[Ask] The Art of Persuasion [Hutt Cartel Mission]

[Befallen]

If truth be told, persuasion was an art form. One could not simply vomit words and succor the favor they desired. It took certain machinations to arise beforehand for that ultimate endstate to be realized. Such things came second nature to the middle-aged Falleenan. Such things were long practiced. Over a century of dedication devoted solely to the arts of persuasion. It was, perhaps, this reason alone she’d been assigned the task of of convincing a Corporate dignitary to cease his digging and the fanning of rumors. The interesting thing was, it wasn’t the first time she’d blackmailed someone. Neither would it be the first time, she’d done this line of work.

Nor was she unprepared for this level of delicacy. So, it was with a delicious and devilish smile that she sauntered down the bustling street of one of the upper middling subdistricts of the greater District Three. She had been aboard the DSC Daedalus for about two weeks. Her contacts had been informative. Xora Rzardi was here to complete a task. A favor for the Hutt Cartel and Jack Tamblyn. It was, of course, a distraction from her primary goal. Like so many things of late, she juggled much. With each new responsibility she undertook, her dream of revenge against the ruling class of her people seemed more of a distant memory. Of course, distractions were like that. And, truth be told, she didn’t mind them. Xora was a long-lived individual. She’d waited the span of a human lifetime to achieve her vengeance. And she hadn’t given a deadline to Borga the Hutt, so as far she was concerned there was no real rush.

In the meantime, she would continue to distract herself and build her position in the Cartel. They would serve her purposes until the day came where they were more of a hindrance than not. Until that day, Xora would play the role of the stooge. As she reflected upon all of this, she continued to amble down the bustling street. It was late in the day and she was coming upon an intersection. Landspeeders crowded the lanes, whilst airspeeders zipped through the artificial skies. Pedestrians walked largely oblivious to each other. Turning her head idly, she spied a particularly sharp looking speeder. With its harsh lines, sleek and intimidating physique the retro muscle car called upon her more baser desires. She found herself stopping at the crosswalk, despite it being her chance to cross the intersection to leer at the vehicle longer. As she did so, a sharp whistle existed her lips. Truth be told, the woman was tempted to approach the male driver and strike up a conversation.

Of course, her cold logic forbade such rash action. The CoreGuard - she knew, wouldn’t take kindly to some alien woman approaching a random vehicle. Even if her intentions were not malicious or entirely underhanded. The last thing Xora would need would be to be picked up for solicitation. So, with a heavy sigh, she began to cross, filing the make and model away into the back of her mind for later. Once she had the luxury of time, perhaps she would purchase a like model. Something about retro musclecars had always intrigued her.

Crossing, she turned right down the intersection, walking further down the boulevard towards a restaurant she wished to visit. Of course, her cold logic chided her for taking further distractions from her primary task. Instead of enjoying a superb and warm meal, she should be stalking her prey. However, the night was young and there was ample time for that. Besides, she countered, my mice are keeping tabs on him. Of course, for a woman like Xora, having spies was a necessity. It also was rather easy given her recent windfall of wealth. Xora had always had a knack for finding the desperate and the destitute. She had made a habit of ‘rescuing’ them from their circumstances in the past. Providing an income in exchange for certain services rendered.

It was rather cheap labor, if she were to be honest. And there was never a shortage in the labor force. With each new place she visited, there was always a consistent amount of the impoverished and homeless. Sad, desperate beings willing to do anything to get by. Xora had no qualms with the sort she hired. Vagrants, addicts, drifters and ladies-of-the-night, all found themselves in her employ at one time or another. The woman was never overly concerned about being betrayed. She always paid well or had leverage over them. And if, by some chance, betrayal did strike, there was also the option of their removal. An accidental overdose. An unfortunate fire. A hit contract. Vehicular manslaughter. Anything was possible with the right incentive.

Slowing to a stroll, she passed a shop that smelled of jasmine and incense. Taking a moment to glance in the shoppe’s window, she saw flower vases, incense, candles, stone tea kettles and other such trinkets on display. For a brief moment, Xora considered entering the shoppe and purchasing something. Perhaps she would buy something for Jack? Shaking her head, she turned and continued on her slow journey towards the Yu restaurant she intended to eat at. Every time she visited the Daedalus she made a habit of stopping there. The food was always curiously delicious and a rare treat for her.

As she continued her journey, she felt the sudden and brusque breeze conjured by a speeder that zipped a little too close to the curb. Unlike the other pedestrians who became frightened or angered by the reckless driver, Xora did not bat an eye, but instead welcomed the breeze. Ahead of her she could see another intersection and across the street stood the small hole-in-the-wall Yu restaurant that specialized in Tianlu dishes. Ái'èlóng the place was called. The Famished Dragon. She smiled wistfully as the pleasant eatery came into view. Unconsciously her pace quickened as she realized just how hungry she was.

