Ryll Talk [Ryloth 1]

[Jake]

Spoiler

((OOC: Welcome all. Please check the OOC thread located here to find out whether or not the thread is still open and what's going on with it. Also, people who have already posted in the interest check, go ahead and read the OOC before you reply here.

Credit for the opening quote to R. Scott Bakker and his Second Apocalypse fantasy series.))

RYLL TALK
RYLOTH ARC I

TRUTH AND HOPE ARE LIKE TRAVELERS IN CONTRARY DIRECTIONS. THEY MEET BUT ONCE IN ANY MAN'S LIFE.
- Rylothan proverb

THE SPICE DREAMER​

Half a heartbeat's hyperspace jump from Ryloth herself, the Spice Dreamer is a popular waypoint for much of the scum and villainy that makes its way through the Outer Rim. Smuggler's Run is still just a rumor to any spacer not worth his salt, which means that most of the people on Old Spice are tougher than rancor leather. The tension in any given cantina is so thick you could cut the air with a vibroknife at all times. Seething beneath the surface, there's an unmistakable energy here, like barely restrained violence. You see figures from all walks of life on the streets of the spaceport's dimly lit streets, from down on their luck Bith musicians to Sullustan mercantile princes celebrating their coming of age. Glancing out any viewport, however, the void is deep and dark around the shadowport, unceasing except for the occasional silhouette of an asteroid trundling past far, far away out in the emptiness. Feels like some of that void has crept inside. Lives are cheaper than half a hit of ryll in here.

The different local pirate factions vie for control over the Spice Dreamer, a council of their captains governing the space station and ensuring it doesn't fall into chaos. The rough alliances and coalitions they form reproduce and die overnight; it only takes an overly harsh word to bring blasters to bare. Yet tensions weren't always so high on the shadowport: a couple of old timers and the captains themselves can remember the days back when Old Spice was an idyllic oasis for smugglers to rest their feet between runs... the change came when a notorious crimelord from Ryloth brought his slave trade to the station. Cicero's notorious reputation for cruelty fell short of reality - the Devaronian has spilled a great deal of blood on the Spice Dreamer, blood in contracts and over them, blood that begets more blood in a ceaseless tide.

Cicero is not a popular man, but he is a powerful one. He makes his power known thorough the fear he inspires in all beneath him. When the Devaronian first arrived, after a brief altercation with one of the captains who insisted the Spice Dreamer not be reduced to his private slave barge, Cicero murdered the man without hesitation. There could be no question, a war should have been declared instantly. The captain's men should have damned Cicero and swore revenge, marched into his quarters and cut his tongue from his mouth and peeled the flesh from his skull, but instead they quietly folded beneath the pressure of Cicero's unspoken statement. Some even changed their colors, feeding into his growing taskforce of thug enforcers. Before long, Cicero's cutthroats privately cajoled nearly every merchant on the station into paying them a protection tariff for their continued "friendship." However, Cicero's rule is not a stable one, and lesser slavers crop up managing the different limbs of his vast operation, cannibalizing each other in constant infighting over power. Nonetheless, Cicero perseveres at the head of the serpent.

Thus the current, quiet power struggle that is the cause for so much of the unrest on the Spice Dreamer's decks: the Council of Captains and their waning rule on one side of the credit chit, Cicero's bloodthirsty slaver regime on the other. Both sides struggle to consolidate those last few scraps of power that might ensure victory over the other. Only time will tell which faction will devour its enemy to become the ruling class of the lonely shadowport at the mouth of Death Wind Corridor, even as they scream their battle cries at one another...

But is anyone really listening?

 

[Jake]

Spoiler: datapad notification

The word shadowport suggests to the mind's eye a dimly lit place, the air scourged by a hundred harsh tongues muttering in a thousand guttural voices... and for much of the space station called the Spice Dreamer, that was true. Entire levels lit by nothing but flickering floodlights and the needy eyes of pilgrims and slaves, different only in that one carried their shackles on their wrists and the others on their hearts. Glimpses of the dark corners of space, where things thought vanished from the galaxy for a long time are alive again, in our fear... fear that crushed the mind when one lingered too long on the scope of what lie before them.

But the Lush Lekku cantina was none of that, none at all. The darkest thing about the place was the neon sign sparking outside the door. Inside, the establishment was an evocative reminder of civilization, or at least whatever warped version of it had bubbled to the surface of Madame Lekku's imagination in creating the place. A three level structure built from the outside to resemble the Madame's head, mouth open and inviting, spewing an inferno of heat and light and sound like a doorway into Chaos itself. The inside lived up to the invitation, a series of brightly lit dance floors separated where necessary to allow guests from a variety of different atmospheres enjoy themselves outside of their pressure suits. On the upper levels, the same pretense was applied as a thin excuse to allow figures from the criminal underworld negotiate and conduct their business privately. Criminality had become deeply embedded into the microcosm of the shadowport's culture, and it had not taken long in such a small place before the Spice Dreamer's underworld became its only world, and appeared the only one that had ever been there at all.

Madame Lekku moved ceaselessly through the crowd, greeting her patrons, visiting the bartenders and the managers of the slave girls who danced in every room, and cycling onto the private circuits where she ensured that everything went as planned. Throughout this frenetic activity she remained effortlessly graceful, no small feat given the Madame's immensity. Her lekku, the same unsettling peach color as her flesh, barely wrapped around the girth of her neck. Madame Lekku's network of spies and rumor-mongerers was perhaps the most complete in the entire sector. The locals said it took only one careless word for the Madame to find your secrets and swallow them, and given her size she was quite the voracious eater. This evening, deep beneath the outer layers which showed only her greed, the calculating beast inside Madame Lekku was fast at work. Her humble establishment was host to two strange groups, whose coincidental crossing could lead the future down strange paths. Yet the bribe to ensure her subtlety had been ample enough to sate her, and she had not climbed so high by betraying those who paid well for her friendship.

No, Madame Lekku wondered merely for her own curiosity... and her hunger.

How many and which secrets shall I feast upon tonight?

~*~​

Upstairs, for Drusas Valchek, the night was going stellar so far. Nobody had gotten shot and despite the humid heat in the room he hadn't sweated the Zeltron pheromone perfume off yet. As was his custom, he'd had a late night before waking up that morning, and was still wiping the sleep from his eyes and shaking off the last lingering fractals from the ryll he'd injected around twelve hours previously. Looking around, the turn out hadn't been too bad. Quite a few individuals milled about in the dimly lit space, sitting at the bar or in booths and being attended by the team of Madame Lekku's servant girls who were catering. Outside, a pair of mean-looking Weequay bouncers Drusas had hired personally glowered menacingly at anyone who got too close.

Maybe the old man wasn't totally off his rocker after all, the yellow-skinned Twi'lek surmised as he focused again on the game before him. His cards was absolute shit for the third consecutive hand, and it had quickly become clear after they'd arrived that the goddess of luck just wasn't shining on his half of the deck tonight. Opposite him in the booth, his long time companion considered him with passionless eyes. The Blood Carver stood a head taller than him, the highest of the ridges on its skull peaking at just over two meters, its strangely segmented body looking hunched and uncomfortable the way it sat. The Blood Carvers were not a species designed for sitting. Drusas wasn't sure if his friend was a male or a female, and it had never seemed very prudent to ask, but he knew the being well enough that he was sure it would not utter a single word of complaint.

He couldn't say the same for himself. Sighing, he laid his cards down on the table and nudged one forward with a finger. The Six of Sabres.

"What do you think, Ko Shiv?" Drusas asked quietly, so that others couldn't hear. "They say the Six of Sabres represents a journey's end. Think that means we're gonna make our fortune and get off the boat tonight, or that we're gonna bite the slug?"

Ko Shiv considered him for a moment. One of its three hooked claws absently tapped the tabletop.

"Meaningless superstition," it began in its lilting drone. "A very mammalian weakness, the obsession that you must cleave truth from the fat of such things. Any novice scholar of the Art Beyond Dying could read your fate clearly: there would be little beauty in its authorship this night, my friend. Sad would it be were the work of your life to be cut short by an erred brushstroke, a careless jab of the chisel."

Drusas mulled over Ko Shiv's words for a moment. He'd never met such a deeply philosophical creature in all his years. Every word the being said felt drenched in meaning, and frustratingly, he felt like he could only grasp at the greater truth behind them. Even the Blood Carver's weapons, heavy tulwar swords whose blades were forged from ultrachrome and whose hilts Ko Shiv had lovingly crafted himself from the blood trees of his home on Batorine. Countless notches marked the wood. It had been a long time into his alliance with the Blood Carver before Drusas had understood the meaning of those notches - one for every life Ko Shiv took with his swords. The reverence he paid the fallen humbled and shamed Drusas, who had taken more than one life without realizing the gravity of his actions. In part, he had realized some weeks ago, it was thanks to meeting Ko Shiv that Drusas found himself in his current situation.

