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

IC: Stormtroopers (npcs), High Street
Location: Craci' Imperial Class Spaceport

The speeder weaved down the middle of the street, perilously close to, but avoiding the people crossing the streets, braking in cloud of dust, fifty metres short of the fellow in the dark grey robes.

The Stormtrooper team leader, identified by his black shouder pauldron on one side, was the first out, several metres ahead of his fellows as they started to spill over the sides, till he paused and half turned back to them with a raised hand.
"Guys! Hang back, we don't want to spook him!"

"Spook him? He's a jedi!" Protested one, who was already standing on the dirt road, pulling the E-11 from a rack inside the vehicle.

"Stay there; let me handle this." The lead trooper (Callahan, or CAL-2711) glanced at Taab, Lasso, and Dak, as they were the closest, allowing his helmet holocam to record their images, then ignored them as he approached the old guy in the blinfolds. "Sir, Governor's Compliments." He felt awkward and uncomfortable with this approach, but the governor had been insistent. "You any good at telly..." He put up a finger to pause his introduction, and turned back to the speeder, calling, "Telly-what?"

"Tele-kin-esis!" Called his understudy.

"Thanks." CAL turned back to Mahaben, and gestured back to his men, "Yeah, that. You any good at telekinesis?"

Tag: Mahaben, Winterkill, Taab, The Lasso and Dak Show

 

IC: Mahaben
Near Imperial Class Spaceport, CSA

It would seem that the dynamic of the encounter, which was a simple meeting with Captain Jason Lasso, now changed to ‘somewhat complicated’. Where there had been but two active participants, now over half a dozen were involved.

Mahaben remained still as the land speeder with its armored occupants arrived, heralding its importance with a cloud of dust. The robed man’s hands were in plain sight, a clear gesture of peace.

The Imperial stormtroopers needed no introduction, seeing how they could do that well on their own.

The crowd reacted by dispersing somewhat, but thruth be told, there were many more curious than those who chose to be cautious. Only one of the stormtroopers approached however, while the others ‘covered him’, their weapons at the ready. Well, what else was one to expect, this was Imperial controlled space.

Though curious as to what Captain Lasso and his mandalorian bodyguard were thinking, it was clear that the white armored soldiers were not here for them, at least not at the moment.

Time to make some new friends… Mahaben mused to himself.

Very slowly, the robed man in blindfolds turned, not fully, but at an angle, so Lasso and his men could see the stormtrooper unobstructed.

”Sir, Governor’s Compliments.” the stormtrooper said in greeting.

Now there’s an unusual greeting…considering.

Mahaben offered a simple nod to the trooper, who then proceeded to ask him a very specific question. It seemed he had some trouble with the last word. He was swiftly assisted by his weapon totting comrades.

”You any good at telekinesis?”

The question brought on a series of unbidden memories. Saving a contingent of clone troopers who were pinned down by their crashed transport in Geonosis, levitating wounded refugees unto a medical transport on Ryloth, imploding the chest cavities of B2 super battle droids, and many other feats which were the result of war and endless conflict. Was he any good at telekinesis? That was a good question, however…The Clone Wars were no more.

“I’m a blind and battered old man who’s barely able to deliver a simple message. It seems you may have confused me with someone else, though I could not imagine who…”

Mahaben shook his head slowly, then shrugged in apology.

Were they trying to make him confess to being a Jedi? Well, the Jedi were no more. They had been all but exterminated. Even he could not truly call himself a Jedi any more.

Governor’s compliments indeed. An air speeder filled with armed soldiers was hardly interpreted as a gesture of peace, especially on the open road. Besides, if they truly knew who he was and were here to carry out Order 66, then it didn’t matter what he said, there could only be one result. But something felt different. The trooper was plaintive, rather than aggressive…still, one could never be too cautious these days.

If this was not about effecting his summary execution, then he’d need to know more, despite the present location. The Force truly worked in mysterious ways, such that he, even after all these years, continued to learn and marvel in awe.

“…is there’s anything else this blind man can help you with?”

Everything had changed after the wars. Mahaben couldn’t know who the current governor was, or whether or not he was sympathetic to the now defunct jedi order, especially after years of self-imposed exile, but that was a different matter. Mahaben’s sole reason for risking discovery, stood but a few meters from him, in the form of Captain Jason Lasso…that and his followers, The Mercs.

This was either a crude trap, or there was something that was needed of him. If he revealed himself, anyone present could turn him in for a reward. His choices here were few, but all carried some serious consequences, but as he’s experienced many times in the past, the Force often shone the path to a third option.

The blind mind offered the stormtrooper a deferential nod of his shaggy head and awaited either his response or whatever other ‘unexpected surprise’ was in store.

Tag:Sith-I-5,Bravo, anyone else

---

IC: Winterkill
Near Spaceprt city, CSA

Stormtroopers.

Dark eyes narrowed at the sight of them. Winterkill did not like stromtroopers, or anything that was part of an oppressive government. Some of the crowd shied away at the arrival at the white armored soldiers, but not all. The nagai was able to keep his movements casual and keep himself from being in the direct line of fire of their weapons, at least for the moment. For those still in the air speeder, he imagined a well placed thermal detonator could do the trick, that is, if the Captain gave the word, or the Mandalorian Security Chief for that matter.

However, they were still in CSA space, so that could make things…’complicated’. They would have to leave the planet in quite a hurry if anything went down, but Winterkill was already moving into position to do anything that was required of him.

