A meal on Coruscant. (open)

[Evil Hobgoblin]

The creature known as Hobgoblin entered the bar of Yoghurt's. He had fully healed from the Arcan IV strike and was looking once again to test the mettle of the Jedi, this time in some manner of verbal joust.

He calmly sat at the bar and ordered a root stew, something he'd grown quite the taste for. Plus, it gave him the impression of being the Jedi Master Yoghurt, for the two beings looked very similar. Having the GrandMaster of the Jedi's reputation attached thusly to his own was extremely useful.

When the stew arrived, Hob took the bowl and went to sit down at a table, where he calmly began munching away, looking for an opportunity to cause trouble.

[White Rabbit]

(the rabbit gingerly sniffed at Hobgoblin's feet, before recoiling with a little whine. It hopped back a few paces and began brushing at its nose in a fevered attempt to rid itself of the smell.)

[Marcus Telcontar]

A hand reached up to the door frame of the BAr and Grill, and with a deft stroke, lit a match. The flare of the falme lit his features, a man approaching middle aged,, mirrored eye shades, rough but short beard, longinsh hair. Dressed in a well cut military uniform, with a perfectly fitting trech coat.

Curiously, he seemed to try to avert his gaze from the flame as he lit a cigarette. He puffed on it, before shaking the match out. He stood there, surveying the room of the bar and grill, seeming like he owned the place.

But then again, with the attitude General Tohmahawk had, he acted like anywhere he stepped was his. He stepped forward, aiming to go directly to the corner and claim it as his own, as he used to do on Arcan.

So few knew the General, recently come back into NR servce, was a Jedi. He preferred it that way. Not even many Jedi themselves knew. And certainly, they did not know this man striding without pause, dodging chairs, beings and tables confidently was for all intsensive purposes, blind. He used the way things were connected in the Force to have some idea where he should step. He would rather not be here, but he had an arrangement to meet someone over a supply issue.

Usual mob of eclectic being here, he could sense. One or two darksiders. Couldnt exactly id them, but one seemed to be more powerful than most. Hazy image in his mind of someone small. Well, as long as it was here quietly, he didnt really care.

[Evil Hobgoblin]

A questing tripod foot reached out and grabbed the rabbit up, then tossed it away beneath the tables. Small things of fur and warmth and no sentience were not in his current list of interests.

Hob slurped at his root stew a bit, purposefully annoying those about him. A dim impression came to his senses as he set his spoon back down, something like a synthesized echo, not right for what it was.

Even if it was a Jedi Master, Hob was not concerned. To destroy Hob was an impossibility. One might as well have attempted to overbalance a one ton weight by breathing on it.

Hob finished his bowl- it was quite tasty, and he could understand why Yoghurt enjoyed the stuff- and waved a five-fingered hand. "Good this is!" he called. "To me, bring more stew!"

[White Rabbit]

(the rabbit squeeled as it was tossed aside, landing quite safely at someon else's feet. It chattered in annoyance, then hopped away to find something else of interest.)

[imported_Grev Drasen]

With a boot of his foot, Grev kicked the annoyance of a rabbit away from his table as it went scurrying along. There was no particular reason for the darksider's sojourning in the Grill, but strangely enough it was one of the only spots in Coruscant he could frequent without being bothered. Which is ironic, a Sith with no fear of bothersome patrons in a Jedi bar of all places.

Then again, he tried his best to keep his presence and signature concealed as much as possible. Not for the fear of confrontation, but only because he enjoyed the reconnaissance of it all. Lifting the tankard to his lips, Grev spied the short, stubby man shouting for another serving of stew. Strange creature, and somewhat familiar; although he had never seen the being before in his life.

[Evil Hobgoblin]

When more stew had been brought, Hob took his bowl and thanked the waitress with a big, fat (unexpected) kiss on the mouth. Before she could recover to slap him, Hob hopped off his stool and began walking among the people and chairs, disappearing from Grev's view.

Then, Hob made use of the Force to conceal himself briefly. He bent down and scurried over to Grev's table, then hopped into the chair opposite him and set his bowl of stew on the table with a thunk. Some of the stew sloshed over the side, and Hob traced along the edge of the bowl with a finger to recover part of what he'd lost.

"Hello," he told Grev. "You are a most curious one, hm? Eyes seeking out that which is different? Staring at old Hob? Never seen one like him, have you? Hm?"

Hob leant over the table, conveying a sense of closeness to his erstwhile companion. "The Dark Side Hob senses in you, yes. To here, why do you come?"

[Daanarri Raurrssaatta]

Daani scampered after the rabbit, stalking it along the floor of the bar and grill. It's little nose twitched amusingly, but the little Cizerack female's stomach growled, and she only saw the rabbit for what it was: Food.

She pretended that she was hidden behind a table leg, and then edged around it, resuming the hunt, and dodging legs and feet as she crawled around.

[Roddy Two]

Roddy scampered through the front door, smelling like garbage as he fell over sideways, weight unbalanced due to holding a massive bone in the corner of its mouth, leftovers from some random Cizerack snack. Propping himself up again, he scratched intently at his crotch, and shook a few flies off...continuing his way through the bar. Except for the phenomenally bored, nobody noticed the bedraggled little "dog" as it waddled around. If so, they'd attribute the smell to the local cuisine, at least. However, the little Roddy brought changes of another kind entirely, nulling the force around him in a diameter of three meters.

<center><img src=http://www.bama.ua.edu/~hicks020/pics/roddyhid.jpg></center>

[imported_Grev Drasen]

That was an interesting sight itself, as Drasen continued to watch the waitress' face light up with a shade of red fit to murdering the small creature. Although the cleverness of the Hob prevailed, seemingly vanishing from sight completely. Grev shook his head and lowered his gaze back down to his glass, just when a loud thud interrupted his peace; and to no surprise it was infact the Hobgoblin - stew spilt and all.

