Ask DANGEROUS PATRONS

[Krinn Nelthar]

Sleheyron might not have been the most inhospitable planet in the galaxy, but it certainly bore a rather foul appearance. Thankfully, civilization had crawled it's way across the planet's volcanic wasteland, and the world was busy with less reputable life. This was a planet of trade, and not always of the law abiding type. In other words, it was the perfect place for a Sith to make a pit stop, without having to worry about potential persecution. So long as he didn't anger the local government, of course.

The Interceptor he's piloting is very clearly Imperial in nature, it's painted wings a clear betrayal of the occupant who was lurking inside. Krinn still manages to get the clearance to land, though. No Jedi was going to engage with him here, and with the need for fuel and rest that weighs heavy upon the nautolan's mind, he's glad of that. The space port is crowded, but that was hardly unusual. His dark robes hide the lightsaber at his hip as he moves through the many species that went about their routines around him. The dim haze of dusk was falling, and the lighting of the interior was dazzling to the Champion's sensitive eyes. He finds himself pulling his hood further up over his head, as if the shadow of the fabric would shield him further from the bright illumination of the port.

Nobody seems interested in harassing him at least, which was a far cry from his earlier experiences on Coruscant. Krinn lets the bitter memories fade as he continues onward, and within the hour, he has found himself at his intended destination. The Wolves Den was a popular location on Sleheyron, and for good reason. It would make a decent enough place to spend the night, while his ship was refueled.

The nautolan moves with confidence as he enters the so called Den, making his way through the first floor cantina with dark eyes that search the patrons with idle interest. He's quick to purchase a beverage to sate the tastes of his tongue, though it's mildly alcoholic flavor is far more bitter than Krinn is used to drinking. Nevertheless, he moves to rest within a secluded booth, pulling his hood down to sip at his drink in silence. His gaze is still roaming the interior out of curiosity alone, ears picking up the latest gossip that seemed to circulate between tables.

He probably didn't even look too out of place here, considering the territory this planet was located within. There were criminals lurking about, bounty hunters in battered, scarred armoring, among other shady looking patrons. A nautolan draped in dark robes was probably the least of most people's concern, but considering that he was a stranger here... Krinn was already preparing himself for the possible approach of other people with curious eyes. In truth, he welcomed it, as normally antisocial as he might be. This seemed the perfect place to pick up additional assets.

@Mad Dog @Rafe

 

[Rafe]

Rafe was in the alleyway behind the Wolves Den, a certain individual had caused a ruckus when the Droid he'd bet on lost its fight.. the ruckus involved the man putting his hands on one of Rafe's counter workers, the small twi'lek woman had been promised security when she took the job, and Rafe was making sure she felt safe working in his business. Though more than capable on his own, Rafe had two of his Pyke foot soldiers holding the man against the wall while Rafe pummeled the man's face in... it sent a more clear message. Once the man was sufficiently taught the error of his ways, Rafe nodded at his men who dropped him to the ground. And don't come back.. Rafe said as he and the others returned through the rear door.

Washing his hands in the kitchen Rafe looked over to the shaken girl, making sure she was okay, the Wolves Den didn't have any slaves working in it, but Rafe still considered his employees his people, an asset, and he'd protect them like any piece of property he did own...

Rafe got back to the front of the cantina club on the first floor, Rafe's monstrous size making him stick out quite a bit, and drew the stares of any who had not been there before. Sure some species were large, very large, but few matched the size and lupine appearance. The blood on Rafe's knuckles had been mostly washed away, but Rafe asked the bar staff for a rag and a drink nonetheless. First wiping his hands even more before taking the drink in his massive right claw and turning to face the crowd, a decent size for the middle of the week.

Rafe rose his glass up in response to a regular who had done the same not far from him, before taking his first drink. Rafe scanned the crowd, a handful of new faces, mostly harmless, there was even a member of the Zann Consortium in attendance, though Rafe's crew would make sure they were protected, wouldn't do to have them getting hurt on Rafe's property afterall..

After the crowd Rafe scanned the booths as he often did, those who didn't want to be seen usually hid within them, which made them usually the first place to look.. a pack of drunken Gamorreans sat squealing around one of the booth tables, and Rafe raised an eyebrow before shaking his head.. The Hutt's battle pigs is what Rafe usually called them.

