Ask Mission One: Sorting out the slavers.

[Nor'baal Desilijic]

Trouble on Trandosha: Sorting out the slavers​

A grubby little backwater world, Trandosha had great potential for those with the wit and lose morals to see it. Unfortunately for its inhabitants, Nor'baal Desilijic Tuire of the Hutt Cartel was just such a person, with wit aplenty a drought of morality. He'd come to the planet just this very day aboard his war barge, from which he now disembarked, accompanied by two hired guns of considerable skill, to put a plan in motion that would turn this 'backwater' into a profit machine.

'Walking' under his own power (for a change), Nor'baal was flanked by four Urodel guards, snappily dressed in smart-looking robes bearing the sigil of his clan, heavy pistols at their sides. Padding in front of him was Corellian hound, whose leash he held firmly in his right hand. <Hee caieu.> he reminded himself before switching to bare for the benefit of those who had come with him.

"This planet has a long history of being a well-stocked supplier of slaves. They do not take from the population here but rather from the surrounding systems - the people here are quite adept at it." he remarked, slithering down the exit ramp of his war-barge and nodding politely to the assembled Trandoshan dignitaries who gathered to great them. Adorned in finery, five of them stood before the ship, barely concealing their fear of the Supreme Mogul as he 'stood' before them.

He went to speak, but one of their number got their first.

"It is bold of the Cartel to reveal its hand so openly and in so few a number." the largest of the dignitaries spat. Arrogance had usurped fear in this one case, and Nor'baal merely nodded - seeming to ignore the comment as he muttered to his two companions. "They are a questionable bunch, Trandoshans, quick to act by slow to think." he snickered at his humour, and lazily waved his hand.

"Bring up the Rancor." he demanded, clenching his fist, as behind them from the barge, a low growl, and the stomp of heavy footsteps, resonated. He looked at his companions, hoping they to would have a way of signalling that the Cartel was not hear to exchange threats, rather it was here today to make good on them.

 

[Maan Vizsla]

Spoiler: Music

The heavy form of the cyborg walked along with their Hutt client as they left their war barge. The full body cybernetic was visible for all to see and would make some think Maan Vizsla was perhaps a droid. The shoulder mounted rocket launcher and the large wookiee bowcaster in his hands along with a bandoleer of grenades were the only visible weapons on the killer's body. Still, the way that Maan Vizsla carried himself as he followed his employer indicated every part of the former trandoshan was a weapon.

Dosh was the closest thing Maan Vizsla considered to be a home world. He used to be a Trandoshan but now did not consider himself to be of the same weak meat as the reptiles before him. Everything Nor'baal said, Demagol agreed with. His glowing red eyes stared at the people who used to be his own with a gaze that would chill their cold blood.

The signal from Nor'baal was given to bring the mighty beast forth. Maan Vizsla turned his partially metallic head back towards the entourage behind them. <Bring up the Rancor.> a few of the syndicate thugs repeated back in Huttese. Some even cheered because of what they expected to see next. The borg contractor would step aside, continuing to accompany the Hutt and remaining as menacing as possible whilst the Rancor approached.

@Nor'baal @Mr. Teatime

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Hired as personal security, Apex didn't just send contractors along as Nor'baal's enforcers but also an executive. Nakoa Singh strode off the barge in his armor vest and armorweave cloak, classy but functional gurka pants, and boots tailored from some dark-scaled reptile. Forgoing sleeves in the hot humidity, intricate tattoos and scars were visible where his cloak's combat-length sleeves ended and leather gloves began, dark hair neatly braided down his back. A RSKF-44 heavy pistol was holstered on his belt among the other utilities

His lightsaber hung from a belt hook. The most obvious threat Nakoa brought to the party was an Apex security detail. Twelve RN-18s with carbines immediately spread out in four groups of three around Nor'baal, marked with orange-painted faceplates and detailing. An additional heavy command variant walked next to him, totaling thirteen. At the formation's sides, closer to Nor'baal's own guards and covering the flanks, were two groups of three Kaleesh with modern rifles and blast vests.

"They will only improve," he replied to the Supreme Mogul, his version of agreement. Trandoshans were renowned slavers for reasons beyond being regarded a certain way by much of the galaxy. They were hunters, culturally. If they were bad at it, they'd be gone by now.

Nakoa stared flatly at the big, posturing diplomat who'd spoken up among the five, raising a brow at the barking attempt to assert dominance. He couldn't be serious. "All talk," Nakoa dryly agreed with the Hutt mogul. He could clearly feel the fear coming off the Trandoshan delegates.

