Locating the Package

[James Logan]

LOCATION: Ryloth
TIME: Unknown

He sat in his hut, eating one of the strange fruits that the villagers picked. It was a sweet fruit. "A week I've been at this village, and no sign of outsiders, well I guess no one likes me, or even knows I'm out here. Might as well learn the ways of the villagers." James thought. The villagers followed a principle that anyone who had hands and feet, would work. The ones that had neither, or one....well they just disappeared. Survival of the fittest of the correct motto of the village. James had been tasked with multiple activities. Wake up in the morning, go to the hills, and do patrols, nighttime patrols were the worst. James was burnt as hell, this planet was even worse than Tattoine, and that planet burns as well. He just hoped someone would come along and help.


OCC: @Herrith @Die Shize @TenthCodex Die shize wanted to DM. Challenges will occur
​

 

[Herrith Hendarsin]

Herrith sat near the loading ramp of the ship owned by the Zeltron known as Jetha. The engines rumbled, and she felt a slight jolt as they came out of hyperspace. Ryloth. What a curious place to be. Home of slavery, suffering, and Twi'leks. Yet, something about it still rang with a sense of happiness, as though pride still lingered on a slave world. Likely just her thoughts getting too suggestive. She brushed the notion aside and stood up, adjusting her jacket. It looked hot. And certainly would be hot. Tatooine hot? Probably not. But close enough. She prepared herself for the inevitable blast of sunlight and discomfort.

They were after a 'James Logan'. Somewhere, the name seemed familiar, maybe on some kind of Hutt Space network or the like. Whoever he was, it was big money for getting him out, and that was quite the motive for someone like her. As for the other two, it seemed Alask was excited to get home, maybe he could see relatives. But Jetha? She was an enigma, and the whole facade of wanting to come just for the hell of it didn't ring right in Herrith's eyes. She could read people. But some out there were layers of a labyrinth, and she liked to think she was the same.

As the surface grew nearer, the Zeltron flicked on the power to her blaster, unbuttoning the strap holding it securely and safely inside her holster to check the charge before setting it back in its place. As much as she wanted to believe this was going to be easy, it never really was. Herrith just hoped she wasn't going to get blown up. Again. Twice.

@Die Shize @TenthCodex @Quazi

 

[Alask Vrein]

Laying on the lounge in Jetha's ship, Alask found himself utterly bored out of his mind. His lekku swayed back and forth, almost like a way to entertain himself on the boring ride. He much preferred being in the pilot's seat, and whenever he was travelling as a passenger, Alask enjoyed the warm embrace and passion he and Christopher often had. Sadly, it seemed that the Elensalite was off doing a few things.

But sadly, Alask was all on his own with Jetha and Herrith, and he was pretty sure Jetha would be mad about finding an Elensalite and a Twi'lek spending a bit too long in her ship's refresher.

"Are we there yet?" Alask asked in a child-like tone as he crumbled up a wrapper and threw it at the wall.

Herrith seemed to be already checking her weapons, and Alask didn't understand why. It was just a rescue mission... on a planet owned now by Nem'ro the Hutt, and a place that Alask could probably end up dying easily on if anyone found out he was there during the battle of Lessu.

Maybe he should've been checking his weapons at this point.

@Herrith @Die Shize @Quazi

 

[Jetha]

Theme

Spoiler

Okay… Jetha felt the back of her skull seep into the seat behind it, her body melting into her chair like astro-Jell-o. What’s on the menu tonight then, Caed? The console beeped before her eyes right beside the beads of beats behind her mind. Dock the boat, rescue Mr. Logan, get paid, feed the stomach, feed the fish and be home in time for tea. She took a sip of her blue nectar and stifled a jet of liquid, her eyes bulging. Licking her lips, her bottle clicked delicately upon the console, like a wink to remind her of its loyalty and integrity when next she might claim it. Cats do not claim companionship.

As audio streamed out of the subwoofer that served as the seat’s soothing headrest, Jetha’s chest rose and fell to the bass at the base of the chair. Drums dripped with victory like ale from ivory, treating her private presence with a parade of power. What it all meant, she didn’t know, but maybe she’d find a cat on this planet who could caw like a crow—and see if she can’t convince it.

