Ray had a long, late shift of guard duty today. He comes down the stairs in his Cthulhu slippers, makes for the bar, and comes away with something in the cheeseburger family.

Bar must be feeling sorry for him if she's letting him eat like that. She even gave him the green stuff to drink again.

Dooku is walking along a hall in the Jedi Temple, carrying a holocron with information on Form II lightsaber combat and lightsaber construction. He turns to enter his private office and steps into...

"Where the devil am I, and where is my room?"

Ray had the use of his room back last night, so he got to sleep. It wasn't really the best sleep in the world, as he's got a lot on his mind and he's not willing to use the Dream-lord's gift just yet, but at least it was sleep.

He's in the Bar now, with breakfast (oatmeal with apple chunks in) and a big, big copy of Tobin's Spirit Guide, bound in ( Read more... )

What Ray was doing this morning and afternoon is probably best left unasked, but tonight he's out by the lake on an even patch of ground. He's got the training drone, he's got the lightsabre... and he's wearing his proton pack over his civilian clothes.

This should be entertaining.

A little after this...The front door flies open. There is an impression of blinding light on the other side. It flickers for a moment as a man comes tumbling out of it in not a whole lot more than undershirt, undershorts, and sunglasses. And we do mean 'tumbling', because he lands on one shoulder and rolls ass-over-teakettle a few times before ( Read more... )

Ray slips in through the front door, glancing about this way and that before heading to the bar and then to one of the quieter booths towards the back. He's no good at surreptition, the poor bastard.

Ray makes his way in through the front door, earphones around his neck and messenger bag slung across his back. He settles down at the Bar and orders his usual.

Ray ducks in through the front door, hair wet and all over smelling vaguely of peppermint. It's been a busy day.

*Having talked to both Peter Pevensie and Lilly today, Meg has come up with a Plan. A Genius Plan.

- well, she thinks it is a Genius Plan, anyways ( Read more... )

A new sign goes up on the board:

Fighters needed.

Got weapons or powers and know how to use them? Want to go to another planet and help a couple of exiles take back what's theirs?

Sign up here or contact Michael Guerin or Max Evans.

That done, Michael sits somewhere nearby with tabasco-laced coffee and keeps an eye out to see who signs up.