Four other tables were occupied by single inhabitants, Rafe looked over to his Madam, the older Twi'lek woman who ran the brothel's side of the business, Rafe did not own the workers, each one earned their fair wages, and were kept safe in the Wolves Den, but she knew the drill and soon after two brothel attendants, one of each gender went to the four solitary patrons carrying drinks. Scantily clad individuals who sold their bodies for money were usually looked upon as the bottom rung of society, but Rafe knew they were the best at appropriating information..

 

[Krinn Nelthar]

Asides from the idle chatter of nearby patrons, the cantina seems relaxed enough. No trouble had been stirred, as of yet. No spicy drama to observe in which to sate his thirst for violence, but that was probably for the better, really. Clawed hands slide lightly across the wine glass he cradles between gentle fingers, before the Nautolan brings the beverage up to his lips once more.

It's a rather large shadow that snags his dark eyes, and Krinn finds himself peering up from his drink to behold what was very likely to be the ugliest (or, though it was bitterly admitted, the cutest) overgrown mutt that he had ever seen. Imposing, to be sure. Powerful and covered in dark fur, with large canine talons that glinted in the cantina lighting, like over-sized razor blades. Krinn's own claws were nothing to laugh at, but they were no comparison to the monstrous weapons that sprung from the wolf's fingertips.

Curious, the Sith comments silently to himself. There's an air of authority to that one, and it's clear enough as to why. Surely, this place was not called The Wolves Den for nothing? And, well, the Champion had what was probably a foolish thought. He wanted to walk right over and give the fur covered beast a nice ear scratch. Perhaps a pat on the head, but that would just be awkward. He'd have to reach up on his toes to manage that, and even still, Krinn likes his hands. He didn't want them bitten off.

Quietly, the man snorts to himself in firm reprimand, before turning his eyes back to his drink, the likely cause for his strange thinking. Though the Nautolan had no real concept of personal space, he did have some thought of self preservation. Thankfully, his antisocial nature overruled any stupid and intrusive thoughts that might have found themselves lurking within his head. He couldn't imagine how he would react if someone just walked up and started touching him. Probably not well. No, he'd probably hiss at them, and that was if they were lucky.

He'd leave the wolf alone, for now.

It's only shortly after that he's approached by a scantily clad Twi'lek. Krinn was generally pretty ignorant about the more... romantic side of things. It wasn't something he had ever really been interested in, so his eyes don't linger upon the woman at all. He doesn't care that she's practically half nude, and if the goal was to proposition him, then she would be sorely disappointed. Krinn blinks dark eyes as the offered tray of drinks, seemingly uninterested as his claws clink against the wine glass he already possessed.

"No thank you." The Nautolan declines politely, because as cold and antisocial as he could be to those he did not know, he wasn't going fault an employee for doing their job. It seemed entirely rude to snap at the girl, in this situation, so long as she got the message that he wasn't there to get drunk and frisky.

"I'm just waiting for my Interceptor to refuel, then I'll be out." Krinn informs simply. In other words, he didn't want to get wasted because that didn't mix well with flying a star-fighter. Hopefully, she'd understand. But then... he didn't really care about the opinions of others.

@Mad Dog

 

[Rafe]

Three of the booth tables had become occupied when Rafe's employees approached, the fourth however seemed uninterested in the services the Wolves Den's brothel had to offer, obviously that wasn't something everyone was interested in, not all patrons come in search of warm beds, some just want drink in peace, whatever reason prompted such actions were entirely their own, and Rafe, as a business owner, respected that.

As the girl came back and whispered what little information she had into Rafe's ear, Rafe just looked to the bartender, Make sure he's well supplied.. Rafe would say, continuing to scan the crowd, every now and again making sure to peer over at the Nautolan, black robes, no visible blaster or printing from one, very few walked around Syndicate space without a weapon, so either he was strong enough to not need one, or naive enough to not carry one.

Whatever it was, the Nautolan had caught Rafe's attention for now. He'd wait a few moments, finishing his drink, and setting it down on the bar before waving his clawed finger signaling for a second one. Plenty of sentries were posted about the building, with dozens of armed Pykes, so security wasn't the issue here, but curiouser and curiouser it became.

