she merely accepted the rejuvenation without acknowledgement.

In truth, she had not heard well over half of what the party was discussing. Bits and pieces came and went, but eventually she managed to trace intention and accept the reality that SHE was HER, and "her" was not doing very well. She sure did give it to those sandpeople though.... OH! that is what they are called. Sandpeople. T..t-t-t...TUSKEN! Tusken raiders. A lot of them. Something about those numbers felt very wrong...Ow. Too much thinking.


So sweet, turn your sugar to salt...

Music. The tail end of a melody did a slow wipe through her pesky thoughts, and left a pleasantly empowering sensation as she hummed, blissfully unaware that this had been an underground hit single of her's for the past year. Instead she grappled with the fleeting tune in an effort to uncover more lyrics, more notes, anything else she could attach to this constantly shifting puzzle that was her mind, when she heard a name.

Diva Tumi!... yeah, who the black hell is that? What makes her so kriffing special?


@Crim @Arclight @Kori Buor @StarWriter

 

[Crim]

The detective tossed a rag to Aethon and fumbled about in a cabinet, looking for some cleaning supplies. If the state of the ship was any indication, it might take a minute or two to find a cleaning bottle. He kept an ear on the conversation while he searched. After a short time, which astonished Tarek, he found a spray bottle. He shook it around, hearing sloshing in the white plastic, before putting it in front of Aetgon.

The girl they'd rescued seemed to be getting more and more interesting by the day. It seemed as if she had a past. The Mandalorian seemed to know a bit about the girl, though the others seemed oblivious... Diva included. As D0 made Tarek's coffee, Garryyn climbed down from the cockpit. "You know anything about this Diva character?" he asked the Wookiee. Garryyn shook his head.

Drawing a cigarette from his coat, the detective lit it. In the dim interior of the galley, the fire illuminated his face for a second. He puffed the smoke out and said, "Diva's your name, at least what you told me back in Mos Pelgro."
The air recycler, detecting a whiff of smoke, began to hiss.

"What do you remember?"

 

[Kori Buor]

The Mandalorian chuckled a little as his younger female companion ran to the nearby refresher to clean her hair; her sudden, if somewhat shocked and horrified realization that the vomit had even gotten into her black hair, was something that the man wouldn't forget anytime soon. Looking over at the owner of the ship, the man found a rag being tossed at his face, which he quickly caught and gave thanks for it. When Tarek returned with a cleaning bottle, Aethon smiled and once again gave a thankful nod. While Aryn was washing her hair in the refresher, Aethon took her helmet and began cleaning the inside of it out with a few sprays of cleaner on the rag. Once he had gotten most of the nastiness out, the Mandalorian would would shout back at his companion, "Well, maybe I have! Besides, if she's so kriffin' important, why don't you just out and spill it already! You're not helping anyone here by keeping it some super special secret!"

As Aryn returned from cleaning her hair out he returned her helmet to her, now smelling like cleaning fluid instead of vomit. Hopefully she found that smell more tolerable. Folding the rag in on itself so that the unused portion was exposed, Aethon began working on his weapons as the discussion shifted to Diva and her well-being. As the Jedi spoke, Aethon listened quietly and noticed how seemingly fatigued the man was.

"You did some good work today, Jedi. I don't know many of your kind, but you don't see half bad. There's still plenty of time to sour that opinion though, so don't think this means we're pals." He managed to stifle his chuckle from being too loud as Diva loudly declared that she could hear everyone talking about her. Glancing at her, he noticed that she was still balled up with her eyes closed. Laughing loudly at her questioning herself, Aethon looked at Aryn, "Well you heard the woman! Who in the black hell is she?"

 

[Diva]

Diva...Yeah.


Her eyes fluttered gently open, and revealed a pair of luminous sun yellow eyes, flush with discovery. Of course she was Diva. Who else could she be, the wookie? Her fever was tempered by the enthusiastic search for deatails. She was Diva Tumi, but context was missing. Hard facts. She saw words and flashes of memore, coupled with sensations and emotion; but it was impossible to tell how they fit, or if they were even the right connectioins.


Hunt: urgent, credits, adrenaline... was she hunted or hunting? Or was this a song....


Music: Powerful need, euphoria, drugs, her fingers twitched eagerly and muscle memory sent another wave of adrenaline through her....


Guns: Power, math...lots of math. Charge rate, angle of fire, atmospheric resistance, weight, barrel shape/size, velocity, plasma strength, stun v.s. lethal, right hand v.s Lef......