She stifled a smile as she sipped from her glass, swiveling to face the breadth of her cockpit whose consoles kept her boots up. Cradle yourself when you cry, carve your own chronicles to crown, and cackle before your own calamity. It was a simple enough code to keep, the kind that stretched and sprawled like spacewhale DNA, but the circle-of-life linear logic had long since kept Jetha’s own brain stretched. What is a fragment of a letter, a digit in the machine, worth to a star gone supernova?

She considered the query, leaning back to stargaze like she once had when those stars had littered her night sky. Now she was on their level. If not, exactly, quite on their level. They surrounded her ship, those twinkling flames lit like candles in a dark room. One just then exploded behind her eyes, faces flashed by a window and a moment later the vision had faded. One more wick. Jetha was alone in her cockpit once more, blinking at a button that her finger had failed to press.



Out of hyperspace, the Dandelion cruised like a cracker across cream from outer space to Ryloth space, exosphere to stratosphere. The ship had sailed the rather straight vector without much sway from course. However, it was known that Nar Kaaga could be smelled from lightyears away, pirates around Roon were rude and crude and Siskeen sounded as bad as Nar Kaaga smelled. Jetha had made a marked few adjustments to the course but, ultimately, Ryloth was inevitably more of the same. The dusty boulder's atmosphere kicked and coughed as though the yellow flower were attempting to penetrate it. It writhed and lashed out in defiance, like a whipped slave fueled by pain and rage.

As her ship tumbled dice with the wind and won with six eyes, Jetha’s own two took in the barren lands beaten by the stars. Through the window, the ground was lit up like a lantern beneath the dusk. Just in case one yellow rowboat might get lost in the stream. Though, the Dandelion was a graceful thing. A flower in the wind. Jetha’s hands navigated the menu as the ship curved toward Ryloth’s surface like a dancer in heat. Said surface would contain said heat, something that she wasn’t looking forward to, but at least she didn’t have to live in it. Remembering her company, she pressed a button, put on her best freighter captain impression and hoped for the best.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen! This is your captain, Jetha, uhhhhh, we’re looking at about a two and a half-minute descent time tonight, uhhhhhh, we got clear skies, good visibility. Sort of.” She cleared her throat. “The temperature on Ryloth is thirty-six degrees, uhhhhhhhhh, the flight’s gonna be a little longer than we’ve expected, ahh, we’ve got some very strong headwinds, uhm. Passengers, please prepare for landing.”

And like that, the broadcast was shut down and her voice in her ears was replaced by the kind of music that dug deeper, down to the very base of sound. It spread throughout the caverns and the cribs and the cradles of Jetha's mind as the Dandelion drifted down like a flower in the wind.

 

[The Storyteller]

Another ship landed on the port. Landing crew already directing the ship onto one of the pads. As soon as the ship landed, he was already there. His name was Marko Wallenberg, and worked for a tour group stationed on Ryloth. His booth was a little ways to the south entrance, but Marko took it upon himself to go straight to the ship. As the door opened, he gave his widest smile, and said his required introduction. “Welcome to Ryloth! I assume you are guests? My name is Marko Wallenberg, and I work for star line tour groups. Would you like a tour of a particular place on Ryloth? We have many great deals to choose!”

 

[Herrith Hendarsin]

Herrith chuckled to herself at Jetha's quips, impersonating a captain on a passenger ship. She had a good amount of wit about her, which was admirable. Hell, it reminded Herrith of Herrith. Just not as dirty and crude, but just as funny. The muffled music echoing throughout the ship was of a time of nightclubs and insane dance parties, of which the Zeltron had only seen at home and rarely anywhere else. It pounded your eardums to mush when you were placed in front of a couple six-foot speakers. Those were the times. Muttering a quick little spacer phrase for good luck, she stood as the ramp lowered itself, descending even before it had fully touched the ground. A man rapidly approached through the dust and wind, the devious smile of a businessman on his face. Friendly enough to be almost unfriendly.

"Here comes trouble..." she muttered to no one in particular as he dumped his bit of sales offer on them.

She had the urge to decline, and rather rudely at that, then had second thoughts. Alask knew his way around, but whoever this guy was probably knew the more recent developments around the area. In the end, she thought it best to wait for the rest to catch up. Jetha and Alask, the all compassionate one, would probably have something to chime in on. After all, she was just a lowly smuggler. What did she know?

