It's up! Lets get it on!

Newspaper

Today, the town starts off! Many diverse people are arriving from Grand Moff's to TV Show Hosts!

The Mayor of 33 Star Wars Lane looked out over the town. He watched transports touch down at landing area's and people disembark. Four of these people, two Droids and two Neimoidians, immediately made their way to the central boulevard.

The Neimoidian known as Grawi Catro stepped up to a moderately sized house. It was definately large enough for two Droids and two organics. A small sign next to the house gave details: This nice house is for 2500 credits! Quite a bargain! Grawi walked up to the sign, and yanked it out of the ground. "OOM-7, take the 2500 credits to the local realstate office."

"Yes, sir." Replied the Droid. As he marched off, Grawi turned to Gunnu and TC-13. "Settle in, brother. I'm going to purchase some furniture."

OOM-7 grabbed the knob on the door, turned it and stepped through. There was a small reception area inside, and further on, a counter and a door. OOM-7 nodded to the organic at the counter. "I have 2500 credits for the purchase of Residential Unit 1138."

"Fill out these forms, please."

[This message has been edited by Sir Billy (edited 09-01-2006 @ 01:04 PM).]

Er... do we need a colour?

-------------------------------------------------------

Ex-Moff Crasset (Q.C.) looked contemptuously around the elegant, modest-yet-imposing house. "How much did you say for this particular property?" he asked at length.
"5000 credits, sir." the Estate agent answered eagerly. Crasset strode over to the windows.

"These windows are-"
"Superb examples of master craftsmanship."
"I was going to say in breach of the 1987 Building Safety act." Crasset said nastily. The estate agent gulped.
"Well, I suppose I can detract one hundred."
"The fine for breach of that act is five hundred." Crasset said sharply. The Estate Agent smiled nervously.
"4500 then."

Crasset strode over to the wall and pointed at a crack. "My father was an architect. A crack like that could endanger the entire building. That too, is in breach of the aforementioned act. I believe the fine is one thousand."
"Alright then. 3500."

Crasset smiled. "Now, I'm sure you have a promising career ahead of you, young man. I would be delighted to buy this property if my conscience didn't dictate otherwise."
"Eh?"
"Your speeder. I arrived five minutes before you. I saw you mow down that poor endangered Surinamese Homing Curlew."
"Eh? What-"
"Dangerous driving, young man. Another 1000 credit fine."
"Alright! I'll drop it to 2500. Just don't tell the authorities for God's sake!" The Estate agent was white with terror. "Do you enjoy making people's lives a misery?" he wailed.

Crasset allowed a small somewhat nasty sneer to appear on his face. "My dear fellow. I'm a solicitor. It's my job."

And with that his associates, Swidley and Swidley proceeded to enter. Or rather, one of them did. Swidley (the First) was a peculiar looking 67-year old Geonosian attired in a wig and gown, with a small pair of pince-nez spectacles hanging from a cord around his neck.

"Ah, Crasset. Good work on the house. The furniture?"
"None yet, my learned friend. But I do believe we can fiddle somebody's will for that."
"Yes, that will do. Heh heh. Will do. Geddit?"

At this typical example of legal lack of humour the two solicitors proceeded to roll around in uncontrollable laughter.

Swidley, Swidley and Crasset were here to make people's lives a misery...

[This message has been edited by Archbishop Green (edited 09-01-2006 @ 01:26 PM).]

Nope, you don't.

EDIT: Post in Return of the Forge, Archbishop.

[This message has been edited by Sir Billy (edited 09-01-2006 @ 01:30 PM).]

Eh. I'll use one anyway. It'll make it easier for me to find my posts.

As Grand Moff Thatcher's shuttle landed in Star Wars Lane and proceeded to crush several small children, nuns, elderly people and Labour MP's, Admiral Hurd and General Tebbit coughed nervously. At length the feared Tory descended the ramp of the shuttle.

"Ah! Hurd, Tebbit, my insidious lackies," Thatcher said quietly. "What news have you on the Labour Party's activities here?"
"Madam, we are delighted to report all their representatives here have been crushed." Hurd said anxiously.
"Literally." added Tebbit quickly.
"Already?"
"Sooner than you would have expected madam." Hurd said with a sigh of relief. Thatcher smiled.