He had no opinion on the ‘blind man’ nor did his fate concern him. Only the captain was his primary focus here. Looking around, he did not see any additional imperial presence at the scene, but he was aware that they could be called in at a moment’s notice.

For a second he wondered if any other Mercs were aware of the developing situation. He was pretty sure a few were. Either way, he continued to observe and to assess the shifting threat levels and planned to act according to the directions given to him...that is, if he'd been noticed at all.


Tag: Any who sees him

 

IC: Atin Taab
Low Night’s Bar, Corporate Sector Authority

“I am looking for the Mercs. Used to work for them but since went my own way. Well, things aren’t so green on the other side of the pasture if you catch my drift. So I want back. I’m a skilled machinist, I know my way around most vessels, small or large, and I’ve done my time in the big factories too. Had some hairy experiences in the Clone Wars. A few close calls, things like that. Anyways, I just need to be pointed in the right direction.”

Atin couldn't believe his luck as the words escaped from the old timer's lips. This guy was looking for the Mercs, and he was a skilled mechanic! Atin's work on the Speedy Trial had been slow going ever since his father had gifted the ship to him. Sure they had gotten the security system fully upgraded, but the shields and weapon's systems neded a lot of work. This guy could help, if he checked out.

The music stopped for a moment to scattered applause from the other patrons. They actually liked this osik? Give Atin some Verpine Jizz Metal anytime over this stuff* Still the break caused by the interruption allowed for Atin to gather himself a bit. He had been just about to welcome the man with open arms, but this was too good to be true, and given the heat on the Captain this could be a trick. "And your name..." he managed to get out before he was interrupted.

"Hey, surprised to see you here. Like, not that it's a bad thing." It was Masha, who took the empty seat beside him. "Who's your friend?" Atin was irritated at the interruption and at himself for not realizing there was yet anther Merc here at the bar. How he had missed the woman he didn't know, but he had. That wasn't going to go over well in his AAR (After Action Report) with buir (father). Still Atin gave no thought to omitting it, or lying to his father. Being honest with him was the only way he would ever get better. Still he dreaded the corrective training that he knew was to follow.

"Don't know yet. He was just about to introduce himself. Says he wants to join our merry band." shab. Now he had given away too much. He hadn't wanted to tell the old man that they were the Mercs, but he had gotten flustered. This wasn't supposed to have been a recruiting drive, and Masha's interruption had jarred his train if thought. Now he knew why buir was so quiet most of the time. You gave away less when you were silent. At least he knew what buir say now. "Take him with you, if his story checks out we have a new crewman, if not, we space him."

A Selkath approached them from one of the booths. "Excuse me but I've been watching you all from my booth and and was wondering if you are part of a specific group I've been looking for?" Atin looked over at the being and saw the Merc's logo prominently displayed on the pad he was holding. They had been made. He dropped his hand to his blaster pistol, drawing it partially from its holster and angry at himself for leaving his Verpine shatter rifle back in the Johnny Boy's armory. Looking back to their new "recruits" he hoped that Edge would get the message too.

"Why don't we take this outside?"


TAG: Vehn, Heavy Isotope, Master Selkath

OOC: *Atin's love for Verpine Jizz Metal established here.

---

IC: Beskaryc Taab
Near Imperial Class Spaceport, CSA

"Iron Hand, Iron Hand, this is Papa Zulu. Be advised I have eyes on one vehicle loaded with eight, repeat eight, troopers heading toward your location. Could be a false alarm. Could be something big. Say the word and I'll head to your location. Over."

Taab gave no indication to the others as the message came in through his buy'ce (helmet). Such things were normal to him as a Mandalorian, and so his reaction to the sudden voice was non-existent. But the information that PZ gave was important. Eight stormies on their way here? More than just a standard patrol then, but not enough to say the whiteshells knew what they were dealing with. Scanning the area quickly, Taab saw Winterkill had been actively following the Captain as well, from several paces behind. The Nagai gave him a subtle, yet respectful nod. Taab didn't return it just yet though. If that patrol or the blind man turned out to be a threat then Winterkill was their ace in the hole now. Best Taab not give any indication of his presence. Sometimes it paid off for there to be a duplication of effort.

Silently to the world outside his bucket he commed back to Kilo. "Roger that Papa Zulu, stay put. Will call you if we need support. Stand by." Next he turned to the Captain and ignoring the blind man told him. "Skipper, we're about to have company." The intruder could have been an advanced scout Taab mused now, and if so he would know that the Mercs had been watching the approaching speeder, but that couldn't be helped. lasso had to know what was coming.

No sooner had he said the words then the speeder came careening around the corner and came to a rapid halt. The troopers disembarked, almost nonchalantly, as if they did this everyday. Taab did his best to be unconcerned at their movements, which for stormies didn't seem at all threatening to the Skipper or himself. Instead they seemed interested in the blind man.

”Sir, Governor’s Compliments.”

Taab had known seen Stromtroopers in action long enough to know how unusual that seemed. They were nervous.

”You any good at telekinesis?”

Taab caught on immediately to what they were saying now. Shab, they thought this man was a jetii (Jedi). Involuntarily Taab's head spun towards the old man and he gripped his carbine a little tighter, consciously willing himself to not bring it up and sight in on the blind man. He really didn't want to indicate that he knew what was going on here and draw more attention to himself and, more importantly, the Skipper. If the stormies wanted to bring in a wayward Jedi (if that's what the blind man really was), they were welcome to him.

