Star Wars Intervention: Echoes in Eternity (An Original Trilogy Game; Always taking new players!!!)

IC: Winterkill
Docking Bay 7, CSA Spaceport, Shadow's Lament

"You're late and you don't have Jeth."

The only thing the female in front of him had in common with Tiaca, was gender - at least for starters. The voice and face, he was hearing and seeing for the very first time, and he had no reason to believe they were her true voice or face. The physical build was close enough to match that of the armored 'female bounty hunter'. The 'charming disposition' was the only thing he truly had to confirm Tiaca's current identity, though 'guise' would be a more accurate term.

He stared at her blankly for a moment, before she spoke once again.

"So, should I shoot you or fill you in on the plan Sephi?"

Besides his blue attire, the nagai also had some color added to his otherwise pale face. There was an almost human blush to it, thanks to the cosmetic specialty shop he'd visited. His usually spiky raven hair was now impossibly slicked back against his skull, but his eyes bore the same sinister darkness they always did.

Winterkill blinked once and found himself wondering if Havah Jeth had an inordinate affection for mind games. His latest recruit seemed the type to indulge them ad nauseam. If there was amusement to be had, it was completely one sided, and definitely not on his part.

"You choose."

He said finally in his usual humorless delivery.

This was nothing compared to certain past experiences. Besides, their orders were unequivocal. Anything that was not part of the mission was easy to ignore. In all other respects, he was more than ready for action.

Tag:Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Dak, M-3PO military protocol droid
Warehouse Factory, in line for the Fusion Smelter


Reboot process...standby...

...Cause for System Malfunction...checking...ion blast...

...System Health 100%...

...Actions for selection...Restart system in Normal Mode [Y] [N]...Restart System in Safe Mode [Y][N]...Restart System in Arse Kicking Mode (Emergency Survival Mode) [X][N]...

...Processing Arse Kicking Mode...standby...

...Process Complete...

...Initializing Systems...process complete...

...Standby to Arse Kicking Mode in 5,4,3,2...

...Initializing BAD TO THE BONE music soundtrack...

...Welcome back Dak...


"Okay," said one of the human soldiers with a grunt of effort, "Why are we doing this again? I mean, can't we just blast the thing?"

"What?" Said a male Feeorin hired guard ordered to help the two humans, "And risk the whole block hearing the blaster fire and calling the Espos? There is some goody-bags on the Espos side who will respond, despite orders not to. You humans are stupid."

"He said it," the other human said, pointing to the first human to speak, "Not me."

"AHHHH!" Choked the Feeorin suddenly as a metal hand gripped around his throat from the hover sled, a metal body quickly inclining up to meet the arm in length.

"I don't like anything with the word smelter in it," Dak replied, quickly crushing the alien's throat with a simple squeeze of his hand grip; the sickening fell limp; the droid released his grip and the alien's corpse fell to the floor. The droid slowly turned to regard the two humans; one was quickly backing away, hands raised, the other was fumbling for his GLX Firelance blaster rifle. Stupid decision, "You should be smarter then that," Dak said, his other hand extending through the human's mid section and out the other side. The human's eyes went big, he gasped for a last breath of air, then as Dak retracted his arm back through his mid section, fell to the ground, his blaster rifle clattering to the ground by his cold hands.

"Please!" Said the other guard, "I'm just here for the money!"

"Good," Dak said, sliding off of the hover slid and reaching for the dead Feeorin's T-21 light repeating blaster and power supply backpack and putting the backpack over his back, "Because you want to run right now. And don't come back. It's about to get bloody here."

"Right---err, yes sir! I'll be leaving now..."

"Don't forget the weapon," Dak said, pointing with the T-21 at the hired soldier's blaster rifle, "And don't go telling anyone of this. Or I'll have to kill you too."

"Right," the guard said, nodding and not only dropping his blaster rifle onto the ground, but his ammo harness and blast vest as well, "Thank you for this Mr. Droid," then the human ran off as fast as he could.

Mr. Droid? Seriously? Dak shook his head and marched back down towards the entrance to the factory, where he was dragged in here. It was killing time...


No Tag (see below)

---

IC: Captain Jason Lasso
Secured Warehouse section, somewhere near "The Docks" and Street AA-Three


Lasso hadn't so much asked his question when a shadowy figure spoke and appeared from the shadows.

"Forgive me Captain, but this could not wait."

Lasso spun around to face the figure, his blaster rifle raised, his finger on the trigger, his heart racing.

"By the Force Mahaben!" Lasso bit out quietly, lowering his rifle, "I almost shot you!"

"I believe men in black armor -Imperial armor- are responsible for these deaths and many others. Futhermore..."

Mahaben raised a hand, keeping anyone from interrupting.

"There will be lots of fire and death in the area. We are all in terrible danger. Those men, they are in one of those buildings as we speak."

"Yea," Lasso said, nodding towards Boras, "Boras was saying professionals too. Imperial armor---hmmm," Lasso looked around at the dead bodies, "Storm Commandos are the only Imperial forces I know of that wear black armor. And Storm Commandos mean significance Imperial attention." Lasso, Boras, and Mahaben stood loosely around each other, "Well," Lasso said, "If Mahaben is correct, then we should withdraw to Sydney. Comms are out and we'll need to notify him and get some extra firepower in here to get Dak out---"

A thunderous explosion rang out into the night from the factory---some 150 meters away from where the Mercs currently stood---a heavy metal door being thrown with no care off it's hinges and onto the street far away, a ball of flame and debris following it's wake and lighting up the night sky like a lighthouse search light.

"Hey!" Yelled someone from below, pointing up to the gathered Mercs, "Get them!" A random patrol, a random chance---

And Mahaben's vision had just come true with 'lots of fire and death in the area' as blaster bolts from half a dozen guns for hire erupted from the street below towards the three Mercs. Elsewhere, other guns for hire were running towards the explosion.

The three of them ran for cover as the blaster bolts ate into the night sky towards them; yelling over the blaster fire, Jason said, "We'll use the Imperials to our advantage! Stay clear of them and let them work! The enemy of our enemy is my friend as they say. And right now, those Imperials will provide a nice distraction!" Lasso ducked back as a series of blaster bolts ate into a small dividing wall on the roof, "I have a feeling we'll find Dak towards that factory! Boras, you take the left along the fence line and circle around their flanks. Keep low, take targets of opportunity only! Watch your ammo! Mahaben, take the far right, along the fence line. That'll require you to make the distance across open ground. That factory business should give you come good cover and distraction. I'll take the middle. We'll meet wherever all of these guns are going to, I have a feeling that is where Dak is. He always liked large explosions," The last of Lasso's cover was chewed down by the blaster bolts, "Okay, go! I'll cover you!"

Lasso tossed a stun grenade over the lip of the roof and covered his eyes as the blinding flash erupted; waiting a moment longer, he raised up and sprayed the lower street with blaster fire. His targets were defenseless and dazed, but targets nonetheless. Lasso's blaster rifle chewed into them easily and quickly, leaving quietness over their 6 dead bodies.

Boras was making his way along the left fence closet to the front gate they had come across, while Mahaben was already gone from sight across the warehouse yard and into the night.

Searchlights, yelling of orders, and blaster fire started to fill the night as the guns for hire raced towards the factory, leaving this end of the warehouse district towards the dock ship to be mostly defended by a handful of sentry guards.

Lasso noticed that if Dak was in the factory, he wasn't coming out. Which made sense. The factory was about to be turned into a death trap, if Lasso knew Dak's personality and tactics well enough...

Getting down from the roof, Lasso made his way across the open area and towards the blaster fire and running guards. He only hoped Sydney got the point without comms and come blazing in for a rescue, because they would need one now...


TAG greyjedi125, Master Selkath, Vehn

 

IC: Zed the Rodian (nrc), Mary Formal, Nurse Ulrike, Metrocab on road, aaannnddd another Metrocab (Utilitech)
Location: Craci Prime Imperial Class Spaceport


Zed looked up as the droid driver spoke into the passenger area over the intercom: "Sir? I am unable to maintain the required distance from the speeder truck."

"Why?"

"We are coming upon a Security Police roadblock."

Zed groaned aloud. He wasn't sure how invested he was in catching up with this "jedi", but as a general rule, you wanted to minimise official interactions with Espos and Imperials.

He leaned sideways to the left, to see past the solid part of the drivers' cab occupied by the droid, and out the front port, and sure enough, he could see a larger vehicle across one of the road lanes, flashing the green roof light-bars; flanked by a pair of SX20 twin-seater airskimmers on either side of the road, and there were several Security Policemen with glowrods and weapons waving down his vehicle.

The skimmer that had been in front of him, and the A-A5 that they had been following, had gotten through the block, and now sped off into the distance.

In a matter of moments, the metrocab had stopped, and an Espo popped the side-door, poking his mirror-visored head in at the rodian.

"Hello. Are you alone in there, sir?"

Zed looked left and right pointedly, "Yes Officer, I am alone in here." He wanted to tell the Espo that this wasn't a seat he was sitting on, but another person on all fours, but the CSA's foot-soldiers were not known for their appreciation of off-the-cuff humour, and he couldn't take the chance that his interrogator was the exception to the rule.
"If I may ask, who are you looking for?"

