Regrouping
Since the fall of Kessel, the intergalactic spice market has been in turmoil, prices skyrocketing thanks to the collapse of regular trade. However, alongside this the Pyke Sydnicate, for generations the preeminent players in the spice market, has suffered a colossal setback as a result of the loss of one of their core territories.
But in disaster, can come opportunity. Some Pykes have come together following the fall and with a lack of direction from Oba Diah, the home of the Pyke family, now itself under the control of the ISC, it is up to them to forge a new path for this decimated Cartel.
But in disaster, can come opportunity. Some Pykes have come together following the fall and with a lack of direction from Oba Diah, the home of the Pyke family, now itself under the control of the ISC, it is up to them to forge a new path for this decimated Cartel.
Lom had been scowling beneath his facemask for what felt like hours. It had been a long journey from Oba Diah, where Lom, alongside a veritable flood of his fellow Pykes, had been swift to leave the world as rapidly as they can once Kessel fell into the clutches of the Independent Systems Consortium. From there he had scurried through Hutt Space on a commercial liner, and taken a trip down to Kafrene, as far outside of the reaches of the ISC as they could manage. Kafrene itself was a dump, but it was a highly populated dump, and that meant there was an opportunity to hide away, and also to make a few credits.
Now he sat in the side office of a small cantina in the depths of Kafrene, which had become something of an unofficial base for the Pykes, after they had just sort of turned up in force. Taking his mask off, which solicited a slight hiss as he did so, Lom sighed and reached for his drink. Shaking his head he sprinkled a pinch of spice into the drink and swilled it around idly with a thin metal fork as he tapped away on a datapad with his other hand.
”Death sticks?” he shook his head again as Krim Tolsite, a third (or was it forth?) cousin of his boasted about how his new death stick ‘operation’ would save all their fortunes. In reality, the younger Pyke was brewing watered-down sticks from his basement, and selling them to junkies, praying they wouldn’t notice. ”We cannot get back to our former strength by selling your drekk, Krim” Lom snapped, unimpressed with the machinations of his cousin.
With Kessel gone, Oba Diah under ISC control, and many of the other spice producing worlds that had once been the jewels in the crown of the Pykes, likewise now beyond their grasp, the family was on its knees. Selling watered-down death sticks was not the way to do it. They needed a good product to move, from there they could expand and - eventually - take back what was theirs. ”Well, it’s better than anything you’ve brought to the table, Lom! At least I’m bringing something in for us.” his cousin spat back, venom in his voice. Lom couldn’t really argue with his point - he hadn’t done a great deal, bar mope since they’d arrived here.
Taking a sip of his drink, he nodded in agreement with his cousin, before putting his glass back down, and hoping beyond hope that someone in their ramshackle gang would have some sort of plan for how to get the product they desperately needed.[
@Charles @lou
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