 

[Alask Vrein]

The ship seemed to have come to a stop, and Alask knew that it was time for their little search and rescue mission. Taking a step outside of the ship, Alask was immediately greeted towards the heat of Ryloth and an almost cloudless sky. Ryloth still looked the same at least, even if the entire species was doomed now to serve Nem'ro the Hutt, a man Alask hated with all his heart. If he got the chance, he'd make to sure grab a few thermal detonators and force them down Nme'ro's throat, exploding the fat slug into nothing more than meaty chunks.

"Alright, let's get moving people. We got any more info on this guy before we start our search? Why he had a bounty on him would be important, and who issued it to. That at least gives us a place for us to start looking at.

Alask turned back towards both Jetha and Herrith, a bit of a more laid back look on his face. He really didn't want to stay on Ryloth for too long, mostly because he had ended up killing one of the Cartel's biggest members on the planet right in the open. Sure no one knew it was him, and most people thought he died from his ship crashing into Nem'ro's corvette, but that still didn't make him feel less uneasy.

Though one could say that Alask's choice of lover would make him even more uneasy.

"Y'know... back when I was a kid, I used to think of starting a family on Ryloth. But now that this place is owned by that farking slug... I don't think I'd ever want a family here. Christopher and our kids wouldn't deserve a hell like this..."

A gloomy look was on Alask's face, though unfortunately it was cut short by the by the emergence of a local tour guide of sorts. Immediately he was already trying to get them to buy into his guide stuff, and Alask was a bit confused. Alask was a local here, and he grew up on the planet. Ryloth was a place he knew like the back of his hand.

"Uh... I think we might be good, right guys?" Alask let out a bit of an uncomfortable look as he glanced at both Jetha and Herrith. It was their decision now.

@Quazi @Die Shize @Herrith

 

[The Storyteller]

Marko always got different reactions from the travelers. Some said, "Piss Of Man!." Others said, "I hope you take your booth and go die." Thankfully this group of people didn't do any of the sort. Marko had spent enough time stationed on Ryloth to pick out the locals from the visitors. One person stuck out. A blue skinned human thingamabob. "So you are a local here? I can tell. Doesn't matter. Thing is I've got the tools to ferry you anywhere. And if you choose our premium package, you can enjoy benefits for our members like all you can eat buffet and points at hotels, if you're into that sort of thing."

@TenthCodex @Herrith @Die Shize

 

[Jetha]

Ambience

Spoiler

As the Dandelion tipped her stem and dipped her petals, it was all Jetha could do to roll with the ship and take to landing. Sometimes she wondered if the freighter was the one controlling her, keeping her puny little body from suffering from the after effects of spatial exposure, getting her from point A to B in one piece, and most definitely filling her up with all the audible delicacies that her eardrums could sample. Here on Ryloth, she had a feeling that her ship would be the one relying on her as much as the other way around. Where there were gangsters, pirates were sure to be near, and this was one freighter as delicate as she was refined. Slavery could extend to ships too, rendering metal as dangerous as bare flesh exposed to outer space.

The music had stopped before the ship had landed, its captain targeting the nearest pad toward the center of the open port. As dusk permeated the dusty atmosphere, one would quickly discover that the array of spacecraft turned out to be some of the lanterns on the ground. As crowded a port as any other. Jetha flicked enough switches and pressed enough buttons to shut her ship down before she gulped back another shot and exited her cockpit, swinging her backpack over her shoulders on her way out.

The heat hit her like a saw across the face and was met with a scowl. Maybe it was her spacer lifestyle, maybe it was her cold connection with the vast void, or maybe it was just the fact of her own body’s makeup, but heat was one of Jetha’s greatest enemies. The sooner they got out of this sweatshop of a dock, the sooner she’d find air conditioning to take the place of a warm wind.

“Aye, aye,” she replied to Alask’s marching orders, performing a visual sweep of the vicinity, taking note of the exit points. “Twi’leks. Hutts. Bounties.” She grinned. “I think that’s all the info we need as far as why our man is a wanted man.”

As her own Twi’lek companion rambled on about some bloke named Christopher and kids eating slugs on Ryloth, Jetha couldn’t help but blow through her lips at Herrith’s words which had directed her gaze in her shared direction. Great. Salesmen. Whatever the pitch, it was a sales pitch, and whatever the sales pitch it had better be a good one.