A situation where he could help someone. At times like this he was thankful for the opportunity he'd been given in meeting his new employer.

The Twi'lek stood up abruptly from his table. Ko Shiv's expression did not change, though Drusas' did as he put on his best smug smile as he surveyed the band of sentients who had answered his call. Quite the motley crew he'd assembled.

"Well, let's get down to business, my friends and associates. I think that we could do for a few introductions, don't you all? Most of you are familiar with me. I'm Drusas Valchek..." He hesitated, pausing so that everyone could quickly run a search for him in their HoloNet feed. They'd find a few stories of his exploits in this region of space, how his career had begun as a run-of-the-mill pirate and shifted a ways down the road toward heroic acts of vigilante justice. This wouldn't be the first time he'd butted heads with the Rylothan slave trade, although he'd never stuck his neck out this far before... "And it's on my invitation that you've all found yourself gathered here. For one reason or another, you got my message. And you know what I'm about. Now I want to know what you all are about."

The Twi'lek cast his gaze around the room, waiting for someone to volunteer an answer.

 

[Richie B.]

The only reason Jaleer was here was because the people of Ryloth his brother and sisters needed him, though he wasn't a twi'lek he was born on Ryloth and felt a strong connection to the people of that planet. When visiting the village for several reasons he was told about a new slaver who was far more aggressive than the people that attack his village over 4 years ago. After hearing that the smuggler was going to fight against the slaver Jaleer went as fast as possible to the space station and found himself in the cantina where he felt the presence of four other force users, it seemed to Jaleer that this was going to be a good experience but also he was going to help the people that needed it and that made Jaleer happy.

He was wearing his jedi robes and the brown cloak cover his head and most of his body, only a hand sticking out where two metal spheres moved in a perfect circle. Jaleer was ready to get started and he wanted to let loose on the slaver they were about to fight, thankfully the smuggler sent him the invitation he felt like he was going to enjoy this.

"What I am about is not important but rather the job, know that I am here for the Twi'lek people." Jaleer knew that most would be confused because he is a human but he didn't care he was here to save the Twi'lek.

 

[Lloyd Gross]

Jake sat quietly a little away from the rest of the pack. He got nervous at times around new people and with the current situation, amongst all sorts of villainy, he was certainly nervous. He’d chosen to wear dark clothing for this particular situation. His boots and pants were black, his tunic was a dark brown, and his over coat was the same black as his boots. He had his coat wrapped around him tight, but more than his coat, the force was wrapped tight within him. It would take a finely tuned sense to discover his force sensitivity. He wasn’t sure if his activity on Dantooine had raised the Twi’lek’s interest or if somehow this, Drusas Valchek knew his affiliation with the Jedi.

As Drusas began addressing the crowd, Jake began holding on to ever word. He’d done as much research as possible about Drusas, Twi’leks, slave trade, Old Spice, the Spice Dreamer, and everything in connection with Drusas’ message. Jake knew a little about everything, but he’d spent much of his trip here looking up and reading everything he could. When Drusas asked the crowd to introduce themselves, Jake paid attention. He knew nothing about anyone else here and if they knew nothing about him by the time they all parted ways, it would be just fine by him.

A young teenager spoke up first. The human was wearing trademark Jedi robes, but Jake was leery enough to question whether the kid was really a Jedi. And with the amount of hate the Jedi were getting in the galaxy, it was never smart to stick out like a sore thumb. Maybe the kid was just a hook trying to draw out Jedi and taking the bounty on their sabers. Either way when he was done talking, Jake decided to go ahead and speak up. The longer he sat and waited the more the anxiety would build, he’d begin to sweat and if there were any force adepts around, they would sense his unease.

“I’m Jonathan. I’ve been undermining the slavers on Dantooine; so I guess now is as good a time as any to start taking down some other giants. I’m a pretty decent shot, and a pretty decent snub pilot. So if you need either just let me know.” Jake sat back down in his chair even while the others stood. If they took offense then they took offense. If they decided to make a big deal about it, he would stand, but he didn’t see the need. Not while everyone was talking.

 

[Arcangel]

Szazak had been to many dark corners of the universe during his time as a hired gun and bounty hunter. From Eriadu to Nar Shadda he had seen much suffering, but never to the degree of anguish that he saw in the eyes of the slaves on the Spice Dreamer. This darkness and suffering was harshly contrasted by the debauchery of the Lush Lekku, the brightness and noise of the club streaming into the dimly lit streets surrounding it, the club’s patrons desperately seeking escape from their own inner torments, drowning their own suffering with liquor, spice and companionship. This was the place that Drusas Valchek had called Szazak to. However distasteful the place might be to him, he had an amount of respect for the pirate turned chainbreaker, so he had answered the man’s call.

Sitting at a booth near Drusas, Szazak wore his traditional findsman robes and his rebreather device. He might have stood out in the room if not for the young kid wearing Jedi robes. Kid must be trying to get himself killed, Szazak thought to himself, well aware of the Sith bounty on Jedi heads. Szazak was waiting patiently for Drusas to reveal his hand, so to speak. Not his hand in the sabacc game the he was playing with another insectoid sentient, but to reveal what the job that he and the others in the room had been called for. Before long, Drusas stood up and introduced himself. Drusas, he had met the man a year or so before, but at that time he had just been another mark, having pissed off the wrong people. Those people had hired the down on his luck Gand to bring him in, said that he had stolen property from them. After catching the man Szazak had discovered that the “stolen property” had actually been slaves. Slaves that Drusas had freed. Not willing to bring the man in for something he didn’t consider a crime, Szazak had let him go, and now Drusas had a job for him.

After a moment Drusas asked for everyone to introduce themselves. After the foolish robed boy gave an elusive introduction, another man, this one of much heavier build, introduced himself and spoke of how he was a decent shot and pilot. Another chainbreaker, and this one at least admits to some amount of skill, good. The Gand thought to himself, a bad taste still in his mouth about the robed boy’s introduction, he would have to keep an eye on him. Deciding it was his time, the Gand stood up and began speaking, the vocoder module in his rebreather translating his clicks and buzzes into basic, its voice a flat and electronic monotone. “This one is named Szazak, this one is a Findsman and warrior. Szazak once fought for the freedom of his people, failing that, this Gand would now break the chains that others are forced to bear.” Sitting down, the Gand listened as others introduced themselves, tapping his chitinous finger on the table as he stored away all the information he heard from each of the rooms occupants.

 

[wristclerk]

Looking out into the black void of space was surreal, almost reminded him of why he became a smuggler in the first place.
His eyes adjusted to the dim red lights of his ship, he went dark for one reason, he did not have a decent reputation on Ryloth. And to be this close to the planet was a little nerve wrecking. In his early days when he was just getting a feel for the Galaxy at large and wasn't a smuggler just yet he landed on Ryloth, bedded a few fine ladies of some prominent gentlemen claiming to own them, a couple were the wives of said gentlemen, and they said if he ever came back to Ryloth, they'd kill him. Which coincidentally is why Rooney joined the Cartel in the first place, so that he wouldn't have to continue looking over his back for a blaster to the head.
Rooney clicked a couple button, flipped a switch here and there on his console and the ship powered down. Luckily his bounty in this sector was limited to this sector and went mainstream before he got his ship, The Malta Horizon. His ship docked in the Spice Dreamer's hanger. Rooney left R6, his droid companion, behind to watch over his prized possession. The droid gave a beep and whirr, and then a cautionary beep telling Rooney to be safe, the only response the droid got was a small sigh, and a door closing behind Rooney's departure.
Walking through the districts one by one, he noticed two things everyone was piss poor drunk, and everyone here wasn't worried about Rooney. In fact he was almost invisible to everyone here, although he got his share of stares as he walked on, they were only from bumping or the simple fact that he was human and that even out here in the Outer Rim territories Humans were an odd sort to see.
Rooney finally made his way to the Lush Lekku. He pushed his way past several inebriated patrons, keeping a close hand on his data pad and blaster pistol, making sure they didn't get lifted on his way to the meeting. Rooney finally found a small elevator to the upper levels of the club, however they were guarded by some mean looking thugs. Rooney flashed them the invitation however they just shook their head and held out their hands. Rooney rolled his eyes and tossed them both ten credits. The moved aside and allowed access to the elevator. At the meeting hall another set of bouncers stood guard, however this time they let him in, no entry fee.
Opening the right side of the double doors a thought flashed through Rooney's head, why was he here? What did he have to offer? He shook away the thoughts and just reassured himself al of this would be explained in the meeting.
The door swung wide, opening to a cozy room with dim lights. However instead of being greeted by a crowd of people, he was greeted by silence, and a serving droid.