Of course, Taab had seen enough Jedi in action, and had hunted them on enough occasions to know that the Stormies hadn't sent enough men to detain the spoonbender, blind or not. No wonder they were nervous, they were the cannon fodder sent in to draw the man's identity out. If he was a blind old beggar they were safe. If he was Jedi they were doomed, and they knew it. The man replied to them now.

“I’m a blind and battered old man who’s barely able to deliver a simple message. It seems you may have confused me with someone else, though I could not imagine who…” he said, slowly shaking his head. “…is there’s anything else this blind man can help you with?” he then ended with a respectful nod of his own.

If he was a Jedi he knew the Stormies weren't going to just leave it at that. They would pull him aside and search him. If the man had kept his jetii'kad (lightsaber) then this was going to get very messy. Taab would have been content to let thing run their course and further avoid the situation in favor of being discreet (if he had been on his own and not currently under contract he would have stepped in for the reward money on the Jedi), but he knew the Skipper wouldn't be able to turn his back on this if things got violent.

Still he took a step back and nodded politely to the Stormtroopers, a sign of professional courtesy that he doubted they noticed. As he did so, he silently tagged them all with the targeting system in his bucket. The words his mother had taught him came unbidden to his mind. "Be courteous, be professional, but have a plan to kill everyone you meet."

If this went the way Taab expected it to now, he planned to do just that.

TAG: Bravo, greyjedi125, Sith-I-5, tyratoku

 

IC: Jason Lasso, Callahan (CAL-2711) stormtrooper nrc, out on the street.
Location: Craci' Imperial Class Spaceport


Chatting to Dak about the meeting he had just had, Jason did not immediately notice the old human in the grey robes till the man detached himself from the general crowd, on a deliberate approach.

“You there…” this time he got Lasso's attention, who, along with Dak, watched his approach. The attire looked all too familiar.

“I bring news…” The man said now, approaching slowly, his hands were in plain view.

Jason inhaled, feeling a wave of tiredness, and let the breath out slowly. "If you people have nicked the Johnny Boy again, you and me are going to have a problem."

“I believe you know, Sodalis…” His statement was definitely not a question. Which was the only reason the Corellian captain acknowledged it.

"Strangely, I have not seen her since my ship was stolen. By people who looked a lot like you." He waved at the man's face, "Sans the blindfold, of course."

There was a familiar thruster sound, and Taab set down in the street close by. He raised his blaster at first, then set it down again. "We good here, Skip?"

Lasso did not answer. He did not know yet.

"Skipper, we're about to have company." The Security Chief reported

And then the 'company' turned up, a speeder full of white armoured soldiers stopping nearby. "Stormtroopers?" What were they doing here?

* * * *

Callahan wasn't really listening as the old man went through his spiel, but the man did seem to be hiding something.

“I’m a blind and battered old man who’s barely able to deliver a simple message. It seems you may have confused me with someone else, though I could not imagine who…” he said, slowly shaking his head. “…is there’s anything else this blind man can help you with?”

Callahan shook his head. He knew how important this had been to the governor. The poor man.
"No sir. On your way." He stepped back and turned back to his men, "Not what we need; the Governor is going to have to rely on the elf."

Jason exhaled in relief. But what was that he said about an elf? Surely not theirs.

The other stormtroopers slowly got back into their speeder, the main speaker among them making one last comment about the old fellow in the robes. "Probably just a Priest of Ninn, anyway."

"So, what's next on the agenda?" CAL-2711 called.

"Speeder bike up on bricks in North Street. Scout trooper wants a ride back to base."

CAL nodded, and used the roll bar just back of the driver's seat to support him as he lowered himself, the speeder moving away before he was fully settled.

Tag: Taab, Mahaben, Lasso

 

IC: Mahaben
Near Imperial Class Spaceport, CSA

And just as quickly as they had arrived, the stormtroopers were gone, though their brief presence was not without effect.

Mahaben was thankful he did not have to resort to using the ‘jedi mind trick’ on the trooper. Humans were generally susceptible to such manipulations, but not always. There were exceptions to every rule, that’s one thing he’d come to learn over the years, if nothing else. The trooper's last words concerning ‘Ninn’ were an apt analogy for his situation, but on a much larger scale.

The blind man did not immediately turn to Lasso. The trooper also mentioned an ‘elf’, and Mahaben only knew of two beings that fit that particular description. From what he’d learned during the clone wars, the first gave up her life so that Kenobi might live. The second had saved Sodalis from a premature death ( she had related the incident in detail), and was a member of the Mercs. Sodalis had taken time to share and describe each of the Mercs she had met and how they felt in the Force. She said that the elf had felt…’otherworldly’.

“…the Governor is going to have to rely on the elf.”

The trooper had commented before leaving. This, Mahaben knew, was not a coincidence.

The robed man raised his head just a tad, and to an observer, it would seem as if he were searching for something.

Mahaben reached out in the force and searched out with his senses. Past Lasso and those around him who were focused on the captain. Over the dive bar, where many beings searched for their place in the scheme of things. Past the very same stormtroopers, who where weighed down by their sense of duty and responsibility…and on he pushed. Mahaben intended to search as far as his ability allowed him, the ‘elf’ had to be somewhere, the trooper spoke in a manner which lead him to believe he was somewhere in the vicinity. Thankfully, the blind folded man did not need to strain himself. There, among a cluster of distress and anxiety, was the ‘otherworldly’ sensation Sodalis had described. Mahaben raised an eyebrow upon sensing the ‘elf’. He had not known what to expect; this was….extraordinary.

