Dealt a Bad Hand - (Established Universe RP)

Joeyray's Bar
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The Dead Man’s Bilge. The name would have been terrible had the establishment not once been a battlecruiser, leviathan grade. The ports that made it so easily boarded by enemies, and perhaps the cause to it becoming the wreck that it now was, made it exceptionally easy for patrons to board the battleship. Work had certainly been done on the interior, though if that was to increase its appeal, or decrease ease of access no one could say for sure. The lighting was sparse, though the fact that most mercenaries had optic implants in at least one of their eyes was clearly taken into account… Of that, Krane was certain. For those who hadn’t been upgraded, they were left to find their way by use of what little light there was, and by use of their shins on whatever stood in their way. Cargo, ‘furniture,’ loot waiting to be divided, with each and every collision, Krane’s confidence in the establishment was bruised. Confidence being what he called his shins. He personally liked the idea. Wrecked ship into a place where others could drown their sorrows. Which made all the more sense to choose the place to celebrate. That, and he had no idea where anything was on this God forsaken planet…

He knew of the Bilge simply because one of its other rooms had served the purpose of a gambling area. The game of cards had gone nigh flawlessly. He was more than a few hundred credits richer, and had left with his life. Now it was time to spend his hard earned winnings on a ride off this rock… But not before getting blitzed, and perhaps a bit lucky in another way. Picky though he was not, and because of that he went deeper into the belly of the ship. While unlike nautical crafts, this bilge had likely seen little leakage, it did bear the weight of the adopted cantina that had grew to a decent size within its bowels. Krane took a seat and ordered what he thought was cleverly named Bilge Water. It was only after tasting the drink that he found it to not only be clever, but an honest name… A drink was a drink though, and after wetting his lips with his tongue, he knocked back another large sip.

Krane was well into his third glass of the horrible brew when the other participants in his card game showed up. Had he noticed them, he would certainly have found them in a less celebratory mood. The BOSUN rifle was slung over a shoulder, and with such a long barrel it was excellent for the oncoming fight. He’d be able to swing it around with that much more reach. “Looks like a Ghost’s weapon if I ever saw one.” One of the ruffians said aloud, Krane, seemed oblivious to the mention , likely based on how inaccurate it was. It wasn’t until he was surrounded that he seemed to give it a bit more mind.
“Oh… Hello gentlemen. Ladies? Maybe. No. A sniper’s weapon, certainly, but not just a Ghost’s, that’d be silly, it doesn’t even have the requirements to call down a.. Never mind.”
“Thought you were real smart winning the card game, huh? Cheatin’ the entire time.”
“Well, that’s far from the reason I think I’m smart bu-“ He never got to finish his sentence as one of the men closed a fist into his mess of hair, and provided a brutal meeting with the counter in front of him, and his face. The crash drew no more attention than the crowd as they jerked Krane’s head back, forcing him to look at the ceiling, and their less than gorgeous faces. His own was starting to belong in the current crowd with the bloody, and possibly broken nose. It had fortunately taken most of the blow. A sniffle from Krane before he offered his solid defense in regards to the accusations. “I didn’t cheat. At this particular card game.” His tongue once more wetted his lips as they pulled him to his feet, and took turns planting their fists into his stomach, and face. The final three were planted consecutively in his gut, forcing him to his knees, and bringing back up the three drinks he had prior. Luck was certainly with him tonight/today though, for falling to his knees had been the best choice. It provided a much easier means for the gentlemen he had ‘wronged’ to plant their boots into him. He had ceased trying to make any attempt at words, and instead had adopted the fetal position. So far. So good.

((And that is the opener. Your character starts in the tavern. A variety of reasons to be there. For all I care they can be one of the ones beating Krane into a pulp. They could have watched the whole engagement with a drink in hand. Krane was here to get drunk, and find someone to get him off this rock. Why are you here? What are you doing? Good luck and have fun! ))
Excellent writing.

Anyways, I will join.

I watch as the group beats the guy up. Poor guy.

But then again, not much I can do. I am a watcher, not an interferer.
I shake my head and approach the group, grabbing one of the men and spinning him around, planting my armored fist in his face and knocking him out cold. "You boys got about thirty seconds to stop, then I'll show you why I'm called Slasher." I'd watched three other beatings today, and, despite the fact that the guy had cheated on the final hand, he didn't deserve this. In fact, he only wanted off the planet. Couldn't say I blamed him. Being here was bad for a rep, no matter what.
Izylbeth had been chewing on her fingernails nervously as she paced back and forth in her corner of the room. When the stranger entered the room she barely noticed, far more pressing matters were making her head spin. By the time he had sat and taken his drink she had slumped onto the floor, her head tilted down in despair. Her face was hidden by her shaggy bangs, though when the slam of Krane's face meeting the counter reached her she cringed, jumping to her feet. She had heard the sound of bones being broken too much, she couldn't help what came next.
She sprang from her corner, faster than she expected since she lacked her bulky armor.
"Stop it! Let him go!" She shrieked as loud and high pitched as she could as she ran for them. When she was near the group she turned her shoulder to take the impact as she hurtled herself at the closest offender.
To say that Krane was lying in a pool of his own blood would be an exaggeration. It was more like a very small puddle. Not enough to cause a splash, and certainly disappointing to anyone within the area of jumping. No, Krane was most definitely not bleeding out of every orifice, instead, he was just leaking from his nose, and perhaps his lips at this point, but by the Xel’Naga was his nose just leaking. After the men, obviously gentlemen by the delicate way they were planting their boots in his sternum, and anything else that wasn’t covered by hands, or body from the cradling position he had taken.