"This... a, this is where the meeting is taking place right?" Rooney asked the droid.

"Yes sir." Is all it replied.

"Pour me a drink then, I'll wait." Rooney said with distain.

He arrived a full thirty minutes before the scheduled time, but hey... free drinks right?

When everyone arrived, Rooney was already a little buzzed from the intake of alcohol the thirty minutes prior to the meeting. But he worked well while buzzed, one of the many perks of being a smuggler he guessed.

"I'll go next," He interrupted. "Names Rooney. I'm a small time smuggler working for the Cartel. Only reason I guess I was invited here was for the bounty I captured on Naboo. One time deal though, I ain't a hunter, just some simple cargo needing procurement. I, uh... got my own ship, pretty fast vessel for old world tech, re-built her myself. I'm a little interested in what the hell we're all doing here, especially with Jedi," Rooney said, nodding his head to some of the members seated around the table.

"I hope, for whatever this is, we can make some kind of deal, or agreement, get paid and go home."

 

[Korvo]

PRELUDE——
​

The Spice Dreamer. It certainly wasn't the first time Aurelia had waded her way through its scum and muck, and it would be far from the last. Contrary to many who trespassed there by necessity, it was places like these that Aurelia felt most alive. The danger, the vibrancy - it all had life to it. It kept one on their toes, sharp and alert, like a constant reminder saying 'this is living'. But for Aurelia, her coming here was more than just pleasure. It was for Drusas Valchek. A wanted man to be sure, but then most so were most of Aurelia's associates. But above all else, Aurelia was an opportunist that took advantage of every situation and made the most of any hand she was dealt. And she couldn't very well make a trip to the Spice Dreamer without making a drop by an 'old friend'. "This is the real thing, yea?" she said, glancing down at what appeared to be a pile of an old broken pile of junk. "Whaat, you think I'd lie to ya, Lia?" Dropping her face into an unamused frown, Aurelia rose her eyebrow as she tilted her head and glared at the merchant. His name was Torr Bekla, a Human salvager and mechanic, but he was usually as crooked as they came. To say he was a liar and a cheat was an insult to liars and cheats galaxy-wide. His messy black hair was oily, long and strand-like. He had long fingers and somewhat sunken eyes and a wide mouth that often stretched into a fake grin. It wasn't his fault for being born that way, but everything about Torr Bekla screamed 'shady and suspicious'. And it didn't help that he actually was shady and suspicious. "Okay-okay, maybe I would, but Lia I'm tellin' ya... this is it. This is real - the real thing." That was Torr's charm, if one would call it that. He may have been a slimeball and sleazebag, but every once in a while, Torr managed to get ahold of something legit. Real gems, valuable items that were next-to-impossible to find in the mainstream galactic community. Or at least in the space of the former Galactic Federation - almost nothing was worth getting trapped in Sith space for. Bringing out her holo-relay computer over her wrist, Aurelia initiated a few commands as her HALO floating around her moved to levitate over the pile of metal parts, projecting a blue light over it as it beeped and tweeted. "Hey-hey-hey, Lia what're--" "Just scanned it, I did," Aurelia said, extending her arm to stop Torr from approaching her HALO, "What's wrong with that? Smell a fake, can yeh?" The HALO continued to beep with increasingly rapidity as the light flickered and eventually died out. <<RESULTS CONFIRMATION → MISTRESS LIA | ELEMENTAL COMPOSITION = 94% LAMINANIUM, 3% TITANIUM, 2% CARBONITE | ADDITIONAL ELEMENTS = NEGLIGIBLE | PROBABILITY OF GENUINE AUTHENTICITY = 98%>> "Yeh found one," Aurelia said, averting her eyes to the pile on the ground, "Yeh really bloody-well found one." "Hah! R-right! Didn't I tell ya, Lia?", Torr couldn't have hid his own surprise any worse if he'd tried. He probably assumed or heard what he had was genuine, but never bothered to check it himself. After all, why bother? Rumors were money-makers, "So, you know I can't just part with this for my usual prices. This one's special." "It's a relic of a war from a thousand years ago, cad," Aurelia said, squatting down to pick up and look over some of the pieces from the pile, "More important, this one's a relic no one else wants, or is ev'n looking for. Right now, the Yuuzhan Vong are the least of the galaxy's worries." "Maybe not," Torr said, grinning so hard, Aurelia could practically hear it, "But you are. So, are we talking price, or are going on your way?" "Yer a braggad and a fop, Bekla," Aurelia said, instantly. Then, without a word, Aurelia stood up and wiped her hands before turning around. "Name yeh price, then." Torr tilted his head back slightly as he eyed Aurelia, "Fifty." Aurelia simply raised her brow, "Are yeh crackers now, or what? I'll pay ten, w'both know that's more than generous." "Fifty," Torr said again, more forcefully. "No," Aurelia matched the force of his voice with her own, not even naming an alternative price. Torr's smile turned into a sneer, "Forty-five then. I'm not going any lower." "Yea... yeh are," Aurelia then said, recalling her HALO as if preparing to leave, "I told yeh ten. And ten's worth at least twice as much as that's pile there, it is. Now I've got places to be, then. Places more important than 'ere. Twelve." Torr's face became a full-blown frown. "Thirty, Lia. You know I can't go lower than that." "Well, yer 'bout ta, mate." For a while, Aurelia and Torr simply glared at each other, with Aurelia's arms folded and Torr's hand balled into fists by his side. "Twenty-fi--" "Twenty, Torr," Aurelia said, cutting Torr off before forcefully saying it again, "Twenty." Torr's expression became that of cool anger, "Twenty it is, then." "Class," Aurelia said, bringing up her wrist-mounted holo-screen again, accessing her financial resources, fully allowing Torr to see the transfer of 20,000 unmarked credits into one of his accounts. "Get a courier, and have him drop the shipment 'ere," Aurelia then transferred a set of coordinates to Torr's datapad, although Torr's eyes squinted in confusion as he saw the location; empty space. No planets, no ships or station there. Just space. "It's a drop point, idiot. I'll have someone pick it up from there." "Fine, whatever." "Yea, pleasure mate." Aurelia loved the Spice Dreamer, though she wasted no time taking her leave from Torr's salvage shop. The people on the station were annoying as hell, but still, she loved it. <<ALERT → MISTRESS LIA | FINANCIAL TRANSACTION = FRAUDULENT | FINANCIAL ACCOUNT UTILIZED = FORGED | ACCOUNT REGISTRY NAME = ERIKA KALLE | PROBABILITY OF DETECTION BY MEDIATOR PARTY = 97% | PROBABILITY OF ACTION TAKEN AGAINST PARTIES INVOLVED = 99% | PROBABILITY OF ACTION BEING TAKEN THROUGH LEGAL MEANS = 12%>> "Hmm, I think you're right, HALO," Aurelia said, glibly. At that, Aurelia brought up her holo-screen again, and with a few commands given on the view screen, initiated a virtual purge on her 'profile', "Good thing 'Erika Kelle' doesn't exist." Aurelia made sure the transaction went through remote channels through Hutt space. The distance meant it would take some time for the transaction to even become detected and noticed, and even longer for action to be taken. And by then, Aurelia would be long gone, with Torr Bekla holding the bag. It didn't matter much to her. After all, he was a sleazebag, and she had more important things to do.

​

PRESENT——​

Aurelia didn't make it a habit to spend a lot of time in cantinas and taverns. The atmosphere was thick and tense, but there hadn't been any real sign of violence. At least, of the permanent kind. If there wasn't a brawl happening at least somewhere, one would think something was very, very wrong. But beyond that, the smell was rancid, like stale ale and filth. She didn't care for the narcotics just lying around either, she prized her brain too much. Still, she wasn't there for her own sake.

Aurelia had been leaning forward on a table situated near the back wall, although it wasn't the farthest off. Her arms were crossed together as she placed them atop of the table, resting on them as she eyed the room. It was her habit - when in a place you didn't know well, get accustomed to figuring out escape routes as quickly as possible. In fact, Aurelia had already spotted six different ways to quickly 'get outta eisley', as the expression went. However, when Drusas finally stood up out of the blue, he had her attention as well as any of the others.