The Espo looked carefully at the rodian, and around the interior before answering. "Couple of beings stole a patrol skimmer after assaulting several law enforcement officials, though we have since recovered the craft."

"So you are looking for two people, then?"

"Affirmative. So, where are you going now, sir?"

Zed considered. Given the pace that speeder truck had had, it should have had time to reach the junctions that would have branched off towards the docks and the warehouses, plus the waterway.

Without aerial support, there was little chance of catching up with it.

"Sir? Where are you off to?"

Zed sighed. "Well, I was on the way to a meeting that I was already late for, but thanks to you stopping me, I have missed that, so when we are finished here, I will just be turning around and heading back to town."

"Well, that is not the concern of the Authority. Move along." The espo stepped back and waved his glowrod from left to right, the droid shutting the door between them, and gunning the repulsorlifts.

"Make a turn as soon as it is safe to do so, and take us back to where you picked me up."

"Affirmative."

* * * *
Three vehicles behind the rodian

The inside of the Spaceport-to-town cab was a bit posher than the one the rodian enjoyed, with the two Mercs being treated to a holographic advertisement for a Corellian animal charity, showing some kind of long-eared lagomorph with no eyes, gamboling over the grey rock of a snowy hillside.

"-can save one of these beautiful creatures by adopting a snow durni, and sending us five credits per standard month, or seven in crystalline vertex."

Mary looked sideways at the medic. "Well, if all they are worried about are poachers, maybe they should hire the Mercs; we could clear that sith up with just Taab, Atin, Winterkill, and Jeth."

"And it would still be less boring than Watava," Ulrike retorted gently, referring to one of their earlier contracts, protecting one side of a planetary civil war.

She looked out the front window. "What is the hold up?"

"Isn't it another way to say ' the armed robbery'?"

"Shut up, Mary. Driver, what is the hold up?"

"Security Police road block, Ma'am. All vehicles are being checked before they can proceed."

Ulrike rolled her eyes. "Oh, I hope it isn't anything we have done."

"Well we haven't done anything. Yet anyway."

"Well, put a shopping bag on your lap so they cannot see your blaster, in case they have a problem with it. No sense inviting trouble."

Tag: no-one

 

IC: Havah Jeth. . .Sort of. . .
CSA Spaceport, Low Night's

When the cargo truck pulled up outside the Low Night's establishment, it didn't get any attention with it's beat up status that blended with the roughened world it operated in. Rather some ignored it out of principle, others out of self interest, and a couple, well a couple recognized the mark in the dirt and actively sought to look somewhere else. Still, a few looked as the large bed opened out of it's own accord to allow a Yuzzem carrying an armored man out draped under one arm like a sack of jerrba roots and a large crate in the other as though it was merely an awkward box, well that did attract a few glances as the Yuzzem headed into the establishment.

With a gruff woof to attract the barkeeps attention he set the crate on the bar top and then a note before picking back up the crate to deposit it and his other cargo into a booth near the back, the flimsi had a written order for a lomin ale pitcher and a packet of sniffing salts to rouse his slumpering 'friend'. Sitting on an undersized chair the Yuzzem stifled a yawn, inadvertently flashing his large teeth as he waited for his something to drink to help make this slow day go by a little easier.

TAG: None / Sith or Bravo

 

IC: Acker the bartender (nrc), Low Nights Bar
Location: Craci Prime Imperial Class Spaceport

Things had quietened down in the bar, although there were patrons still present, mostly quietly whispering in shadowed booths against the walls, so the bartender was leaning on the bar top with his arms crossed, looking across at the last person he had served, who had his dark hair up in a top-knot above his head.

The barkeep was considering how he would look if he too adopted a topknot.

Thunk!

He snapped his head towards the noise, seeing a miniature grapple hooked into the bar surace, several feet to his left, the cable from it shuddering as if something was climbing up it.

Still staring, he watched as the hooded figure of a jawa pulled itself onto the stool, shuffled to improve stability, and deposited the clunky holdall from it's shoulder onto the bar.

"Clyde," he said, moving towards it, knowing it was going to offer him dibs on recently stolen tech, "I've told you, you don't need to do that; I've got knees, I can bend down to where you are."

"Ubanya," Clyde greeted in breathy, sped-up tones.

"Hey." Acker pawed idly through the bag's clutter, recognising the repulsor strips likely off an Imperial speeder bike (he hadn't always been a bartender), but said nothing aloud; you never knew who was listening. "Oh, you hear some guy was in here talking about jedi earlier?"

"Ja'bo'ba?"

"Yeah, jaboba." Acker, followed by Clyde a second later, looked up as a huge dark shape loomed into their peripheral visions from his right, Clyde's left - a Yuzzem, carrying an armoured fellow and a crate.

"Utinni!"

Acker snapped out his arm, probably the fastest he'd moved all week, grabbing hold of Clyde's cloak before the diminutive 'merchant' could hurl himself off the stool in a panic.

"Togo! Togu! (Hands off!)"

"Calm down! He's not going to hurt you." He reassured, "They are customers, just like you. Sit still."

The hulking, furry...thing...deposited a crate on the bar.

Acker realised his mistake. Ah-ha. Not patrons. A delivery.

The Yuzzem put a flimsi before him, picked up the crate and headed over to a booth.

Acker realised his mistake. Ah-ha. Not a delivery. Patrons.

He started for the note, but didn't yet trust that he could let Clyde go. Acker lowered himself so that the arm holding the jawa was more parallel to the bar, and stretched towards the note with his other one, getting fingers on the edge, and eeked it closer.

"Togo! Togu!"

"You're on a stool, remember. You'd need a frakkin' hang-glider to get off safely. I'll let you go if you promise not to move till I can come round and let you down. Okay?"

"Mam-mambay. (Ok-okay)."

The barkeep drew his friend's attention to the booth it had gone to. "Look, he's gone way the frak over there. He's no threat. You scared him."

"Dooka. (Junk)."

Acker released his mate's cloak, washed his hands in the small sink behind the bar, dried them, and collected a clean glase pitcher to pour the syrupy amber liquid that was the requested Lomin Ale, and expertly topped it off with a thick head of golden froth that was popular with drinkers.

He turned back to the note to check the other item. Smelling salts? What is this, a fething Rimsoo?

The barkeep looked into the mirror which gave him the view of the patrons behind him, between the bar and the front windows, wondering how many of them would even remember that a Rimsoo referred to the Republic Mobile Surgical Units of the Clone Wars.

He prepared a dish of warra nuts, and a serviette, then carried them, along with the cold pitcher across to the Yuzzem's table, placing the full vessel in the centre, followed by the nuts.

Backing off to what he judged to be beyond its arms' length, he regarded the Yuzzem. "Sir, regretfully we do not have smelling salts. However, if you forward me five credits, I can send my jawa friend out for some. The chemist is just down the street, and Clyde is reliable."

Tag: Havah Jeth

OOC: Jawaese words taken from Wookiepedia.

 

IC: Sydney Ayres
Warehouse District

Sydney killed the music as soon as he heard blaster fire. That just didn't jive with the soulful beats that he listened to as a way of releasing stress. His thoughts flashed to the old man, that blind old man that had disappeared, and of Lasso, and of countless other friends. He knew the sounds of a heavy firefight when he heard one. Now as the time to go. Now was the time to step into action.

Ayres cursed to himself as he ground the A-A5 into gear, the transmission sweating like a prostitute at a religious ceremony, squealing, protesting, before giving in as he gunned the accelerator. The lumbering speeder-truck finally lurched forward and complied with his every demand. He looked down at the central console, tapped a few buttons, put the turret on a semi-automated mode. That was one of the saving graces of this particular line of speeder-trucks. Somebody, somewhere, had been thinking when they built the A-A5. They had given the operator options. And, as everyone knows, options are a beings best friend in moments of crisis. This was one of those moments. Moments when a man needed the powerful heat of a turret without the exposure to a decapitating blow from an Espo, a bucket-head, or even an Imperial goon.

His eyes told him everything he needed to know as he rounded a corner and saw the ensuing firefight. Things looked pretty hot. Fortunately, the A-A5 was armored and relatively safe when it came to small-arms fire. Course, if people threw in the heavier weaponry, well, there would be a different story unfolding.

Ping!

Twang!

Zoom!

Blaster bolts bounced off the exterior, scorched the armored glass, but Ayres didn't mind. His old eyes caught sight of Lasso and Mahaben. They looked like they could use some help.

Sydney pushed the driver's seat back, rotated 90 degrees, and then accessed a joystick and command console. This was the remote control mechanism for the turret. The weapon was deployed, primed, and ready to lay down some nasty fire. He didn't have a target, no, that would be asking too much. All he had was a point of origin, a source for all of the stray blaster bolts out there, and a little bit of hope that what he was about to fire upon were the bad guys. He caught a flash of white armor. Imperials? Maybe.

Ayres pulled the trigger on the cannon.

Shoot first, ask questions later.

