2008-01-30 - Hillside Shanty Showdown

This dimly lit cargo container was once used to haul massive amounts of materials around the galaxy. But one day, it was cast off and deposited here and left to rot. The denizens of Corsica made use of it and now it serves as a makeshift clinic where beings may come for what medical care can be had among the poor.
The interior is rusty brown. Ancient medical droids have been pieced together, but if they run is anyone's guess. There is a table in the center of the room that is stained with blood. A few lights that blink and sway hang over head. When one thinks about it, it is noticed that this cargo container is not quite level... A heavy rainstorm just might send it sliding down the hill?
<FONT color="#33CC00">FORCE:</FONT> You reach out with the Force and feel that Windom Kambei is strong with the Force.
Windom stands at the table. The blood stains are covered by the young man's spacer jacket. On the table sits a young girl, one leg hanging off the table, the other stretched out in front of her. His med kit out and open, Windom does his best to wrap the girl's sprained ankle.
A shadow appears in the doorway cut into the side of the cargo container and Tuil steps into the light provided by the few hanging bulbs strung up along the ceiling. He looks first to the girl and then to Windom as the young man works and he nods approvingly. "Hello."
Windom glances up at the man who entered before looking back down at the girl's leg. It is apparent that Windom does not recognize the shadow. "Hello, sir. If you need some help, I'll be right with you."
Tuil nods and finds the outside wall of the container to lean against. The Jedi goes on watching, his arms folded so that his hands are buried in his robes. He calls out, "Have you been here long? I didn't realize Corsica's slums had a resident doctor."
Windom finishes one of his rolls of wrap and digs in his kit for another. "Huh? No, sir. I've only been here a few days, a week at the most. When the refugees started coming here instead of Coruscant. These droids," the young man nods at them, "I'm no tech. But I do have some medical skills." He glances up at Tuil and shrugs.
Tuil nods and smiles. "I remember you helping on Coruscant. You always follow where they go? That's pretty good of you."
"You remember me? From where, sir?" Windom leans forward, trying to get a better view of Tuil in the dark container. The little girl jabs Windy in the ribs and he notices he's leaning against her. He pulls back and apologizes before gazing at Tuil. "I'm afraid you have the advantage."
Tuil explains, "You were helping refugees in Sector 728, wasn't it? I am Tuil Lindo. Your work drew my interest."
Windom mouths a silent 'whoa.' "Mr. Lindo! What are you doing here? I mean, its good to see you, sir." The girl pokes Windom again and he looks down at her. "You're finished, sweetheart. Try not to have too much fun for a few days." The girl giggles, jumps of table and runs past Tuil. Windom watches her go with a smile on his face. As he puts away his kit, he says to Tuil, "the war, I want to help, like the Jedi. So I do what I can. I can help these people, even if its just a little."
Tuil nods. "You give of yourself without asking for anything in return. That is definitely laudable, especially in surroundings such as this."
Windom shrugs his shoulders. "I was born into wealth. I know whats it's like to want for nothing. But the Jedi don't bother with wealth. They give and /ask/ for nothing. I guess I try to do the same, sir."
Tuil hehs and shakes his head. "I wish that was true. We ask as much as the next group of beings. We just excel at making due with little." He shrugs and then looks Windom over.
Having seen a few Jedi lately, Windom is no longer overwhelmed. But his expression changes and he looks at Tuil with more than a little admiration, almost reverence, on his face. "You're a Jedi, sir? What's it like? I saw some Jedi fighting each other the other day. Is that ... normal? I thought the Jedi were better than that."
Tuil frowns and shakes his head again. "Sometimes Jedi go rogue. They go off to do things for themselves rather than for others. Jedi who are selfish can be dangerous... Can you understand that?"
Windom casts his eyes down at the table and nods. "The Jedi are like the rest of us? That never occured to me, sir. I just always assumed the Jedi are /perfect/. The perfect guardians of peace and justice. In a way, I suppose that makes loyal Jedi even better."
Tuil considers and then says, "I heard something about your efforts lately... You were freeing slaves?"
Windom grins but turns away and shrugs his shoulders. "Yes, sir. I suppose so. But Frrash, the Tikar, the slaves wouldn't have been freed without him. I just distracted some guards while the Padawan did the freeing."
"Humility and selflessness. Admirable qualities all around." Tuil gets to the point then, "You would like to be a Jedi if you could?"
Windom's eyes widen and his jaw drops. "Me, a Jedi! No ... I mean yes! I mean, it would be an honor to become a Jedi. The Jedi have always been my heroes. To be one would be ... a dream come true. But surely ... I mean, me, a Jedi? All I know how to do is wrap a girl's swollen ankle."
<FONT color="#33CC00">FORCE:</FONT> You establish telepathic contact with Windom Kambei and transmit a calm feeling.
"How touching." A shadow suddenly emerges from the darkness of the rusty interior wall, a blaster drawn in one hand. Most likely it was watching. The visage is vaguely furry, not altogether revealed. "You know, it took me quite awhile to find you." The figure turns towards Tuil. He does not seem to pay much heed to Windom.
Tuil smirks and then suddenly turns. "To find me? I'm afraid you have me at the disadvantage this time. You are?"
"I would come away from that gentleman, child," a smooth female voice titters, with obvious cause to see the young man unhurt.
A graceful young lady in a divine black dress steps forth, blood-red hair weeping down her shoulders as curled tendrils. A hand remains poised behind her back, the other motioning for Windom to come to her.
"It would be a shame for you to get hurt for this ...Jedi's... rashness. Come," she offers, pleasantly.