Strangely enough, at least to her, Drusas started with an introduction. Everyone knew who he was, but it more or less seemed like the opening for what came next; everyone would introduce themselves to the mass. Bloody grade-school, is it?, she thought, although kept it to herself. It was Drusas' show, and he had the right to run it the way he wanted. And that aside, there were more than a few interesting, if not bewildering, characters showing up. A Human kid that looked to be in his mid teens, wearing a large brown robe. She couldn't tell if he had any weapons, but from what she could gather, he seemed totally out of his element.

After the boy came another Human male, Jonathan. There didn't seem to be much to him, from what Aurelia could gather, except that he fought against slavers. Next up was a Gand named Szazak, a Findsman. Aurelia didn't know much about them, aside from them being some sort of mystics. There was another Human after him, a man named Rooney that was in the pocket of the Cartel. Still, he was a smuggler, and Aurelia always found something respectable about that.

"Evenin' gents," Aurelia said, standing up next, "Slicer, engineer, mechanic, technician - I do the lot of it. If it has a circuit in it, I can make it dance for yeh."

Aurelia immediately sat down afterwards. She didn't want to necessarily give her name unless pressed, but she was still eager to see where everything was going.

 

[Vos]

"So what can I get ya?"

The cantina was fully stocked with the galaxies most notorious scum, including Madame Lekku, who had a knack at putting her nose where it never belonged everytime the two ran into eachother. Even if it was her place, she had her hand in some bad deals considering her involvement with Nal the Hutt, his father's former boss before his betrayal & death on Regolith Prime. Between the smell of expensive perfume, & her reputation as a common cut throat, you could smell the alcohol on her friends breath, & taste the blood on their hands. "Fracking Lekku," he whispers under his breath to himself in disgust, pulling the stool back at the main bar on the lower level, taking a seat. "You had to bring me to Lush."

Neon lights. Music throbbing. People dancing. Gamblers at the tables. Typical bar. Lekku had invested a lot of money into the establishment & had her greedy paws in pretty much everything that went on here when it came to criminal activity. From business to business, as usual, she was well renown for her appetite as an expert at espionage, so the local patrons, spread throughout the bar, gave her all the nitty gritty going on upstairs. They were more than likely up to no good.

People were cheering at the pod races streaming live via HoloNet, getting drunk off the finest liquor in the Corellian Run. He turns his attention back to the bar. "You lookin for someone?" the tender asks him curiously, running her right hand down the tips of her lekku wrapped around her neck. Twi'leks were perky, especially when it came to gathering info, & he knew here it came with a price. She starts dancing to the music, as if she was taunting him, shaking her hips & spinning on her feet as she pours drinks for the other patrons at the bar & starts to organize the bottles of liquor on the shelf behind the counter. The thing about Zeltrons was there appetite for beautiful women, gambling & drinking, so naturally, with women like that who knew their weakness, he fit right in with the rest. He couldn't help but think she was cute, even if it didn't really matter. He could feel she was interested, which came off as suspicious. He just lowers his eyes when she smiles, throwing her blue spotted lekku behind her back. "Not at my age sweetheart..." he replies, smiling. Zeltrons had their charm, so naturally she was curious about some flirty conversation, see what she could pull out of him I suppose, & like most bar maids, he wouldn't put it past her if she drew the blaster at her hip at any given moment given things got out of hand.

He couldn't shake the distinction someone was watching while the two small talked. He shrugs. Most people kept to themselves on Spice Dreamer, but clearly the Lush Lekku Cantina was a hot spot for most of the black market deals & slave trade on Ryloth. He couldn't really place his thoughts. He had a big job he was on, so he had to keep his eye on the ball. Besides, the Twi'lek was distracting him, even if it was a good distraction. He had his mark at the end of the bar, the Trandoshian, & at the other end of the cantina two men were eyeing him, talking with another. The Trandoshian he had been tracking since Ralltiir was involved in a sleezy deal that involved 5 hauls of ryll cargo that never made it to Nal Hutta 2 months ago. He kept glancing over at him with his large lizzy eyes, which he avoided inconspiculously, keeping his eye on the girl & his drink. The thought of his mothers death some 35 years ago at Kala'uun came to mind. A notorious baron had killed her after an altercation involving some money he had owed his father for work on the barons frigate. Considering it was the last time he had been on the planet, that made him feel a little bit more uneasy as he just stares blankly at the Twi'lek, taking his drink glass into the cusps of his hands & leaning over the edge of the bar.

He shoots his drink back & slides the empty glass toward her. The Trandoshian stands & the two men start to walk up to the second story. Next to the formalities, he wasn't there for small talk. "I'll have a Antakarian Fire Dancer for the road sweetheart," he says placing his thumb on her chin. Lowering her eyes, she glances over at him mischeviously & whipes the rim of the shot glass with a clean white cloth & pours the drink. She could tell he was frustrated since Twi'leks had that aura about them, & even if most of the one's that worked for Madame Lekku were notorious for killing & keeping secrets, most Cantinas have their lure.

He knew something funny was up when two more Trandoshian mercs, get up from the tables & walk upstairs with the other 3, probably to talk about business. He stands & follows them not far behind, finishing his drink.

 

[Flying Blind]

Kannick I was impressed with the neat setup of the space station not far from Ryloth. Twi'Leks were usually taken as slaves, but Kannick never saw reason to like Twi'Leks, he didn't see the appeal in inter-species relationships. However, slavery was still slavery and he hated every bit of it, so he was here to help abolish this, or at least try and reduce it, since usually slavers found ways no matter what you did. His quest so to speak had brought him here to the Spice Dreamer. He wore his basic outfit, a tan leather jacket, black undershirt, jeans and combat boots. He had a blaster strapped to his hip which he never used since he was a horrible shot, and hidden in the barrel of a purely decorative blaster in the opposite holster was his lightsaber.

He figured he shouldn't have his lightsaber out in the open, not for now at least. If worse came to worst, he'd use his true weapon, but for now he'd let the, believe he was just another gunslinging slicer. He listened as the man introduced himself, he had already researched the man beforehand, a former pirate who was a bit of a Robin hood, kind of like DarkNet. The female Kage peaked his interest. Slicer, eh? I'll have to look into that. After the others had introduced themselves, he gave Kannick gave his own introduction. "And I'm Niklaus Hunter. I'm also a slicer, I also love droids, and if anything else is needed in my Intro I guess I could say I make some of the best drinks in the galaxy." He gave a big smile, which he was used to doing by now. He wasn't a flirt like his brother Jechtral, but Kannick was a believer in service with a smile, and since this was a service, he smiled.

 

[Jake]

Drusas swept his audience with an appraising eye, listening to each of their introductions in turn and sizing up his allies appropriately. They were, without a doubt, a very strange collection of sentient lifeforms. Each provoked a different sensation in his heart - the foolish boy who still clung to his Jedi robes as if perhaps the cloth might protect him from all the ways in which the galaxy wished him harm; a special kind of optimist, hovering ever closer to extinction. The man who called himself Jonathan, whose recent endeavors railed against the slave trade on another Outer Rim world: Dantooine. Drusas himself had never been, but he'd heard the same stories everyone else had: a planet of rolling grassland, steppe upon endless steppe, a quiet place where men like himself hoped to retire one day. A quiet place, but men like himself never quite made it there.

When Szazak spoke, he afforded himself a slight grin at the memory of their meeting. He felt green as Dantoine from space when he recalled the way the Gand Findsman had pursued him across Eriadu and down half the Hydian Way. Thinking himself safe after making the gut decision to turn back and make a jump to sleepy Seswenna, he'd let his guard down, and there been captured by the seasoned hunter. The thought of how the heartfelt truth of his story had changed the Gand's decision to return him to the slavers he'd made enemies of brought a smile to Drusas' face, and the Twi'lek without a doubt felt safer for the knowledge that Szazak watched his back.

"Szazak! Good to see you. I promised you that the next time we met I'd be the one in the pressure suit, but I'm afraid I've yet to deliver."

Once the rest of the group finished their introductions, Drusas glanced over his shoulder at Ko Shiv, but the Blood Carver regarded them impassively from its seat.