As the man who had approached them smiled with money between his teeth, Jetha returned the expression with her own lips in a curtsy. “Guests.” Ah, a tour guide. Nice. “You assume correctly. How astute.” It must have been her backpack that gave it away, or Alask the Twi’lek’s clueless demeanor that made him look like he was the only alien on the planet. “Star Line Tour Groups, eh?” Her eyes spun away as she searched for familiarity with that name.

Alask posed the question that appeared to be floating on Herrith’s countenance, and suddenly Jetha realized that maybe this first decision of the many to come was hers to make; one stuck with her upon piloting her ship upon the pad. She parted her lips to speak when the guide did so for her. He had a point. Jetha did have her bike stowed away in the Dandelion but three was two more too many. Tour guides went either way when it came to rates, though this one looked cheap and desperate enough to lean in the party’s favor. But first we play before we pay.

“Thing is, Marko,” she dipped her fingers beneath the straps over her shoulders and leaned on one hip. “We’ve just had an exhausting ferry of our own from one planet to the next, and while I don’t think any one of us are looking to hit the sack just yet, paying an arm and a leg for a shuttle and then some might just drain the last drop from our already weary backsides. Cheers for the offer, though.”

With that, Jetha placed one foot in front of the other and began to walk away.

 

[Herrith Hendarsin]

Herrith listened, not saying much as the guide sized the three of them up. She was sure he was eyeing the Zeltrons more. Who wouldn't? Two Zeltron women on the same ship? Hell yeah was the most common answer. She nodded to Alask and Jetha's comments, with the latter essentially telling the guy to fark off, but much better put and more eloquently said. She scoffed to herself, then put a hand on Alask's shoulderas a sign of reassurance, making eye contact with the businessman.

"If you're gonna make an approach about tourism to two slave races when you're just a human, I'd recommend choosing other customers. Especially in a place like this. Just some advice."

Herrith nodded to her Twi'lek friend and jogged to catch up with Jetha.
"Wouldn't advise walking off in a random direction round here, love. Plenty of slavers looking to snatch a pretty girl. Especially Twi'leks and Zeltrons. It's even easier alone. So keep with the group, maybe? Please? I kinda like your wit."

 

[Alask Vrein]

Well, it seemed that neither Jetha or Herrith was very much interested in poor Marko, and neither was Alask. But it didn't make him feel any worse. The poor guy looked like a puppy, especially a lost one. Herrith and Jetha were already on their way, but Alask stayed for a bit, making his way to the man and putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Listen man, next time, try not to ask for a tour when the party has a Twi'lek in the group. But hey, better luck next time, tiger." Alask let out a half smile as he reached deep into his pocket and pulled out a few extra credits, "I don't do this everyday, but here's a few credit chips for your time. Spend 'em how you will."

And with that Alask would turn back to catch up with his fellow partners, intent on trying to find where exactly the guy they were after was located. Pulling out his datapad, Alask took a bit of time examine the bounty of the guy they were after. That's when he read the first words at the top of the thing.

James Logan.

"What in the fark?" Alask muttered under his breath as he got in distance of Jetha and Herrith. James? That same human that Alask had ended up meeting back on Iridonia? No, that couldn't be right could it? But sadly, it seemed like it was the truth. The picture looked like him, and the description matched perfectly. For a moment, Alask was silent, until he read who had issued the bounty.

"That farking slug."

Alask spoke with a deeper voice, as he noticed the bounty was issued by none other than Nem'ro the Hutt. That only helped intensify Alask's hatred, but it also did another thing. It gave them a better place to look. If James was stranded on Ryloth, then he'd have to be in a location around Nem'ro's palace.

"Now, you two ladies wouldn't happen to know the location of Nem'ro's palace would you? I think I got an idea of where to look..."

@Herrith @Die Shize

 

[Jetha]

Recurring Ambience

Spoiler

Jetha kept pace as she chuckled at Herrith’s comment. “Thanks, but my wit’s the last thing to worry about around here. Or slavers. Last one who tried to catch me had his gun turned around in his face, and a warning that if he ever tried to touch me again then I’d relieve him of his most precious organ and feed it to him.” She thought on those words, her face reflecting a memory. “Though it wouldn’t have made much of a meal, in hindsight.”