Tag: greyjedi125;Bravo

 

IC: Tiaca
Docking Bay 7, CSA Spaceport, Shadow's Lament

Seeing the Sephi's disguise she had to grudgingly admit it was nearly adequate for their needs, as was a simple dermal layering with a compound for species with some higher mineral content in their skin applied to alter cheek structure and chin should be enough to make him passable. Perhaps a small array of diodes to make sure all cameras were blinded in frequencies not seen by organics for facial req' and this just might work. Her first ever covert op with a mission to be ID'd as someone else.

This was going to be fun.

Still with the response of her choice she sighed and rolled her eyes before stepping back to allow the Sephi in, "I don't care how many centuries you have me Sephi, but that is a pathetic disguise. We'll need to add a syntha-flesh layer to your face to alter proportions and I have some contacts that might work to prevent accurate retinal scans. . .not to mention give you some color." Shaking her head she looked at the guy in her small open space of the Tug's interior. The cockpit was merely two chairs in a section that had an immediate bulkhead behind them and a door she could only get through by angling her shoulders. Still the seats were beaten, the pilots practically had her thigh plates permanently indented into them, and the co-pilot seat was closer to a lightly used condition. All in all a tidy and somewhat claustrophobic setup with small view ports that currently had their blast shields down, and a dizzying array of controls, your typical cockpit.

The main section they were in had the airlock Winterkill had entered, two large steps and then a ceiling to floor pole that held a circular plate in the ground, a quick look would reveal it to be lift that led to the top hatch that was sealed at the moment. The space was small, cramped and didn't have much maneuvering room, one wall had what looked like storage drawers usually seen in a morgue at about five tall and three wide facing where Winterkill stood, the opposite side had a curtain which held the ships original dual bunk area and foot lockers. The back wall that had the engine hatch also had a stack of five capture cages to the left of the door. All in all one couldn't be more than three steps from somebody without standing at opposite walls inside the ships main compartment.

"I would offer a seat but we are in a hurry, we have only a touch over an hour to finish this job." Not that the Sephi probably needed that reminder but it helped her as she grabbed a tube of proper synth-flesh for the job and pointed at a drawer door that was a high enough polished sheen to double as a mirror. Tapping a pad a slow spinning holo shown out revealing Winterkill's disguise needs to look like this brown eyed and angular featured Sephi with a hawk like nose and prominent cheek bones, and a chin that could sink most water craft. "Finish quickly and I'll take you undercover as a prisoner. . ." she started to share the plan.

Basically it came down to the fact that the prison block was in the heart of the facility not more than two corridors from the hanger bay where they would need to steel a ship and supplies. Using defunct binders, fake id's, and a sure plan to be seen only as other people until they got far enough in, then she and Winterkill, and hopefully Jeth if he showed in time would be able to break out from that far in to finish the job.

TAG: greyjedi125

 

IC: Winterkill
Docking Bay 7, CSA Spaceport, Shadow’s Lament

Despite her verbal delivery, Winterkill was able to glean what manner of plan Tiaca had in mind, that is, after her brief explanation. This was not going to be the usual ‘covert’ intrusion at all, but almost the opposite. The bounty hunter’s offer to ‘improve’ his disguise was easily welcomed, since it was clear that she had far more experience with these sort of things. The nagai’s specialty was to operate and strike form the shadows. This was going to be very different from what he was used to, but his loyalty to the captain made it easier to operate outside his comfort zone.

As for the interior of Tiaca’s ship, it felt more like a small and cramped crypt than a ship. Winterkill was not overly fond of small spaces that restricted his movements and found himself suddenly grateful for Havah Jeth’s superior training sessions. The arkanian had forced the nagai to defend himself in such conditions, lest he perish for lack of knowledge. The whole enterprise had been an extremely frustrating and highly vexing experience, especially since Havah conveniently neglected to explain-at least at first- the nature of such training.

Winterkill was now able to use such environments to his advantage. Even as Tiaca spoke, he was already imagining how he would exploit such an environment. He didn’t even react to her calling his disguise pathetic, for he now recognized such talk for what it was. Her idea to use synths-flesh and contacts to ‘misguide’ face recognition attempts were quite to his liking, especially in lieu of shadows and concealment.

Hiding in plain sight, Havah had called it.

But that also involved ‘acting’ and ‘talking’,which he was not very good at, but their options were few at the moment.

When Tiaca mentioned the time,he simply nodded in agreement, then accepted the proffered tube of synth-flesh; but alas, Winterkill’s sculpting skills were poor, and he needed Tiaca’s more experienced skills to finesse that which was started. After a few moments, he looked at himself upon the polished surface and hardly recognized the face which he now saw. The unprepossessing visage looked as human as could be. It was quite impressive, at least in his estimation.

Success!

He turned around and faced the talented bounty huntress, showcasing his ‘good looks’ for her ‘approval’.

“Your prisoner is ready” he said, with a tone that hinted at too many unpleasant things.

In his mind, he also understood that he might have to leave his weapons behind. That part, was his least favorite of the plan.

Tag: Mitth_Fisto

---

IC: Mahaben
Warehose District, The Docks’, CSA

Captain Lasso, who was-thankfully- possessed of enough combat training not to shoot him was sight, talked about Dak, his missing droid, Mahaben listened, though a powerful disturbance in the force had drawn his attention to a nearby warehouse.

It was something no one unlike himself could feel, or even see.

It came from a nearby structure…the factory, in fact.

Sudden death.

The ripples in the force were powerful, and to Mahaben, inexorably compelling. At a glance, he could see the aftermath of a life as it winked out and the entropic shroud that usually tainted and invaded death’s vacuum, where a life had shone brightly just moments before. The silent psychic scream still echoed in the force and could probably be sensed for miles. This common occurrence Mahaben had learned to ignore. However, there was another energy signature within the structure. It was far dimmer than any other, as it was not a ‘living’ signature, but the blind man was well versed with these, seeing his extensive experience with ‘clankers’, as his old regimen of clone troopers used to call enemy droids. This one clearly did not match such a signature, but it was one he had seen very recently.

“…then we should withdraw to Sydney. Comms are out and we’ll need to notify him and get some extra fire power in here to get Dak out…”

A thunderous explosion rang out into the night from the factory,some 150 meters away from where the small group stood. The ensuing event, the ball of flame, the wake of kinetic force and light looked so much more impressive in the force. They were both terrifying and beautiful to behold.

Mahaben had seen such events more times that he cared to count, since a plethora of dark entropic prominences usually followed in their wake, blanketing the landscape in darkness.

But the time for admiration and reminiscence was not to be.

“Hey!” yelled someone from below, pointing up at the group. Mahaben didn’t need the force to figure out this was the proverbial random patrol.

And just at that moment, Mahaben felt a distinct ‘confirmation’ in the force as he inhabited the moment he had seen. Fire and death, Bogan... had laid claim to the moment and quite likely to events to follow.

The captain and his two companions took cover, managing to avoid the initial hail of blaster fire. Lasso quickly delineated his plain over the rain and cacophony of zipping blaster bolts. When he mentioned that Dak was in the direction of the factory, the blind man confirmed it with a heavy nod. Orders were issued quickly and a plan was set in place. The impromptu briefing was ended by the near miss of a zipping blaster bolt.

PING!!

“Okay, go! I’ll cover you!” Lasso barked.

“May the Force be with you.” Mahaben breathed to both Boras ( whose name he had just learned) and the captain.

Everyone was in motion almost at once, the captain already going on the offensive, death blossoming in his wake, no doubt to Bogan’s satisfaction.

Admittedly, no one could see the three armed guards coming up the stairs-with the exception of the blind miraluka, to whom walls were as visually solid as phantasmal obstacles, thanks to his force vision. The guards were attempting to surprise the Mercs on the roof and ambush them from behind, but no such thing was going to happen. Mahaben half turned and waved a hand behind them, seemingly at no one. Inside, the three guards fell two flights down and crashed quite unceremoniously on the hard floor. The ex-jedi was pretty certain they would survive the experience-physically speaking.

Then in a blink of an eye, Mahaben was gone. The old man lept from the roof and into the night, leaving only the flapping sound of his cloak in his wake. As he landed silently and set himself on a run, he wondered where all these opponents had come from, for he had seen or senses none of them moments before. That was a mystery worth looking into, but one that would have to wait for his meditation session…should he survive.

Even before he had crossed a space of twenty meters, the blind miraluka detected a group of four armed brigands. They were heading towards the main event, which meant they had not spotted him. After quickly gauging the rate of their forward motion, Mahaben took a prodigious force assisted leap into the air, unseen by the cover of night. The ex-jedi gathered the force around him as he descended on the unsuspecting four and as he landed, he impacted and detonated his telekinetic might in their midst with the raw force of several thermal detonators-without the standard light and sound signatures that marked the use of such a weapon. The forceful displacement of force and air was far from silent, and more akin to a thunder clap or the breaking of the sound barrier,when he really amped-up the might of the technique.

The four armed brigands were scattered about like rag dolls and immediately rendered unconscious by the sheer force of the surprise attack. Mahaben was satisfied by the results as he sensed the men’s unconscious state. At least they wouldn’t be getting up any time soon to serve as ‘reinforcements’. He was also glad he didn’t have to ‘finish them off’, like he would in the past.