"Very well, Admiral. Well. No Labour, eh? Well, we should attempt to establish Party Headquarters as soon as possible. Tebbit!"
"Yes ma'am?"
"You were tasked with finding a suitable structure. What are your findings."
"Well, we found several nice properties in the area around the 2500 credit mark."
"Credit? What the deuce is a credit?" Thatcher snapped.
"The local currency ma'am." Hurd explained. "Like a pound."
"Ah."

The Imperial Conservatives strolled quietly down the street towards the first of the properties Tebbit had found, only to find a protocol droid stood outside.
"I'm sorry, but this property has been purchased."
"Who by?" Thatcher demanded.
"It is now the property of the Techno Union leader Mr. Arthur Scargill."
"Harrumph. Hurd! Take that name down. We'll deal with this "Techno Union" later on."
"Yes ma'am."

The second property, they discovered, had not been purchased. It was a small, white house with a bright-red tiled roof, a white picket fence and a neat little garden filled with pansies.

"Tebbit. Does this look like it could serve as Party Headquarters?" Thatcher said, unimpressed.
"I'm sorry ma'am. I was just captivated by the hanging basket of geraniums."
"Hah!"

The third property was a dark, gloomy looking stone building with mock-battlements around the roof. "Now this, Tebbit, is more like it. Well done. I have to say, the price is surprisingly low."

Tebbit coughed. "Erm... the estate agent said that every previous owner has either been driven mad or brutally hacked to pieces within a month buying the place." he said sheepishly.
"Pah! Tripe!" Thatcher stormed into the house followed by her lackies. "Very nice indeed, Tebbit. Hurd! Get down to the estate agents and finalise the deal."

The two underlings looked uncertainly at one another, then Hurd did as he was told.

Soon Star Wars Lane would know the true power of the Poll Tax...

Okeydoo.

[This message has been edited by Archbishop Green (edited 09-01-2006 @ 01:43 PM).]

Brian woke up. He realized he was on a street corner and that his entire adventure on 33 Star Wars Lane was a dream.

"Cool"

He walked over to a house and saw someone inside.
"S'cuse me!" he called.
"Ye-OH MY GOD I"M GETTING MUGGED!!1!1!!"
"Um...yeah. Here's 4,000 credits, can I have your house?"
"S-Sure, just please don't hurt me!"

The owner got out surprisingly fast, leaving all of the furniture and his car keys. Brian had forgot to put down his lead pipe. The house was rather bland, but how great could a free house be? It had one bedroom, one bathroom, and a kitchen/Dining room/living room.

"Wow! This is better than those boxes I taped together!"

Brian got settled in to his house and then sat down to watch TV. Suddenly, a knock was heard on the door...

Farther down 33 Star Wars lane at a house with 2717 written on the door jam, another set of neighbors were preparing to move in. A large orange and white Cargo truck with the word "U-Hover" written on its side approached. It parked in front of the house and a women stepped out of the passengers door. She wore a hunter green flight jacket and a pair tight fitting black leather pants. She also had a vast array of weapons strapped to various places on her body and a small pistol in her right hand. She walked up to the front door and signaled to the driver to back into the drive way. The massive truck started to beep and move in reverse accidentally taking out the mailbox, a loud profanity was shouted from the cabin then the truck continued on its way. From the drivers side came a tall man scared all over and armed with enough guns and explosives to almost make the woman seem normal.

"Come help me over here!" He yelled to his wife, she opened the door and walked over to the back of the truck. Up slid the truck door revealing two suitcases and even more weaponry. "What do you want me to do with the SSM's?

"Throw them in the garage next to the Napalm, and this time set up the rift generator. Last thing we need is to replace another garage." She said, then grabbed the suitcases and headed into the house. He picked up one of the three large missiles with ease and put it on one of the ready made weapons rack. And continued to haul stuff in until the truck was empty

"All done, time to go drop the truck off." Erik sighed with relief, then made his to the drivers side door. "Hey Mia! I'm picking something up to eat while I'm gone. Want anything?"

From a second story window she shouted, "Surprise me, I'm to tired to care" He nodded is head and climbed into truck, then drove off over the horizon...

[This message has been edited by Cadre (edited 09-01-2006 @ 07:59 PM).]