That being said, there were plenty more slavers where that one had one come from, and not all so dimwitted. Worse than them all was the blasted heat that engulfed even the better parts of the planet. Still, right now Jetha’s primary concern was for one little tour guide and the discounts that he hadn’t realized were jangling around in his pockets. Finally, the fool had caught up, reconsidered the layout of the negotiation table and slid some of his chips back Jetha’s way. The deal was sealed when the two had settled on the premium package with a seventy-five percent discount, namely on account of having not one but three members of oppressed species in the group. It was only fair. Besides, having a tour guide serve as visual cannon fodder might be a nice cover.

As the group made way for the south gate, Jetha looked back to see the Twi’lek trailing behind. He was a dedicated individual, saying nothing of his naivety. Datapad in hand, he wasn’t shy about taking the initiative. Or is he working on another kind of homework with our backs turned to him? She wouldn’t have been surprised. His lips moved just then but no sound came out that reached Jetha’s ears. A moment later and the expletive was unmistakable.

She placed a hand on Herrith’s arm to motion for the train to brake, turning around to face Alask. Something was up, that was for sure. Usually something slimy when it came to slugs, and Hutts were the slimiest and flabbiest of them all. When Alask began to spill the beans, Jetha looked from Herrith back to him. “I make it a habit to avoid the homes of Hutts.” She spoke flatly. “That’s why I make it a habit to know where they are.” Her head tilted toward the south. “Jixuan desert.” She looked from one person to the other. “And by the looks of things, we’re already headed in the right direction.” Even if the right direction means heat and more heat.

Jetha held up a finger, catching the tour guide’s reaction to their selected destination before her eyes fell on Alask. “First, though, what’s your idea?”

 

[Herrith Hendarsin]

Herrith turned as force was applied to her arm, half expecting a punch to the face, and listened while she explained her thoughts. The joke prior had heen well-received, though the Zeltron was sure she could one-up Jetha's story a few times over. So, like a three-up. Apparently their friend Alask had had a thought about their mission pop into his head. She immediately cursed silently, realizing how dangerous that was. Nem'ro. Farking hell, this just got more interesting in a bad way.

She agreed with Jetha's statement about their direction.
"I agree with you. But I'll still hear from Alask, though."

OOC - TenthCodex has taken a vacation from the site for an undetermined amount of time. We can continue or hold.

 

[Jetha]

Recurring Theme

Spoiler

Ships passed by overhead while passers-by took to foot and negotiated their traffic around the four individuals who stood facing one another. A couple of Zeltrons, a Twi’lek and a tour guide—the latter’s species not terribly relevant. Tour guides were their own breed. Jetha looked from one face to the other, browsing the crowd in between to make sure that anyone who wasn’t in a ship was keeping their distance less relative than a relative might. Four pairs of eyes facing opposite shoulders kept all angles watched, but there was no telling how many others might have picked up on this job and sought to complete it themselves, namely by copying someone else's homework. Or seek to stop people like us from doing the job at all.

As Jetha stood at attention and patiently listened in, Alask began to spill the beans. He described the person whom they had been hired to track down and rescue and bridged the gap between him and why they were thinking of heading to some silly slug’s sanctuary. Nem’ro, of all slugs. The gravity of the situation caused Herrith’s previous words about enslavement to echo in Jetha’s head. Here were two Zeltrons and one Twi’lek on Ryloth about to go tour the palace of the King of the Twi’leks and the Warlord of Ryloth. Not the most festive of field trips, but certainly among the most terrible of ideas.

Jetha sighed and turned to face the greater shipyard in wonder, twisting her lips as she watched vessels take off or touch down. Everyone was going somewhere, even though most were going nowhere. People desperate for direction while seeking their own. In their midst were taxis and tour guides to lead them along. With bad ideas come bad feelings, Jetha, and with bad feelings come good ideas. Caed had told her so more than once. She hadn’t always listened. Her lips spread and she turned on a heel to face her group.

“One James Logan. One Nem’ro the Hutt. One Twi’lek. Two Zeltrons.” She paused, looking from Herrith to Alask before her eyes settled on the fourth sleeve of their little outfit. “And one tour guide.” Jetha studied the man a moment longer before nodding her idea into play. “I believe we’ve found our way in.”