Those had been darker days.

Setting himself on a run once again, the blind miraluka veered towards a concealing warehouse as scanned his immediate vicinity for another such patrol, even as he made his way towards his designated path along the far fence line and ultimately towards the factory area.

In the back of his mind, Mahaben sensed the mechanic, Ayres, in motion within his armored beast. More and more this particular jaunt was reminding him of past missions from the Clone Wars.

So, was that a good thing?


Tag:Bravo, Master Selkath, Vehn

 

IC: Atin Taab
UIS Mines, Craci Prime, dozen kilometers from Imperial-class Spaceport

"Shaaaab..." let fly from Atin's mouth as the digger began to shift and slide again down into the abyss. Through his T-Visor he could see the panicked look on the driver's face as Atin's hand fell just short of reaching him. Death was coming to claim them both, it was inevitable. But fighting the impossible fight was something that Atin's buir (father) had taught him well, and none were better at fighting against incredible odds than a Mandalorian. Their people had been villianized, attacked and even...excised, by forces greater than what the Mando'ade could ever muster, and yet they had always survived. Now it was Atin's turn to take that fight to a more personal level.

The driver was still reaching out for him, and Atin pushed himself forward slightly into the cab to grab hold of one of his wrists. With an eyeblink he shot out the fibercord whip contained in his gauntlet and it quickly wrapped around the driver's arm. the man grimaced in pain at not only the force of it striking so close but from the way it started to cut into his arm. They were attached now, and if one of them went over in the digger, they both would. Of course with both of them now in the cab that was looking more and more likely.

While he had secured the driver with one hand he had steadied himself with the other, placing it along the cab's frame. Now he took that free hand and quickly drew his Westar-35, aiming it upwards at the roof. He let loose a rapid series of blasts, weakinging its structure, though not causing it to compeletly collapse. Using his bucket's HUD he kept one eye on the driver whilst simultaneously looking at the weakened roof.

"Yeah, this is going to hurt," was the only warning he could give as he ignited his jetpack sending him sailing up. The backblast filled the cab, though fortunately most of it streamed out the broken "glass" window that the young Mandalorian had used to gain entry. Still he knew that the driver was going to get...singed. The pair rose up quickly though, Atin taking the brunt of the cab's roof with his free hand's shoulder. It buckled immediately, and the pair popped through jetting off high above the digger as it slid into the abyss below.

Their flight didn't last long. The jetpack was only rated for one person, though it could carry two in a pinch for a short distance, and Atin himself was fairly light. Still the driver screamed in pain first at the burning from the jetpack's blast, then from being cut by shards of the digger's exploded roof roof and finally from the pain he felt in his shoulder, dislocated by Atin's actions. Well at least he was alive.

Atin settled them down near an aid station, and quickly disconnected the pair. He would now let the professional caregivers give the man a once over. Despite saving his life, Atin doubted the driver would be thanking him anytime soon. Instead Atin looked around. Now where was the Elf?

TAG: Sith-I-5

---

IC: Beskaryc Taab
Warehouse District, Craci Spaceport

Taab waited for a reply from the Skipper but one never came. "Shab," he muttered under his breath. He didn't like that. At least Masha had put out her cigarra, though she didn't seem happy about it. Of course her happiness wasn't required, just her ability to follow orders and hopefully take care of herself.

"So what are we doing anyways, why do you expect so much trouble in Dock 29? I never told the barkeep I would be going there so they may or may not be expecting us. We got a bit of time to make up our minds about it anyways."

He answered her question. "I expect trouble everywhere, and you should too if you want to stay alive." He didn't much care whether the young woman lived or died in the next few years or even months or days, but her survival now increased the odds that his mission would be accomplished.

That brought Taab back to his current dilemma. What was their mission? Go and see if the Skipper needed help or continue on to Dock 29? Both were about equidistant from his own small group, so getting to either location wouldn't be much of a problem. His problem was he had two conflicting sets of mission parameters. The Jod had tasked him with keeping Lasso safe. Lasso in turn had last ordered Taab to stay on mission and head to Dock 29. Shab he thought to himself again.

There really was only one option. At his core Taab was a soldier, and soldiers followed orders. Besides he and Winterkill had done well to ensure that the Captain could take care of himself, Taab would have to trust that the training would be enough to keep him alive. Besides, he couldn't be at the Skipper's side 19/7*, and showing his son that was important too. In the end, there was not really a decision to be made.

"We continue on mission, to Dock 29. The Skipper can handle himself." They seemed to accept that, though whether they were happy about it or not Taab didn't care. They made their way quietly through the streets to the docking area, everyone content to keep their own counsel. The docking ring they arrived at was lain out as a series of concentric circles, like a Wyyyschokk's web. Fortunately for them dock 29 was in the outermost ring and easily found.



The caravel was decked out in garish party lights and the sounds of music and reveling could be heard from within. Though the outside seemed devoid of life, silhouettes of beings could be seen through the windows of the forward section from which warm yellow light could also be seen. It sure looked like some sort of party was ongoing. Taab hated parties. In fact he didn't like any of this. He had dealt with the Hutt before. They were gangsters through and through, and while that didn't bother Taab at all (they were gangsters who at least paid their bills on time), he wasn't sure just how ready his current companions were for an encounter with such. If they didn't watch themselves they would both end up entertaining the Hutt. Sunri would end up in a pit fighting a nest of Gundarks and Masha would be reduced to dancing in some skimpy outfit. Oddly enough both of those thoughts amused Taab for some reason, though he knew he couldn't let any such harm befall his crew mates.

"OK. we go in slow, look casual. I'll handle...security. Masha you're the one that got the invite so you handle any...negotiations. Sunri....just be ready."

The small group approached the vessel, the sounds of music getting louder as they got nearer. However they found their entrance was blocked by an SE-4 servant droid. Taab considered atomizing the droid, but knew that wouldn't be conducive to seeing what the Hutt here wanted. Instead he waited for its response to their presence.

TAG: Sith, Heavy Isotope, Skywalker_T-65


OOC: *Mandalore has 19 hour days

Sith will be running the events inside the Caravel as well as the SE-4 servant droid blocking our current path. Many thanks to him also for the description of the docks as well as the image and description of the Caravel.

 

IC: Masha Tinovorsh
Warehouse District, Craci Spaceport

"I expect trouble everywhere, and you should too if you want to stay alive," Taab said, pausing for a moment, "We continue on mission, to Dock 29. The Skipper can handle himself." Masha nodded and continued walking, as much as she might be concerned about the life of their Captain, The Mercs were good company and he's likely well protected. Whatever was going on to make Taab seem a little frustrated was probably nothing the other Mercs couldn't handle, hopefully.

As they arrived at the edge of the district and to Dock 29 the Hutt's Caravel could be easily spotted. It wasn't a good looking vessel by any means, but it likely was costly and makes whichever Hutt they were going to see look very powerful. Masha's perception could be completely wrong though. There were figures moving behind the windows, the party seemed a bit more lively than she preferred and was used to. Even playing a small set in the Low Night's Bar was challenge enough for her. But that got them here. At least she had her knife and no one could take that from her, the sheath's strap would only loosen to her fingerprint, a good trick in a tough spot.

"Ok," Taab said, keeping Masha from getting lost in thought again, "we go in slow, look casual. I'll handle... Security. Masha you're the one that got the invite so you handle any... Negotiations. Sunri... Just be ready."

"Sounds good to me, keep a sharp eye," she looked to Taab, "I might need your help with the contact, if you see me flipping a cigarra through my fingers that'll be your cue." She figured subtlety would be best, Taab would probably appreciate it too. "Sunny," she looked at Sunri, "that'll be your call sign from now on, if we can't think of anything better," she said with her usual deadpan sarcasm, glancing at Taab with a cheeky smirk as she walked on. Masha was nearly sober, it's likely that her uncharacteristic humor was what was left of the alcohol talking.

The entrance was being ushered by a droid, "Ey... So we got, like... " she wasn't sure what to say or if the droid was even listening to her, she reached into her jacket and took out the napkin the bartender gave her, "This thing, from Low Night's Bar. I guess your buddy liked my music, well, here I am. You uh... Know anything about this?" Masha asked, holding up the cloth so the droid could see it.

TAGS: Sith-I-5, Skywalker_T-65, Bardan_Jusik

OOC: I missed you guys. Welcome back one and all!

 

IC: Boras Felroah
Warehose District, The Docks’, CSA
The old medic jumped at the sight of the old blind man on the roof. He had begun talking about a vision and Boras focused on the old man saying "I believe men in black armor -Imperial armor- are responsible for these deaths and many others."

The old blind man kept talking and once he was done Boras told them "It makes sense, only stormtroopers are so precise."

All of a sudden a large explosion came from the factory. Boras looked on as a ball of fire engulfed the factory. Then someone yelled "Get them" and Boras knew they were about to get in a fight. Lasso had begun instantly giving orders and he then told Boras "you take the left along the fence line and circle around their flanks. Keep low, take targets of opportunity only! Watch your ammo!"