Pain. Lots of pain. She had no left hand. The agony of the her nerves striking a dead end brought forcefully back her first complete memory. It was an old one now, but every horrible detail was alive within her, as if happening all over again. @Nor'baal Desajilic the Hutt, her once master, took that hand in spite, a trophy he stole to scold her for claiming freedom and costing him a pittance in credits. His laugh echoed in her mind and through her tortured arm, the motionless cybernetic replacemtent still broken and twisted, mocked her for what it could never truly replace.


Slave.. Diva was, once and nevermore, a slave. In an instant she gave up on the who, when, why and how; instead remembering all at once the one thing that mattered: her instincts.


All her captors came into sharp focus, and she began to piece together an impression of what was happening NOW. Two soldiers, dressed similarly, brutally. She had a name for them "Mando", but it meant nothing to her at the moment, and was content with the impression that they were the baddest mothers of the bunch. This was definetly a ship, captained by the scruffy guy and/or the wookie. He didn't seem to rough, but a wookie was out of her league when she was healthy and had two arms; besides that Diva couldn't remember if she knew how to pilot anything yet, so at least one of them was needed. Then the closest, some sort of monk..no, Jedi. She remembered Jedi. She remembered this one's blazing blue lightsaber. She knew he was doing something to her, which she did not consent to; but whatever his motives, it felt like more good than harm for the times being, so she opened herself to it and drank a few deep gulps of the rejuvinating energy he projected. She was going to need it.


A shaky hand settled on Tycho's thigh for support, and with a faint smile, Diva began to lift herself slowly.


I am Diva....thank you. Diva Tumi... my name.. THE Diva Tumi...the Galaxy's one and only springing, and singing...


Where that tagline came from was well beyond her current faculties, but it proved itself a good diversion, and Diva was pleased to discover she was quite the actress. As soon as her feet were under her she sprang. Her hand plunged directly into the thick folds of cloth surrounding Tycho's waist and wrapped around the metal cylinder hidden within, unable to explain how she found it so easily, but gladly taking the good deal. Her heels dug in hard and launched her backward to a safe litte corner of the room with some distance between her and the crew, albiet with a sickening *thud* as she hit the bare wall with her back. Grunting threw it she found the igniter, and was very pleased to see the desired blue beam of light buzz to life as her buffer. Diva was instantly empowered, and began to snarl through her demands.


Forget who I am, who the #$&^% are you people, and where are you taking....


Just before she was quite able to finish, her eyes rolled back and her body fell lifeless again for just a split second. She kept spending her strength as fast as it came, but what else was there to do. Diva recovered quickly and snapped up, waving the saber frantically as a warning. Her arm shook from the strain of the nearly weightless thing. She was dangerous, near feral, that was clear. A wild cat caught in a trap. Her eyes darted wildly around the room, partly to stay vigilant, and partly to stay awake:

...But also, who am I? Who are you first, then me....NOW!

Her insistant stare repeatedly settled on the other woman present. Another cue from her gut was souring her impression of the men for reason's she didn't need to know.

Spoiler: DISCLAIMER

Hello friends. Since some of you are new I want to give you an opportunity to review my BIO for Diva. While it is not fully complete or up to date, she has been relatively famous through most of her life, through several different channels. Obviously your character's knowledge is up to you, but considering some of your proffesions, it seems prudent I draw your attention to this.

First, She grew ups a famous circus act.

Second, she enjoys indie leveel success as a musician, which is bolstred by the MOST significant

Third, she was the GUILDMASTER of the Bounty Hunter's Guild, and arguabley one of the nastiest BHs in the galaxy for that tenure, until her mysterious disapearance several months ago.

Take that information as you will, or totally let it all go, your choice. Feel free to message me if your confused.

@Arclight @Kori Buor @Crim @StarWriter

 

[Arcangel]

Flabbergasted. How nobody in the room knew who Diva Tumi was was beyond Aryn. Exhaling with a groan of frustration and a puff of breath, Aryn gratefully accepted the now clean helmet back from Aethon. Taking a deep breath before going into a long tirade about the celebrity in the room with them, Aryn was cut off as the theelin woman sprang into action. And so did Aryn. Starstruck she may have been, but she wasn't stupid. She knew Diva Tumi was dangerous. Now clean helmet snapped back onto her head, wet hair streaming out from under it.