“Captain, your elf, Yavscout I believe is his name, seems to be surrounded by a cluster of distressed sentients about a dozen kilometers from here. Perhaps he’s in some situation involving the locals?”

Mahaben now turned to face Lasso and his armored guard. The slight spike of alert given off by the armored man hadn’t gone unnoticed, however, was it caused by the stormtroopers, or something else? There was no way to be sure.

Peace begets Peace

“The trooper did say the Governor will need the elf, perhaps there’s an opportunity for the good captain here, won’t you agree?”

Though Mahaben was brimming with curiosity now, he wished to learn first hand if what Sodalis told him was true. At the same time, he sought to sense a clear path concerning his new mission. It would seem that simply coming in contact with the Mercs was enough to set events in motion.

Tag: Bravo,Bardan_Jusik,Sith-I-5, anyone else

---

IC: Winterkill
Near Spaceport city, CSA

It was almost a pity to see them all go, but one had to pick one’s battles. Today they wouldn’t be killing any stormtroopers. Fortunately, the day was still young. Winterkill observed the retreating speeder until he was sure they were out of their weapon’s range. Nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, at least not on the surface. There could be a more elaborate trap at play, so he kept that in mind. The Captain seemed fine, and the Security Chief hadn’t neutralized anyone….yet.

Still keeping his distance, the nagai assessed the situation and those still around them. With the stormtroopers gone, foot traffic was quickly returning to normal. Be that as it may, there was no telling if they had left a ‘plant’ behind to tail them and the whole thing was just a distraction. He had to make sure their tail was clean.

As he looked for anything or anyone suspicious, be it sentient or technological, Winterkill melded with the crowd. For the moment, the perimeter was clean. A wry smile etched itself upon his pale face for a brief moment. There was hardly a dull moment when one was out with the Mercs. It was all about the ‘quick and the dead’.

The nagai had no doubts as to which group he belonged.

So, the captain was still standing casually in the middle of the road, taking his time to return to base after his meeting. And why not, he had no reason to rush back and give an impression of weakness.

’I got your back covered captain, take as long as you need…’


Tbc

 

IC: Boras Felroah
Low Night's Bar

Boras held up the datapad to the group. Out of nowhere the mandaloran pulled out his blaster pistol and said "Why don't we take this outside?"

They had walked into an ally outside the bar and then the mandalorian pointed his pistol at him again. Boras noticed the girl had her hand on her blaster holoster and then looked at the mandalorian and said "Firstly if I had wanted to die I would have stayed on my homeworld while the imperials murdered half of the population and enslaved the rest." The mandalorian didn't lower his pistol but aimed for his chest. Boras continued with " Secondly I know you won't kill me because there is no reason to, i've met mandalorians before and one thing they have is honor and you wouldn't kill me for asking a question." The mandalorian still didnt lower his weapon. Boras then said to the group "I'm sorry its come to this" as he drew his two pistols and aimed one at the mandalorian and the other at the girl. He then said "Son I know your not that old and experienced because by now you firstly would have disarmed me before we came out here and secondly you should have lowered your weapon and checked my identity or if you were even smarter you would have stunned me and left me here in this ally but I will tell you that I am not going down without a fight but I don't want to kill either of you." He stared into the mandalorian's helmet and told him "you have alot to live for and I don't want to end it all now, all I wanted to do was join your group, I don't think you have realized the other flaw to this plan is that if I had been looking to kill Mercs your reaction from my picture tells me your apart of the Mercs and I would not have hesitated to shoot you and I hope next time you remember to hide your emotions because it will help you when you are looking for recruits or hiding from someone." Boras then slowly began to lower his pistols and said " I am not going to kill you and I don't want to, i'm an older man and i've lived through enough to know that you don't need to be killed for pointing a gun at me and all I wanted was for you to look me up and if you think i'm dangerous or shaddy I will leave your ship immediatly and you will never see me again." He put his guns back in his holster and the girl put hers back but not the mandalorian who still had it aimed at his cheast. The other older human was leaning against the wall of the ally and then Boras told the mandalorian "It is very hard to gain your trust isn't it mandalorian, son I also know that you aren't the one who makes the decision for the Mercs because I saw your leader leave that office in the bar back there." The mandalorian finally put his gun down and holstered it. Boras looked at him and said "Thank you, I belive we got off on the wrong foot, my name is Boras Felroah and i've been in these parts for a long time, i'm a certified medical and combat medic and i've served on two different mercenay groupsbefore I came to this world." Boras leaned against the opposite wall and continued with "My friend gave me information about your group as well as some of the notable people in your group and the picture of your symbol if I found you which I have." Boras took out a flask of brandy, took a sip and then finished with "So if you would be so kind as to look into my records and consider me to join the Mercs I would be very happy as well as if you have any questions I will answer them but please make it quick because this place is crawling with stormtroopers and I would rather not be shot in the street." ​

Tag: Bardan_Jusik Vehn and Heavy Isotope

 

IC: Sunri Lasca
Low Night’s Bar, Corporate Sector Authority

Sunri wasn't typically one to drink, but the last few months had been far from easy. Leaving Alsakan had been one of the toughest choices in his (admittedly short) life, and it was something he still regretted to a certain extent. Thus, the reason he was in a bar, drowning the regrets and trying not to think about things. At least, for a little while. The Long Strider was still sitting in a hangar, waiting to launch again in the one-man war the young man had set himself up in. Sometimes though, he did wonder what it would be like to have an organization backing things. Stealing from the Imps provided enough money and supplies to keep him going, but only barely.