The old medic replied with "Got it and good luck to both of you."

Boras moved down to the ground and began to move through the fence line. He turned his head and saw that Lasso was already dealing with some of the mercenaries. Boras was half way to their flanks when he came across a group of seven mercenaries that were trying to get behind Lasso. Boras immediatly took out his small dagger and threw it at the closest one to him which went right into his throat. The mercenaries stopped in their tracks as his body fell and Boras drew his blasters. He shot the first two in the chest and the others ran for cover. Boras ran behind a small barrierto shield himself. Two of them used all of their ammo but hadnt even hit him. Boras sprang up, pointed his blasters and shot them both in the foreheads when they looked to see if they had got him. Boras holstered his weapons and walked to the first one he killed. He took the dagger out of his neck and rubbed the blood off with a piece of cloth.

The old medic turned around and the last two mercenaries were right infront of him. The one on the left couldn't have been older than 16 and the one on the right looked about 18.
They stared at each other for a few seconds and then the two both drew their blasters but Boras was quicker. While they were staring at each other before Boras had set his blasters to stun. He drew before they did and knocked them both unconcious with the blast. He stepped over their bodies and continued around the fence. He then remembered Sydney had the truck with the big gun and hopefully he would come soon.

As he remembered this the truck came flying in with its gun already out and opened fire. Boras took that chance to run to a barrier across from the main mass of mercenaries and then began to shoot at them from the side of their flank. He knew that he had them right where he wanted them.

Tag: Bravo Vehn greyjedi125

 

IC: Digger driver, Yavscout, UIS Mines
Location: Dozen klicks from Imperial-class spaceport


The vehicle operator had gone from seeing an inferno uncomfortably close outside his right-side window from the drivers' cab, to a world of blurred hurt and sensory overload, and really only had time to digest what had happened as his helmeted savior unwrapped his metallic lanyard from Anton's left forearm.

"Ahh, [bleepy-bleeper]!" Anton cried out, as he lay on the hover litter, with the Mandalorian on his left, and medical staff on his right, their white-gloved hands trying to press him back onto the soft bedding.

He batted them away with his free hand, and reached over to grasp the Mando's wrist, glaring up at him, and seeing his own glase-pricked face reflected in the dark T-visor.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you-"

"Easy there, Sir." One of the medics said, trying to pull the driver away from Atin, while giving the armoured fellow a respectful nod. "Lie flat so we can look you over."

* * * *

For his part, the elf was only a sixth done with his rescue, and quickly let go of the hands of his first group to run the few steps up to the nearby catering truck, and with his buff-augmented legs, he jumped up to the open rectangular serving hatch that dominated the near side of the white vehicle, getting his forearms onto the counter, and hauled his head and top half through enough to grab to, upside-down, grab two litre-bottles of transparent liquid by their thin necks, and allowed gravity to pull him back out onto the black sand.

He hoped the bottles contained water, turning to find the children staring at him.

"Umm, I'm telling," promised one youngling, the moral high ground over-riding the memory of being snatched from the jaws of death.

Yav briefly considered a wise-crack, or a defensive comment, then settled for ignoring the five he had saved, and sprinting back towards the orange-glowing crater holding his two bottles, climbing the shifting soil of the wall while behind him, he could hear the familiar backdraft of Atin's jetpack.

Oh yes, jetpack, he remembered happily, stomping up the loose gradient, because they cannot be used in space or areas of low oxygen.

Yavscout topped the rise, where the wall of heat hit him in the face, and he could see the fire tornado that he had unwittingly created earlier, casting a flickering orange light against the crashed hoverbus.

He sprinted past it to the doors, aware of a general bawling from the occupants even as they granted him entry more readily this time, the elf closing the doors behind him and stepping up level to the slumped, but alert driver, and turning left to face the tear-streaked faces.

"Okay, what the hell is everyone crying about?" He asked immediately.

"We didn't think you were coming back!"

"Why the h-, whyever not?" The Merc decided not to wait for answers, forging ahead, "C'Boath on a bike, you guys are needy. Okay, I've brought water." He started to hand them over, then snatched the bottles back from the mass of loudly enthused small hands, and turned to the bus driver behind him. "Sorry to make you Royal Taster, but think you can check they actually contain water before letting the kids drink, cos frankly I just grabbed bottles with stuff in."

"Sure thing, Mister Yavscout." The driver took the bottles off the elf, who in turn, looked over the clamouring juniors.

"Okay, my second group of five; hold hands in an open circle...good. And you two hold my hands." Yav "grouped", seeing five green life bars in his minds eye, and looked over the tousled or hooded heads of his immediate circle. Actually, given the width of the aisle, it was more an oval than a circle. He looked towards the others. "Third group, be ready for when I get back."

He glanced back at the driver, who seemed to be necking the first bottle in lieu of analysis. "Oi, leave some for the kids!"

"Sorry sorry sorry, I was so parched. Here, this one's safe." The chagrined man made to pass the half-full bottle back to Yav, who had his hands full, and nodded past him to the kids, and triggered Lesser Succor for the second time that night.

As soon as he and they materialised by the catering truck, Yavscout unwound his hands from those of his charges, and immediately turned away from them all to visually check on Atin and the digger.

He stopped, several metres from the scene.

The fissure was there, belching grey smoke, and he didn't have to be a scientist to figure out where the digger was now.

"Atin?" Frag's sake. What was he going to tell Taab?

Tag: Atin

 

IC: Sunri Lasca
Warehouse District, Craci Spaceport

"OK. we go in slow, look casual. I'll handle...security. Masha you're the one that got the invite so you handle any...negotiations. Sunri....just be ready."

Sunri had been quiet up to this point (he still didn't know the group he had ended up with after all), but he nodded at that. The holster on his DH-17 was loosened, ever so slightly, and the emergency comlink tied to R3-S6 (Sleek) was activated. Should things go badly, the droid could power up his fighter and get the autopilot running and on its way to his location.

Paranoia? Maybe, but it had kept him alive so far. Meanwhile though...

"Sunny," Masha looked at Sunri, "that'll be your call sign from now on, if we can't think of anything better."

All the young man did was raise an eyebrow at that. Then again, it could have been a worse callsign than just a play on his name. He still didn't have time to talk though, as Masha walked up to the guard and started talking to him. And, Taab didn't exactly strike him as the...conversational type. So Sunri settled for watching and waiting...as per-usual really.

TAG: Bardan_Jusik , Heavy Isotope , Sith-I-5

 

IC: Captain Jason Lasso
Secured Warehouse section, somewhere near "The Docks" and Street AA-Three


Music: Bad to the Bone


Lasso heard the click from the blaster rifle, the guard's armor demonstrating with smoke and sparks at the hit to the torso, and the guard fell to the wet ground. The drained energy clip dropped from the blaster rifle, clattering to the building wetness on the ground, as Lasso reached into his equipment belt and withdrew a fresh energy clip. As he slammed home the fresh clip, hearing a satisfying click on a solid connection, Lasso brought the butt of his rifle across the face of a charging guard---dropping him to the ground with a sickening crack of his jaw---and leaned backwards to avoid a butt to his own face from the left, bringing his own rifle top across the face of another guard, tearing flesh, and with some resistance, an eye from the human guard from the sharp and hot barrel of the blaster rifle. Not wasting time as he regained a proper body alignment, as the guard was flailing around in pain, Lasso used the tip of his blaster rifle and rammed it through the guard's neck. Two more guards ran up from behind the dying guard and Lasso depressed the trigger of the blaster rifle, the nozzle of the rifle pumping away through the dying guard's neck. Both guards, not expecting such a tactic, fell to a wave of blaster fire. Retracting the blaster rifle back out of the man's neck and letting the body drop to the floor, Lasso retracted the rifle harder then usual and continued the withdraw, bringing the butt of his rifle into sickening contact with a guard's face from behind him. The guard stumbled back and Lasso jumped and pivoted, bringing a full 180 degree round house kick to the man's head. The guard fell with a snap to the ground. The man wasn't a threat, as he was dazed, and Lasso continued on, dropping two more running guards from the docks to his rear with medium range shots that found their marks. Lasso turned his attention back to the front and the factory, where the enemy was becoming aware that they were caught between two attacks, one from the factory and one from the rear. They started to redeploy their superior numbers, most hired guns with military experience, so they did so with speed realizing that an unknown number of enemy targets were attacking from the factory and from the rear.

Lasso suddenly realized how tough this would be; these guards were dumb after all. But, two things happened. First, the tell-tail sound and appearance of a T-21 Light Repeating Blaster came from one of the factory windows as the guards approached, slowing their approach as they took fire and forced the deploying enemy guards to realize that the threat to the factory had heavier firepower. The sudden appearance of the T-21 slowed the guards' response, but only for a second. But, in that second, a speeder truck burst through the silent guard gates, a crazy man no doubt behind the wheel, as a remote controlled blaster cannon started laying down covering fire. The speeder truck made the guards realize, suddenly, that armor was brought to this battle and their small arms fire would do little against that armor.