Rafe would wait, and watch, not making it obvious, but mindful enough that any within sight of him would know he was definitely keeping tabs on the environment as a whole.

 

[Krinn Nelthar]

She leaves him to his drink without a hassle, and he's thankful for that. Krinn would have felt entirely awkward, otherwise. He was... out of his element here, no doubt. He was a rather antisocial creature, by nature. Worse still, he was a bit more irritable than he might be any other day, and that was certainly saying something. The Nautolan already had a grumpy reputation among his fellow Sith. But he supposed his lack of sleep in recent days was probably the cause of his snappy thoughts.

He can tell that the wolf is still keeping an eye on him from across the cantina. Really, he was keeping an eye on everyone, and everything, but Krinn is no fool. He can sense how the taller man's focus occasionally darts back to him. He supposed it made sense, though. The Nautolan was a stranger here, and draped in his black robes, sitting alone, he probably appeared quite the shady outcast. It wasn't entirely unintended, though. The Sith knew this was Syndicate space, and he was not opposed to creating a few new alliances. With the Empire's assault on Kashyyyk, he can't help but feel a bit of distaste toward his own faction. It was blind loyalty that prevented him from leaving entirely, but at the very least, he could take some time to focus on himself.

Besides, who was to say what the future would hold? Perhaps Krinn would gather enough power and assets to challenge the Empress's rule directly. Now wasn't that a treacherous thought? And undoubtedly, a dangerous one. The Sith shifts in his chair, downing the rest of his drink in one, bitter gulp. Unknowingly, his robes shift to reveal the glint of his lightsaber's hilt at his side. Normally, he'd be a bit more careful about that. But here? The Nautolan was tired, and quite a bit more careless than he usually was.

@Mad Dog

 

[Rafe]

It would take just a minute or two before Rafe would be approached, a member of the Pyke security force, after a brief whisper into Rafe's ear, Rafe would sigh, speak briefly to the bar staff and turn to walk down the stairs, returning to his office in the VIP area of the second subterranean floor.

Only moments after Rafe disappeared from view down the stairs two of the staff would approach the Nautolan, You've been invited to the VIP lounge to join Lord Rafe.. one of the women would say, as she offered the man a Moogan tea, the frothy drink was a favorite of Rafes, and he would often have them prepared when hosting important visitors.

When Rafe got to his office he checked to see which private rooms withing the VIP lounge were empty, making his way to one of them a moment later carrying a box. Once inside Rafe was followed in by three Pyke security, and one manned the outside of the door. Placing the box on the centerpiece table of the comfortable posh room Rafe opened it and took one of the many death sticks from inside before taking his seat, lighting it a moment later and pulling in a deep long drag.

Before his guest arrived Rafe was served a handful of Moogan teas in large glasses, he typically opted for the alcoholic version of the drink, but had made exception for this evening, as he was about to come face to face with a laser sword weilder, and Rafe would know if it was Jedi or Sith before getting comfortable.

A Pyke with a datapad came through the door a moment later, having followed his orders he displayed the security footage of the landing pads that Rafe had influence over, showing the man upstairs disembarking from an imperial interceptor, though that did not solidify fact, it implied the man who'd soon be joining him was not a Jedi, which was always a plus.. But the Sith operating in Syndicate space also rose its own questions.

Rafe would dismiss the datapad carrying Pyke and take a few sips of his tea, and a few more drags off his deathstick before the Nautolan would be shown in... Welcome to the Wolves Den.. Rafe would say, not quite introducing himself, as most who came here already knew who he was, but waving his massive claw toward some of the very comfortable seats and the drinks placed alongside the ornate box of deathsticks.

 

[Krinn Nelthar]

He can't even be upset when he sees the two staff approaching him from the corner of his dark, maroon eyes. As irritable as Krinn might have been, he hadn't cut through Syndicate space to refuel because he thought it might have been fun. No, though the fueling had been necessary, the Nautolan had, admittedly, more selfish reasons for choosing this particular part of the galaxy to have a drink. The invitation has him rising from his booth, offering the woman a stiff nod as he moves to follow behind them. The offered Moogan Tea is brought to his lips only a moment later, it's frothy contents providing a pleasant enough taste.

