Chadra-fan Aren't Cargo, Mate

[Tippi Snibit]

Orvax IV, Dalchon Sector, Outer Rim Grid R-17
Mid-Day​

Tippi sniffed at the air. Was that... stewed Mynock? He loved stewed Mynock. The little Chadra fan started drooling in his half asleep state. His eyes fluttered open, letting in the bright mid-day sun, and he immediately closed them again. Ouch. Tippi sat up, slowly, groggy from his several hours of sleep, feeling like his head was reeling and thinking he might have a bad hangover... but he didn't remember binging on lomin-ale with Dedric recently... come to think of it, when was the last time he saw Dedric? Where was he? He ran his hands up and down his little body. Where was all his stuff? Tippi slowly opened his eyes, shielding them with his paw, and looked around the crowded cage... Cage? OH! That was right, he forgot about the slavers.

Tippi wobbled to his feet and patted himself down. The must keep gassing us, Tippi thought. That explained the headache, and why he kept forgetting he'd been captured by Sennexians and stuffed in a cage full of Ugnaughts, Amarans, a couple other small furry aliens he didn't recognize, and even another Chadra-fan family. Tippi waved at them, huddled in a corner squealing. They seemed to be taking this a lot harder than Tippi was. This was the first time he'd ever been captured by slavers, and it seemed like an awfully big and exciting adventure! He wondered what was going to happen next. Who would want to buy Tippi? What would they want him for? Maybe someone here in the slave market needed a good mechanic or a pilot. Tippi could do that. He just hoped he didn't end up as some Hutts dancing slave- Tippi wasn't much of a dancer- or as the centerpiece of a Trandoshan celebratory feast. That wouldn't be much fun at all.

Tippi waddled to the open slats of the cage, searching for the smell that had woken him up. The repulsorsled mounted cage was being slowly pulled through the open air market by a pair of moaning dewbacks while one of the orange and black clad slavers sat atop it and wailed at them with a shock whip. That was no way to treat a pet, Tippi thought, but he was sure the Sennexian had his reasons. Maybe he was just having a bad day, and he would make up for it with treats later. Shoving his snout through the bars of the cage, Tippi scanned the wide street full of colorful aliens- slaves, slavers, and slave owners alike- street vendors, auctioneers, pop-up cantinas, and stalls full of goods of varying legality. He spotted pairs of hulking blue T'surrian enforcers on every corner, scowling at it all and keeping everyone in line- they looked mean, he thought, but maybe that was just the way their faces were. He'd seen a lot of places like this traveling around the galaxy, but the Ossein fleets tended not to stay too long in slavers ports. This place seemed like a bustling black market, he thought, but Tippi was only interested in one thing right now- Mynock stew.

He spied the slop cart where a wrinkly old Rodian was spooning generous heaps of the greasy grey sludge into flimsiplast cups for a few wupiupi each. Tippi didn't have any wupiupi, but he reached his stubby little paw out as far as he could between the tight cage ars anyway, grunting with effort even though he could tell he was several feet short. Hopefully the old Rodian wouldn't mind giving him a freebie for now. He would definitely come back and pay his wupiupi someday. Tippi yanked his arm back into the cage with a yelp and a squeal as a shock stick came crashing down on his outstretched paw. That really hurt!

"Hands inside the cage, fur-ball!" A lumbering, fat Sennexian shouted at him, scowling into the cage with jagged teeth as he chewed on some kind of root.

Tippi rubbed his numb paw as he sat back down in the cage with a huff. Well that wasn't very nice, he thought. Maybe he didn't want to be a slave after all.

Spoiler: OOC

Tippi is in need of rescue before he gets too deep into this adventure of finding out what slave life is like. This thread is for crossing paths and to lock down a group for the next thread, which will be the actual escape attempt. All are welcome.

I'll leave this open for 48 hours to see who shows up to participate in the next phase.