The Mayor of 33 Star Wars Lane was appalled by what he saw. A Lambda Shuttle crushing many good citizens. Enraged, the Mayor called the police, and made his way to find the owner of the shuttle.

After a brisk walk to the Landing Pads, The Mayor discovered that the shuttle belonged to one 'Grand Moff' Thatcher. The officers had already arrested the pilot. With the officers in tow, the Mayor proceeded to the house of this Thatcher. Moff or no Moff, the Mayor thought, she would abide by the law. As soon as they reached the house, he knocked on the door, and barged in before someone could answer...

As he left the Furniture Emporium, Grawi was satisfied with his purchases. He had enough to furnish his house, without making it too crowded. The only thing that bothered him was the mere 1000 credits in his pocket. What do these people need? "Hmm..." Grawi said out loud. He would figure it out soon enough.

OOM-7, with the deeds to the house in hand, stepped through the doorway. He flattened himself against the wall as two men carried a sofa into the living room. As soon as he was in the center of the hallway, Grawi burst through the door, and ran into the Droid. "I'm sorry, OOM-7, I was deep in tho- Wait a minute! I have it!"

"What, Master?" Asked OOM-7.

"Our store..."

[This message has been edited by Sir Billy (edited 09-01-2006 @ 03:57 PM).]

Grand Moff Thatcher turned around to see a very angry Mayor standing glowering at her. The Tory Moff smiled pleasantly. "Yes, Mr. Mayor? How can I help?"
"I am arresting you for the murder of 22 innocent civilians."
The Grand Moff's tone changed. "Oh really?"
"Yes, really."
"And when is this alledged incident supposed to have taken place?"
"Today. Just as you arrived."
"I was not aware."

Hurd coughed. "We did mention-". Tebbit elbowed him.

"Now look here, you pro-Europe One Nation Conservative," Tebbit said angrily, "You are on British Sovereign Territory, and-"
"No Tebbit. Let me here the man out." Thatcher said quietly. Just then there was a sheepish cough.
"Yes?" snapped Hurd.

"Er... Archibald Crasset, Solicitor." Crasset said sheepishly. The former Moff had invented the first name name for business purposes on Swidley's advice.
"Moff Crasset?"
"Formerly, yes. Now I am a top-notch solicitor with a speciality in commissioning wills, contracts and oaths. I also happen to be very brisk in the courtroom. Anyway, I am advertising the services of Messers Swidley, Swidley and Crasset (of whom I am the latter) to the neighbourhood."

The people assembled gawped at the little solicitor in amazement. Crasset coughed. "Erm... did I come at a bad time?" he said meekly...

"It depends on your interpretation of 'bad'." Said the Mayor. "This woman is to be arrested for the murder of 22 innocent civilans. Her shuttle crushed them all when she was arriving here." The Mayor glared angrily at her.

"Now, this is my Neighborhood, and you will abide by my laws. Come with us freely, or we will take you by force." With that statement, the Police became alert.

Lazer flew down the street, weaving in and out of speeders. It would be another boring day of work. An empty speeder floated by. He thought it would be a lovely time to test out his new guns. He flew by, weapons blazing. It exploded. Brilant! They don't seem to be jaming. He thought. He dodged anther speeder to find anther one howling at him. He had 61 options. He decided to take the funnest one- through the office building next to him. He roled inbetween the suporrt beams and fired one burst, shatering the windows. He quickly burst out of the other side. The building reminded him of the custom home he had bought for a mere 3000 credits, with some armed bribery of course. He liked it. Then he saw his work place. In bright red letters was OBI'S BURGERS. He flew in, extended his thick metal arm, fliped his hat onto his head, and got to work. He was the fry cook/delivery man/security guard/entertainment/manager. For it all, they paid him greatly. A whole 2000 credits a day. Then, every once in a while, he got a bounty job. He then turned around, hovered over a table, and asked in a chirpy voice,
"May I take your order?"