He was about to begin the mission breakdown when the insectoid creature said, "Know that I am called Ko Shiv by he who has gathered you. My past is not known to you, nor do I wish it known. Know instead that I bear the scars of they who have traveled far in the galaxy. Know that I have never rested long in any one place, but that I have come a long way to reach the place I inhabit now. Know that I come from the far-off world called Batorine, and that I am of the people who among ourselves are called the Great Artisans chosen by the Art Beyond Dying, but that among others we are merely the Blood Carvers." Ko Shiv hovered on these last words, as if reluctant to speak them. "Know that I follow Drusas Valchek because his cause is known to me. His words are known to me. His heart is known to me. And know that if you have come here to bring him undue harm, I shall sculpt you a new fate, and a far more immediate one." Despite the explicit threat Ko Shiv conveyed with its words, it spoke nonchalantly.

"Well, moving right along, Ko Shiv just means that we're, uh... friends. And that he, um, is gonna be looking out for me." Drusas was used to patching up the gaps in Ko Shiv's communication skills, but he had to hand it to his companion, that spiel was going to be particularly hard to smooth over. "But yes, formalities aside, there's business to be done." Walking over to the bar where Rooney sat nursing his drink, Drusas reached into his pocket and produced a thin disc which he sat on the countertop.

Drusas thumbed a button and light sprang out of the holoprojector as its lens slid open. At first, the wavering light resolved into the image of a male Twi'lek's face, a single, long lekku coiled around his neck while the other dangled freely behind his head. The Twi'lek's face remained there long enough that anyone could make a quick mental note of his features, before fading into a series of images whose questionable quality clearly meant they'd been lifted from some dead corner of the HoloNet. Nobody on the Spice Dreamer would have mistaken the girls for anything except what they were - premium slaves, fruit for only the most exquisite palates. "Excuse my Huttese, but this fierfekking nerf herder is Cicero's lieutenant, a soul cut loose from Chaos that calls himself Nherus Djek1​. Boy's a prodigy as far as slavers go, and he's in the middle of negotiating a sale for those poor women even as we speak, about two floors over our heads."

The stream of girls' faces ended and the light contorted into the grisly, reptilian visage of a Trandoshan, all snout and teeth. The slits of its predator eyes glittered with menace even in the low quality render. "Voshk2​ is just an enforcer, and from what I've heard, not a very successful one. Heard there's even a price on the scaley's head, but Nherus has him on security. He's a violent one. Wanted for murder on half the worlds in the Core, even though I heard a botched ryll shipment is what has his neck on the chopping block."

Spoiler: NHERUS & VOSHK

Meanwhile, a floor below, T'chaal Vo was about to start having a very different kind of night. The group of five he trailed behind ascended quickly through Lush Lekku, passing terraces crisscrossing with lights from dance crystals. The air pulsated with music. The humid heat of a hundred sweating bodies crashing against each other filled the air. A smell like a sweet cocktail of pheromones, mind-altering substances and deathstick smoke. T'chaal's mark, the Trandoshan he had been chasing ever farther from the Core since the frakked ryll shipment on Ralltiir, pressed a few digits into the keypad outside the blast doors to their private room. When the doors slid open, a lightscreen ensured that nothing could be seen inside except shadows and the vague suggestions of humanoid silhouettes.

Before he passed the screen, however, Voshk hesitated. He raised a single claw to the torn shred of his ear, as if listening to something. Without warning, the Trandoshan spun on his boot heel, sweeping the crowd behind him for an instant till his eyes settled on T'chaal. A spark of recognition passed between the hunter's eyes. The reptile's lips pulled back in a vicious snarl, and he grunted something to his kinsmen.

"Only sssstun him if you wish to earn the Sscorekeeper's gracesss..." Voshk growled loudly - and deliberately - in Basic. "He should catch a fair price as a boy sssslave for the Huttsss..." Without further ceremony, he and the two humans accompanying him disappeared inside and the blast doors slid shut. Only a few drunken guests separated T'chaal from the two lizard-men on the neon staircase, and already the two cutthroats were yanking carbines from their holsters. One squeezed the trigger a little early. Suddenly the air was an orgy of blistering blasterfire as particle beams ricocheted down the walls, catching an unsuspecting young man in the back as he flirted with a Zeltron girl. The man collapsed in a convulsing fit, clawing at his smoking shoulder.

One of the walls in the private room that Voshk had entered was in fact a tinted transparisteel window overlooking the rest of the bar. It appeared someone wasn't interested in the distraction that a lone gun like T'chaal Vo posed to their arrangement.

"I've got the passcode to the door. We'll be busting in, getting the transponder codes to the barge where they're keeping the girls, and make our way-..." Drusas let the thought die, interrupted by the sound of blasterfire from outside. "Frak. It can never just go right for once!"

Grabbing his pistol, the Twi'lek charged out of their meeting hall and into the narrow corridor separating them from the main staircase leading up to the executive floor above. Ko Shiv followed close behind, hefting both heavy tulwar blades behind itself. As soon as Drusas saw what was happening, he shouted towards the man being assailed by the Trandoshan slavers, "Take cover!" Finding a position where he could fire from around the corner of a wall, Drusas squeezed off a couple of shots at the pair of guards that went wide. All he succeeded in doing was to alert the Trandoshans of his presence, so that rather than blindly mow down their prey with a hail of blasterfire, the calculating part of their lizard minds began clicking. The pair fanned out, hiding behind life-sized statues of Madame Lekku which flanked the blast doors: the Madame's vast girth was more than sufficient to hide them completely.

It looked like it was going to be a bloody night after all, Drusas realized, and for just an instant he thought back to the Six of Sabers he'd had in his hand during the sabacc game. He just hoped Ko Shiv was right and that his journey wasn't about to grind to a sudden halt.

Spoiler: OOC NOTES

OK guys, I think you can all handle the combat scene over the course of the next round. Try to play the Trandoshan NPCs intelligently, and remember that you're fighting them in a closed space, and that at the very least T'chaal was seen and picked out from the crowd. Whoever's in the room is probably about to see the firefight. If you guys want to, after ending the fight you can also open the door, but wait to progress past that until my next post so that I can describe the room itself.

1​ - anyone who has researched the shadowport and knows anything of Cicero's dealings will recognize Nherus Djek's name. He's one of the more prominent slavers under Cicero at this point, and it's no wonder he'd be left in charge of an operation like this. I'll leave it up to you guys to decide whether or not your character would know about him; if you're in doubt and it's important, just ask me.

2​ - likewise, bounty hunters like Szazak and anyone up to speed with the criminal underworld might recognize Voshk, not only for the botched ryll shipment but also for the cruelty he's known for. He's probably a C or D list bounty hunter, as far as galactic fame goes, not bad but not really "up there" so to speak. Again, I'll leave it to your judgment whether or not your character is aware of him beforehand.

Jaleer - coming in Jedi robes was probably unwise. You not only stick out like a sore thumb, but you've also made the others wary of you.
Szazak - definitely potential to start a rapport between you and Drusas. I really liked the idea you had about their past dealings as a way of explaining Szazak's presence.
T'chaal - you're new to the site, but your post was very good! Even though the nitpick in me wonders why you use so many &s. Also, present tense is pretty rare on SWRP, I think it's a refreshing change of pace. I liked the way you presented your character in a wholly different and unrelated way, and at the same time worked Madame Lekku and the rest of the scenery into his backstory.

So far, really impressed with all of you guys. If there's any questions, suggestions, complaints etc, shoot them my way. I don't think a post order is very necessary yet, just avoid making multiple posts in one round, at least for now.

Also, thanks Kapsyon for letting me steal your divider, it's really fantastic.

 

[Richie B.]

(OOC: If anyone has any issues with the post please message me.)

Jaleer was listening to everyone speak, though a few he felt were of questionable origins, Jaleer didn't feel like he was going to need worry about the well being of the Twi'leks. But Jaleer wouldn't allow his young age make them look down at him, though Jaleer knew his age was a problem, he didn't care. His attitude was different than what it usually was, since he felt this was personal and since he felt uneasy in this space station. When the Twi'lek began to talk about the plan, Jaleer made sure to listen, and when the smuggler showed the two criminals, Jaleer's blood went hot.

But the force seemed to favor Jaleer at the moment by giving him a change to let out some stream, when the smuggler went down with his friend, he made sure to follow quickly, he didn't take out his lightsaber since he wasn't that foolish. Once Jaleer was on the floor where the fighting was happening Jaleer took a moment to sense everything around him, feeling that two of the aggressors were behind the large statue. Jaleer quickly took cover behind the counter, siting with his legs crossed, and his eyes closed, few would physically see him. He called on the force to grab tables and anything that wasn't nailed down to the ground to cover the people in the cantina that were hurt, or scared so they wouldn't be hit by the attackers.