Windom gasps at the sight of the blaster. His eyes go to the Jedi and then to Maros and Seraphine. He takes a step back away from the table, giving himself some space. The young man stands quiet and doesn't move, not even to raise his arms.
"I'm afraid those details are one that you need not be aware of." The figure shifts, leveling the blaster's barrel square at Tuil. "We've have had enough trouble in the past, we will not be so lenient this time." 
Tuil shakes his head tiredly. "Very well, what will you have of me? Shall I come along quietly or do you just wish to make short work of me here?"
<FONT color="#33CC00">FORCE:</FONT> You reach out with the Force and feel...
A powerful wayward soul very close to you.
As the young man moves away, this seems pleasing to the bedazzling woman-- a bright smile touching her lips, happiness.
"Stay right there," she murmurs, so soft that it's almost endearing. "If you wish a lesson on the truth of the Jedi, this would be a good time to remain."
Eyes flicker to the Jedi, a slender brow arching. "You can hand over your lightsaber, if you like," the lady suggests, a sparkle in the depths of her eyes. Terribly graceful, indeed.
Windom nods at the woman and obeys her command. He glances back at the Jedi for a moment before looking back at the intruders.
Tuil reaches into his outer robe and slowly withdraws his lightsaber. He holds it up for all to see and then hits the switch. "I'd like to keep it for now. After all, I just got it back."
<FONT color="#FFFF00">COMBAT:</FONT> You ignite your <FONT color="#00FF00">green</FONT> lightsaber.
"A bit of both. We've wasted enough time here. Hand over your lightsaber, and it need not become messy here." The shadowed figure then seems to laugh, a cold laugh, veiled features appearing to direct towards Windom. "Especially for him. You wouldn't want him to shed his innocence so soon, would you?" 
The figure steps further into the light, to reveal a brown-furred Bothan. He sighs tiredly, looking to the lady, "Jedi are so troublesome." Without further warning, he raises his blaster, unleashing a barrage of blaster bolts in the direction of Tuil.
<FONT color="#FFFF00">COMBAT:</FONT> Maros fires his BlasTech DL-50 Blaster Pistol at Tuil!
<FONT color="#FFFF00">COMBAT:</FONT> Tuil tries to parry with his green lightsaber, but Maros's blaster bolt hits and mauls him, destroying Tuil's Brown Robe.
<FONT color="#33CC00">FORCE:</FONT> You establish telepathic contact with Windom Kambei and transmit a desperate feeling.
The arrogance. The shame. Is this what the Jedi have become?
"Goodness me," the lady says as the lightsaber is drawn-- shaking her head sadly. As Tuil is struck by a blaster shot from her companion, the debutaunt can do nothing but smile-- grief-struck. "If only you had surrendered it," muses the black-clad lady. "I see your rationality has not improved since last time you met my companion, and my other who is unable to attend today," she sighs, her blue-green eyes closing a moment.
That hand behind her back comes out, finally-- and from the black satin-gloved limb, a set of claws has extended. The woman lunges with a sweep of gossamer at her feet, the claws aimed at Lindo's lightsaber-wielding arm.
<FONT color="#FFFF00">COMBAT:</FONT> Saraphine attacks Tuil's arms with her Vibro-Claw!
<FONT color="#FFFF00">COMBAT:</FONT> Tuil tries to parry with his green lightsaber, but Saraphine's Vibro-Claw seriously wounds his arm.
Windom gapes at the attacks on Tuil. Desperation and fear dance across his face. For a moment he hesitates before dropping out of sight behind the table.
Tuil drops back, hit squarely at his left shoulder by a blaster bolt and then cut at the same arm with the claws. With his appendage useless, he smirks. "As I pointed out, I just recently recovered it. Now, good citizens, please be on your way?"
<FONT color="#33CC00">FORCE:</FONT> You establish telepathic contact with Windom Kambei and transmit a calm feeling.
The Bothan smiles, a cutting edge to his curved furry lips. "Still so confident? Unfortunately, perhaps I won't have any use for you." He steps forward, blaster arm dropping ever so slightly, an audible clink then heard as his other gloved hand raises, a mounted device on it. With an abrupt hissing noise, jets of flame shoot from the device, eating oxygen hungrily as they propel towards Tuil.
<FONT color="#FFFF00">COMBAT:</FONT> Maros fires his Hand Mounted Flamethrower at Tuil!
<FONT color="#FFFF00">COMBAT:</FONT> Tuil tries to dodge, but Maros's jet of flame hits and grievously wounds him. Tuil collapses, critically injured.
The young lady moves towards the table then, unheeding what goes on behind her back-- knowing well her companion's aptitude for such matters.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," she purrs-- bright eyes sparkling with mirth as her claw-clad fingers rake across the tabletop...
Even from behind the table, Windom can hear what has happened. He has no illusions. He gets back to his feet slowly, his hands raised this time. The young man's face twitches from the effort of control. But it also carries an expression of dignity. He tosses his blade on the table.
It is raining, as if it ever stopped here in Corsica. Perhaps this time, it is the sky crying for Tuil? The drumming in the cargo container gains in intensity as Tuil is burned by the flamethrower and the Jedi stumbles as his clothing and flesh is scorched. Yet despite his pain or because if it, he still clings to his saber...
And then it happens...
The cargo container violently lurches as the mud beneath its lower end slides away down the hill. Before the Jedi can come crashing down to the ground, he is instead thrown forward towards the door and as there is no door but just a wide doorway, he is ejected out into the storm beyond.
<FONT color="#800080">+ESCAPE:</FONT> You +escape from Corellia: Corsica - Hillside Shanty Clinic to Corellia: Treasure Ship Row.
Category:January 2008 RP Logs