@Darasuum @AutoFox @Danee @Anyone else

 

[Rask Vahnal]

Rask drew his cloak on tighter as he closed in on the giant cages. He'd been tracking these slavers ever since their last jump, a small and feckless outfit even by slaver standards that focused on snatching up the more animalistic species of the galaxy. Ugnaughts, Ewoks, Chadra Fan, Amarans, Tintinna, you name it they had it whipped, collared, and caged like a side-show attraction. Slavers already made Rask's stomach turn, but the inherent cowardice and speciesism of hunting down people specifically because they were short, peaceful, and furry was especially low. Not that a sense of species solidarity had brought Rask to this market here today, he didn't give two karks about Amar or Amarans in general, at least more or less than any other species in the galaxy. No, deep down in his gut Rask knew this was a guilt-trip mission fueled by lingering self-hatred from his reunion with his son. Alask had risked his hide to save his people on Ryloth against overwhelming odds and nearly lost his life in the process, while Rask was across the galaxy waiting to hear from his boy again. He should have been on Ryloth, helping his son fight to protect his people from the Hutt Cartel and the Exiles, but fear and hopelessness caused him to sit that fight out while his son risked everything.

Rask needed a good cause to fight for, he needed something to atone for his inaction on Ryloth, so when he caught wind of a slaver group specializing in smaller mammalian sentients, he pounced on the opportunity. Underneath his ratty attire, the Amaran was armed to the teeth with a carbine, his sword, his pistol, and his armed armor, not to mention his deadly wits and skills. Being so short and so fuzzy, however, most people in the market either paid him no mind or made the mistake of trying to pet him. There was a guard nursing the stumps of several fingers back near the entrance as a testament to when unwanted petting got you. At least his stuffed-toy-esque appearance made Rask seem like less of a threat, so as he got closer to the cages and began to scope out the security no one seemed to give a kark about him. He was good, but this slaver outfit was still bigger than he could take, not to mention the threat of innocents dying in the crossfire and the other slaving groups jumping into the fray. He needed a plan, preferably before half the lot was sold off as food and furs to some Trandoshan hunting clan or an eccentric Hutt.

 

[Dedric Ryker]

___________

THEME​

Well it seemed the Tippi had got himself into trouble, again. It was not Dedric's fault this time, not directly at least. But as a friend, as family the man looked out for his smaller friend and that was why he had persued the lead of the mysteriously missing Chadra-fan. Chadra-fan were not as common slaves as other species. They were small and not strong or tough unlike numerous other species for manual labour. Some people may find them attractive and use them for illicit activities but unfortunatly that was ussually reserved for zeltrons, twi'leks and other exotic species. But that also meant the group that likely snatched up his wing-mate was also the occupier of a niche market and could narrow down the search for the fellow Ossein significantly.

He currently found his way traveling the streets of Orvax IV solo. He wore his Hippeus Protective Kit, customized with his personal outfit composing of a long coat to cover his Ankh blaster pistol, collapsible vibro-sword and other gear. He carried a single frag and adhesive grenade for the time being wondering if he should have also brought a cutting tool of some kind. He would just have to try his hand and breaking open any locks.

Seeing a small red furred individual turn down a path the Mutt followed after. When trying to find a small fur bearing mammal follow other small fur bearing mammal. His head looked up and down the street to see who else may have noticed but nobody so far. Doing so he fortunatly would happen upon the series of cages filled with his friend and his company. There were other Senaxians present guarding the cages. That would lead Dedric to start thinking about what to do. He could not very well just blow a whole in the side of the cage, it could kill the inhabitants and not to mention be noticed by all of the guards.

Dedric wondered if he should just end up buying them. He did not have the credits really and that only funded the slaver's operations. He would prefer to assist everyone in the cages. Part of him remembered the Jazaq code and the tenet of benevolence. Help those that cannot help themselves. Normally Dedric was stuck in his own little portion of the galaxy just trying to scrap by for himself. But now there was an opportunity to not only help his dear friend but also others, something he could not ignore.

@Loco ​

 

[Alask Vrein]

Slavers.

What a despicable bunch of people.

A bunch of people who deserved to have every last bit of skin ripped off their bodies before they bled out to death. It was a dark fate, but people like that didn't deserve a good end. So Alask decided to take matters into his own hands, and Orvax IV was going to be his first destination.