"Erik, shouldn't you be returning that truck?" Mia asked.
"I did."
"Shouldn't it be night?"
"No."
"But the last post said you drove off into the sunset."
"It was changed."
"When?"
"Before this was posted."
"Ah."
"Squirrel!" Erik yelled as he pulled out his rail gun and vaporized a small furry creature foolish enough to wander into the open.
"Do you have to shoot everything?"
"No, just the stuff that's steps on our lawn."
"Why is this post so different from the last one?"
"Cause Cadre felt like doing something different."
"How do you know our authors name?"
"It's right up there next to our profiles"
"Wh..." Mia said, but was abruptly interrupted.
"How many questions are you going to ask?"
"As many as see fit."
"Foot!" Erik yelled as he shot the Maildroid in the leg.
"Not again." The Maildroid said as he hopped off.
"I'm gonna go sunbathe topless." Mia sighed.
"Bird!"
"Have fun." Mia rolled her eyes then walked away...

I hope writing like this can keep me active longer than the other RPGS I've joined...

I wanna Join, Do I just edit the post to put my name andf stats uup there?

Walking into the mayor's office with a datapad in my hand. Shayera and the twins were still back on Coruscant, pending whether or not this paid off.

I was wearing my Class-A dress uniform, a white jacket and trousers with red trim for Intelligence, and decked out with numerous medals, insignia, badges, and other marks of decoration and rank. Bullion epaulets hung off my shoulders, while the rank plaque of six blue, one red, and five golden rectangles was polished to an almost mirror finish. Beneath that were five gold pins, each signifying half a decade in the Empire's service. Under that were the cyan-striped, turquoise letter of commendation ribbons, and finally my medals. Beneath those, an Imperial Silver Star was attached.

I noticed the secretary for the mayor, and walked up to her desk.

"May I help you?" she asked politely.

"Yes, actually," I answered, equally cordial. "Is the mayor in?"

Just as Ams asked this question, Darth Fett flew through the nearby window. He crashed through, slamming into a table, which shattered into millions of pieces.

Fett stood up calmly and perfectly normally, as if he had just strolled in through the door. He looked at Hawkgirl, flying outside, who had just thrown him through the window, and blew a kiss, then turned towards the secretary and Ams.

"Secretary?" Asked Fett. The secretary nodded in agreement.

"Excellent, I need to see the mayor."

"Why?" Asked the secretary nervously.

"Not really sure. I heard Ams was here, decided to follow him around and play things by ear."

Someone hire my char or do something with him!!!!

Crasset gave a little laugh of the awkward variety. "Hehehehe. Well, sir, I'm afraid this all depends on exactly how innocent those unfortunate individuals were."
"What?" the Mayor asked in disbelief.
"Well, have you got any actual proof that those people weren't up to no good?"
"What the hell are you talking about man?" the Mayor demanded in an agitated way. Crasset smiled in his oily solicitor's way.

"Well, can you prove for example, that they weren't loitering with intent?"
"Intent to do what? Get crushed?"
"To commit a crime, Mr. Mayor."
"What!?!?!"
"Well, possibly they were considering breaking into a nearby house... mugging a nearby personage... or perhaps they were, at that moment harrassing somebody."
"That doesn't make it any better!"
"Ah, but supposing this lady intended to make a citizen's arrest."

The Mayor nearly choked with disbelief. "What? How does crushing them to death constitute a citizens arrest!?!?"
"Well," Crasset said, producing a pair of spectacles and a pocket law book, "I do not see anything in here stating that during a citizen's arrest a person must refrain from crushing them to death. It says here "reasonable force." Supposing they were armed?"
"Armed?" the Mayor said, twitching.
"Yes. Possibly with the intent to go on a rampage slaughtering thousands. This lady may have seen no other way to prevent it."
"All of them? All twenty-plus of them were planning to go on a killing spree?" the Mayor said with a touch of irritation.

Crasset smiled. "Well, in my years as a barrister I have been prepared for every eventuality in court, however unusual. Did I mention the trial of Alfred Midgeton, the infamous Coruscant Axe murderer? He was witnessed in his final act by fifteen thousand people. When he was caught the man quite loudly exclaimed he'd done it. But it all transpired it was quite an innocent affair. The man attempted a citizen's arrest of another fellow for littering. Likewise, the law in that case did not specify the force to be used in such an arrest."

Crasset removed the spectacles, placed the book in the pocket of his gown and adjusted his wig. "Well, Mr. Mayor. Of course, it's not for me to say, after all, you do occupy a station of high office. But are you really going to ride roughshod over the possibility of this person's complete innocence? I can imagine it would be quite a slur on your reputation. People would ask questions, and, notwithstanding such-and-such..."

