Starwars - Saturday, February 05, 2000, 1:03 PM ----------------------------------------------- The o-1 quirks a brow at the the wookie, "Yeah... Hi to you as well, man" he looks around once more, not wanting to say anything else or do anything else regarding the Wookie. Probably too asleep to be intimdated by the furry being. He yawns, as his eyes searches the room once more, he nods to Bazil as his eyes impedes upon him. Ship Services -- NRSC Deliverance Here, in what can roughly be considered the center of the ship, a long deck greets your eyes. This is the Deliverance's Ship Services deck, where the crewmembers live their daily lives. Along either side of the deck, signs denote the various billeting and mess areas, as well as a few recreational areas. Additionally, a wide ramp drops down from here, with a sign above it denoting the presence of medical services. Several counters can be found towards the aft end of the deck, where small purchase shops are available. A ramp opposite the medical leads up towards some more mess facilities. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => NR ID Updater -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Altair => Geroam => Wes => NR Pay Machine => IGNews Terminal (NR) - Deliverance -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- p leads to Officer Mess -- NRSC Deliverance. own leads to MedSuite -- NRSC Deliverance. orward leads to VIP/Guest Quarters -- NRSC Deliverance. tarboard leads to Senior Officer's Quarters -- NRSC Deliverance.

ort leads to Junior Officer's Quarters -- NRSC Deliverance. ft leads to Interdeck Lift -- NRSC Deliverance. Bazil(#9199POUACF) This man's overall appearance is that of a typical, yet boring one. His complexion is tan and slightly worn, signs of wear drifting from place to place. His height is, once again, average; assumed around five foot nine or ten. His yellow-brown eyes blend in with his brows and the mop of frazzled short hair atop his head. His face is clean shaven, with little sign of any hair growing thusly. His very age could be no more than thiry-five, and no less than twenty. His current clothing consists of the same, dark gray flightsuit deemed the standard for his squadron, of which is indicated by a blue-grey circular patch, upon which are 13 white stars. Those stars circumscribe a gold Republic insignia and a white brooding wraith. Below, the words "Ghost Squadron," are inscribed, along with a smaller, rectangular patch below the circular. Upon that patch, are the words, "To the very end." Another small patch is sewn on his right breast, upon which is scribed, "Bazil McKenzie, Lieutenant." Three silver bars rests below that. His boots, the standard issue of all New Republic form, mesh nicely with the flightsuit, the buffed black leather shining under any light. A small bump might be noticed, a little ways up, near his knee, below the flightsuit. Upon Bazil's left hip is a matte black holster, large, the handle of a carbine-blaster poking out. A metal clasp holds it closed, and in place, so that it doesn't fall out, and discharge, during a tricky maneuver. Links of a gold chain drape around his neck, and into the upper areas of his shirt, clashing with the plain uniform. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => 4956 Galactic Standard Credits => NR ID Card => Galactic Bank Card => C411 Hold-Out Blaster => Light Armor => DD6 Blaster Pistol With a soft whine of approach the lift comes to a soft halt, the doors opening with a brisk waft of air pushing out, as the independent lift support of both the lift and the room match. Two figures step out of the lift, both trussed loosely in flight Jumpsuits; each bearing the emblem of Ghost Squadron. Bazil wanders with his companion, the two speaking amongst themselves softly. Geroam grunts, and makes a hold on gesture to Altair. He then stands from the couch, and starts after the Ensign, saying in a loud roar, and says, "Halt. You do not call a senior officer man, /Ensign/.", in Wookiee. His eyes move up, up and up till he finally spots the wookies head, seeing him growl and carry on. He awaits him to finish, as he does so. He speaks, "Yeah... I like you too" The pair of pilots both cock their head to the side at the same instant, following the loud grunts of the Wookiee. Bazil winces softly, observing with a cool demeanor. He slowly turns towards his companion and says, "Go ahead and head back to your quarters, Jenkins. We'll be heading out again in an hour." Jenkins turns, nodding towards the other, and heads towards the junior officer area. A soft chuckle at the response, and he slowly walks forward towards the two. Altair pops up from her spot on the floor, having very little idea what the wookiee is roaring but feeling that it sounds rather threatening. And loud. She trails behind Geroam, curious to see what he's going to do to the rather sleepy..or drunk..fellow. In all the excitement, she hardly notices Bazil and Jenkins walk out of the turbolift. The lift doors slide open with a soft hiss. From within the lift comes a tall man, a native of the planet below. John glances around and continues forward in a very proud manner. His face is relaxed as he passes the many beings wearing military uniforms, he seems at ease. Donivan's cold blue gaze is one carrying authority. He looks at the individuals in the hallway as if they belong to him, but don't know it quite yet. Geroam looks very, very mad. Not generally safe for anyone around. He grabs at the back of Wes's collar roughly, obviously attempting to control himself at this blantant defiance and disrespect, and says, "To the brig.", in Wookiee. With a soft frown, Bazil finally reaches the situation, although too late, as the young fellow is taken up quite abruptly. Looking quite confused, he eventually turns his head back towards Altair, and says, "Afternoon, Commander." He looks back towards the situation. His eyes catch sight of Donivan, and hold there for several seconds, before he begins purposefully doing the same to various others that may not fit in in the area. Geroam hefts the Ensign almost off the ground, obviously resisting the urge to deck the drunk/sleepy human. He grunts as the man resists, and holds him a bit further away, heading for the lift.