Maybe I should look at joining the Rebels? Sunri thought, looking around the bar.

It did seem like the only option lately. As much as he didn't like it, since they were the ones who had gotten Lana killed with that base of theirs. Of course though, Sunri hadn't the foggiest clue on how to find Rebels, or anyone else who would help him for that matter. This bar, while useful for drowning memories, wasn't such for finding support. Most of the patrons were average people at best, though the occasional odd type came in. Like...

Is that a Mandalorian?

For sitting at one of the tables, was a man (at least Sunri assumed it was a man) in black and red armor. One didn't have to be an expert on the warrior culture to recognize their distinctive armor after all. Oddly enough, it seemed like he was in a conversation with a woman around Sunri's own age, and an older man. That was odd, since most people assumed Mando's were of the anti-social variety, unless it involved their own people or a job for the bounty hunter types. Things got even odder when a Selkath of all things (and wasn't that a rarely seen person these days) walked up to the small group. Sunri's eyes didn't fail to notice the Mando's move to his pistol when the Selkath showed him(?) something on a datapad.

Finishing his drink, Sunri kept a close eye on that group. Who knew who they were, but it never hurt to keep an eye on things...


TAG: Bardan_Jusik , Master Selkath , Vehn , Heavy Isotope (all indirectly (namely if they notice Sunri happening to look at them)

 

IC: Masha Tinovorsh
Low Night's Bar

Masha watched Atin as he dropped his hand to his blaster pistol, drawing it partially from its holster. "Why don't we take this outside?" Taken aback by his reaction, she narrowed her brow and wondered if he was really going to start a fight, in a crowded bar, over a question. However the alien that approached them was unlike any species Masha had seen or heard of, then again her life on Danoor was very closed off. Aliens came by every now and then, but they were usually humanoids and she only ever saw them in bars. Whoever the old man was, she figured the cautiousness of Atin would come in handy in case he turned out to be some secret assassin with amazing acrobatics and martial prowess... For an old guy.

Masha shook herself from the thoughts, smirking at her own sense of humor. Perhaps she just didn't realize the gravity of the situation, she never made clear that she was a Merc, though she didn't know if Atin had. I guess it was probably a bit much to just walk up to him, but if he's working then why's he at a bar, she thought, are all Mandos this hotheaded? She downed the rest of her drink, taking a cigarra out and lighting it. Reaching into her jacket she pulled out two black leather gloves and pulled them on over her hands as she held the cigarra between her lips, puffing a bit of a smoke trail as she made for the exit. Masha was a bit frustrated with Atin, though she didn't want to let him go it alone outside if the worst should happen. The song she left playing ended as the door sprang open, the original band mates taking the stage, a little tipsy. Though she was a bit worried about Atin, she didn't look back to see if they were following her, touching the hilt of the knife around her thigh with her finger tips.

Outside the bar was quite a scene, firstly she didn't expect the Captain to stick around, nor to see Atin's Mandalorian comrade... What was his name? Masha had no idea, they generally kept to themselves. After Atin's reaction to the sudden company, Masha could start guessing why.

“…is there’s anything else this blind man can help you with?” An older man said to a group of... Masha let out a small whistle, Storm Troopers? What have you gotten us into now, Cap... She thought, taking a drag and leaning against the outside wall of the bar. As the troopers left, Masha couldn't hear, or didn't care for a word they said. She was just glad they were leaving, looking to Atin and raised her eyebrows, "Easy now, don't draw that blaster on them too," Masha said with a smirk and an air of jest, "quite a party out here, eh?" Maybe 3 beers in a short time was a bit much, she wasn't normally this talkative. In fact this is the first time she's actually said a word to either of the Mandalorians, most of the time she kept to herself aboard Johnny Boy and only ever talked to the crew during briefings and missions. The speeder sped away with the Trooper squad aboard.

The blind man, as he called himself, began to speak again. Masha was surprised to hear him talk matter-of-factly about a crew member, "Looks like we're getting awfully popular around these parts, too... " she said quietly, sounding concerned despite the slight buzz. She continued to lean against the wall, watching the situation unfold, smoking her cigarra. Hoping this wouldn't turn into a Mos Eisley standoff.

TAGS: Sith-I-5, Bardan_Jusik, Vehn, Master Selkath, greyjedi125, Bravo, Skywalker_T-65

 

IC: Sydney Ayres
Low Night's Bar

Here today, gone tomorrow.

At least, that's how it felt after the Mandalorian had shown some interest in what Ayres had to say. In fact, Ayres was just about to reply to the young buck when everyone and anyone who was in the bar suddenly came up and was looking for work. His work. Sure, they couldn't really do what he could do but it still bothered him that he hadn't even been given the time of day. That was so typical. Nobody gave two bantha farts about old men these days. After all, they were a dime a dozen, now. Unemployed, frazzled, and full of ghastly war stories that could make even the stoutest man shed a tear. He might as well have sequestered himself in some assisted living facility. His days were numbered. Frak.