Those assembled looked at one another in helpless befuddlement as Crasset proceeded to quote three completeley obsolete, obscure yet oddly relevant laws...

THREE HOURS LATER...

"...now another interesting law is the "Curlew Protection Act" of 1274, in which Curlews are hereby granted the same rights in elections as the average voter, so, (and here is the hilarious part) technically you could be replaced by a Curlew in a year's time, Mr. Mayor..."

A FURTHER THREE HOURS LATER...

"...and in which case the defendant has-"
"WILL YOU JUST PLEASE SHUT UP!?!" screamed the Mayor. "YOU ARE DRIVING US ALL TO THE VERGE OF INSANITY! PLEASE! PLEASE! BE QUIET!"

Crasset looked decidedly hurt. The Mayor looked uncertainly at Thatcher. "What did we come for?"
"To arrest me."
"Ah yes. Well, will you come peacefully or not?"
"Ah," Crasset began. "Well..."

All assembled began to weep as the solicitor began to state his original argument again...

Don't you all just love lawyers?

[This message has been edited by Archbishop Green (edited 09-02-2006 @ 04:48 AM).]

Jon inhaled the clean, refined suburbian air. It smelled of freshly cut lawns and morning dew.

One particularly quaint looking house caught his eye. Though not befitting of the glorious and quasi-worshipped dictator he would in-doubtedly become, he did need cheap lodging. All it would take was a little time.

As he stepped on the grass, a small section on the corner, next to the driveway slid away, and a sign bearing an old real estate agent's face and something about their offices slid up, a small patch of simulated grass taking the place of the section that slid away. The fake grass was 17 shades healthier than the real grass.

A small tube filled with rolled-up papers lifted up and, with the help of a mechanical arm, extended itself just close enough to the street for someone in a vehicle to grab a leaflet.

Jon reached into the tube and grabbed one. He quickly opened it, holding it at the top and bottom to keep it from rolling open again.

"3500 CREDITS. OPEN HOUSE. VANDALS WILL BE EXECUTED."

Suddenly the papers all receded into the tube, and it sat there, empty. It was a bit funny how convenient it could be to buy a house these days.

He placed the stated amount into the hole, and it almost instantly sucked the lot of it down to some hidden facility far away. As if by command, the front door fell down and a window shattered. The grass died. The sign, instead of receding back into the earth, began to lean, then bent, and finally reached the end of it's chain and fell over, broken. The two pegs still remained jutting from the square patch of good, fake grass, probably encased in cement just below the surface.

"Home, sweet home."

[This message has been edited by Darth Margera (edited 09-02-2006 @ 04:32 PM).]

"All right, that's it! Moff Thatcher, you have two choices. A twentytwo thousand credit fee (one thousand for each civilan), or, you can go to jail." said the Mayor.

Newspaper

Just yesterday, Grand Moff Thatcher was confronted by the Mayor for the murder of twenty-two innocent civilans! Her Shuttle crushed them all. The pilot has been arrested and the Shuttle impounded, and a legal stand-off has insued.

Dear Dad,

I need you to send me a 'Confederate Business Starter Pack'. All the products of companies that pledged support to the CIS.

Thanks, Grawi and Gunnu

After sending the message, Grawi, TC-13 and Gunnu went looking for a building big enough to house their wares. OOM-7, however, had taken a job for a little extra cash...

"Greetings. I am the Monitor of installation 04. I am 343 Guilty Spark. Someone has released the Flood. My function is to prevent it from leaving this installation. But I require your assistance. Come. This way."

This was a disgrace. OOM-7 was casted as an insane AI for this 'Halo'. It paid well however, 500 credits a day. He hated doing this, but orders were orders.

Grawi looked at a large warehouse type building. It was perfect. Grawi purchased it for his last 500 credits, and they were making it look quite upstanding. A large sign on the front of the building read 'Trade Federation Emporium' Underneath it, in smaller letters read 'The Finest in Confederate Wares'. Business was sure to be good. Droids, componets, vehicles! All Grawi had to do was send an approval letter to the Mayor, put an add in the paper, and wait for the Landers that would bring the goods.