“Didn’t.” He argued with his would be savior, raising his voice to be heard over the ruckus. When the ‘Slasher’ knocked one of the men out cold with a single well placed punch, it gave pause to the abuse, and the realization that the puddle wasn’t just of blood, but bile from those three drinks. So now bloody, and covered with vomit, he tried to take the time to pick himself up to the point of being on hands and knees.

“I’d suggest just sitting back down boyo, or didn’t you ever learn to count?” The lead ruffian asked Jake, the high pitched screech and scream of the Terran-made-bullet rocked the very same ruffian on his heels as she collided harmlessly against his chest. “I’d almost be willin’ to say you lot have three to your side… But with her, and him, that puts you down to about one and a half, and that’s being generous… Now. Go back to your drinks, unless you really want to pull a weapon out in this place.” The goon seemed almost amused by the idea. It seemed that violence with one’s bare hands was widely accepted, and most would turn a blind eye to. That or the fact when you had the numbers, you made the rules. “I’ll even turn a blind eye to what you did to Hank…” With that, he gave a strong shove of Izylbeth towards Jake.

“But if you want, we can ask our friend here if he really wants the help.”

The response was immediate. “Yes, define-Owww!” Once more a fist was entrenched in his jet black hair, with silver streaks hinting at an age he had yet to reach.

“What was that?.. We couldn’t hear you...”

“Help.” He said plainly, regardless of the fist that found its way to his stomach once again. The men had begun to spread out. In case Jake and the woman actually tried something more. There were five still standing. One laying near the would-be puddle. Krane still couldn’t help but to smile crookedly through split lips, and a broken nose. A face that had started as more striking than handsome, and was certainly now a visage one wouldn’t soon forget.

“He’s a Ghost. Used his mind-reading ability to cheat at cards. Only way to explain him getting so ‘lucky.’ Just let us finish our business with him, and we’ll be on our way, you scan me?”

"Am not." He said quietly, now past the point of dry heaving. Nothing left in his stomach to come back up.
I shake my head, catching the girl. "You have about thirty seconds to pick up your friend and leave. Knocking your friend out was the nicest thing I could, but you continue, you'll be crawling out of here." They couldn't see the hilts to the swords, which was fine with me. It wouldn't be the first time I've hamstrung a group of drunk sore losers who deserved it. No wonder I got the messier jobs.
Beth jerked when Slasher caught her, and when he spoke his threat she tried to elbow his diaphragm hard, though it likely would do as little damage as her previous attempt to knock the other man down.
"Nobody has to hurt anyone, just stop it!" She shouted at the group.
"I'll take care of your man who's down, he's probably concussed. Could be bleeding internally." She pleaded with the ringleader. "But you have to let the other one go. Nobody needs to be hurt." She stared at him, her eyes big and watery as if she might cry. There was an obvious overwhelming childish wish to fix everything for everyone. This was only strengthened by her rag-a-muffin appearance caused by her baggy clothes.
The group hears a familiar chink-CHINK noise: the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being armed. I aim it at them from behind the bar. "Alright now, people. Settle down there. Back in yer seat, sword-boy. Don't think I don't see 'em." I turn to the thugs. "Idiots. If he was a Ghost ya think you'd still be alive? Get outta here! And Trae, get over here."

I get up reluctantly. I prefer not to be seen. It makes seeing difficult.
That's...a bit presumptuous there KO.
'Twas, 'twas.
Bump of reminder.
(( Sorry about the delay, and the shortness of this post. ))

The man had a point. A pointed shotgun right at the entire group. Not the most humane way to deal with the situation at hand, but certainly one of the most effective. The lead buffoon raised his hands slowly, and smiled at the barkeep. “No harm done. Especially not to your !@#$hole. Just a little mess is all. Le’s not get too excited here, huh?” It would be very bad manners for the goons to take out weapons to use on the barkeep, though it would likely make drinks a helluva lot cheaper. All at once, the situation had been resolved for the time being… “We’ll just have to catch him later.”

Krane was using a stool to try and support himself as he stood upon shaky legs. Having looked much better in the past and possibly worse too, he was at the very least upright again. Though, he stars were still in his field of vision as his head pounded in more than a few places. His nose especially, throbbing, but no longer leaking as it had been. “This better not cost extra.” He told the barkeep, looking past him, instead of at him. His attention turned towards Jake, and Izylbeth. “Buy ya’a drink, huh? Or you could buy me one. Either way… I need one.”
I shake my head and slide him the one I'd not touched all day. "Haven't had it all day. it's yours."
"You have a rag while I'm at it?" He asked, looking around for a napkin, or towel, or loose shirt. Izylbeth's loose clothing was appealing. He made quick work of the drink, without asking what it was, possibly soon to regret it.
I toss him a torn piece of shirt from the unconscious man. "How's that?"
"It'll do beautifully, name's Krane." He said with that crooked smile. Dipping it into someone else's glass and snatching an ice cube. Then he began to work at cleaning his face up.
Izylbeth approached the group, sighing. "You shouldn't provoke them." She said quietly, "Your nose is probably broken, and you might have internal bleeding. Neither of which will be fixed with that." She gestured at the rag.
"Slasher." I return to watching the crowd. Never could understand why I kept coming back. Just a planet full of cutthroats and pirates.
"But I'll look prettier, and in the end, that's all that really matters." He told Izylbeth. "Pleasure is all mine, Slasher."
"How'd you get stuck here?" I ordered another drink, and let it sit, watching the crowd and my visor down.

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