As the Supreme Mogul called for the Rancor, Nakoa let out a sharp, three-note whistle. The RN-18s snapped carbines from standby to ready position toward the delegates in a chorus of droidspeak, the droids near the rear on alert. The Kaleesh followed suit with the added benefit of being generally intimidating, well-polished masks of bone, warrior's trinkets, and trophies shining in contrast to the sleek black rifles they sighted down. They'd move in their formation if they needed to let the Rancor by.

Singh leaned over slightly to quietly but clearly address the Supreme Mogul. "Capture is pointless. The threat of live capture may work best." Live capture zeroed a Trandoshan's score and often resulted in a blind rage to kill their capture; if they failed, they died with no score at all. It was a cultural fear worth leveraging.

Strategy was part of the Apex package Nor'baal paid for. Why bother studying the nuances of native culture and religion? Nor'baal had people for that.

@Nor'baal @Darasuum

 

[Nor'baal Desilijic]

Now with a mighty display of force arrayed around him, Nor'baal felt considerably more confident in his future actions against the Trandoshans, who appeared somewhat more muted as the Mandalorian stepped up next to the Hutt. Their admonishment only grew as the droids trudged out, and the Apex contractor oversaw their deployment alongside the Khaleesh. Credits, these days (as ever) could buy you a lot of 'street cred', and Nor'baal had both in spades.

"You have several options, becoming more limited by the second." he sneered at the Trandoshans, having taken on board the advice of his companions. "You can continue your excellent work, but for the Hutts, or you can become part of the slaving markets yourself." he snickered as the Trandoshans tensed. Their 'leader' had none of it, his arrogance resurfacing as he rejoined his kin.

From behind the group, a collection of two-dozen well-armed Trandoshans, equipped with a range of melee and ranged weapons, marched into view. They soon positioned themselves between the dignitaries and the Hutt party, causing Nor'baal to lash his tail in agitation.

A threat of force was not something he expected nor something he welcomed.

"Take them! Alive." he barked his instruction, waving the rancor and its keeper back, to stay out of the combat that was brewing. Holding the leash on his hound, he snarled at the Mandalorian and the Apex contractor - signalling to them both to get their hands dirty, and sort these upstarts out.

 

[Maan Vizsla]

Maan Vizsla gave a vocabulated hiss that turned into a snarl after Nor'baal gave the command. It was both in aggression towards the Trandoshan's signaling his willingness to fight. However the 'alive' part was what sparked a bit of frustration in the cyborg. None the less, he would comply with the parameters of his client.

The Mandalorian Trandoshan tossed the heavy bowcaster to the side, over towards the rancor keeper. The burly man caught the heavy weapon and was a bit surprised and just looked at the metallic Apex contractor. They would witness the two arms of the cyborg separate mid-forearms to reveal a set of vicious looking acklay blades. Each was roughly thirty three centimeters long and had been hidden inside Demagol's arms and were more dangerous than any natural trandoshan claws he had once possessed.

Not waiting a moment, the cyborg dashed forward and shoulder-checked the first Tranodashan and earning the man a satisfying sound of broken ribes. The weight of a Trandoshan was immensve but Maan's was greater and the momentum he put behind the impact would send the Trandoshan backwards into the ranks of other reptilian meat.

The two well armed Trandoshan's to either side tried to raise their weapons. But in a whirling blur of motion Maan sliced each of their arms off at the elbows. Trandoshans were known for even being able to regrow entire limbs so this was not fatal. But it certainly would make fighting not an option unless they wanted to get knocked out cold. The look of panic grew among the ranks of Trandoshan warriors as the metal murderer was among them. In a moment, and if uninterrupted, the butcher would cleave through the scaled defenders even going so far as to use their bodies as shields against their own comrades before hurling them into each other.

@Nor'baal @Mr. Teatime

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Nakoa made a face as a large group of Trandoshans rushed out from behind the delegates directly in front of the Supreme Mogul and all his personal security. He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing loudly. The Apex executive wasn't angry about the armed resistance, he was just disappointed in the poor choice of tactics.

Element of surprise with a couple dozen people and they couldn't have come around the flanks or something? Fuck's sake, man. Maybe it was a feint or something. His hand dropped from his face once Nor'baal gave the capture order. Capture was pointless on its own, but not as follow-through to a threat. Couldn't say they weren't warned.

"Stun. Cover," he barked, lips curling up into a grinning snarl with a rumbling hiss. Rather than draw his own weapons he heavily stomped the ground in front of him, both hands raising slowly in the air as if straining. A moment later, three roughly curved stone walls shot up from the ground as half-height cover for the Kaleesh and Mandalorian. The biggest one was, importantly, for Nor'baal and his Urodel guards. Now only the Trandoshans had no cover, which was excellent.