Armed with his 4C Blaster Pistol, a vibroknife, and his B-10 Stun Pistol, Alask decided to opt for a more concealed appearance. The boy opted for a pair of black, torn lekku wraps with a black scarf to cover his mouth and nose. He wore a dark-grey jacket that seemed like it had seem some wear and tear, and when most people looked at him they just assumed he was just some guy from the streets passing by.

That was good, because then they wouldn't know what hit them.

Wandering about, the Rutian was quick to notice a small figure that drew him closer. A human seemed to already be following the figure, and Alask had a feeling that this figure might end up being beneficial. Something in his heart told him that the small creature was good, and Alask wasn't one to throw away his gut-feelings.

He was a scoundrel after all, and his gut feelings often got him through a lot of stuff.

So following the human and the smaller figure, Alask would keep his hands close to the inside of his coat, ready at any moment to begin his opportunity to free the slaves in the cages.

 

[Hal]

Hal didn't much care for slaves, which wasn't saying much as he tended to ignore almost everything that didn't directly impact his life. And as he had never really had the money to buy a slave for himself he hadn't given them much thought. But now that he was stuck on a slaver port and surrounded by slaves, even someone as indifferent as him could not completely ignore them.

Specially when he had hours to waste away with nothing to do. At first he had thought he had signed up for the perfect job. Fly the client to Orvax IV, wait for a few days till they concluded their business, and then fly them back with their newly acquired merchandise. Then of course the fool had gone and gotten himself killed and left Hal stuck here with nothing to do. He should have flown away days ago, but he had fallen into a comfortable routine here. Buy some companionship for the night, which seemed surprisingly cheap for the quality they had to offer, wake up late enough to only have a few hours to pass before it was evening again and it was time to begin drinking again and finding someone to spend the next night with.

It was the few hours after waking up that had started getting boring, and when his mind would wander to weird topics. There was only so much to explore here, and for those few hours till the alcohol and women kicked in he would even contemplate leaving. Today though he caught sight of something that cut through the monotony of just waiting around doing nothing. A slaver cart being led through the market, something that happened fairly regularly here. But what caught his eye was the entourage that the cart seemed to have gathered. He had noticed the little Amaran that seemed to be following the cart, and out of boredom he had started following the little bugger. And then he had noticed another man who seemed to be tailing the Amaran. And if that wasn't enough, a Twi'lek followed behind him, seemingly tailing all of them.

He conceded that he might still be hungover and simply imagining things and the lot of them might simply be walking in the same direction. But he had been a cop once, he had been taught to spot such things, and his gut told him there was something going on here. And if he trusted his gut on something it was the ability to sense when something exciting was about to go down.

So he pushed himself off of the wall he had been leaning against and followed after the Twi'lek. At worst he would get some exercise walking around chasing a figment of his imagination, or he might just get to see something interesting. He began singing softly as he began walking, opening up a bag of crisps he had picked up from one of the stalls and threw one into his mouth. "Follow the leader, leader, leader. Follow the leader."

@Loco @The Captain @Darasuum @TenthCodex

 

[Eice Frex]

Eice skulked through the streets of Orvax IV, her long cloak drawn up around her, concealing her small form, and the weapons she carried on the belt of her flight-suit. She didn't feel terribly safe here, and not just because of the hulking Sennexian guards that seemed to be posted every few meters.

There was something profoundly bad going on around here.

Eice wasn't sure how she knew that; it was stronger than the sort of general unease she was used to, that most people seemed to get. Ever since her little adventure flying for Galaxy Dynamics, she had felt... sharper, she supposed was the only way to describe it. She reacted faster, she sensed more, she felt that if she just reached out with... what, her feelings? She might be able to touch the minds around her.

She was too frightened of what might happen if she did to try it, yet.

At any rate, Eice had come to Orvax IV to meet a friend; Dedric Ryker had sent her a brief comm that his wing-mate, Tippi, was missing, and that he was going to find him. The other pilot hadn't invited her along for whatever reason; he'd said something about it being especially dangerous for someone like her, and that had rankled. She was a Jazaq, by the great old gods, she could handle herself in any situation!

At least, she was pretty sure she could.

Running her fingers over the reassuring grip of one of her pistols beneath her cloak, she pressed on through the crowd, hunting for her friend...