"You are a most curious one, hm? Eyes seeking out that which is different? Staring at old Hob? Never seen one like him, have you? Hm?"

Still a bit taken aback by the sudden intrusion of the creature, Grev had not bothered to find time for a thinkable answer. And before he could blurt out a reply, the Hob was at it again with his interrogations.

"The Dark Side Hob senses in you, yes. To here, why do you come?"

“Privacy,” was the only word that escaped from the Darksider's grasp, as he eyed the odd being with a somewhat apathetic stare. “Yourself?”

He had not really cared for the Hob's reasons of stay, but before he could prevent himself from further conversation the words seemed to carry out on their own. Perhaps his curiousity, or boredom, were catching up to him. More than likely regret would follow in the end.

[White Rabbit]

(the rabbit cowered in the furthest corner it could find, blood trailing out of its nose. It had gotten hurt quite badly from all the abuse it'd taken and was in its panic-mode.)

[Evil Hobgoblin]

"Trouble," Hob grinned. He eyed the bar. "Aye, look at them, the self-satisfied pips. 'tis all Hob can do t' keep himself from havin' some fun. Ye've got t' be feelin' it too? Th' urge t' knock some sense int' these... these complacent, weak-kneed milksops who cannae even properly keep strays out o' their bar?"

Hob frowned disfavoringly as the "dog" Roddy passed behind his chair, briefly noting a change in the surrounding Force. It was disturbing, but...

Suddenly, an idea popped into his head and he turned to the dog. "Oh, doggie. Dooggie! Aye, ye in the cute li'l yelly fur. Would ye like a steak?"

[imported_Grev Drasen]

“You would not understand how much I desire their silence,” he spoke without even looking at the creature, only his glare panned the room; hatred developing in the pits of his mind as he watched. So many events recently had somewhat affixed his acrimony for not just Jedi, but people in general. His own brethren, infact. A snarl snaked its way across his hooded face, as he turned back to the creature, who was now fiddling with the canine.

[Roddy Two]

The 'dog' seemed to perfectly comprehend, standing on two legs, and nodding vigorously, until it fell over sideways.

[Evil Hobgoblin]

Hob reached out and scratched the dog on its belly as an owner would a pet. "Then, Hob shall procure, for ye, a steak!"

The dwarf snapped his fingers. "A good, raw steak for this fine young pup," he grinned at the waitress, flipping her a credit.

The steak was brought right out and handed to Hob. He picked the steak off the plate with one hand and locked his thoughts into an unreadable pattern. The Force annulment would conceal what he was thinking, but in a moment...

Hob dangled the steak before Roddy tantalizingly, allowing a bit of its natural juice to drip into his open mouth. "Go fetch, boy!" he grinned, and threw the steak into the air.

It was headed directly for the table General Tohmahawk had settled at.

[imported_Grev Drasen]

Grev watched as the 'Hob', as he referred to himself, waved the callow treat infront of the practically salivating canine. This would prove as a most entertaining sight, the Sith thought to himself with a smirk, watching the dog eye the steak with such determination.

"This is your idea of agonizing the Jedi," he quipped at the Hob, a cackle escaping in his words, "Spoiling their pets?"

Just then, the steak was lobbed into the air, and as predicted the dog would go scrambling after it; that was really a no-brainer. Then it suddenly became clear of the Hob's plot, or atleast what he had suspected of it, as the steak continued its flight heading directly for the General's table -- who he only presumed was a Jedi himself.

Such an impish prank, but it was the small things that added up.

[imported_Grev Drasen]

(Ooc) To the top, afraid this one got burried before Tohmahawk or Hob got to it.

[Roddy Two]

Roddy leapt in the air, in close pursuit of the anticipated steak, his stubby yellow body stretching out to its aerodynamic limits. The steak plopped on the table, in front of a man in a military uniform, and Roddy impacted not a foot away, pouncing on the cut of beef, gnawing with vigor. Those at the General's table who may have been force sensitive would suddenly find their amazing talent no longer worked.

[General Tohmahawk]

From the outside, it looked standard.

"Bloody hell, didn't anyone read the blasted sign? Who bought their pet in here?"

And with a fairly easy and quick moment he had a foot out, giving the mutt a swift kick, booting it in the direction of the door.

Inside, it was somewhat different. He had aimed the kick at the noise of the animal.

Oddly mobile for a Yalsalir. Much too moblie. What the hell?


Would be a very good idea to get Lochabre to throw that thing out. Now where was that huge monster that was the Bar's bouncer....? Only took a few seconds of mental scanning to locate the presence of the huge stone type being.

"Lochabre... someone bought their pet on. Get rid of it" he called out.

[Evil Hobgoblin]

In the brief instant before Tohmahawk had booted Roddy away, Hob had seized his chance. His bowl of root stew flew through the air, propelled with telekinetic speed. It hit the bubble Roddy created and Hob lost direct control over it, but even so, he knew that the food was flying too fast to miss its mark.

Which was the broad chest of the General's uniform.

[imported_Grev Drasen]

Out of pure reaction, Grev reached for his waist to retrieve the lightsabre he relied so heavily on in these type of situations. To his surprise it wasn't there- then he remembered the bouncer at the door. It had been collected, just like every other weapon that passed through those doors.

He held back a grin which tried easing its way onto his face, as he watched the display in hopes of seeing a new addition to the General's attire; root stew was a nice accessary for the old geezer. He turned towards the hobbit of a man beside him, speaking to the Hob with a low tone.

“Rather clever.”