Moments later, she arrived at the intersection and crossed against traffic. Uncaring of the concerns of the drivers, she easily weaved inbetween the vehicles in her calm haste to enter Ái'èlóng. Even from this distance she could smell the delectable scent of Tianlu cuisine. Drawing closer, she pushed open the door, listening to the gentle ring of the archaic bell. Immediately, her eyes began to adjust to the dim lighting of the establishment. Before her the familiar layout came into view. Rows and columns of simple artificial wooden tables lined the far wall. They were flanked by simple, unconcerned and cheap chairs. Oil paintings from Tianlu adorned the walls. Paper lanterns hung from the Tianlu inspired beams and ceilings. The light that lit the dining area was natural for the most part. Furnished by burning candles that smelt faintly of jasmine and chamomile. Wooden carvings of various mythological Yu creatures were carved into beams and the walls.

To her right, a counter was situated attended by a Yu hostess dressed in a simple black and white ensemble of slacks, vest and dress shirt. Her hair was loosely tied back in a bun and she smiled warmly at Xora as she greeted the Falleenan. Xora returned the greeting and asked for a booth, to which she was led to one. Ordering tea and perusing the menu, she waited patiently and contently for her waiter or waitress to arrive. As she waited, she contemplated how the rest of her evening would go. She knew the rough schedule of this Brosin big shot. She knew his likes and dislikes. She knew he shared a weakness for exotic women and lavish living. Of course, there were certain important details she did not know. How much this Brosin knew about Estarra for starters. What his intentions were. Did he seek to simply stir trouble or blackmail the company? Such facts would become integral to her moving forward. However, she was largely unconcerned.

This was what her mice were for. They had been watching him since her arrival. They had gone through his trash, to gain information. The elite and rich, though often paranoid, overlooked the simplest means for securing advantage over them. His trash was never burned. It was transported to a local landfill, yet before that was held in collection with other mansion’s waste. Idly contemplating the future, Xora absently thrummed her fingers upon the laminated table. In doing so, she noticed the arrival of her waiter with her customary glass of water. Much like the hostess, she noticed he was Yu. Which, was something else she found charming about Ái'èlóng. Everyone of the employees were Yu and all were from Tianlu. It added to the authenticity of the place and its allure for Xora.

She ordered a kettle of wūlóng tea and steamed pork potstickers for her appetizer. Complementing this, she also ordered a bowl of wonton soup. With her appetizers ordered, the waiter left and left Xora to her silent solitude and contemplation. There were few other patrons in the restaurant. Most were Yu families come to dine and reminisce about their homeworld. Others appeared to be foodies that came to expand their palate. Far from her, towards the back and in a secluded section, she spied a crowded booth of Yu ruffians. No doubt there were a part of some local triad. Staring at them for a moment, she caught the attention of one of their members and smiled disarmingly at him. Xora began wondering if she could find a use for them. For now, she would table it for later. It would all depend upon how her first contact with the Brosin executive went. Allowing the smile to fall, she returned to her tea and poured it into a stone cup. Bringing it gingerly to her lips, she gently blew upon it and watched as the steam from the hot liquid flutter up, out and away.

Spoiler: OOC & Mission Statement

Alright gang. To anyone who reads this, if you'd like to join in, simply PM and we can discuss if your character is the right fit for this mission. Currently, I'm open to partners and NPC'ers otherwise, stay tuned and keep watching!

This is an RP for this mission:

13
Mission Name: Political Diversion
Location: DSC Daedalus
Details: Aboard the DSC Daedalus, the galaxy's "neutral" station, resides an Estarra office. Regrettably, some big shot from the Corporate Sector seems to believe that Estarra is a Cartel funded operation. Despite the truth of the matter, this rumour cannot circulate.
Objective: Convince the big shot to remain silent.
Payment: 21,000c each.
Participants: Xora Rzardi
Additional Notes: Per DSC Daedalus rules, no weapons, fighting, killing, maiming, or capture is allowed. Star a fight, and you'll be thrown in jail, and the Cartel will have no power to release you.

 

[Befallen]

Bringing that stone cup closer to her lips, she allowed herself a ruminative moment to sniff the relaxing aromas wafting from the tea. As she did this, she considered her next move. She could risk making contact now. It wasn’t without its merits. The risk would be increased, however. It would certainly be a gamble. On the flipside, she could continue to lounge about Daedalus waiting and collecting information on this Brosin ‘diplomat.’ Finally, she brought the cup to her lips and allowed the hot liquid to slide down her throat. Her eyes fell as she sipped her tea. Everything seemed to drift away in that moment, receding into the recesses of her mind as she focused solely on the aromatic flavor of the brand. Wūlóng tea was known in small circles for its relaxing properties. Those in the know often debated the qualities of imported Yu teas. It was the type of conversation she found droll and mindnumbing and tried hard to avoid whenever possible.