The room he's led to is posh, luxurious, and he can see the box of death sticks on the polished table, the glasses of tea that glistened in the warm lighting. Asides from security, the other occupant was, of course, that rather large canine he had spotted peering at him from the bar, the one that he had already assumed to be in charge. And now, it was obvious enough. This was Rafe. The welcome uttered from fanged jaws prompts the Nautolan to tilt his head ever so slightly, an incline of greetings as he moved to take a seat a mere moment after Rafe's clawed gestures. He takes a moment to let himself get comfortable, but it's more to show that he hadn't come to be hostile than for his own relaxation.

"You must be the wolf." The Sith points out, and there's a bit of dry humor in his tone as he blinks tired eyes at his host. "Krinn Nelthar. Sith Champion. But I'm not here on Imperial business." He's rarely so formal with introductions, but the burning of Kashyyyk had implanted rather treacherous thoughts of the Empire into his mind. So, he wasn't here for them. No, none of the other Sith knew he was here at all. This was for Krinn. Because if there was one thing that he was good at, it was being self serving and greedy, and he needed a distraction. A purpose. Something that suited his needs, and not that of the Empire.

"What are your opinions on partnerships?" A bold question, but it got the point across.

@Mad Dog

 

[Rafe]

Rafe smiled when he called him The Wolf.. he supposed he was in fact, Rafe.. he said, offering his name, immediately the man proclaimed himself a Sith Champion, confirming Rafe's suspicion, but Rafe saw the bags under then man's eyes, the lag in his steps, this man was wiped, the exhaustion thick in every movement he made, and every inch of his being. Rafe relaxed quite a bit, even though the power of the force was significant, Rafe knew in his condition he posed little threat.

Partnerships...? Rafe thought before saying, I thought you weren't here on business? Rafe said with a grin as he tilted his head. Rafe would take a sip of the frothy tea, followed by a sigh, it was one of his more guilty pleasures, and he loved the sweet taste. After setting the glass down and swallowing Rafe took a long drag off his death stick before gesturing towards the open box, If you'd like one.. Rafe said before exhaling.

Rafe moved on, If you're looking for work, I've always got a full slate. If you're here you know who I am, and you likely know the Pykes always pay... and we pay well.. Rafe added, he couldn't imagine why a Sith would be here looking for work, but he supposed everyone could use a few extra under the table credits.. and Rafe could certainly use the extra manpower.. especially that of a Sith.. Even with Rafe's distrust of the force users, he'd have to admit the ones he associated with had certainly grown on him.

Before we dive into details.. Rafe would start, Why have you come to me for work? Your empire is always busy, certainly there is no shortage of work over there? Rafe asked.

 

[Krinn Nelthar]

He all but snorts in reply, his huff of breath tinged with rare amusement.

"Not Imperial business." Krinn clarifies with another sip of the frothy tea. "I'm here for entirely selfish reasons." The Nautolan doesn't mind admitting that, because if anyone could understand greed, it was the Syndicates. He waves a hand at the death sticks, because he could already feel the buzz of his alcohol, and he didn't need to add drugs to that in the middle of an important discussion.

Rafe went on to talk about offering work, spoke of payment. That wasn't quite what Krinn was seeking, though. No, he intended for something a bit more substantial than credits. All in due time, however. He'd let the wolf carry on speaking out of simple politeness toward his host. Rafe isn't the only one aware of the Sith's sorry state, after all. And in the middle of Syndicate Space, he's all too aware that if things got aggressive, he was unlikely to escape the planet with his life.

"Because what I intended has nothing to do with the Empire, and in fact, I'd rather keep it between us." Krinn knows what he wants, knows why he wants it, and he doesn't want his fellow Sith sniffing around his business in this regard. The Sith leans back, lets his clawed hands rest in his lap with his glass of tea rippling lightly.

"I want to hit Blackwell." The Nautolan states, his vocals all too serious. He's not after credits. He's after technology. But he'd wait to hear Rafe's thoughts on the matter, because hitting Blackwell was no easy task. This was not some simple bank heist. He was going to need the experience of the Pykes, and he was more than willing to offer them the lion's share of the spoils.

@Mad Dog

 

[Rafe]

Rafe could relate, selfishness was what got him into this business in the first place, though he'd learned to be more than that since then. Rafe liked the idea of building a tie to the Sith, afterall everyone needs allies, but Rafe also picked up a sense that this Sith didn't quite have the connections within the empire to achieve the sort of tie he would like.. but every goal starts with the first step..