Once Jaleer was finished with that, he began to build up the force in his right palm so he can unless a powerful force push, but Jaleer needed a few moments and used the force to tell what everyone else was doing, so when he was ready to fire it, Jaleer would be actually doing something helpful an not firing blindingly.

 

[Vos]

He starts to run toward Voshk on a limp, that damn bruise he got on that other bad deal he had the last time he was on Ryloth. Patrons start to flock to either side of the room while the remaining four, with blasters in hand, start walking toward him down the center of the dancefloor. There is a circular platform in the middle of a room, with two small sets of stairs on either side leading to the bars to the right & left of the cantina that circle around to the entrance of the room. Taking out his renegade from its holster on his hip into his hands, one of the men walking towards him raises his weapon, walking on broken mirror glass, while the remaining three run to take cover in either direction of the room. T'Chaal knew he was in for it & kicks an abandoned table down, knocking it on its side & jumps to cover behind it. The man rings out a shot to the ceiling & shouts, "everyone out!" Clearly Voshk didn't have time for conversation, but that's okay, Vo has something for him if he tries to escape considering the two had had confrontations in the past. He wouldn't put it past Voshk to go off world in the middle of a fire fight & wiggle his way back into the Hutts good graces on Regolith.

He lights up a cigar with a match & leans back, placing his blaster on the ground at his side in his right hand. He gazes at the mirror on the ceiling to get a glance at where the other two had gone & watched one walking behind the bar on the right side of the cantina toward him, while the other two were stepping lightly toward him to the left. Leaning against the underside of the flipped table, he watches the last guy run for the hallway after Voshk who entered the elevator at the back of the room. T'Chaal lifts his blaster over the edge of the table & rings out three shots that ricochet off the elevator door.

"Time to get your game face on."

 

[wristclerk]

Rooney had downed at least three more drinks by the end of the meeting. When Nherus Djek's face came up on the holo-screen Rooney set his drink down and snarled. The guy had cut him out of more than one deal, true Rooney couldn't care less about slaves or slavers, hell he worked for the Hutts, transporting sentient cargo was a necessity, however the slim-o Nherus Djek liked to cheat his transporters out of a fair wage and almost being detained by Imperials caused for a bit more credits to down play his notoriety on several occasions.

As several explosions and blaster fire rang through the bar, Rooney just sat back and watched the chaos. It wasn't his place to get involved, however the image of the rat, Djek still burned into his mind and he couldn't get it out. He shook his head a couple times and decided to join in. He withdrew his DL-18 blaster pistol and ran to the edge of the staircase. Peering over he saw three guys making their way towards some guy hunched behind a table. One began to make his way around to the bar and Rooney saw his chance. stepping back a few feet to get a running start, he bolted for the railing, hopping over the side of the railing he came crashing down on top of the guy. They both fell to the floor in a pile, but Rooney was able to roll free and slide to a stop on his back with his DL-18 blaster pointed at the thugs head. When the man looked up he snarled at Rooney.

"You with Djek?" Rooney asked. The man just snarled and spat at him, Rooney smirked and shot the thug right in the face, killing him. He sat up and leaned against the back of the bar and tried looking through the flashing lights and broken glad but could hardly see anything.

"okay! who the hell are the good guys and who are the bad guys?!" Rooney called out to everyone within ear shot of the fighting.

 

[Arcangel]

Szazak nodded to Drusas when he acknowledged him, they would time to catch up later, though he felt a moment of sadness as the Twi’lek’s comment brought up memories of his homeworld, Gand. It would take a regime change for Szazak to return to the beloved mists of his home. Pushing the thought to the back of his mind he listened to the other sentients gathered in the room as they announced themselves, he took note of what they said. A Cartel smuggler and two slicers. The smuggler’s ship would be useful, but his Cartel ties could be troublesome, and hopefully the slicers aren’t useless in a fight. Szazak thought to himself as the Blood Carver introduced himself. He clicked in amusement when Drusas tried to explain what Ko Shiv meant, having understood the insectoid Blood Carver perfectly, and knew that the Twi’lek himself didn’t quite grasp the depth of his companion’s words.

As Drusas wrapped up the formalities and moved onto the business of the meeting Szazak leaned forward onto the table of the booth he was sitting at to get a closer look. He didn’t recognize Nherus, but by the way Drusas described the man he wouldn’t mind blasting him. As a parade of scantily clad slave girls flashed by on the hologram Szazak couldn’t help but feel disgust at the men who did this, and pity for the poor girls pictured. He did however recognize Voshk, a lowlife excuse for a bounty hunter known only for his cruelty and his ability to screw up fairly straightforward jobs. From their Drusas moved onto the finer details of the job, but was interrupted by the sound of blaster fire from downstairs.

At the sound of blaster fire Szazak immediately produced a blaster carbine from the inside the folds of his robes, rushing after Drusas and Ko Shiv. Seeing the Trandoshans just as they ducked behind the large statues of Madame Lekku as he ducked behind the corner opposite of Drusas, Szazak knew they had to end this quickly, the longer the fight lasted the higher the chances were of one of the group getting killed. Unfortunately he couldn’t think of any way to force the Trandoshan’s out of their cover. Wishing he had some grenades on him Szazak settled for squeezing off a few volleys from his carbine, peppering the statues and forcing the Trandoshans to stay behind their cover.

 

[Jake]

Spoiler: OOC

You mistook your positioning, Vos. I stated that the Trandoshans had circled behind the statues of Madame Lekku and were in fact waiting for you to proceed. I won't punish the error, but you'll find those small details can be important in combat situations. In the future, if anyone overlooks an enemy and just runs by them when their intent is to kill you, you can expect to be punished.

Spoiler: Battle Map

Despite the bold foolishness of their plan, Rooney and T'chaal seized a rare opportunity, taking advantage of a narrow instant where the Trandoshans composed themselves. Shaking away the dull thrill of casual slaughter, the menacing glint in their eyes sharpened and they began to think the thoughts of predators. They slid the pain gauge up to unbearable levels on their stun carbines, the same ones they used to herd the flocks of their master's slaves. The duo charged past the statues of Madame Lekku and up the staircase into the room Voshk had just entered; meanwhile, the Trandoshans were hard-pressed to follow, their cover peppered with blasterfire by the unexpected companions that had appeared to help T'chaal.

The Trandoshans exchanged a few snarling shouts, punctuated as the one closest to Drusas and Szazak screamed its blood-curdling cry and lobbed something over Madame Lekku's head. Smoke poured from the sphere as it arced through the air, landing behind the Twi'lek and the Gand a few steps further down the staircase. The smoke grenade detonated, releasing a thick smog of oily darkness which billowed through that entire level of the Lush Lekku cantina, rolling across the nearby terraces. Meanwhile, the other Trandoshan released a spray of blasterfire at the overhead lights, shattering them in a cascade of neon sparks and sizzling wires. The sharp crack of their carbines hitting the floor resounded in the air, drowned out by the whine of vibroblades humming to life...

Two sleek shadows advanced on the group through the smokescreen, clearly accustomed to ambushing their prey. They would pick randomly and descend upon Drusas' companions as soon as one betrayed an opening to capitalize upon.

MEANWHILE upstairs, a sticky situation unfolded for the pair who charged past the Trandoshans, overly eager to take a shot at Voshk. A group of four had advanced on T'chaal Vo, circling around to flank him and get past his cover. Rooney Dinn had done the bounty hunter a favor, clambering over the bar and throwing himself on top of one man, crashing with him to the floor. Perhaps it was with too much ease that Rooney, in the drunken euphoria afforded him by the booze, nonchalantly pulled the trigger on his pistol in the hired thug's face. The Lorrdian was a peculiar man indeed if he still smirked after admiring his own grisly handiwork.

His face was a convulsing ruin of scorched flesh, one eye glaring fiercely at the smuggler from the edge of the wet crater Rooney made of his features. It leered obscenely at him, as if clutching for meaning even as the life bled profusely from the terrible wound.

Nonetheless, for a student of kinetic language, there could be no clearer form of communication. The horrible expression reflected in that carnage, the words more profound than any ever spoken, which reached out to the Lorrdian as if to scream at him, There is no such thing as good and bad in these parts, Rooney Dinn, and the only hell is the one you make for yourself.

