Name: Grek Grasshk (NPC)
Wanted: Alive
Bounty: 25,000 credits
Contractor: Coruscant Planetary Government
Wanted for: Assault, Endangering Civilians, Spice trafficking
Name: Members of the Blackend Jet Empire (NPC)
Wanted: Alive
Bounty: 10,000 credits
Contractor: Coruscant Planetary Government
Wanted for: Assault, Endangering Civilians, Spice trafficking
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The loud revving turned the angry head of a middle-aged Twi'lek as she carried heavy bags of groceries passed the laughing Barabels. "Hey sweetie," one of them -the bigger one- revved his swoop's engines again to get her attention, "Why don't you come here and do a little dance for me?" they both laughed, hard. The Twi'lek quickly turned to face where she was heading and picked up the pace. Ever since the Zaa Fenn Crime Family was ran out of Coruscant's lower levels, the Blackened Jet Empire had been able to thrive again. Without the so-called White Lion of the Zaa Fenn crusading against them and that annoying human girl with her smarts cutting into their profits, Grek had actually managed to expand their business over three more districts.
The Twi'lek walked passed a rodian who lifted up his eyes just in time for her to see the determined look coming from underneath the wide-brimmed hat. "Ma'am," he nodded as she quickened her pace once more and headed to turn a corner. She wondered if she should've told him -a youngster by the look of him- that it wasn't worth it. But she recognized a man's eyes when he was determined to be 'a gentleman'.
The rodian stepped forward and approached the Barabels, "Shut off those engines."
The Barabels stopped laughed to look at the rodian. He stood an entire foot shorter than they did. He didn't wear armor as they did. He had no swoop. "Oh yeah?" the bigger one teased and revved his engine again, louder this time. "Says who?" Both of them sniggered and were starting to visibly look forward to beating up this little rodian before getting drunk at the Feisty Feline. Or maybe chase that Twi'lek for that dance.. the bigger one was still undecided.
The rodian opened his jacket and carefully made the way free for the Peacemaker holstered on his hip. "Says me," he spread his legs just a little and his right hand started hovering closely to the peacemaker. "Sector Ranger," he continued, but this time his words caused the Barabels to snigger even more. Sector Rangers were smalltime lawmen for the independent Outer Rim. Those worlds even the ISC didn't care about. "Callo, Jon Callo"
The name prompted both Barabels to go for their blasters, but the rodian beat them to it and fired the first bolt straight into the bigger Barabel's chest. He fell off his swoop, frozen and stammering, but alive, which made the smaller one hesitate for a little too long and he, too, caught a heavy stun bolt in his chest. Both Barabels fell to the ground as the rodian reholstered his blaster pistol and opened a commline.
"Ranger Callo to Coruscant Underworld Police. Got two Barabels sleeping next to their swoops. Heading for the Feisty Feline next. Gonna need some back-up."
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OOC: Open to anyone willing to join me in getting the Grek Grasshk (NPC) bounty and dismantle the Blackened Jet Empire along the way. Opposition welcome, too, but let's keep it friendly.
Wanted: Alive
Bounty: 25,000 credits
Contractor: Coruscant Planetary Government
Wanted for: Assault, Endangering Civilians, Spice trafficking
- Target is a Barabel lieutenant of the Blackend Jet Empire
- Target rides a highly modified swoop bike
- Target is often found at the Feisty Feline bar on level 1215
Name: Members of the Blackend Jet Empire (NPC)
Wanted: Alive
Bounty: 10,000 credits
Contractor: Coruscant Planetary Government
Wanted for: Assault, Endangering Civilians, Spice trafficking
- Targets are members of the Barabel Blackend Jet Empire
- Targets ride modified swoop bikes
- Targets are often found at the Feisty Feline bar on level 1215
_________________________________
The loud revving turned the angry head of a middle-aged Twi'lek as she carried heavy bags of groceries passed the laughing Barabels. "Hey sweetie," one of them -the bigger one- revved his swoop's engines again to get her attention, "Why don't you come here and do a little dance for me?" they both laughed, hard. The Twi'lek quickly turned to face where she was heading and picked up the pace. Ever since the Zaa Fenn Crime Family was ran out of Coruscant's lower levels, the Blackened Jet Empire had been able to thrive again. Without the so-called White Lion of the Zaa Fenn crusading against them and that annoying human girl with her smarts cutting into their profits, Grek had actually managed to expand their business over three more districts.
The Twi'lek walked passed a rodian who lifted up his eyes just in time for her to see the determined look coming from underneath the wide-brimmed hat. "Ma'am," he nodded as she quickened her pace once more and headed to turn a corner. She wondered if she should've told him -a youngster by the look of him- that it wasn't worth it. But she recognized a man's eyes when he was determined to be 'a gentleman'.
The rodian stepped forward and approached the Barabels, "Shut off those engines."
The Barabels stopped laughed to look at the rodian. He stood an entire foot shorter than they did. He didn't wear armor as they did. He had no swoop. "Oh yeah?" the bigger one teased and revved his engine again, louder this time. "Says who?" Both of them sniggered and were starting to visibly look forward to beating up this little rodian before getting drunk at the Feisty Feline. Or maybe chase that Twi'lek for that dance.. the bigger one was still undecided.
The rodian opened his jacket and carefully made the way free for the Peacemaker holstered on his hip. "Says me," he spread his legs just a little and his right hand started hovering closely to the peacemaker. "Sector Ranger," he continued, but this time his words caused the Barabels to snigger even more. Sector Rangers were smalltime lawmen for the independent Outer Rim. Those worlds even the ISC didn't care about. "Callo, Jon Callo"
The name prompted both Barabels to go for their blasters, but the rodian beat them to it and fired the first bolt straight into the bigger Barabel's chest. He fell off his swoop, frozen and stammering, but alive, which made the smaller one hesitate for a little too long and he, too, caught a heavy stun bolt in his chest. Both Barabels fell to the ground as the rodian reholstered his blaster pistol and opened a commline.
"Ranger Callo to Coruscant Underworld Police. Got two Barabels sleeping next to their swoops. Heading for the Feisty Feline next. Gonna need some back-up."
_________________________________
OOC: Open to anyone willing to join me in getting the Grek Grasshk (NPC) bounty and dismantle the Blackened Jet Empire along the way. Opposition welcome, too, but let's keep it friendly.