A shot impacted the stone between it and the Supreme Mogul. RN-18s took fire but held with typical security droid indifference to their own existence, mostly the ones in front, one of which lost an entire arm to a cross-shot. It still kept shooting, though, until several more shots to the torso dropped it.

The Kaleesh took cover, firing accurately with typical Kaleesh skill as Vizla took to melee. The rear droids remained on alert, swiveling in place to watch for potential hostiles from the sides. They only fired at any Trandoshans who got too close to the security formation.

One particularly large Trandoshan absolutely covered in heavy armor, which appeared to be made entirely of layer upon layer of cooking pans badly welded together, charged forward with the hopes of taking the Supreme Mogul's head. They took several stun shots along the way without stopping. "PAN SSSSSHOT!" they declared, continuing to menacingly speed-waddle forward with a sharpened frying pan in each hand.

Nakoa grinned wider with amusement and strode forward past cover, right hand calmly reaching for his belt. His deep violet lightsaber snap-hissed to life and was swung two-handed in a V-shaped cut. It sliced through the thick pan-metal on both arms and thigh, disabling the limbs without cutting them clean off. He followed that up by sending them careening through the air with the Force to barrel through a couple of others, clattering cacophonously the entire time.

Between a Force user, a machine Mandalorian doing his best wood-chipper impression, covered Kaleesh marksmen, and fearless security droids, the locals were probably having a pretty terrible time. Nakoa tried to keep his eyes on the delegates to make sure they didn't scurry off amidst the mess.

@Nor'baal @Darasuum

 

[Nor'baal Desilijic]

Nor'baal hated dull meetings.

They dragged on for far too long and made business just so boring.

On the other hand - he loved meetings with a bit of blood sport thrown in.

As Maan Vizsla threw himself into action, acklay blades on display, it occurred to the Hutt that he'd never seen them in action before. He simply had to have one of the slaves outfitted with this technology, for watching them dismember a local Trandoshan made Nor'baals heart race.

Nakoa was equally as impressive, throwing up some excellent cover to protect his immense personage. It meant Nor'baal himself did not need to move.

It was just tremendous to not have to expend any effort whatsoever in this heat as well.

"Well, don't just bloody stand there." he ordered his Urodel, who quickly began to fan him, so as to ensure the Supreme Mogul was not to warm in this perishingly uncomfortable climate.

A shot pranged off of the stone in front of him.

How rude. Nor'baal thought.

Fortunately, the RN-18s took quick action to defend their master's dignity, as did the Kaleesh. Nor'baal blinked slowly as one of the heavy-set lizards ran at him, seeking, no doubt, to pay homage.

It was stunned in an instant.

Excellent. He simply couldn't have such a beast to close to him!

Thus far these impertinent lizards had been kept away from him. Apex and the Mandalorian, worth every credit.

"Come, it is to warm here." Nor'baal stated, moving from behind the rock, with total and complete disregard for his safety - after all, who would dare to try and kill him? He slithered out from behind cover, his fan wavers desperate keep fanning him, as their master made to move toward the enemy lines, and get on with the business at hand.

 

[Nakoa Singh]

It was a good thing the Trandoshans were so disorganized. RN-18s took damage or fell, but there was no sense of focused fire. Individualistic hunters in a group made for a poor attack force compared to cooperative Kaleesh warriors. Even still, a shot nailed one of the Kaleesh in an armored shoulder. Cover wasn't a perfect defense.

Particularly if someone left it behind. As the Supreme Mogul and his attendants approached the enemy force, Nakoa noted the movement and maneuvered to the side to plant himself between them and the Trandoshans. Forward he moved, blade whipping to deflect blaster fire. He wasn't the greatest saberist in the galaxy, but he was more than a match for a group of armed slavers.

Singh strode forward shielded by a blur of plasma that ended all challengers. Those who got too close lost limbs, were struck by stones, or were stunned by Kaleesh marksmen. Targeting the Hutt behind him actually made his job easier; the angle of fire meant he was in less direct danger, such that he was reflecting shots back to their source every few shots.

As Nor'baal edged forward, Trandoshans fell to their own weapons.

@Nor'baal @Darasuum

 

[Maan Vizsla]

In seconds, the whirling dervish that was Maan Vizsla cut through the scaled defenders of their home world. Arms and legs were severed cleanly with swift slashes performed in flashes. The cybernetic butcher parried any hasty attack and clove the Trandoshans one after another.

The meat bags that thought themselves predators had looks of fear in their eyes. There was much backpedaling in vain or trying to bring a weapon about only for them to trip and bump into each other amidst the chaos. Brutal bludgeoning kicks from metal feet and elbow strikes from hulking contractor would create wet snaps and reveal broken bones, allowing Maan Vizsla to continue grinning manically as his enemies wailed at their injuries.