As the speeder truck recklessly speed past him, narrowing avoiding him, Lasso just smiled. Whether Ayres actually had a plan or not, Lasso didn't know. But if blasting away at everything was a plan, Lasso was grateful for the distraction and armored support.

Deciding that trying to wave the crazy mechanic down in a firefight for a lift was probably a bad idea, Lasso marched onward to the factory, the guards' distraction to the armored vehicle giving Lasso the freedom he needed to move forward and only having to encounter two guards on his way onward, taking them both down quickly with blaster bolts. The factory was straight ahead by eighty meters and appeared to be a clear approach...


TAG greyjedi125, Vehn, Master Selkath

---

IC: Dak, M-3PO military protocol droid
Warehouse Factory, third floor window

The music file Dak had loaded played through his droid brain as he aimed down the T-21's sights.

Music: Gangsta Paradise

Dak had found the upper most floor, found a good vantage point window, and set up shop. Most approaches on the bottom level were death traps, the advantage of being a droid and having a little bit more time; a nearby weapons locker at the interior security officer had provided an array of explosive choices, not to mention using the factory's own machines and building structure as traps. The second floor, only a few random slow approaches were trapped, but the theory was the bottom level would make any approaching forces approach even slower, giving Dak time. The final upper level, Dak trapped the Sith out of the direct approaches to his gunnery position, making it nearly impossible for any force to approach without heavy losses, although Dak himself had made a secret way out of the trap just in case. While not the whole floor was trapped, the direct approaches were and any approaching forces would take the direct path to the T-21.

But, even before the approaching guards got to the bottom level, funneling through the double security stations at the fence line and road, Dak unleashed hell with the T-21, trying to catch the guards in a bottle neck up the road. It worked. Between the guard stations and the slick road because of the rain, the T-21 thundered away, the muzzle flash giving evidence to the death it rained down as it's red bolts of death started tearing holes through organic flesh and security stations alike. The guards had more mobility once past the security stations and fence, fanning out and away from the road along the grassy hill that approached the factory, taking hastily aimed shots towards where the red bolts of death came from.

As the surge of guards lessened at the security stations, dead and wounded bodies of their comrades slowing their progress, Dak turned his attention to the guards fanning out along the grassy hill, taking aimed shots at their bodies and their numbers dropping as their bodies dropped. While Dak couldn't get them all, as the first guards entered the bottom floor, the horrific explosions, screams, and confusion started.

Dak just nodded out to his music, taking shots of opportunity at the approaching guards along the grassy hill...


TAG same crew from above!

 

IC: "He" and Alexander Zat
Less fortunate areas, Nar Shaddaa


The bulk of the YT-1760 blocked out the sun temporarily as it flew overhead, the rag-patch metal roofing that passed as roofing allowed other bits of the sunlight to shoot through gaps in the roofing panels and in holes in the metal itself created over wear and tear over the years.

Both Jedi didn't need to communicate that the man-made shadow from the 1760 gave the perfect cover as the Ganks' gangster gang's eyes adjusted to the light difference in the darkened forsaken area. Although the adjustment was all of a moment, a moment was all the Jedi needed. Both had disappeared---both from the less fortunate residents that called this shady community town outside of one of Nar Shaddaa's spaceports home and from the Ganks that pursued them from behind---from sight.

The drop down the vertical shaft was nothing less then a descent from one hell to another, the rusted interior metal provoking imagines of neglect over the decades, as both Jedi landed on a softened, moist soaked ground. "He" landed with a graceful roll, his double bladed lightsaber out with one side ignited only, as he slashed through the neck section of a unseemly beast of mutation with four legs, a tail, and now a detached head rolling on the ground. Alexander Zat got up more slowly with a groan, He helping him up as he shut his red lightsaber blade off and put it away back on the backside of his belt.

"Getting old, old man," He said in a deep voice, Alexander and Jason Lasso being the only people he had ever spoken to on known record.

"Not yet," Alexander said as he rubbed his lower back, "Just landed wrong."

"I see," He said, not believing Alexander; He's solid blue eyes were shinning through his otherwise black ninja outfit that was covered by a worn and torn brown and mismatched tan colored patched jacket, Alexander picked up He's crumbled brown trilby hat and handed it to the Elite, a highly secretive warrior group of the Jod Church, that Alexander had helped form years ago.

"You see," Alexander said, handing He his hat, "Still good for something."

"Don't slow me down," He warned.

"I'm your Master, remember?" Alexander said with a raised eyebrow.

"You'll be my dead Master if you don't keep up," He said, then bowed his head with respect, "Master."

Alexander smirked, looking up the shaft they had dropped from, "That's over a one hundred meter drop. How long do you think it'll take those Ganks to catch up to us?"

Three concussion grenades came falling down the shaft, rolling on the ground at the feet of the Jedi who jumped well clear of the blast. After the blast, He picked himself up and dusted himself off, Alexander doing the same and wearing similar "traveler" clothing to He's. "Does that answer your question, Master?" He asked in reference to the grenades, then started out towards the direction of their destination, one of the secret House of Royal Intelligence safe houses and offices throughout the galaxy.

Alexander shrugged as he fell in line behind He. "We're running low on places to search for the Jod," Alexander said matter-of-factly, "If we can't find clues here, then we might never find them."

"We'll find them," He said as he stalked down the massive storm tunnel littered with trash and junk, "We have to. Or the galaxy is doomed."

Alexander nodded as he padded the Ancient Scrolls secure on his belt, "So the Prophecy would seem to say..." Alexander replied...


TBC

 

IC: Nurse Ulrike, Mary Formal (npcs), Starport Ferry metrocab, road back to docks
Location: Craci Prime – Imperial-class spaceport


Ulrike had kept a close eye on the events in front of them, through the front port, and spotted when the vehicle immediately in front of theirs, was released by the Espo road block, and sped away.

Their own vehicle rumbled forwards a few metres until they were waved down, the metrocab settling on the ferrocrete road surface as power to the repulsors got cut.

Ulrike looked to her companion, and advised, “Let me do the talking.”

Mary impishly raised an amused eyebrow, “You worried I’m going to say something stupid? Do I look like an idiot?”

“If we’d found one on sale, you’d be wearing a pointy hat with a big D on it.”

The shapeshifter pouted in mock offense. “Ooh, that cuts to the quick.” She pantomimed zipping her lips shut as the side door opened, and a brown-uniformed Espo pointed his riot gun inside, glanced around, and settled his mirror-visored gaze upon the two Mercs.

“Evening, Ladies.”

“Good evening, Officer.” Ulrike returned politely.

“Are you two alone in here?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Where have you come from tonight, and where are you heading.”

“We have been shopping in town,” She waved a finely manicured hand over the collection of shopping bags around their feet, and on Mary's lap. “Just heading back to the ship to drop these off.”

The espo twitched worryingly as Formal dipped her free hand into the bag on her lap, the circular nose of his riot gun rising to face her, but he relaxed when she pulled up her garish new wellies for him to see.

“Ah, femmes’ problems, eh. Not enough shoes-” The officer joked, then focussed on Ulrike, specifically her short-sleeved black top. “ You into Athosian Pop Idol?”

The girls exchanged surprised glances, then Ulrike nodded cautiously, “Yeah.”

“So am I!” The Espo’s voice raised and changed to a friendlier tone. He even lifted the mirrored visor so that they could see the excited face of a man in his mid-twenties. “D’you know you are the first person on this paltry planet that I’ve found who likes that show?”

Ulrike tugged at her top, which showed the reality show’s logo in sparkly lettering. “Well I got this at HoloBrands, in town, so you cannot be the only person around here who likes it. They’d go bust, otherwise.”

The officer turned so he could sit on the floor, his feet outside. “To be fair, they are likely catering for visitors more than locals.”

Feeling guilty by association, Mary slowly half-turned to see if she could see out the back window, aware that there was a tailback of vehicles waiting to go through the roadblock, but snapped back round in a hurry at a thunderclap that shook the metrocab, the Security Policeman silhouetted against a mushroom of upward rolling yellow fire far behind him, beyond a field of Ebla.

The officer, who had already identified himself as Eves, didn't even flinch, asking, “So you are going back to your ship; are you leaving tonight?”

Mary silently pointed her finger past him at the burning warehouse in the distance. “Umm...?”

"Not our jurisdiction. So Ulrike, my shift finishes in an hour, 8pm. If you are still around, want to join me for drinks at nine? I really need to talk to someone about the current competition.”

“Well, I don't know about my availability, but we can exchange comm codes if you want?”

Formal observed in silent amazement as both Espo and Merc held out their handheld comlinks, which emitted beeps as they wirelessly exchanged numbers.

"Right, I'll call you after eight, check your availabilty," Eves promised, the smile dropping away at the interruption of the comlink on his belt, which crackled with white noise, then blurted: “All units, all units, Anti-Crime have a Code Thirty-Four..”

"Missing undercover." Eves explained hurriedly, rising from his perch.

“Vicinity of footbridge in Dinkin Park, south-east of Docking Circles.”

“Ladies, drive safely!” He slapped the door twice, but did not close it, so they could see him and his fellows abandoning the roadblock en masse and running towards their vehicles.