I'm done with this dive. Waste of my time, waste of my credits Ayres thought as he flipped some money toward the barkeep who couldn't even make the drinks stiff enough. Real wimp.

Shaking his head, Sydney tore out of the bar, frustrated, confused, and a little drunk. He nearly tripped on the stairs on his way out. They couldn't even make those right anymore. Damn.

The music of the bar, mercifully, faded away. He remembered that one of the people who had tried to talk to him had been playing some ridiculous song from the boonies. He'd never liked country music. Too depressing. The songs were all the same anyway. Lost my dog, wife left me, had to put my nerfs down with my blaster pistol, yeah, really up-lifting. Then there had been the alien that looked like a human had mated with a slug. He'd heard about their kind before, never seen one in person, and nearly threw up at their unpleasant odors that emanated from his body. The guy had seemed nice enough but Ayres wasn't sure whether to shake a fin or which eye to look at in response so he hadn't said a word. He thought about the singer again, thought about her song, how much it was upsetting even though she was trying really hard. He even thought about her offer to smoke a cigarra. Man, he missed those things, but they did his lungs no favor. Did his life no favor, and disappointingly, Ayres declined.

Sydney's thoughts subsided when he took one look at the "situation" developing outside the cantina. The white clad terrors of the Empire had shown up. Goons, the lot of them. No smarter than a household droid. In fact, maybe a household droid was smarter. Yeah, maybe. So Ayres stared at the confrontation in the street. Someone was going to get killed today. Someone was going to be bleeding out all over the pavement.

His tired eyes caught sight of the woman who'd offered him a cigarra.

"Hey, lady, can I bum a smoke off you?" Ayres asked.


Maybe, just maybe, today was the day to pick up smoking again.

Tag:Heavy Isotope;Bardan_Jusik;Master Selkath

 

IC: Kilo "Papa Zulu" Typhon
Location: Outside Imperial Barracks, Imperial Class Spaceport, Craci System

From atop a rooftop across the street from the Imperial Barracks, Kilo watched the building through the scope of his rifle. "Any response from Lasso or Taab?" Kilo's hidden astromech droid down on the street asked.

As if on cue, Kilo's helmet rang with a response. "Roger that Papa Zulu, stay put. Will call you if we need support. Stand by." The Chief of Security, Beskaryc Taab, told Kilo.

"Confirmed," Kilo replied quickly. He looked down at the street again and watched as increased stormtrooper presence appeared. Four troopers came out from the front main entrance and flanked the thick double doors, while two patrolling pairs stepped out to make their way around the building.

"Hey, Sev," Kilo glanced down at the droid down on the ground in its hidden alcove behind a dumpster. "Any idea why these guys are increasing security?"

"Statistical data points toward the appearance of a coming V.I.P. or perhaps a security check."

Kilo nodded, even though the droid could not see him. "Good guess, Sev. Speeder convoy coming in from the north," Kilo paused. The three vehicle convoy came to a stop on the street near the front entrance. From the back escort vehicle, four stormtroopers jumped out and spread out around the vehicle with weapons raised. One moved out into the street to control traffic while the others dispersed on both sides of the street to get the best possible defensive positions. Four troopers left the front escort vehicle and made their way up the path leading up to the front entrance.

Two people, one of which the V.I.P., left the centered vehicle and walked slowly up the path leading to the front entrance. For a moment, Kilo was interested only to the point of being intrigued by the enhanced security, but when the two men paused to look back over their shoulders, Kilo felt his chest tighten.

"Commodore Winston Bentley and unidentified Imperial," Sev said almost immediately after its internal identification scanners identified the person. "Bentley is the former system commander of the Corellian system. Stepped down from position six years ago. Currently the Headmaster of the Imperial Academy of Corellia."

"You can stop any time, bud," Kilo interrupted. "I know this man better than most. I was a student at his academy for a few years," he waited for a second and sighted in through the scope. "There were rumors that he was planning a comeback into active military service. Would not be surprising to see him starting in a smaller or less important system like out here. Corellia is...something else for sure. The other guy's name is Ako Tad. I met him at the academy. He's a spook now."

"So Bentley's appearance here now is the first step toward active duty again. What is the significance of Tad being here? Should we tell Lasso?"

Kilo shrugged. "No idea about Tad. But not so fast, buddy. We were probably a bit too quick on the draw earlier with that stormtrooper squad. Sounds like there wasn't a problem out there at all," Kilo eyed the Commodore as the Imperial slowly made his way up the steps. "I haven't made too good of an impression on Taab. Don't want to sound a bit over-eager out here."

"There is a 99% chance that Lasso would want to know-," Sev began, but Kilo interrupted him.

"Don't make me come down there, Sev. We've got this. We monitor them for now, and if things look like they're about to go down, then we tell them. Got it?"

Tag: Nobody

 

IC: Boras Felroah
Low Night's Bar

Boras watched the mandalorian take out his pistol and he stepped back. He then said to Boras "Why don't we take this outside?" Boras backed off but then the girl started to leave. He than decided to head ouside because he didn't know what to do. "That got a little crazy back there" he thought to himself. He than watched the girl take out a cigarra and light it. Boras hated smoking very much from a doctor's point of view and wanted to ask her to stop but he knew it was her decision and he had traveled with other mercenary groups and they all smoked. He then opened the door of the bar but not before noticing a young man staring at all of them and then walked out.