In the matter of seconds, no less than twenty limbs and eight Trandoshan bodies littered the ground around Maan Vizsla. They either lacked arms, legs, or a combination of the two. The earth itself was smattered with blood sprays and leaking life fluid from lost body parts. But each of the Trandoshans Maan took on had been neutralized. A third of the Trandoshans were taken out in the blink of an eye leaving the rest to be dropped by the Kaleesh warriors and the Hutt droids.

The cyborg stood amidst the groaning and wining concious Trandoshans clutching at their leaking stumps. Blood dripped from the blades at either side as Maan's red artificial gaze looked at the remaining reptilian targets. His right foot took a step in front of the other, Maan Vizsla began to approach the largest Trandoshan dignitary, stepping onto the back of an armless Trandoshan and over without breaking stride despite the yells as his body was crushed under the cyborg's significant weight. The one which had spoken first would meet Maan's gaze and realize he was next. The Apex Contractor could call out. He could taunt the dignitary or threaten him to do Nor'baal's bidding. But Demagol was glad they had not surrendered yet. It meant there was more carving to come.

@Mr. Teatime @Nor'baal

 

[Nor'baal Desilijic]

One of the things Nor'baal liked in his hired muscle was them to blindly follow orders, and carry out the mission for which they had been paid.

As he moved to continue his own personal mission (which was far to complex for the minds of lesser organics to comprehend), Nor'baal was pleased to see the Apex warriors and the Mandalorians getting down to business and keeping his perfect personage out of harm's way. A blaster shot whizzed a few feet passed his head, the Hutt choosing to ignore it - surely nobody was foolish enough to aim a blaster at him?

Khaleesh warriors kept dismembering those who attempted to enter his orbit directly, droids laying down a hefty amount of firepower to keep the Trandoshans in a state of near-constant panic. Apex mopped up the rest, until soon there were only the Trandoshan dignitaries who had started this entire mess off left.

Nor'baal slithered his way to one of them, who remained standing as the Hutt approached. The Trandoshan ringleader was armed, his blaster held at his side, not daring to raise it to the Hutt. Despite standing, the Trandoshan was still considerably shorter than Nor'baal - Hutts set imposing figures, regardless of their posture.

He looked at the Trandoshan, as silence fell across the area - the last smatterings of combat pittering out.

<Jee joleu see koi du mee sawuiei jensm.> the Trandoshan looked up to meet the Hutts gaze, doing so only briefly before staring back down at the floor, as if waiting for the blow to come that would end his pitiful life. Nor'baal wielded power with artistry that spoke of centuries of practice, and he did so now. He had this mewling welp exactly where he needed him. <Uba katka doth tam bai tah jiu, nobata? Jee kacay joppay Jee koo dopeha doptkee.>

The Hutt looked down at the pitiful Trandoshan, watching as the pomp and bluster it had just recently shown, left - the arrogance went as the dignitary effectively deflated before his betters <Jee kacay bu noobie Jee maoueseke Jee gee maniaht bu koumhoiag camai, wa Yih doi mo danko nan bai Gahitlonh, goo banag bai boya bu hhawa Jee joggdu ree bu tee-tocky. Jee sey nobata. Sey goo caiot tee san fa.> he drew closer to the Trandoshan, near to his right ear and whispered <Woy uba bla haku goo woy?>

Nor'baal took hold of the mans arm and pulled up his sleeve "He spoke my language, took my arm and held me in place. He told me that night every single man in my employ, would die. He tapped the sigil on my arm, my House crest." he tapped the slavers guild sigil on the Trandoshans arm "He said to me he would take everything from me, until I had just the crest on my arm, and the knowledge that the only reason I still drew breathe, is because he had allowed it."

Letting go of the man's arm, Nor'baal smiled as he heard the Trandoshans blaster drop to the floor.

"He gave me a second chance, the next day. He kept me alive, brought me into his fold, into his confidence over the years that followed - took me from being a worthless worm, to being a Hutt of value." Nor'baal sneered, looking over at the four other dignitaries who wimpered behind the Trandoshan.

He nodded, and the four of them dropped to the floor, blaster holes in their chests.

Nor'baal took hold of the last remaining Trandoshan, one hand on each arm, and moved his face to be but inches from his. "You're nothing to me." he licked his lips "From this day onward, your pitiful little guild belongs to me, you belong to me - this is your second chance, you will not get a third."

He let go of the Trandoshan, who dropped to his knees, and bowed his head. Nor'baal turned away, back to his ship - and smiled.

<Ten bolla!>

/exitthread