Thread: MC: AOTE: Rhea
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Old 03-31-2006, 01:13 PM   #58
JasraLantill
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Join Date: Dec 2005
Location: Scotland, UK
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Current Game: SWOTR
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Beryl estimated that she travelled through the jungle nearly two kilometres hoisted in the air by her arm before being dropped in a clearing. Again, recalling her combat training, she automatically rolled out of the fall when she hit the ground. Shaking from adrenaline, she quickly scrambled to her feet, and staggered backwards in the tall grass away from the approaching swoop bike. And the stormtrooper who was riding it.

“Think I preferred the cats,” she thought to herself.

“Halt!” the stormtrooper said, as he parked the bike and dismounted. He didn’t raise his weapon, but he didn’t have to. Unarmed and with a dislocated shoulder, he didn’t see Beryl as much of a threat.

But Beryl, being Beryl, decided to run while she had the chance. Of course, wearing only one boot, and with her bare foot scratched from the claws of the cat, she didn’t get very far before the Stormtrooper caught up to her.

“Get your hands off me, you kriffin Buckethead!” Beryl said, struggling to free her good arm from his grasp.

“Hey! Take it easy!”

Beryl was doing no such thing. She kicked at him with her booted foot, aiming for his crotch. But the Stormtrooper avoided her attempt, instead moving in closer, wrenching her arm behind her back and shoving her to the ground in submission. “Droyk!” she uttered in pain.

“You just don’t give up, do you?” he said, almost jokingly, as he pushed his knee into the small of her back to stop her squirming. “Look, I’m just trying to help you…”

“An Imp? Help? When Jawas swim!” Beryl hissed through clenched teeth. “I don’t want your help! Let me go!”

“Okay. Fine. Be that way.” The Stormtrooper released his hold on her. “You can reset your own shoulder.” He snorted and backed away. “Last time I try and do a good deed,” he muttered. “Ungrateful, skraggin slave…”

“I’m not a slave!” Beryl said defiantly, as she rolled over and sat up. The pain from her shoulder was almost nauseating, but she still wasn’t about to accept his help.

“No? Well, you sure look like one half-dressed the way you are.” He stared at her for a moment, then to Beryl’s surprise, he took off his helmet.

He was handsome, there was no doubt about that. Short, thick sandy brown hair, soft green eyes, and chiselled features, and when he smiled, his cheeks dimpled. “There,” he said in a calm even tone as he knelt down to her level. “You don’t have to be afraid. See? No more ‘Buckethead.’”

“I’m not afraid of you,” she snapped. “I just don’t like Imps.”

His dimples got deeper. “No? Well, I like a good challenge.” He eyed her over. “Look, that shoulder of yours has got to hurt.” He looked around. “And it’s not likely anyone else is going to come around and…say, how did you find yourself all alone out here anyway?”

“I was… taking a walk,” she lied. “What are you doing out here? Joyriding?”

“Looking for a cargo ship that supposedly landed in this sector.” He gave her a dubious look. “You, erm, didn’t happen to see one on your ‘walk’, did you?”

“No,” she answered a bit too quickly.

He snorted, then grinned wryly. “Didn’t think so. Now, are you going to let me set that shoulder? Or am I going to have to stun you first?”

Beryl let out a defeatist sigh. “Fine. Set it.”

He rose and approached her. Kneeling behind her, he gently took up her arm in his gloved hands. “This is going to hurt,” he said, “but you’ll feel better after. Ready? On three. One… two….” He jerked her arm down, rotating it in at the same time.

Beryl was speechless with pain for a moment, then as the shoulder popped into place, the pain suddenly subsided, leaving only a throbbing ache. “What happened to three?” she croaked.

“Oh, sorry, forgot. You know us Bucketheads. Stupid and inconsiderate as the day is long, right?”

He helped her rise, taking care to make sure that her arm was kept tight into her body. He guided her to his bike, where he took out a first aid kit. “So, you got a name?”

“Yeah.”

He snorted with amusement as he removed a bacta spray from the kit. “Ok, I’ll go first. I’m Sergeant Penniluck Dukkette. Penni for short. You?”

“B…” Beryl cut herself short, nearly forgetting herself from the intense pain. But she couldn’t for the life of her remember the name that was on her fake I.D.

“Buh?” Penni grinned, as he began treating some of her visible cuts and scratches with the spray. “That’s a short name. What, your parents couldn’t afford a whole name for you?” he joked.

“Beryl,” she said defiantly.

“Beryl.” He nodded. “Suits you. So, just Beryl? No second name? In my experience, Corellians always have a second name.” As Beryl opened her mouth, obviously surprised that he knew her planet of origin, he added, “’Droyk’ is peculiar term to Corellians, is it not?”

Her jaw set. “I suppose,” she said quietly. “So, what's your story? You seem different from the average Buckethead.”

“What, did you think that all Imperial soldiers were ignorant chuba faced clonies?” he asked, as he applied a dressing to one of the larger scratches on her arm.

“You said it, not me,” Beryl replied.

“So you think I should have just watched you get ripped apart by the cat for its obvious entertainment value, rather than to rescue your ungrateful carcass and miss all this verbal abuse?”

“Okay, okay,” Beryl unwillingly conceded. “I’m grateful. Thank you.”

Penni smiled. “You're welcome. Now, turn around and bend over.”

Beryl stared at him incredulously. “Hey, I’m not that grateful!”

Penni sighed. “If you want me to put a dressing on those cuts on your thigh, then turn around and bend over. Otherwise, it’ll be a sore ride for you to Theed.”

“Theed? I can’t go to Theed! I have to…erm….” What she wanted to say was that she needed to find the Echo. But since she had already told him she hadn’t seen it….

“Have to what?” He shook his head. “Nevermind. I don’t think I want to know. Now are you bending over or what?”

Reluctantly, Beryl complied, although she kept a close eye on what he was doing.

“These scratches are really wide,” he said, as he gently lifted the few shreds of fabric and sprayed them with the healing bacta. “Big cat. You were real lucky I found you when I did, Beryl.” He paused and gave her a curious but suspicious look, before applying the dressing. “Jedi are real lucky. You’re not a Jedi, are you?”

“You been chewing lena weed or something?” she countered. “Do I look like a Jedi?”

“Suppose not.” He got out a large bandage from his kit, then shut it. “Lift up your good arm.” He began to wrap the bandage around her torso to keep her injured arm close to her body. “You know, it was rumoured that a Jedi was on that cargo ship,” he pressed her.

“You mean the ship I haven’t seen?” She frowned at him. “You believe everything they tell you?”

“No. Not everything.” He secured the bandage. “There. That will keep your arm still, and you a bit more decent.” He looked at her shredded pants. “Although, we’ll still need to get you some clothes when we get to Theed. They do have decency laws, you know.”

He put his helmet back on, and stood there, waiting. “So do you want a leg up, or can you manage getting on the bike on your own?”

Beryl hesitated, and looked towards the woods from where they had come from. She didn’t want to go to Theed, especially with a Stormtrooper, no matter how ‘friendly’ he appeared. “I’m fine really,” she said, backing away from him.

“Get on.” His voice sounded more commanding, but whether that was because he was wearing his helmet or not, Beryl couldn’t tell. Still, she didn’t sense that he truly meant her any harm.

“Look, Beryl, I really don’t want to have to stun you,” he said, taking out his blaster. “Now, get on.” He waved it at her.

On second thought...

"Alright, alright. I'm getting on."

Penni climbed up behind her, and in a moment, they were speeding off to Theed.


Veni, Vidi, Velcro. (I came, I saw, I stuck around)
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