Boras walked outside to see another mandalorian, to his dismay and a human man. He also saw alot of the one thing he hated most, stormtroopers. He leaned against the wall next to the door and took out his special flask. He took a sip as he watched the situation. He wanted to take out his two blasters and shoot all of the stormtroopers but he knew that it would only make things worse for him and his potential crew mates. The storm troopers were investigating some older man when he heard the old man say “…is there’s anything else this blind man can help you with?” The storm troopers had then started to leave which suprised him. Boras had no idea what had just happened and why the stormtroopers questioned an old blind man but he had a strange feeling about the man. He took another swig of his flask when his pocket started buzzing. He took out a large flat disk and it opened up. It turned in to a small hovering medical droid that Boras kept with him at all times. Its name was GT-27 but Boras just called him GT. "What do you want GT?" he asked it. The floating droid replied with "I got a message from the hanger telling you that the Golden Glory has been refueled and ready for takeoff." "Alright GT send the hanger a message saying thank you, by the way since your out here can you run a scan on my body to see my alcohal level?" A small beam came out of GT's sensor and it said "Certainly master." The droid finshed its scan and said "Master your alcohal level is at 0.3 at this moment." Boras shruged and told it "Well I guess that means I can have another swig of my brandy." The droid then said with a calm voice "Master I don't think you should.." but it was to late and Boras had already taken a sip. "Well fine than drink yourself to death and see if I care, why do you even use me" cried GT in an annoyed voice and then shut itself off. Boras put GT back in his pocket and put the flask on his belt. His attention fell back to the group outside. He watched the old man from the bar walk out and then asked the young girl something. He watched this other mandalorian with curiosity. He seemed more like the mandalorians he had seen before in his travels, very wise and alot calmer then the one at the bar. One thing he knew about these mandalorians is that they aren't the most social people in the galaxy. Boras had thought that the first mandalorian might be either young or new for two reasons. The first was because he drew his blaster at a old man for asking a simple question that didn't need that kind of response. The other reason is that because he drew his gun when he had shown them the picture told him they were part of the Mercs. Boras took a deep breath and watched the area hoping someone a bit more understanding might talk to him about recruitment.​

​

Tag: Anyone who notices Boras​

​

 

OOC: New players, I have permission to run Bravo's characters in his absence

IC: Low Night's bartender, Jason Lasso, Dak, Low Night's Bar, street outside bar, respectively
Locations: Craci' Imperial Class Spaceport


The bartender had turned from the motley crew propping up his bar, the two humans, Mando, and whatever the flat-headed thing was supposed to be, to answer the ringing commo-device on the wall, glancing involuntarily at the hidden holocam in the ceiling.
"Yes sir. Yes sir, she played well. 7pm. Hutt Caravel. Dock Twenty-Nine. I'll tell her." He re-attached the device to it's cradle on the wall, and turned back to the bar to find two of the three stools empty, and the door at the front still swinging slowly from whoever last exited it. "Or not."

The helmeted Mandalorian was still there. The counter was high enough that the barman could not see for certain if he had drawn a sidearm, but his body posture, together with his own years of experience, told him that the armoured fellow had drawn a blaster, likely from a thigh holster.

"No blasters. Actually, that is more a guideline than a rule," he added hastily.

* * * *
Main Street

Lasso looked on as the old man mentioned Yavscout by name!

“Captain, your elf, Yavscout I believe is his name, seems to be surrounded by a cluster of distressed sentients about a dozen kilometers from here. Perhaps he’s in some situation involving the locals?”

"Yav surrounded by distressed sentients could mean anything;" Jason mused aloud, "karaoke, Frost Rift-"

"He could be in a brothel." Dak put in, drawing the Corellian's amazed gaze. He had never heard the stuffy protocol droid speak of such things.

"What? Where do you get this stuff?"

"He left Deputy on the ship, so maybe he needed some privacy. Security informs me the Commander regularly piles furniture against the door of his cabin, so Deputy cannot film him having a-"

"ENOUGH!" Jason put up a palm to shut the droid up, which worked perfectly, and rounded on the robed being. "I'm not discussing my crew's movements with you! I don't even know who you are."

“The trooper did say the Governor will need the elf, perhaps there’s an opportunity for the good captain here, won’t you agree?”

"Who. Are. You?" The Corellian insisted, all the while hoping his Security Chief would suggest they take this somewhere. He glanced around, spying Masha, leaning against the outside wall of a bar, smoking, and beside her...his eyes widened with recognition of the former Merc."Vehn?!"

Dak followed his captain's gaze, spying their ex-hangar chief. "Indeed."

Tag: Atin, Taab, Mahaben, Winterkill, Masha, Vehn, Boras

 

IC: Masha Tinovorsh
Outside Low Night's Bar

Sydney approached Masha, "Hey, lady, can I bum a smoke off you?"

This was becoming quite an interesting night, Masha thought, looking at the group around her, raising an eyebrow at the odd looking amphibian nearby; holding a small droid which chattered away about death and alcohol. Masha gave a cigarra and lit it for him, "Sure thing, mister... ?" she was curious as to how he knew them or if he was just some stranger looking for work. Dak said a few things about Commander Yavscout, though unflattering and probably too much information. She let out a small laugh as Captain Lasso had shouted at the droid. Masha still had yet to meet the Commander, though the more she heard, the more eccentric he sounded. Shaking her head she smirked and looked at the ground, trying to stifle her laughter as the robed man continued to talk. "Who. Are. You?" Lasso asked then looked over to them, Masha kept her arm at her side as she motioned her hand in a slight wave to the Captain. His eyes shifted to the grizzled man next to her, his expression changing to surprise; "Sydney?!" Masha turned to look at Sydney as well, "Friend of yours?" she asked him, tilting her head towards Lasso.