Ulrike rounded on the younger woman, her face reddening. “Don’t you ever do that again! When someone is pointing a gun at you, keep your hands in plain sight, if you don’t want to be gunned down like a vornsk. Didn’t you go to Taab’s ‘How to behave around law enforcement’ class?”

“Sorry Mum. I must have been sick that day. And what about you?! Giving your contact details to an Espo bully-boy? Are you insane?”

"It's a burn comlink. I wouldn't use my wristlink. And besides, having a source inside the CSA migh-" The rest of Ulrike's justification was drowned out by the loud horns from the vehicles behind them, emboldened by the departure of the roadblock personnel, along with the dopplered sirens from several Espo emergency speeders flying overhead, converging on the port outskirts.

“Driver,” Ulrike called to the droid operator, “seal the door and drive on.”

“Affirmative.”

“Look Mary, you are not at school anymore. If you want, I can drop you at the port, and you can sign-on with another crew.”

Formal sat back and crossed her arms. “No it’s fine, I’ll behave.”

The speeder rose slightly of the ground as the repulsors were re-engaged, and the vehicle accelerated smoothly towards the spaceport.

After a few moment, the nurse piped up, "Calling me Mum is okay though."

“I'll want pocket money.”

Tag: no-one

 

IC: Havah Jeth . . .almost
Low Nights Bar, CSA Spaceport

The Yuzzem gainfully waited for his order by staring at the unceremoniously dumped creature sharing the table with him. It was an interesting thing for him to see something look so old by color and yet be considered middle aged, if his fur was stark white he would have to be venerable, or an albino. . .maybe this thing was an albino? Thinking for a moments on that possibility he was taken off of his thoughts by the delivery of nuts and his pitcher of Lomin Ale to his table. No smelling salts. How was he supposed to do his job and rouse this man before returning to his employer if he didn't have something foul smelling enough to wake him from sleep? Sniffing the air he ignored the words of the barkeep, he didn't have time for errand boys, then something struck his nose. It was the foul stench of something. Foul enough? Maybe. . . .

Closing his eyes he took deep snuff fulls of air down his nostrils as he turned his head and soon spotted the small creature on the bar stool. Taking another deep snuff of the air he quickly downed half the pitcher before lowering it to the table. Checking his pouch he found himself woefully low on credits, but with a tilt of his head he reached over and hauled the alien he had dragged in onto the table and quickly found it's credit pouch. Taking out a fifty cred piece he tossed it to the barkeep, before shoving the alien roughly into it's seat again.

With a gutteral growl and overtones he slowly worked through the alien tongue of basic like a Wampa through Tauntaun legs, "Take one more pitcher and just bring that." Pointing to the diminuative creature, "I'll hold it's odder under nose. Work yes?"

TAG: Sith-I-5

 

IC: Mahaben
Warehouse District, The Docks, CSA

It didn’t matter the location, the planet or the species involved. Armed conflict did not look much different than this, anywhere in the galaxy. Violence and entropy shrouded the entire area, infecting all who were within their canopy, perpetuating and accelerating an insidious sickness in the soul, a burning fever that consumed everything. Bogan was taking no prisoners in this new era, for it meant to defeat Ashla with finality.

Mahaben paused a moment to clear his mind and anchor himself in focus. Clarity was key to the success of any mission. For the moment, it seemed Captain Lasso and his small squad still had an advantage in the field, mostly due to Dak’s fatality inducing surprise attack. Mahaben was reminded of a few deadly encounters with the truly terrifying EG-5 Jedi Hunter assassin droids. That had been a fight for his very existence, and many lives were lost each time. Seeing Dak like this brought a few somewhat conflicting thoughts to the ex-jedi’s mind, which he was quick to archive for later.

Lasso and Boras were dominating their skirmishes as far as he could tell. These guards did not possess the accumulated experience and skill that the Mercs brought to the fray, and now with the arrival of Ayres armored beast, belching out a staccato of deadly fire, their defense was rendered virtually ineffective.

That’s when a particular thought entered his mind. Something didn’t feel right. These guards were fodder. Easy prey, lambs for the slaughter. The purpose for this was not clear, at least not yet…but this was not to the Mercs, ‘advantage’ at least not in the true sense, from what he could determine. The miraluka wondered if the good captain could recall his droid and evac with all due haste. The core of the mission was extraction, not engagement.

The sound of several running individuals caught the robed man’s attention. The sound of flapping robes was all that occupied the spot where the ex-jedi stood when volley of blaster bolts was released in his direction. The blind man was nowhere to be seen, even as he descended and laded without a sound behind the group of assailants. Even before his feet touched the ground, Mahaben applied the jedi mind trick in succession. All four weak-minded thugs ran off in the path of Ayres’ fusillade.

The interruption, though irritating, had brought the blind man back to the moment. Mahaben had not forgotten about the revelation he had been granted. The men in dark imperial armor were still on his mind as well as the huge bi-pedal mechanical monstrosity. He understood that these things represented a threat, some more direct than others, which meant they needed to be dealt with.

Using a combination of speed and stealth, the blind miraluka reached his objective near the entrance, but he did not go in.

Dak, from what he could determine, had armed and positioned himself in such a manner that he could single-handedly hold the factory until his ammo ran out.

In other words….

It was a death trap.

A rain of deadly laser bolts showered the main opening, making it impossible to venture in. Smoking corpses littered the grassy floor, and still some guards rushed the entrance, only to suffer the same fate. Mahaben could only shake his head at such wasteful and needless loss of life.

Lasso did mention that communications were being jammed, that was likely the reason why the captain could not simply order his droid to cease fire. The blind man imagined that any other ‘shut down protocols’ were either voice activated or required manual input, which meant getting a lot closer to the rampaging droid.

Sensing a familiar figure approaching, Mahaben turned to ‘see’, who it might be. It was Lasso, making his way up the approach. For a brief second, Mahaben’s eyebrow went up.

No, testing that theory was far too dangerous and reckless.

The blind man began to wave at the captain in an effort to urge him to move away from the entrance line of vision, lest he end up adding to the tally of smoking corpses that littered the ground, but alas, he was still about fifty meters away.

In the background, Ayres armored beast seemed to have things under control, and no doubt, Boras was almost to the rendezvous point.


Tag: Bravo, Vehn, Master Selkath

 

IC: Tiaca
Docking Bay 7, CSA Spaceport, Shadow’s Lament

Looking the Sephi over she sighed before opening the door that held the image of the person he was impersonating. Once the door was open she pulled out the drawer partway to reveal the very dead head of the person he was to impersonate. "It'll have to do." She sighed as she looked from the body back to Winterkill, "You're Brahms, a pyramid schemer who also likes to kill some of his shammed investors. Once inside I have two knives and a hold out blaster in my boots which you will snag when I cause your cuffs to unlock. From their things are up to your aim, and getting me to a computer terminal with enough manifest and facility access to gum the works and clear an escape vector through a stolen ship Also don't talk loud, last thing we want is an ID through your freaky voice."

Slamming the drawer back in she took a pair of gloves that were next to the head before sealing the locker, "Wear these for false DNA and trace evidence. Any questions or modifications?" She looked at the Sephi expectantly, perhaps there was something she overlooked, but beyond Havah at the moment being MIA she didn't know what to expect from her planning ability or getting this job done.

TAG: greyjedi125

 

IC: SE-4 "See- Four" (nrc), Dock 29
Location: Imperial Class Spaceport, Craci Prime


The row of coloured ball lights swayed on the slight night breeze, while below, beside a sloped gangplank, the bipedal dull-plated servant droid had been looking down at the ground before it, running on minimal power, till its sensors registered Masha's approach.

"Ey... So we got, like..."

It's head rose to face her, the photoreceptors lighting up slowly to focus upon her. It regarded her while she dug inside her jacket pocket for something, and silently regarded the napkin message when she displayed it.
The impression it gave off, intentional or not, was that this was the last being or construct that you wanted to get stuck in a lift with.

"This thing, from Low Night's Bar. I guess your buddy liked my music, well, here I am. You uh... Know anything about this?"

See-Four nodded, drawling, "My Master bids you welcome, Madame. Welcome to the Paradise One. You," It focussed on the two other beings behind her, and from their proximity, assumed them to be all one group. "and your friends, are...welcome."

The droid stiffly backed out of her way, made a half-turn to it's left, and gestured politely with its left arm to the boarding ramp, which was wide enough to allow all three visitors to go up, side-by-side if they so wished.
"Please proceed up and then turn left at the top, to access the main salon."

At the top of the ramp, the space opened out into the main deck that dominated the Caravel's middle, the floor made up to look like slatted wooden planks, even though it sounded and felt like metal underfoot.
The deck plating vibrated ever so slightly.

Here and there, for anyone that would recognise such carvings, were sigils relating to the old Karagga the Hutt kajidic.

Going a few steps straight ahead would take them to the abandoned-looking Outdoor Deck, going right would take them aft, while going to the left, as directed, would show a filigree-decorated archway, where the outer door stood open, showing a short, well-lit vestibule with a green succulent in a knee-high pink-and-white vase, and the sealed inner door.

Like any airlock, this being a space-going vessel, however well-appointed, the outer door would have to be shut for the inner one to be opened.