From within the brittle bravery of such deep drunkenness, perhaps Rooney Dinn could not recognize the form that his future nightmares would take, but it did not matter. Blinded as he was by the flashing strobe lights and the broken glass of the bar he'd shattered, he couldn't see the dead man's colleague standing only a few meters away, grasping his stun carbine and wishing fervently that it had a kill function. Squeezing the trigger, he discharged a single bolt aimed at Rooney's left side, and turned towards T'chaal Vo in the center of the room without waiting to see the results. Needless to say, unless the Lorrdian managed to avoid or somehow soak the stun bolt, it was going to be an incredibly painful (and sobering) next few minutes.

The rest began circling towards T'chaal, stun carbines spewing a steady stream at the veteran bounty hunter as they edged around his cover and looked for the clear shot.

Spoiler: NOTES

Being really drunk was an interesting twist, wrist. I hope you don't find my response unfair. Also, if your character gets hit here, besides a very unpleasant next couple of minutes while his pain receptors overload, he'll be fine.

 

[Vos]

Clearly whoever the kid was that just jumped the rail from the third level bar & killed one of Voshk's men was out of his mind. "You coulda got yourself killed kid," he shouts from behind the table frantically, ringing out another 3 or 4 shots at the remaining men approaching him from the center of the room. The Trandoshian walking toward the kid fires at the kids direction & the remaining three men start walking towards the flipped table. T'Chaal, in a desperate attempt to evade the next firefight, reaches for a flash charge out of one of the pockets of his utility belt & stands, with his back turned to them, holding the detonator in his left hand in front of him hidden & his renegade blaster pistol down at his side, his finger rested against the trigger.

"So Voshk thinks he can wiggle his way out of 5 hauls of ryll that he just so happened to forget to pay out 3 months ago on Nar Shadda?!" he shouts. "You tell him, that half whitted twit of a lizzie, the expense just became his head!"

He pushes the ignition switch, setting an automatic timer on the charge & quickly turns & runs toward the kid, throwing the charge into the center of the room between the three. He dives toward the kid, tackling him, & forces his head to the ground behind the bar as the charge rolls across the floor beeping.

He takes out one of his Nightsister blades sheathed in his left boot & smiles wickedly. "Prepare yourself kid. Things are about to get real ugly." Suddenly the bar begins to clear in a panic as the timer counts down from 15 seconds to 5. The 3 remaining henchmen dash for cover, including the Trandoshian, & he looks up throwing the blade towards his back, killing him instantly. As the others try to get cover behind the staircase & behind the bar on the left side of the club, its too late. 3...2...1... The flash lights up the room, with a small concussive blast pushing everyone down to the ground. While the rest of the patrons run toward the door, he steps out from behind the bar lifting his renegade toward the male human henchman struggling to get back to his feet in a daze.

"Where's Voshk?"

 

[Arcangel]

As the grenade landed behind Szazak and Drusas, Szazak felt a trill of fear race through him, with no time to react the three of them were gonners. Luckily it was only a smoke grenade. As an explosion of thick smoke filled the stairway and the level below, the lights above simaltaneously went out, showering sparks as they were shredded by blast bolts. The only illimination came from the colorfully lit floor, making the smoke appear like a colorful mist as thick as soup. Hearing the clatter of carbines dropping to the floor followed by the sudden hum of vibroblades kicking to life, Szazak couldnt help but be amused. If the Dosh wanted to hunt in the mists, they would soon find that they were the prey, because from one end of the galaxy to the other there were no better mist fighters than the Gand.

Stowing his Carbine back in his robes, Szazak pulled out his shockstaff as he stepped out into the mist. Turning the power up to a deadly level, Szazak activated the staff, lightning arcing between the two prongs on the end, the bright light visible through the smoke. Slowly making his way up the stairs he searched for the telltale billow of smoke that would indicate the attack that was sure to come, the light from the shockstaff sure to lure the Trandoshans out. There it was! The smoke rapidly parted as one of the Dosh charged down the stairs at the light, swinging his vibroblade in a powerful downhand chop, the other Dosh hissing encouragent to his fellow.

Quickly bringing his staff up and sidestepping, Szazak caught the Dosh by the wrist of his swordhand between the two prongs, the Dosh roaring in pain as electricity began arcing through his hand. Szazak continued moving, swinging the staff down with the Trandoshan forced to follow as his hand was dragged downwards, vibroblade flying away uselessly as the stench of scorched scales and cooked flesh filled the air. Quickly snapping the staff back, azure lightning momentarily arcing between the staff and the Dosh's hand, Szazak then slammed the prongs around the lizards neck, using the Dosh's forward momentum to fling him down the stairs, lighting following for a split second as he soared past Drusas and Ko Shiv before landing headfirst with a sickening crunch on the dancefloor below. Quickly turning to face the remaining Dosh Szazak was startled by a loud bang and bright flash that came from the floor above.

 

[Korvo]

Well, t'was bound ta happen sooner or later.

So far as Aurelia could tell, crat had officially hit the fans. As the blasterfire echoed her way from the area ahead, Aurelia hit the ground in the direction opposite to several others. She knew better than anyone that she wasn't a fighter, at least not in the conventional sense. At once, activated the generator on her side of her belt, Aurelia slid into a dark corner immediately throwing her HALO into the air, as high as she could toss it. Her HALO always had a contingency program that would kick in if ever thrown by her, which sends the remote into an observation mode, as opposed to following her around.

At the time, thankfully, there were plenty of targets around her. While on the ground, Aurelia immediately activated her holo-relay and linked her holo-relay to her HALO's optical systems. Synchronizing her wrist-mounted computer with her droid's command directive function, Aurelia took direct control over her remote and searched for a nearby interface outlet, particularly one that was connected to the establishment's energy systems. Energy circuits, power lines and occasional panels littered the room, likely for the sake of maintenance at the hands of technicians and maintenance droids. Luckily, such systems always had a link to larger power sources, which was how droids could fix or tweak power management or errors from their panels. After establishing a link from her holo-relay through her HALO, it took only moments for Aurelia to hack through the system firewall.

Switching back to her HALO, Aurelia quickly navigated her remote through the terrace, skirting the ceiling so as to make sure the already small target would be unnoticed as she gathered intel. Having her HALO pass through the corridor from the terraces, Aurelia made sure to memorize the layout as she also took note of the hostiles.

Corridor... Two hostiles. Trandoshans, behind cover. I suppose there's our Madame Lekku we have to thank for that.

Aurelia led her HALO up to the executive floor, continuing to scan the layout when she heard someone bellowing who the 'good' and 'bad' guys were. Sighing to herself as she rolled her eyes, Aurelia too her HALO to the highest point in the ceiling. Ahead of her, someone let off a grenade. Keeping her vantage point with her HALO, Aurelia moved to alter the flow of events. Switching to the power grid of the establishment, she initiated a hard system reboot of the power distribution system. Within moments, the primary lighting systems of the cantina went dark, with red-tinted emergency lights all around the cantina - along with the luminosity of the spray of blasters - providing the light. Taking advantage of what surprise the sudden alteration of the environment would provide, as well as the darkened lighting in and of itself, Aurelia made her way closer to the corridor to keep some of her attention on what was happening closer to her location.

Switching her HALO's optical systems to the broadband frequencies of the electromagnetic spectrum, Aurelia scanned the room for energy pulsations in anticipation for when the power would restore itself. The power conduits within the walls that would initiate first often channeled that the most amperage and voltage. If one of the Trandoshans happened to draw near enough to one of the power modules or interface port, Aurelia would use it to her advantage.

 

[Richie B.]

Jaleer was worried that someone would get hurt, though Jaleer could heal their wounds, he rather not show that he has the force, not sure if anyone in the stations was trust worthy. Jaleer was ready to finally unleash the force push that was building up in his hand having to wait a few minutes until it was strong enough, Jaleer looked over the counter making sure the Trandoshans were still behind the weird looking statues, and unleashed the force push on the statue to the left, destroying it sending shards everywhere. The Trandoshan would be vulnerable for a moment before he went into cover, knowing that he couldn't wait for someone to blaster the Trandoshan before he got into cover, so Jaleer throw his lightsaber a little bit after sending the force push, if nothing interrupt it than the Trandoshan would have a green lightsaber right through him.

Jaleer didn't like showing that he was a Jedi to these people, but he had little choice his only other weapon was the force, he didn't carry a blaster like most Jedi do in this age. Jaleer just didn't have any interest in blaster, believing his lightsaber and the force to be everything he needed, does that make him good at hiding? No, it causes problems on many occasions but Jaleer was proud to be Jedi and admired the Jedi of the past who he tries to be like, even so far to always where his brown cloak and Jedi robes even when it isn't the best option.