To any who were clueless, it was Jetha’s turn to explain her findings. Slaves were like grains of sand on Ryloth, tiny by themselves but near infinite when gathered together. Supply was limitless, demand unlimited. Publicizing their presence, in a sense, wouldn’t go all that noticed. On the other hand, trying to sneak their way into Nem’ro’s palace sounded fun, if a tad difficult. Barging their way in shouldn’t have been on anyone’s mind. Waltzing on up like the Hutt’s fortress was a cocktail lounge might get them kicked out, if they were lucky.

“I imagine that our slug-friend has no shortage of troupers as much as troopers, but a Hutt’s lust runs as deep as its greed…” Jetha licked her lips. They were sour. “I’m pretty. You’re pretty. And you’re pretty.” Her gaze had passed from Herrith to Alask before landing on the tour guide. “And you’re pretty useful, or so I hope, because you just might be able to take us on a tour of Nem’ro’s palace—as enterprising entertainers looking to get paid for making a Hutt drool.” Jetha blinked, awkwardness stinging her eyes. “...Nauseating mental imagery notwithstanding…” She shrugged at the group. “At least, that’s one idea of how we can get in. As I said, I generally make it a purpose in my stellar life to stay as far away from Hutts as I can. I'm pretty good at avoiding them. Not so much at sipping tea with them."

 

[Herrith Hendarsin]

I believe I've found our way in.

Two Zeltrons and a Twi'lek. Well, that could only mean one bloody thing. Oh, joy! Guess they were going to have to be almost-slaves, then! And look who had first hand experience?! This keetar freg, yours truly, Herrith Farking Hendarsin. Of course the Zeltron that never went through that stuff came up with the idea. Sure, she didn't seem enthusiastic about the idea, but she certainly didn't seem against it, either. Kriffing hell, were they really doing this? The better question was: would her brands be recognized?

"I'm going to stop you right there, though..."

Herrith paused, collecting her thoughts.

"This James Logan, he..there's no way he'd still be at the palace if that's where he got brought to. They'd toss him out once they were done...they always do. I don't think he'd be there...plus I'm not exactly enthusiastic on..well, going there. At all."

Herrith both had common sense and her slave past on her side. She would definitely not be going there...not unless they absolutely had to. Hell, 10,000 credits wasn't enough to...do this. And if he was actually there, well, that was tough luck for him. She wasn't looking to get re-enslaved anytime soon.

"But if you're really insistent...I've got some history with the Hutts, and I'm not looking to restart that history, you get me?"

There was something in her eyes, it wasn't the usual arrogance. Was it..fear? Maybe..

 

[James Logan]

It had been a long time since James was brought to the village, and he was accustomed to everything that was surrounding him. James became part of the village. He wore their clothes, did the same chores, and ate the same food. He was even able to learn some of the languages and religions of the village. He gave up hope that there would be any sort of rescue. He also had help from the fellow villagers to help his arm. Now he felt no pain, it was just a dried up stump. Since he only had one arm, he was given the easy tasks. James walked around, he felt helpless. He was a disabled. The first thing he would do if he got rescued is to get a prosthetic arm. Though the villager doctor told him he would have to get more of the arm removed because his veins were burnt together. That was fine with James, whatever he could do to get back to his job. Night came, and James was supposed to be helping the ladies wash the dishes, but James wanted in on the action. He decided to skip, although he knew he would get reprimanded. James walked up the hill to meet with his new friends who were on patrol duty. They handed him a gun, a rarity. Most villagers used swords or other melee weapons, but when traders came, they often got better weapons. James made sure the safety was off, before putting it on his holster. One of the patrol partners saw this, and gave a confused look before turning away. James just wanted to be safe. As the night grew along, the group headed out, patrolling the perimeter, and watching out for any rivial villages, or monsters.

 

[The Storyteller]

Krrruch his name was. And he was part of the morning watch squads for the village. He was high up in his tower, making sure everything was alright. Then he heard a sound. The sound of a speeder. That either meant a trader, or tourists. Tourists were terrible, always making funny faces at how his people acted and what they did. Krrruch was suspicious, and did not like the new comer, James Logan. He thought he was a spy for the other village. As the speeder approached, he sounded his horn, alerting everyone in the village that someone was coming, and to get ready. This very instant, the guard squad would be moving to intersept the speeder, and to determine if it was hostile. Unfortunatly that human, James Logan was put for the morning shift. He secretly hoped James got killed by the new comers.