As her eyes cracked open, she found her food being delivered and her smile returned, renewed. The waitress who brought them, spouted some words in the Tianlu dialect of Yu that brought a larger smile to the corners of the Falleen’s lips. Xora wasn’t versed in the many dialects and subsets of the global language, but she knew some words and phrases. Enough to butcher the eloquent and often phonetically poetic language. She spared the waitress the pain and embarrassment of listening to her ruin her language. Instead she thanked the woman in Basic and watched as she bowed and turned to leave. Further ahead, the group of triads grew rowdier as they beckoned the waitress closer. Xora watched as the telltale signs of apprehension exuded from her body language.

The Falleenan criminal did not cringe, nor did she bat an eye as she watched what she knew would happen. Idly, she took the given chopsticks in her right hand and deftly began to eat. Choosing a plump and choice pot sticker, she dipped it in a salty, sour and rich brown sauce before bringing it to her maw to take a delicate bite. Away from her, the waitress approached, timid and fearful. She spoke in Yu and cringed as one of them shouted back his reply. Another, closer to the edge of the booth reached out to pinch her rump. In response, the Yu waitress cringed and instinctively batted his hands away, which caused him to respond by slamming his fist upon the table. A bout of laughter exploded from the group as they all made fun of their companion. His face reddened before darkening and Xora knew what would come next.

Placing her chopsticks gently and neatly upon the countertop of her table, she picked up her large spoon and began to sip her soup, watching casually as the offended gangster struck the poor waitress. His ire peaking as he roared obscenities at her and smacked her across the face again. As her head recoiled, a bright red handprint remained, a momentary trophy of his assertion of power. Xora smirked at the scene. Men were such obvious and easily predictable creatures. There was no pity in her gaze as she watched the woman profusely apologize and shrink away from the booth, tears welling in her eyes as she darted into the kitchen. She wholly lacked sympathy for her. If the waitress was not strong enough to defend herself, she deserved what she got. It truly was just that simple.

In the wake of the waitress, the occupied booth slowly grew quiet again. She spied several gangsters hushedly conversing. Idly, as she sipped from her soup she contemplated what they were talking about. No doubt, some sort of petty business or some narrow-minded scheme. That was always the trouble with small-time criminals. They lacked vision. Them being male did not make their grievances any less apparent or severe. Turning her attention away from them, she returned to her food and quietly ate in peace. It didn’t take her long to finish her appetizers. And by the time, a waiter returned to check on her, she was ready for a main course. She ordered a rich dish of wheat noodles and expertly cooked beef, and fish. Bathed in rich sauces that would trick and complement the palette of meat, grain and vegetables.

She passed the time, drinking her tea and sifting through data found on her datapad. In truth, she wasn’t doing anything important on the device. She spent her time moving between celebrity gossip and intergalactic affairs. A story caught her eye. Apparently, a group of terrorists had attacked some skyhook on a planet whose name she’d forgotten as soon as she’d read it. Their demands were never made clear. Many speculated them to be fanatics of one faction or another. One source went so far as to speculate that the attack was fueled by anti-Imperial sentiments. She couldn’t help, but scoff at that notion. In the wake of the destroyed skyhook, the local planetary government had launched an investigation, which had gained the attention of a faction within the Imperium after building traction. Subsequent inquiries were stonewalled, the article went on to say. It did mention that the death toll was high and that families of the deceased were being contacted.

She quirked a brow at the assertion that these terrorists would be found. They were probably already dead or in hiding. As she finished the article, her food arrived and she clapped her hands in glee. This time, she thanked the handsome Yu waiter in his given tongue and watched a spark of curiosity cross his features. For a moment, she toyed with the idea of passing a few days in his company. It would be an entertaining distraction. Alas, she sighed as her comlink chirped and the waiter walked away. Nothing ever went as she wanted it to go.

 

[Befallen]

Placing the small device to her ear, she began to pout as she heard silence broken up only by uneven static. For a short while this continued as neither her nor the stranger who had called her spoke. Whether it be from caution or something different, Xora refused to speak first. Instead, she took the spoon she had previously used in her freehand and began to delicately fish soup, noodles and vegetables into the large utensils before bringing it to her lips. In the interim that was only disturbed by her soft slurping a voice finally spoke.

“Uh, hello?” the gruff and desperate voice of a desperate man began. His race was indistinguishable. Whatever he was - whatever he had once been, his many hard years upon Daedalus had erased all of that. The corners of Xora’s lips quirked into a cruel smile. “Yes?” she cooed in response. Her accented voice deceptively delicate.

“Llena?” the man asked, uncertainty lingering in each uttered syllable.