Jaleer would use the force to pull back his lightsaber where Jaleer would grab it with his left hand, turning it off and going back behind the counter having to take a moment to rest. Jaleer was worried that some of his new companions would get injured and wanted them to know he could heal them if they needed him to.

"Listen if anyone gets hurt come to me or just call for me, I know how to use the force to heal you." Knowing that he couldn't hide the fact that he was a jedi any longer, though he doubted he needed to tell anyone he was a Jedi, he was pretty sure most of the people knew by now.

 

[Jake]

Spoiler: OOC

OK guys, sorry for the wait on my reply. Hopefully it doesn't screw up our rhythm. Anyway, I'm going to wrap up the first combat here. It was a little hectic, we can work on that in the future. Big notes: turns are important in combat, otherwise it's impossible to get a sense of flow; grenades in bars are generally a bad idea. Otherwise, solid job everyone! Good writing all around.

Combat ensued suddenly, but it was brought to a quick conclusion by the prompt responses of the group Drusas had formed. They'd proven their ability to react adequately to surprise situations, as far as he was concerned. Ko Shiv had disappeared from his side, a fleeting shadow that darted quickly up the steps while the group that remained on the floor beneath the dance area suppressed the Trandoshans with supporting fire. Jaleer's gambit worked out nicely; the slavers weren't prepared for this kind of resistance to begin with, much less for the presence of a Jedi. With a sharp snap-hiss as the lightsaber ignited in midair, one of the Dosh henchmen collapsed to the floor in a smoking heap.

Drusas' vision suffered in the darkness, so that he stopped firing for a second to recharge the blaster pack rather than squeeze off shots aimlessly. Besides, his allies appeared to have the situation more or less under control. By the time the emergency lights were flickering on, he noticed that the other Trandoshan panic as an interface nodule beside him in his cover exploded in a shower of blinding sparks. The Trandoshan hissed, and by the maddened tone Drusas wondered if he was being electrocuted; regardless, it provided a perfect distraction for him to line up a clean shot and pull the trigger. The blasterbolt took the slaver in his soft throat, and the tall reptilian being fell over clutching itself with both hands and sputtering.

"Good job," Drusas shouted to his allies. "Let's get upstairs..." From their position at the base of the staircase, a flash of bright light was visible from the upper floor. Casting a quick glance over his shoulder, the Twi'lek smuggler noticed that already most of Lush Lekku's clientele had fled or hidden themselves under chairs and tables. The air resonated with alarms, drowned out by the feverish music which had survived Aurelia's tampering. Overhead, secondary strobe lights began to kick in, flashing violently in epileptic patterns along the hallway. As he jogged past the statues of Madame Lekku, Drusas couldn't help but gulp; he could practically hear the Madame's shrieking already...

~*~​

Voshk emerged from the turbolift to a room of frowning faces. Nherus stood at the nearest side of the great round table in the center of the room; he regarded the Trandoshan suspiciously, scrutinizing the smoldering scorch-mark on the wall of the turbolift behind Voshk. A scar from one of T'chaal Vo's parting shots, which thankfully for Voshk hadn't ricocheted. Nherus had not reached his position without some measure of paranoia - that, and he knew well Cicero's distaste for failure. His left hand dropped to his hip, fingering the blaster there tentatively. He was flanked by four bodyguards, all he had thought necessary for a simple slave auction. Mounted on the wall opposite the table, a viewscreen cycled through suggestive images of the boys and girls they bartered over, listing their finer qualities in scrolling Aurebesh beside the picture gallery. The other wall consisted of a tinted viewport, overlooking the skirmish between Drusas' group and Voshk's security team.

On the other side of the room, a lone individual stood beside a spherical droid which hovered beside him. Its lone red photoreceptor peered at him from across the table, and a holoprojector mounted on its flank emanated the image of a taciturn-looking Twi'lek's face.

"Unprofessional of you to leave this wretch in charge of security, Djek," the holographic figure said in a deep, powerful voice. "I had hardly expected to be interrupted by scoundrels and riffraff. Dispose of them, so that we can conclude this vulgar business. I recall a day when Cicero's channels were more... dependable."

"Naturally, my lord. I shall see to it that Voshk learn the consequences of incompetence once this minor intrusion is dealt with." Nherus turned towards Voshk for a moment, raking the lizard with his gaze as he said, "Fierfekking Dosh cur, do you know how much you could have cost us? Cicero will chain you to his throne when he hears word of this." Nherus was careful to keep his tone amicable as he condemned Voshk in effortless Huttese. The fear in the Trandoshan's eyes was ample measure of the truth behind his threat.

The envoy beside the Twi'lek's droid frowned. The pale Umbaran was tall and reed-like, thin and drawn in upon himself, face full of gaunt features and sunken eyes. The alien's age and expression were impossible to discern, but any could tell that the Umbaran appeared... distracted. Presently it approached the viewport which covered one wall of the lounge, drumming its long, slender fingertips on the transparisteel.

"There is a... disturbance, here. Perhaps my coming was not ideal," the stranger said idly, half to itself. It pulled the hood of its dark robes over its face, concealing its features. "I've held up my end of our agreement, Vorlas. The Twi'lek is not treacherous, though I cannot speak for his cunning..." On the other side of the room, Nherus looked visibly enraged at the underling's directness. He was not a man used to being questioned to his face, much less flagrantly insulted. "Remember our favor, when we are ready..."

"Of course," the holographic visage said after a brief hesitation. "Just help them deal with the raffle so that we might finish this blasted meeting. I am a busy man, and Ryloth is a world in need of ruling... I have little time for these base affairs." The holoprojector winked out; clearly the man coveted his identity. As it disappeared beneath one of the droid's matte black panels, another robotic appendage emerged smoothly from its other side: this one a blaster pistol, its muzzle trained on the turbolift on the other side.

Nherus' men had positioned themselves as well, spreading themselves out along the breadth of the room. Nherus himself pressed an invisible button on the round table and a datapad interface slid open. With a few practiced keystrokes, he introduced his password and a door materialized on the wall beside the large viewscreen displaying their merchandise. He gestured at Voshk with one hand absently.

"I'm terribly afraid I won't be able to help you after all, Voshk. It appears you will have to face the Hutts on the botched ryll shipment after all. If I were you," Nherus added conspiratorially at the end in a mocking whisper, "I'd look for the driest, saltiest place in the Outer Rim to hide in if you get off this shadowport. Hutts aren't very fond of salt."

~*~​

Though Szazak was startled by the flashbang that abruptly went off in the middle of the dance floor, the Trandoshan had its back to the blinding explosion. The hulking lizard was surprised but not stunned, and quickly closed the distance between itself and the Gand Findsman, hoping for an easy kill as it hefted its vibroblade for an overhead swing. The Trandoshan expected to feel the soft resistance of flesh yielding to the vibrating edge of its sword as it brought the vibroblade down hard on the Gand's shoulder - however, rather than flesh its sword rebounded off the ultrachrome that intercepted it. Ko Shiv stared evenly at its opponent from across their blades, though the Blood Carver remained utterly expressionless as it hefted its other tulwar and swung the massive blade as lightly as a feather. Leaning backwards, the Trandoshan narrowly avoided having its jaw separated from the rest of its skull and quickly retreated to assume a more defensive stance.

However, Ko Shiv allowed it no such pause, taking one step forward and with tremendous strength sweeping at the slave's face with the blade it had used to parry the strike intended for Szazak. Caught off guard, the Trandoshan couldn't parry the blow and its throat was viscerally torn out on the edge of the Blood Carver's sword, along with a single jet of greenish blood. Ko Shiv was walking evenly past the corpse even as it folded onto the ground, not exchanging so much as a word with the Gand Findsman.

After a few moments, Drusas mounted the last of the steps into the room and crossed it in brisk strides, gesturing for everyone to gather up.

"Alright, you're with us now. You want Voshk? You got him, just lend us your firepower for a second. 'Sides, you don't seem like the kind of guy who minds cracking a few slavers' heads," Drusas said to T'chaal Vo in a breath, gesturing for everyone to follow him as he made his way over to the turbolift.

"Anyone got any last minute prep they want to do? Got a sinking feeling that they're going to be waiting for us up there, thanks to all the ruckus we stirred up."

Downstairs, he heard precisely the kind of high-pitched shriek that could belong to no one other than Madame Lekku, and suddenly Drusas wasn't sure what he feared most: the morbidly gargantuan spider that owned the cantina and whose web he'd disturbed, or the slavers waiting for him with primed blasters a short turbolift ride away. Either way, it didn't look like the night was going to end very peacefully...