 

[Jetha]

Theme

Spoiler

The morning sun was no less of a jerk than it had been the previous day as it beat down on the two Zeltrons sitting inside a speeder. Jetha wondered why so many speeders like this one didn’t come equipped with a roof. The AC only traveled so far before it faded into the wind. She wondered further whether the other two would find James at their location or not. While air conditioned buildings were worth their weight in gold, so was an information broker who brokered the right information. The hairy-bellied beast that he was.

The Bothan sure had taken a liking to the pair of Zeltrons in particular that now sat in a speeder searching for what was purchased. Furry snouts aside, Jetha had never heard the word “credits” in the broker’s request for two personal dancers in his private pad, not that she would have danced for credits. The group would have simply been given back what they had already spent on a lead. From then to now, two locations where mysterious Mr. Logan might be. Would Alask and the token tour guide be the ones to find their target, or Jetha and Herrith?

At that query, Jetha’s eyes caught the silhouette of buildings that snaked back and forth within the distant heat waves. The sight sent a shivering thought across Jetha’s brain, one of hairy-bellied Bothans and belly dancing Zeltrons. There it is. The prize that was promised. One thing paid off, which was the fact that there was indeed a village out this far. That info, though, hadn’t required a broker. Any tour guide might have told them. The odds of one James Logan being at this one village, on the other hand, was information that had come with a price. The question was which half of the coin would pay off? Or if the coin was counterfeit to begin with.

“I swear”, Jetha seethed, glancing from Herrith to the horizon. “If this guy isn’t where we’re headed, and he’s not where Alask is headed…” She shook her head, her hands twisting on the wheel. “Then I’m going to eat my own head.”

Some time later, the duo arrived. The speeder slowed down the closer it approached, till all that remained between vehicle and village were around one hundred feet. The distance seemed sensible; not too close, not too far. The pair of Zeltrons hadn’t a clue what kind of reception they should expect to find, and if the Bothan had then he hadn’t felt like selling it. Like icing on the cake of caution, the horn that blared was surely coming from the watchtower. And there’s either an old man sitting up there with a pipe between his teeth, or a sniper with a rifle between his hands. Or both.

The weight of warning continued galloping out of the tower as the speeder came to a halt. Jetha made no move to climb out yet, vanishing AC or not. Moving might not have mattered, but the Zeltrons might have had their classy countenances framing the scopes of one sniper if not two or more. On another world, she had experienced her fair full of fine folk from the boonies. Bloody hicks and their blasted village signs riddled with their own bolts. Not this village, perhaps. Time would tell.

“Right then!”

Jetha turned her head to face Herrith, smiling her best. She mused on the odds of her fellow Zeltron having ever been with a Bothan.

“Do you want to do the talking, or shall I?”

 

[Herrith Hendarsin]

Two Zeltrons begging to be let into a speeder was enough for any Bothan to accept, honestly. And it was no surprise the price was going to be nothing. It seemed Jetha knew just as well of her abilities as Herrith, and two Zeltrons working together always got what they wanted. Always. She chuckled at Jetha's gripe about them having to split up, and leaned out against the side of the speeder as she glared at the Rylothian landscape. The sun was setting, and the time of gold was starting up. Herrith couldn't remember the last time she'd been able to see a natural golden sunset...it had been a while.

And then they had arrived at this so-called village.
"Well, do you speak Ryl? I do. So..."

She let that thought finish itself as she winked at the Bothan and climbed out of the speeder. Being a former cafarel, the Zeltron had been with a lot of things...and it shouldn't be said the exact list.

That was a well kept secret.

 

[The Storyteller]

The group cautiously approached the speeder, blasters primed and ready, and sharp sticks pointed towards the intruders. James pointed his blaster at the speeder, ready to shoot when a pink Zeltron, and bothan stepped out. Somewhere James had seen the Zeltron, which means she could most likely speak basic, but he was not sure this was the same Zeltron. James took the awkward situation, and began speaking, first looking at the squad leader for permission. The leader nodded. "Hello? Welcome to our village, who are you and what would you like?"


@Herrith @Die Shize @TenthCodex