He also wanted this to be kept on the down low.. Rafe questioned his reasons for that, then he mentioned a very specific target, Blackwell.. this made Rafe chuckle lightly, he remembered his early days, and one not all that long ago, Blackwell has been a common target of his.

But that's.. illegal.. Rafe joked, Blackwell manufactures a lot of products.. what exactly are you hoping to find? Rafe asked, rag tag base line piracy had recently become below him, but he couldn't help but get a little excited for a chance to stretch his legs..

For a quick moment one of Rafe's newer men opened the door and interrupted their conversation, Sir.. that.. that things being moved now.. the Pyke would studder, Rafe would glare at the man and sigh, causing him to exit the room quickly. It's so hard to find good help these days.. Rafe would joke, one of the security in the room failed to stiffle a chuckle, which would in turn cause Rafe to chuckle.

 

[Krinn Nelthar]

He's not entirely sure why he feels so... at ease around Rafe. Why he finds some small amount of amusement in his jokes. Krinn thinks that, perhaps, the alcohol that was buzzing within the back of his mind was the likely cause, but perhaps it was a bit more than that. Perhaps there was something that felt so... freeing, about returning to the antics of his former, criminal life. There were no dutiful expectations here, there was no responsibility of rank. Champion, Imperial, it didn't matter here, because he had none of that authority, none of that burden to appear as someone he wasn't even sure he wanted to be anymore. He was, perhaps for the first time in a long time, considering his own needs, making his own plans, without regard for the Empire.

"I'm interested in their stun grenades." The Nautolan admits, and he considers explaining why, because Rafe seemed to show some interest in partnering with him for this ordeal. Before he can, however, they're interrupted someone who stuttered nervously about... well, something that was very obviously not Krinn's business. The Nautolan's dark eyes return to the wolf, blinking owlishly for a moment. "If this goes well, perhaps I'd be interested in working with you again. Perhaps on a more... regular basis." He considers the thought, but it was not a decision made lightly, and not one that he was going to make now. They'd need time to plan their run on Blackwell regardless, and then there would be the heist itself.

"I will say this, those stun grenades could come in handy for both of us, I think. I intend to use them for a future project of mine, one that may, or may not involve more illegal activity." It's rare that a smile crosses Krinn's face. This one is small and thin, but it is visible, a strange contrast to the tiredness of his gaze. "But regardless of what my own intentions for the grenades are, I am inclined to return favors to those I owe them to." In other words, this was a clear enough you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours type of deal. Krinn was hardly opposed to illegal activity at this point. In the past, he had been intolerant of it in Imperial Space. Things changed though, and the Nautolan isn't so sure about his opinions on the Empire anymore.

@Mad Dog

 

[Rafe]

While he talked, Rafe pulled the conclusion he was intending to desert, this threw out Rafe's idea of building a tie to the Sith, but opened a different opportunity, Is he looking to sign on with the Syndicates? Rafe thought. The stun gernades, and in fact whatever loot was onboard was of little consequence to him, whatever they took he could get offloaded in no time.

Let's see how this goes first, and I'm sure I can find you more work in the future if.. Rafe trailed off. The man suddenly started speaking of favors, Rafe knew in his world favors were a premium currency, however were they the same in this Nautolan's world..

Rafe looked at one of his security, raising his massive claw to indicate he was addressing this security, he said, Bring me the Blackwell pad.. before he had fully brought his claw back down the man had already started stepping off.

So what are your intentions with them? Rafe asked, the information meant little to Rafe, but it would be an interesting talking point while they waited for Rafe's datapad.

Blackwell employs a great deal of synthetic security.. Rafe said, he knew because he'd hit them several times, and he hated droids.. the first few times he had always been unprepared, fighting droids was nothing like fighting organics. Are you prepared to handle that situtation? Rafe asked, he knew the saber had about the same ability on both synthetics and organics, but he wanted the man's opinion on the matter.