She did however, refrain from drawing her blaster. While the lightsaber was a threat, the woman wielding it was clearly panicked, not aware of her surroundings. Holding two gauntlet ed hands forward, palm out in a show of peace, Aryn tried to explain the situation to the cornered woman. "My name is Aryn Rau... uhhh, huge fan of yours by the way. Anyways. You were dying of heatstroke in a dinky little Tatooine cantina in. We-" pointing to Aethon and then herself, "- are with Deathwatch, i can't speak for the others. I don't know how much you remember, but the town we were in just got overran by tusken raiders."

 

[StarWriter]

So much turmoil. Even doing his best not to intrude on Diva's mind, it was impossible for him to not sense the torrent of chaotic memories and images. Not enough to actually see what they were, just that they were all jumbled within her mind. Like pieces of a puzzle being put back, not necessarily in the right order. The Jedi pitied the theelin, regardless of who she was and what she'd done no one deserved to have their mind shattered in such a way. To suffer like this. But then, he was an idealist like most of his brethren.

He felt the hand on his thigh and and for the first time saw a slip of a smile on the woman's face. Tycho in turned reciprocated the expression and would let her rise on her own. He'd already been helping against her will enough already.

"Easy, don't over do it." He'd caution her as she rose and was about to comment on her introduction when he felt the hand slip beneath his robes. Even with his reflexes he could not stop her from taking hold of the lightsaber. See was Force sensitive and seemingly had some measure of training in how to tap into it. He desperately hoped she had grabbed the non-functional saber that was on that hip, the one belonging to his former master that was damaged beyond repair.

"Karabast!"

Of course, he rarely got his wish and when the blue blade extended from the weapon he would already be on his feet, with his second lightsaber in his left hand. However he would not ingite the weapon, instead moving to place himself between her and the others yet well out of reach of those wild swings.

"I am Tycho Skyblade. Knight of the Jedi Army. What Aryn said is true, you came into the cantina near death and we tried to save you when the place was overrun by sand people. We barely escaped and are trying to get to someplace safe." She was weakened because of her incessant and idiotic bouts of panic. He couldn't blame her he supposed, she was running on pure instinct and possibly fear.

With his hand outstretched, palm open he'd reach out with the Force to grasp hold of the lightsaber in her hand firstly to press the igniter to deactivate the weapon and secondly to hopefully rip it out of her hand. Despite her fight or flight nature, he could not allow her to continue to have one of his weapons in her possession.

"Please calm yourself Diva. If anyone here wanted to bring you harm, we could have simply let you die of heatstroke." There was a little irritation in the Jedi's voice, it was clear that the constant struggle with her was getting tedious.

If he managed to wrench the weapon from her grasp, likely given her current state, he would once again return it and the other one to their rightful places on his belt. If not, then he'd have to stand his ground and watch her so she wouldn't pose anymore of a danger to them than she already was.

 

[Crim]

A blue blade illuminated the interior of the galley. His galley. He rose to his feet and put a hand on the gun resting on his hip. Behind him, Garryyn stood and reached for a bowcaster hanging on the wall. Tarek put a hand on his Wookiee friend's arm to dissuade him. "Set the ship down," he said to the Wookiee. The hairy beast nodded in compliance, took his hand off the hanging bowcaster, and climbed back up to the cockpit. Last thing that was conducive to calmness was an angry Wookiee. Besides, the ship setting down would add gravity to what he was about to tell this Diva.

Injured, delirious or not, nobody threatened Tarek on his ship. Still, he wanted to defuse the situation before it got ugly. The last thing he needed was carbon scoring inside his ship. Not that his galley was really something he was worried about being clean; according to Garryyn, carbon scoring gave a ship character. Of course, this is coming from a Wookiee who was expelled from Kashyyyk for using his claws.

"I'm Tarek Lawson. Detective Tarek Lawson. The Wookiee is Garryyn. I'd listen to the dame and the Jedi. Without them, you'd be just another corpse in Mos Pelgro. Turn the laser sword off before you find yourself walking the Dune Sea by yourself," he said.

Tarek was from a seedier part of Corellia, one where tight law enforcement was a necessity. It was a different culture in a changing galaxy. His vocabulary was a bit... hard-boiled. It took him a good year not to say 'toots' in passing conversation - many people in the galaxy did not appreciate being called toots. That said, when your partner is a Wookiee, people tend to just be glad at least one in the duo can speak.

@Kori Buor @Diva Tumi