[This message has been edited by Sir Billy (edited 09-02-2006 @ 12:07 PM).]

Dlugbaca wandered down the street, 5000 credits in hand. He needed a house. A house exactly of his choosing. Up ahead he saw something. It was a treehouse. Or more precisely, a house in a tree. The sign iun front was battered, and had clearly been up for a long time. The original price of 2500 was just visible through the scribbles. It had been marked down, first to 2000, then to 1000, then finally to 500. HE ripped the sign from the fround and walked to the real estate office. The sign crashed down on an unsuspecting employee's desk. The agent jumped and looked up.
<I want to buy the house>
"Do you want to buy the house?"
Dlugbaca nodded vigorously.
"Excellent. It seems no one wants to live in trees anymore, excepting yourself of course. Just sign these forms."
An hour later, Dlugbaca walked out, the owner of a new home. He stopped by the furniture shop and bough some apprrropriate furnishing for another 500 credits, took the stuff home and settled in

Thatcher sighed. "I assume I will get a fair and proper trial?" she said with a touch of irritation, as the police led her away. As they led her to the local prison, Crasset turned to Hurd and Tebbit.

"Right, you two. I don't hold to having my professional legal opinion ignored. I am personally going to make life absolute hell for this Mayor of ours."
"And we want our leader back." said Tebbit. Crasset smiled.
And then, for no apparent reason, the three proceeded to sing a catchy trio about Capital Plots. When this was done, Crasset turned to his newfound co-conspirators.

"You two will await further instructions. Swidley will help you make the usual legal protestations. Meanwhile, I shall proceed to gather people to our cause."

The three then proceeded to act melodramatically, before Crasset left in a cloud of unexplained smoke to commence his search...

_{The link is where I got my previous sig.}

[This message has been edited by Archbishop Green (edited 09-02-2006 @ 01:35 PM).]

I knew it!

Jon reached in his pocket and pulled out his remaining money. 2500 credits. He'd need money to hire some goons. Unintelligent goons, if he could find any at all.

Naturally, he headed to the local Taco Hut. 3 organisms of indeterminable origin spoke in hushed tones behind the establishment, stopping altogether when someone came to close. When they realized Jon meant business, they seemed much more talkative.

All of them knew no introduction was needed.

"I've got a job. I'll pay half up front. Easy money. Any takers?"

"What's tha' job?"

"Graffiti. I doubt I'll be able to spread the message of the revolution legally. I'll pay a hundred now and another when it's done."

The trio huddled and mumbled at eachother, before finally finishing their conversation and turning back towards Jon.

"We'll do it."

"Good. Here's the general gist of what I need. Nothing too obvious either. And if you get caught, you've never met me before. Understood?" He said, handing one of the hoodlums the paper he had scribbled his notes upon.

"Meet back here in 3 days."

"Yeah."

Without another word, Jon left the three, who huddled again before going their own seperate ways.

The Batman:

It was another hard day at work today. The Joker had just escaped Arkham Assylum, I mean, really, can't they put some ****ing security up there! All I see is some 50 year old 300 pound He/She who's upsessed with Elton John!

Anyway, his plan was, well... kill people I guess.

So like always, I found him and blah blah blah, beat his ass, blah blah blah, foiled his plan, you get the idea.

As I arvive home to my Coruscant mansion, I am greeted by my droid, Alfred.

"Good day master, how was work?"

"Fine Jeeves."

"Alfred... sir"

"Sorry Jeeves."

I went down to my bat cave which was filled with freaking mynocks!

And then there I saw my recently new wife, Supergirl.

Damn she has a nice ass, not as nice as that Hawkgirl's, but still damn nice.

Anyway, I can't post what happens next since I'd get banned for writing porn.

[This message has been edited by The Batman (edited 09-03-2006 @ 07:55 AM).]

Sure you can, but as Cray said, no genitals.

James and Tiara cruised down the street, their black landspeeder purring as Tiara put her foot down. James, meanwhile, was looking with distaste at one of the neighbours and the dump he was standing in front of.

"So 'quaint' is Rattatakian for dumpy shithole then?" he remarked.
"Just wait until you see the house I spent your money on," she replied, flashing an irritatingly sexy grin at him.
"I've got thirty credits that say its a dump too."
"I've got fifty that say its nice."