Finally Rafe's man returned, and handed a sleek looking data pad to him, the blue B symbol of the Blackwell Technologies conglomerate emblazoned on the back of it. Rafe logged into its encrypted network and set it flat on the centerpiece, to anyone who hadn't seen it before, the streams of data would likely be confusing and chaotic, but Rafe pressed this button and that one, until he arrived at a header labeled, 'Manifests' hitting another button he filtered it by 'other', which eliminated much of the options on screen, Blackwell rarely just shipped one item in bulk, so Rafe selected the one with the largest index of the serial number 'PL 50' Here we are.. Rafe would say spinning the data pad around for the Nautolan to see. The full manifest detailed what all was supposed to be onboard, as well as a four digit number of the PL 50 Stun Gas Grenades. Sufficient? Rafe would ask, pointing to the upper right corner of the screen that detailed the flight path the ship would take, though it's originating location was black, it's first stop was Onderon then a long treck to Falleen.

 

[Krinn Nelthar]

He sits quietly, eyes heavy and features dull from fatigue, but still, the Nautolan listens, attentive, curious, and all too interested in his self serving business ventures. A part of this felt good to partake in, to feed his own greed once more, not at the whims of the Empire, but of his own mind. The other part of him rings with memories of fire and ash, and there is a small prodding of thorns amongst his thoughts, warning him of the consequences if this deal went sour.

Large eyes follow the talon that gestures toward the security, before Krinn's focus returns to the wolf, the inquiry that departed fanged jaws drifting lightly into his mind. The Sith thinks for a moment before he answers, because he didn't want anyone else involved in what came next, and he had hardly finished finalizing his plan for the grenades, regardless.

"I thought I might invite a few high priority targets over for some tea. Namely, some rather vocal senators. The stun grenades would insure minimal casualties to any security concerns that might wander into my path." Because Krinn was many things. A greedy, self serving asshole. A thief. A liar. But when it came to senseless murder, he was not quite so enthused. The kidnapping of a few senators, though, would serve a few selfish purposes. Originally, Krinn thought that they might serve the purposes of the Empire as well. After all, what was a hostage negotiation without a bit of insurance? But Kashyyyk had changed things quite a bit in regards to how he viewed his allegiances. Now he's not entirely sure if he'll go through with his original intentions or not. But no doubt, whatever he chose to do would be nothing if not self serving.

Rafe's next line of questioning almost made him want to laugh. Droids? Those were far easier than people. He had no qualms about tearing through packs of mechanical security.

"Droids are my preferred enemy type." Krinn states simply, and there's a bit of dry humor to his bland tone. "My lightsaber will cut through them all the same as anything else." That wasn't really the problem when it came to droids, though. The accuracy of droid fighters was typically greater than that of organics, and while they lacked more creative or adaptive thinking, they were certainly no laughing matter when it came to pure firepower. Droids were a threat. But they were a threat that Krinn preferred over anything else. He didn't have to feel guilty about mowing through a line of droids.

When the security personnel returned to the lavish room, Krinn blinks curiously up toward them and their datapad. He sits patiently as Rafe prods at the thing with razor tipped claws, quietly wondering how he managed to be so gentle about it without stabbing a hole through the screen.

He imagines the hulking canine was probably of similar strength to a wookiee, except with talons and fangs that were far sharper in appearance. Certainly not the type of person Krinn would want to get into a close quarter scrap with without a lightsaber in his hands. His maroon vision flickers toward the datapad's screen as it's turned for him to peer at. It was a cargo vessel, no doubt, stocked with the needed supplies that it intended to deliver. It probably had an escort, considering the weaponry onboard, and rather sizable security crew, which, if Rafe's words had any weight in the matter, were very likely to be droids. Worse, still, the ship's flight path appeared to be directed toward Onderon, and after Kashyyyk, Krinn would prefer to avoid a planet that very likely was bolstering it's might to ward off an Imperial attack.

"That could get tricky." Krinn leans back, thoughtful, owlish eyes blinking toward the brightly lit screen as he ponders the target with the prick of a fang upon his lower lip. "I'd like to catch it before it reaches Onderon, if possible. I don't want to risk stirring the hornet's nest that would no doubt be that planet after our little stunt on Kashyyyk." He doesn't want to get into a firefight with the Blackwell vessels within reach of a possible planetary defense fleet, no matter how small it might be. "Do these vessels normally have fighter escorts?" The Nautolan inquires, because he had never hit Blackwell before, despite his history of criminal mischief. He wanted to be prepared.

@Mad Dog