Before I go any further let me explain what this is for. Yes, this is an interactive story thread for all you Star Wars fans who like the idea of playing the role of smugglers and pirates. Rules are below:

· You may only create one alter-ego per account. I'll get in touch with the forum's admins and moderators to have them enforce this rule.

· Specify your ship of choice, but it must be reasonable; i.e. you can't be in control of something too powerful (like an SSD or Death Star-type weapon) nor may you use material already used in any of the Star Wars books. Sorry, but I don't like the idea of plagarism running rampant here.

· If you choose to have Jedi powers, you cannot be a Jedi Knight or Master. You may only have powers comparable to the Apprentice to Disciple experience levels from JK/MotS.

· Every now and then describe what your character looks like. Same goes for your ship.

· Text in [brackets] are considered to be non-playing text; that is, used for regular posts and the like. Text in *asterisks* describe an action your character is doing; i.e. *Karrde orders a tall mug of lum from the bar*. Text in {curved brackets and italics} will most likely be used to describe what's going on in the background.

· Also please don't use sigs here...I know they look cool, but they'll take away from the action.

And so, welcome to the Fringe, gang...starting point shall be none other than the Mos Eisley Cantina on Tatooine.

{Midday on Tatooine...

The Mos Eisley Cantina is, as always, hot and dusty due to the lack of air conditioning, but the place isn't jumping right now, either. Few people are at the bar, where they're chatting about some of the latest rumors to come through here. Figrin D'an and his group are taking a break, sipping on drinks. Wuher, the bartender, is cleaning glasses for what he hopes will be a busy night later on.

Over in a quiet corner sits Paul Talmos, better known as "Talon" to some of the folks in the Fringe. He's dressed in a dusty shirt and vest, black slacks and boots. At his side in a holster rests his Bryar modified pistol, and clipped just behind is his lightsaber. Talon never could finish his training at the Jedi Academy on Yavin 4 because he quickly became dissatisfied with Master Skywalker's teachings and methods, but still knows how to use his lightsaber and the Force to keep himself out of most sticky situations. His ship, the Avalon, is sitting in Docking Bay 87.}

*Talon sips at his lomin-ale and winces at the unfamiliar tang*

Laughing and slapping his thigh, Anore Kurelle looked around the cantina. Taking in a deep breath--and coughing from the dust--he put his cup down, tossing the pretty serving woman a credit. Anore was a popular man among the frequent visitors to the Mos Eisley Cantina, mainly from his humorous attitude, as well as his roguish spirit. The ladies love it.

Pushing women firmly out of his mind--and clearing his mind to soberness--Anore found something that caught his eye during his search around around the pitiful cantina. There was a faint glow around a man, sitting in small, secluded corner. Anore knew that glow all too well.

Anore Kurelle was of a race no one knew of, not even he; skin color darker than most humans, Anore was a tall man with a ready smile for a woman in the passing--and as ready for a cold, hard stare to any man that seemed threatening.

But none of this is what makes Anore Kurelle special from anyone else. The thing that seperates him from mostly everyone else is a sixth sense. Anore always had a sense of premonition; an intuition, so to speak. What this intuition spoke of was always the same: danger; adventure.

This is what surrounded the man in the corner, this premonition. Something very adventorous--very adventorous, by the brightness of it--was going to happen if he were around this man when it happened.

Grinning slyly, Anore Kurelle slid into the seat opposite the man.

"Can I buy you a drink?" Anore asked, smiling.

[This message has been edited by darkjedi86 (edited September 02, 2000).]

[Ryan, is your character talking to mine?]

[Of course, fool... ]

*Talon looks up at the stranger*

I already have one, but since you asked, go ahead. I usually don't do the alcohol stuff; it dulls the reflexes, you know.

*slight smile as he nods to the man sitting across from him*

Most folks call me Talon - I ask that you use the same. My ship's over in Docking Bay 87, the Avalon - ever heard of it?

[This message has been edited by Dr_Strange1 (edited September 04, 2000).]