The music, and laughter continued as loud as ever. What a party this must be!

Tag: Masha, Sunri, Taab

 

IC: Winterkill
Docking Bay 7, CSA Spaceport, Shadow’s Lament

Brahms.

Winterkill took a good look at the corpse on the floor, the one he would be doing a living impersonation of, and wondered if one day he would end up in a similar manner. He also wondered if Brahms had been worth more alive than dead to Tiaca.

Silently he listened to their ‘intrusion plan’, at least his plasti-flesh surgeon would also be providing him with weapons, after an unintentional faux pas.

The nagai put on the gloves with the false DNA traces, such tools were clearly handy for this type of infiltration. He almost chuckled at the comment about his voice, since everyone knew he had a ‘loud and booming’ voice that shattered plasteel no less. Aside from that, the mission application regarding security and deception was well understood and acknowledged.

“Any questions or modifications?” Tiaca’s disguised formed asked, which was something of a surprise.

“Yes…” Winterkill answered after a pause.

“Our trajectory. I understood you were gathering some data from the previous ship -the floor plans of the garrison…”

The nagai looked at Tiaca directly, his dark eyes scanning for facial nuances, should there be any -at least she wasn’t wearing a concealing helmet this time around.

“Just our path, levels if any and key locations. Such intel would help…if you have it. I’m sure we could succeed without it just the same.”

Fact. Brahms was about to add a good number of kills to his list of crimes. Posthumously.

Fact. They were going to need to act quickly, very quickly…especially without Havah Jeth.

Fact. The captain might have to make do with less supplies, rather than more.

“Either way, I’m ready.”

Without a word, Winterkill pulled out two concealed vibro-blades and a blaster from his dapper attire and placed them upon the nearest surface, he then placed his hands together and offered them to be bound. Of course, he knew things didn’t always go according to plan; he silently hoped that being restrained too long was not one that list.

"Brahms. How did he kill his victims...?"

If he was going to appear legit, then he needed to know a few details.


Tag: Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Acker the Bartender, Clyde the Jawa (nrcs), Low Nights Bar
Location: Craci Prime


Acker watched as the Yuzzem collected the credits from the unconscious beings' effects, and caught the tossed chip one-handed, glancing into his palm to check the denomination.

"Take one more pitcher and just bring that." A gnarled claw on a thick digit past him, to Clyde, "I'll hold it's odder under nose. Work yes?"

The establishment owner would not want him being less than courteous with a customer, but Acker felt a surge of something at least approaching anger at the suggestion regarding his friend.

Despite the creature's size, and helped by the fact that it was sitting down, Acker heard his own mouth write cheques that he wasn't sure he wanted to pay: "You are not holding anyone under anybody's nose. However," he weighed the credit chip in his hand, "odour would definitely work. Clyde can sit on your friend's face, or sit by his head."

He wheeled round, and headed for the side of the bar that took him to Clyde's stool, who he could see was already preparing to rappel down from the stool.

He grabbed the jawa under both armpits, and lowered him quickly to the floor.

"Now don't run off. You get fifty cees if you go and sit on that sleeping guy's face till he wakes up."

"Rodeo!" Clyde muttered enthusiastically, drawing a creepy smile from the white-haired barman.

"Yesss, rodeo." Acker, who had been squatting to chat to his friend, rose up, hands on knees. "Right, I need to sort out a Lomin Ale pitcher, then I'll walk you over."

The jawa folllowed closely by his feet as Acker headed for the gate that would get him back behind the bar, while the jawa waited there for him to re-emerge.

Havah Jeth

 

IC: Beskaryc Taab
Dock 29, Imperial Class Spaceport, Craci Prime

"I might need your help with the contact, if you see me flipping a cigarra through my fingers that'll be your cue."

Taab nodded. It was a good suggestion and he mentally ticked the woman up a notch in his assessment of her, though he gave her no indication of that. Instead he simply strode up the gangplank, past her and the droid and onto the main deck. Glancing about, he noted the carvings and utilizing his HUD saved images of the carved sigils. They were clearly identifiers for one of the Hutt clans, but he didn't recognize which one. That meant it wasn't one he had worked with before. He turned to the left as instructed and came to the airlock, on the other side of it the music and laughter of the well under way festivities could be still be heard. Taab hated parties. He motioned with the others to join him. "Lets go and get this over with."

TAG: Heavy Isotope, Skywalker_T-65, Sith-I-5

---

IC: Atin Taab
UIS Mines, Dozen klicks from Imperial-class spaceport

"Thank you, thank you, thank you-"

Atin looked down at the driver, somewhat at a loss as to how to take the man's thanks. Atin wasn't used to people thanking him for what he had done. Of course normally after Atin or his buir (father) had completed a job those that had been the subject of said job were in no condition to speak..or usually draw breath. Even employers rarely thanked them for their services, they were paid the agreed upon amount (or buir got even grumpier than usual) and they parted ways. So it was that Atin had no idea how to respond to the man.

"You're...uhhhhhh." He supposed he should just go with the normal response to being thanked, but it struck him as odd to say it under these circumstances.. "You're welcome".

He looked around now, smoke was rising from the fissure where the digger had fallen in, almost carrying Atin and the driver to their doom along with it. There was no sign of Yav and Atin wondered where the elf could have gone off to. He had an almost supernatural way of making things...happen, and it honestly creeped Atin out. But that way of making things work out would certainly...

The Mandalorian's train of thought came to a sudden stop as he spotted the Commander approaching the pit again, looking at the same scene that Atin and the driver had just recently vacated. Atin took off at a steady jog towards him, pushing his way through the crowd of other "rescuers" who really hadn't seemed to do much actual rescuing yet. He arrived just in time to hear Yav's question.

"Atin?"

He sounded almost... worried? Atin spoke up right away from behind Yav, trying his best to sound like his own father.

"Yeah boss, right here. What's next?"

TAG: Sith

 

IC: Masha Tinovorsh
Dock 29, Hutt Caravel

"Let's go and get this over with," Taab said. Masha nodded and followed suit. Approaching the airlock Masha considered knocking on the inner door.... Would that do any good? She thought, "Alright... " she looked at the control panel for the doors and pressed a large button with a green back light, the outer doors closed quickly. The inner ones springing open to allow the full din of the party to be heard, ambient alien music played, but nothing exciting. The crowd drowned out the noise of music anyways. A bit of smoke filled the air above their heads from various aliens smoking bulbous Hutt-style hookahs.

She wondered who they should talk to... Approaching the bar tender she flagged him over, "So I was in Low Night's Bar and the bartender there told me I should come here," she explained before he could ask what she wanted to drink. Masha placed the napkin on the bar counter, "I didn't get his name, he said I played well are you... Looking for a musician?" She asked cautiously. Realizing that Taab and Sunri weren't behind her.

TAGS: @Bardan_Jusik, @Sith-I-5, @Skywalker_T-65

OOC: Sorry if the post seemed rushed, lots going on right now.

 

IC: Tiaca
CSA Spaceport, aboard her own ship

Looking at the Sephi as he asked his question suggestions she had to sigh, and without her bucce to protect her she knew he heard it as well. "Meat spittle!" She needed to remember how to interact when she was exposed, speaking of which. . ."Did I say that out loud? Nevermind." She quickly amended, the answer was obvious.Probably even written all over her own face.

"For the last, he liked to silence investors with a knife to the chest, liver, or throat. Most often if they realized who he was and tried to run he would shoot them in the back of the torso, occasionally the head. Most of this is conjecture as most systems don't have enough evidence to prove he was culprit or that those wounds were the fatal ones when most of the body is missing if ever found. Being a Sephi his age is estimated at a hundred and fifty so his skills may be untrained, but they were refined. Though his first and foremost skill was his mouth. . . might need to tape yours shut." Squinting she thought about it then shrugged, nah, she could always pistol whip him if he was too far out of line.

"As for the layout of the facility we go in the front door, down a hallway, and around a few turns to reach the detention center. Located. . ." pausing she realized that although her false eye was dutifully transmitting the images to her own synaptic nerves to see the map overlay, Winterkill was not seeing it. Looking around she took stock of the fact that besides the nav system her vessel didn't have a proper holo-tank. "Huh." Grabbing a pad she pulled up the map and passed it over, "Routes in red. Just before the detention center there is a maintenance shaft that leads up to the level where storage facility is, in the shaft I will hack the system through a junction to allow us to be able to launch after we steal a craft filled with supplies." That was the rough of it anyway.

TAG: greyjedi125
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IC: Havah Jeth. . .getting closer
Craci Prime, Low Night's Bar

The Yuzzem breathed deeply as the bartender spoke to him. The fact that he was starting to feel a light buzz put him in a slightly better mood, but still. He had an image to maintain, but one thing stayed his hand. If he killed the bartender he would not be getting another pitcher of ale.

Keeping his own counsel he hunched over the table and started to wonder if pain might wake the subject. . . too bad he was forbidden from maiming the ugly alien. Although that didn't mean he couldn't mangle the barkeep. After his drink was delivered and job done here, of course.

TAG: Sith-I-5