After about five more minutes of driving, they pulled up in front of a house. James had to admit, it looked pretty good. Tiara turned to him with a superior grin on her face.

"They were Rebel credits anyway," replied James.
"Right. C'mon lets go inside."

Tiara grabbed his hand and led him to the front door. She took out a key and stuck it in the lock, trying in vain to make it turn. James took a step back and kicked it down, leaving her holding a key in front of an empty doorway.

"That works too."

Inside was a complete dump.

"Smells like some nerfcrap took a dump in here," James remarked.
"Thats okay," Tiara said, "lets open some windows."
"And share the nerfcrap crap with the world. Good idea," James agreed sarcastically.
"Shaddup and open a window."

James went over to one window and opened it, before getting a fan that was sitting in the entryroom and putting it in front of the room. He went back out to the speeder and got a chair and the esky out of the rear compartment. He returned to the front porch and plonked the chair and the esky down and returned to the speeder to get a second chair, which he placed on ther other side of the esky.

He sat down and got out an Alderaanian Ale for himself and opened it, sipping the sweet alcohol.

[This message has been edited by kypjargon (edited 09-03-2006 @ 08:06 AM).]

The Mayor watched as the police took Thatcher away. Then, he smelt something like smoke, and turned around. There, in front of him was a smoking speeder. He noticed potmarks in it. Projectiles? he thought to himself. "What did this?" asked the Mayor. A distraught man, obviously the owner, replied "A fighter." Then the Mayor noticed a building with shattered windows. "Where did it go?"

"Obi's Burgers." Replied the man. The Mayor couldn't believe this. He had work to do! First Thatcher killing 22 people, then that little Crasset and his legal jargon, and now a fighter destroying property. Well, sense no one was hurt, a fine and warning will do.

The Mayor made his way to the restaurant, thinking he should have taken a speeder. As he pushed open the door, he noticed a fighter behind the counter with a waiter's hat one. The Mayor approached the counter, wary about this... thing.

As Grawi watched three Landers hover into position beside his store, he pulled a datapad out of his robes.

Dear Mr. Mayor,

I want permission to open a store in your fine neighborhood. It will sell goods that were produced by the companies that pledged their support to the Confederacy of Independent Systems. It is called the Trade Federation Emporium. A list of goods will be sent to you very soon.

-Grawi Catro

As he set the data pad down, he watched several Cargo Droids move crates into the back of the store. He would soon be in business.

I continued to wait for the Mayor. After all, I wasn't about to leave sensitive blueprints in the hands of mere secretary.

He'd better get here soon, though...

"Erik, how much did this house cost us?" Mia asked her husband who was still on the front porch shooting things
"The sign says 3500 credits."
"Wait, the signs still up?"
"Either that or it's the weirdest looking kid I've ever seen"
"If the signs still up we didn't buy the house!"
"I thought you bought it?"
"You said you did!"
"How am I supposed to buy a house with no money?"
"Why don't you have any money?"
"Cause you won't let me carry any!"
"Why?"
"Cause I'm an impulsive buyer!"
"You are?"
"Remember when I came back with the Bird Bath that looked like Jean Simmons from Kiss?"
"Oh ya, what happened to that thing anyway?"
"I was coming home one night and thought it was Richard Simmons, so I shot it."
"How did you mistake Jean Simmons for Richard Simmons?"
"Their names sound alike."
"But they look nothing alike!"
"And?"
"...Never mind!" Mia muttered as she walked out the front door and put a small envelope in a box on the sign. It disappeared, and the name on the mailbox still on the ground changed to The De'nelya's.
"So the House is ours?"
"Now it is."
"That's good to hear."
"Erik, shouldn't you be at work?"
"Oh crap!" Erik yelled as he jumped from his chair and darted into the house. In a matter of minutes he showered, shaved, eaten, and was ready to head of to work. He jumped on his swoop bike and flew out the drive.
"To imagine that man is a teacher..." Mia mutterd before taking a sip of coffee...

Jon sat in his comfy chair, the only thing besides the futon he had brought. He had set it in the corner, next to the window, so he could read with natural light and be instantly aware of anyone arriving at his home.