Xora’s smile intensified. Gently, she placed the spoon in the bowl of deliciously smelling soup and grinned cruelly. An air of malevolence began to surround her and unbeknownst to her drew the eye of what few patrons of Ái'èlóng had. Those situated at the table filled with triads grew uncomfortably curious, though none truly knew why. Insecurity followed hot at the heels of their curiosity and they began to scowl as their gaze hardened and lingered upon her. It mattered little to Xora. In that moment, she knew exactly who this person was that had called her. The answer given by the alias she often used with her mice. It was also often used in her criminal dealings when the Duchess ‘Serwë Ilesar’ just wouldn’t do. Thoughts of the misdeeds committed by ‘Llena’ came to the fore of her mind. It caused her to deliciously lick her lips, savoring the horrors she’d wrought upon others.

It wasn’t very often she took pride in her work, but as ‘Llena’ she revelled in it. “Yes, darling mouse?” she cooed in response. “What have you got for me?”

A brief pause slipped between the two. On the other end, she could hear the other man’s uncomfortable swallow. He, of course, knew of her dark reputation. “Uh, yes, I do, Llena. We have tailed Mister Merakova as you requested. He broke routine today. At approximately 1000 hrs he departed his mansion and journeyed to the seedier levels of District Three. His driver was very cautious during this time, taking a confusing route to their destination. Nevertheless, the tail we placed on him was able to follow and was led to Little Bothawui where Merakova’s car stopped and parked on the corner of Kaaga and Gre Shev’starn. There he and his bodyguards exited their vehicle and walked around the block twice before entering a bar named Sei’lar’s Retreat - named after the Bothan pilot of Rogue Squadron, Asyr Sei’lar.

“Apparently, the owner of the bar is a descendant of Sei’lar’s. He remained inside the bar for three hours. We attempted to plant someone close to him, but the person we used could not get close enough to discern what the meeting was about. However, we are confident that Merkova met with someone from the Spynet.”

Xora’s brow furrowed. She had passed the time by playing with her food absently. Chopsticks in her freehand, she moved her food around without much thought. Idly, even as she listened intently to what her ‘spymaster’ was relaying, she despaired over her cooling food. The Falleen found it a real shame to let it cool and go to waste in this manner. Absently, as her contact continued to drone on, she entertained the thought of ‘torturing’ him for disrupting her meal. After all, she was using her persona ‘Llena’ for this adventure. Another dark deed - and a recent one at that - would go a long way to solidifying Llena’s malevolence.

Instead, she chose to table the thought. There were too many distracting fantasies rising to the forefront of her mind that threatened to distract her.

“--Mister Merakova then returned to his normal schedule and did not deviate from it further.”

“Excellent information, Garrus,” she began. The desperate man’s name swam before her eyes, his disheveled and hollow face not long in following. Vacant yet keen eyes, high cheekbones and hollow cheeks, pointed ears and balding head accompanied by thin lips and grizzled salt and pepper beard. Garrus had been a loyal man toward Llena. Of course, that tended to happen, when Llena had freed him from charges of corruption and substance abuse. What the former Devaronian Lieutenant didn’t know was that she was the one that had ruined his career as a police officer. That she had tampered with evidence and planted enough circumstantial evidence on him to color his current and previous investigations, making him a risk and liability to the force he had long served on. It was also she that had orchestrated his spiral into addiction and had been there to drag him into recovery.

She took a moment to sigh as she contemplated what it would be like to see the look upon his ugly, bird-like visage when he found out the truth. Would he be brave enough to seek vengeance? Her lips curled as she thought otherwise. Garrus knew enough about Llena to know better than to trifle with her. Before speaking again, she decided to pick at her food before it grew completely cold. Garrus would wait without complaint.

“Good work, Garrus. Continue to monitor the Mister Merakova. If you learn anything new and worthwhile contact me again without hesitation.” as she spoke her lips curled menacingly again. “Oh, and be sure to reward the mice for their hard work.”

“Yes, Mistress Llena.”

With that the line went dead and Xora quietly placed the comlink back upon the counter. Her mind swirled with the news that ‘Merakova’ had met with a contact from the Bothan Spynet. With this new kernel of information she knew it would be imperative that she intercept the man soon before he leak whatever he knew about Estarra. The thought caused her brow to furrow and for her to sigh deeply. As she reflected on this, she wished the solution were simpler. If only she could just kill ‘Merakova’ than it would assure the truth remained buried. However, Xora knew she could not. It was more complicated than that now. Regardless of the rules onboard the Daedalus, if he had made contact, he could not be killed. She would have to silence in another way. Despite the inconvenience of it, she began to grin. Alive, the Brosin diplomat could prove an invaluable asset one day. All she would need was the right leverage over him and he would be hers. And that was where her mice would factor in. Tabling thoughts of her assignment for a moment, she began to dig into her meal earnestly. Deftly dispatching her meal with practiced grace and ease as she ate in silence.