Mos Eisley Cantina

[Sayla-girl]

Damn it. ZOMG is closed save for head start ticket holders.  

[PaulTheWolf5575]

@DA: That sucks kid. PURGE THE UNCLEAN.

@Cale: Getting Hacked blows. I'd offer to help, but you might hit me. If you ever find who did it, I'll bust out the neural disruptor.

@Missing: Sup.

@Everybody else: Laser beams.  

[Rodyn]

Meh, I have no need for zOMG. For I have Guild Wars.  

[Sayla-girl]

I'LL hit you if you dont help Cale.
And maybe even of you do.

So your choice is either 100% chance of a beat down or a 50% chance of a beat down.

choose carefully.  

[PaulTheWolf5575]

Why Sayla, you wound me!

What did I do to draw such scorn?  

[Sayla-girl]

Nothing really.
I just have the feminine urge to pummel hapless males into quivering piles of ruptured organs an broken bones.  

[PaulTheWolf5575]

Hurm.

Well I'm not helpless, so I don't think I fit your criteria.  

[Sayla-girl]

Hapless does not equate to helpless.  

[PaulTheWolf5575]

Touche. I suppose that means you can try to beat me.  

[Sayla-girl]

Try? Do or do not. There is no try.

Or perhaps you'd prefer something from my own culture:

Mandos dont make threats. We make promises. And as soon as I'm done crushing Cale's little Shadow under my jackboot I might pay your little Altair a visit and put him in his place.
You might want to hire some more bodyguards before that happens.
Wont help you of course, but the false sence of security will be delicious to crush.  

[Cale Darksun]

You know, I had always kind of wondered where the Death Watch ideals spawned from...  

[PaulTheWolf5575]

I have no beef with the Mandos.

But should you engage me, woman, I will send you away.

If you're lucky you'll still have your all of your limbs.  

[K-Blade]

*takes a seat and munches on popcorn*  

[Cale Darksun]

You know you really shouldnt provoke her.  

[Sayla-girl]

I've killed Terentatek, Zakkeg, and Mythosaur. The blood of warriors runs through my veins, the skills and instincts of the greatest fighters the Galaxy has ever known are my herritage. I have killed more beings by the age of thirteen than you have even wounded with that glow stick of yours in your entire service to the Jedi Order. Each of those beings were twice the warrior you are or ever will be.
They died honorably.
You wont.
Pray you do not cross my path, Jetii. Pray to your almighty Force that you do not glimpse my armor or end up in my cross hairs. Pray that you die old and toothless in bed. Because should you draw my ire, even the foulest depths of the Dark side will not be able to match the hell I will inflict upon you.
You will die like a stuck bantha calf, mewling and crying for mercy.
And once you are dead at my hands I will forget you.
No trophy, no memory, no token of my victory. You will not be honored thus.
And when the Galaxy has forgotten you, you will truely be dead. A far worse fate than any you force monkeys could ever imagine.