The door presently fell over again. He had propped it up in the frame, but it refused to stay erect. The broken window was boarded up, but still let in a draft, even when the door managed to stand.

Luckily his 2500 credits had not only bought the house and property, but the previous owner had left a fridge and oven, and a washing machine. Unfortunately, Jon still needed some food. At the thought of it, his stomach growled.

He got into his Sedan and pulled out of the driveway, accidentally bumping a neighbor's fender. It couldn't have been more than scratched.

After picking up some groceries from the local iMart, Jon stopped for some Roasted Platypus at the 'Platypus Place'. It tasted fine, but smelled like Big Foot's nether regions.

After that he retired back to his residence and ascended the short stairs up to his front door. It fell into the house before he reached it.

Jon made a beeline for the kitchen and set the plastic bags of food on the counter. He opened the fridge and was surpised to find it empty and of little odour. He put the refrigerated things in and grabbed the handle of the freezer. He tugged, but it seemed jammed.

He pulled again, just to be sure, and heard an enourmous cracking noise from inside. A midget in a space suit fell out of the open freezer and looked around, bewildered, before drawing a cutlass and running into the street chanting 'Anarchy!'.

Jon couldn't figure out what to make of this and so continued loading the refridgerator.

Crasset scuttled around the streets anxiously - his insistance on wearing his full garb, robe, wig and collar had attracted one or two odd looks. Potential co-conspirators were proving hard to find.

"Drat!" he shouted to nobody in particular. "Can't anybody in this wretched town look remotely shifty???"

An elderly street sweeper gave him an odd look and said something incomprehensible. Crasset frowned. "Eh?"
"Oiii saeeeeed yaaaaaoooowww moight foind aaaaahaaaaasomeeeeebodddeeeee dddowwwn thaaaarrrr." said the man, pointing down another street.
"Look, if you expect me to acquaint myself with the customs of your... culture, forget it. I'll just look down here."

The solicitor scanned the street carefully. There were one or two people wandering round, but none looked as if they had the potential to become Capital Plotters. Then at length Crasset set his eyes on a delapidated looking property. The window was boarded, and the door was hanging out of its frame. Rather a shady looking place, in fact.

"Aha!" he said triumphantly, striding towards it purposefully. He walked up to the door. "Hallo? I say, is there any plotters in there?"

He tentatively touched the door with a finger. To his mild surprise it fell inwards. To his slightly greater surprise a small screeching person darted out. The solicitor smiled. This was definitely the residence of one who might be induced into plotting. He adjusted his wig and entered. "I say! Is anyone home?"

[This message has been edited by Archbishop Green (edited 09-03-2006 @ 04:32 PM).]

Ignore this post...

[This message has been edited by Cadre (edited 09-03-2006 @ 06:21 PM).]

"Excuse me sir," It was a police officer,"This man says you threatened him."
"No I didn't."
"Sir, I will need to take you to court."
"I didn't threaten him."
Once again, the pipe had gotten Brian in trouble, he raised it in the air in a gesturing motion.
"The guy ran off over th-"
"DROP THE PIPE, SIR! DROP IT NOW!"
The officer had pulled a blaster out.
"Ya wanna know the truth?" Brian sighed, "Some punk glued this to my hand when I first started my career as a bum. I've had to live with it on my hand ever since."
The officer laughed, "Oh, I see, its all a misunderstanding. Alright, good day to you, sir."

After Brian closed the door, he burst into hysterics at the own lie he had made up. He dropped the pipe on the ground and went to the fridge.
"Should I have some raw meat? ...Nah. I'll have some milk."

As he reached in to get the milk, he noticed something...The pipe was still there!
"CRAP! The pipe is still there, it wasn't a lie!"

Brian tried frantically to pull it off, then he stopped.
"Wait a minute...*haha*...I knew it was stuck there. It did get glued on there by some kids," Brian went on laughing and drinking milk.

...

"I'm bored!"
Brian walked outside, it was getting dark now and he wanted to have some fun. He thought about his dream about the Ion Cannon, and the fight with Revan...
"I'm going to get a job!"

He walked...

"Wait, I have one!"
He sat on a corner and asked pedestrians for money. He is a bum after all.

[This message has been edited by BriJr (edited 09-03-2006 @ 10:40 PM).]