The small silence that followed was significant.

TAGS: Everyone

OOC: If there's a bit of confusion as to why Masha's being unguarded it's just the alcohol talking, once things return to normal she'll be her usual anti-social self... Haha

 

IC: Boras Felroah
Outside Low Night's Bar

Boras was leaning against the wall of the bar when he noticed what the old man from the bar had wanted, a cigarra.

"Of course he wanted to smoke" thought Boras as he watched her light the cigarra and hand it to him.

Boras hated smoking alot but at the same time he was technically an alcoholic so he was just as bad as they were. He heard some shouting from the human man towards a protocal droid and heard about someone named Yavscout. Boras didn't want to know what they were talking about because he wasn't sure he should be hearing it so he just forgot about it. The old man and the girl exchanged a few words but Boras didn't care to listen so he took out his datapad. He looked at the message that the hanger sent, read it thoroughly and deleted it. He then started reading the galactic news. It was mainly filled with Imperial propaganda but he knew better than to believe this news was reliable.

He looked up from his datapad when the man who shouted at the droid said suddently "Sydney?!"

He saw the man was looking at the old man that was smoking and it seemed that they had a history with each other that Boras hadn't known about. He didn't really know what was going on or if this could turn nasty but he was happy that he at least knew someone's name in this group of people now.

Tag: Anyone

OOC: Sorry about that second post the third one is the real one, It won't happen again

 

IC: Mahaben
Near Imperial Class Starport, CSA

”Who. Are. You?”

At last!

For the briefest second, he finally managed to have Captain Lasso’s undivided attention. That was all he really needed, then everything else would fall into place; however, things were not going to be made easy for him, the ‘blind man’ realized suddenly.

Mahaben opened his mouth in order to respond to the question the Captain had posed.

The moment, however, was gone even before he could speak a word, for the captain’s attention was drawn away by a more familiar subject.

"Vehn?”

A man with a divided focus is a man conquered

The blind folded miraluka did not follow the young captain’s gaze. He’d participated in too many lost battles not to recognize a ‘lost cause’. Well, that meant he’d have to go with option two. Taking a simple step diagonally and towards the captain’s protocol droid, he stopped once he came within closer earshot of the droid.

”Droid.” He said, with no small measure of authority in order to capture the mechanoid’s attention. “Try to relate this to your captain before he leaves…”

Mahaben proceeded to deliver his message in Huttesse, rather than Galactic Basic.

“Captain Lasso, My name is Mahaben and I’ve been enlisted by Sodalis to serve as your trainer in your newly underdeveloped disciplines….and should you see fit, any among your crew that may need such tutelage. Should you choose to accept my services, you may find me at the local cantina.”

“Thank you droid.”

The blind man offered the droid a dry perfunctory smile, before calmly turning around and walking away. His words apparently, were for the one who could hear without understanding.

“One distraction after another….” he grumbled, seemingly to no one in particular.

Mahaben did not react to the gazes of the two nearby beings before he entered the Low Night’s Bar and ‘stumbled’ his way to a recently vacated empty spot at the back of the bar. Unsurprisingly, two sentients were in the middle of an illegal deal by the dark corner. The pair tried to act natural, despite tensing up at his sight. They offered him hardened glares, hoping to dissuade him from approaching, but once they saw that he was but a blind beggar, they became a bit less tense. The petty criminals waited for a few moments, for they were deciding what to do, since the temptation to simply chase him away was quite strong, given his unwelcome intrusion.

“I told you he wouldn’t listen.” Mahaben said as he sat down. There was no one visible around.

“He is too old and you know this. His mind is too divided, he doesn’t even have the discipline to finish a conversation nor the manners due to his elders.”

The two sentients looked at each other, then went back to their deal. The robed man was not only blind, he seemed to also be crazy.

Mahaben who was now sitting, leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest.

“No. It is up to him to seek me out now, the ball is in his court, as the saying goes. I did my part. He’s lucky I’m willing to wait for him…”

Mahaben shook his head and seemed to pout.

“The elf? What about him? Was I supposed to get myself shot and left for dead on a dirt road? I’ve been through too much to end up like that, I’ll have you know….well, yes, yes…you already know that! Besides, they don’t seem to have his best interest in mind by the sound of it.”

After a pause, the blind mind shook his head once again.

“No. I’m staying right here.” He put up a hand to the air, the way one would to stop another speaker from continuing. “…..and, I’m going to meditate. If you’ll excuse me now.”

With that, the robed man brought his hands together and placed them upon his lap, his back straightened against the wall and his breathing became slow and rhythmic.
The cacophony within the dive bar slowly faded away from his perception, for even in such a place, Mahaben had learned to enter a meditative state.

He will contact me eventually. He must…

Tag: Bravo,Sith-I-5,Bardan_Jusik, anyone else who might take an interest.

---

IC: Winterkill
Near Spaceport city, outside Low Night’s bar, CSA

Though he could not quite hear them from his vantage point, Winterkill could read their body language. There were no sudden movements, except very briefly from the Security Chief for reasons unknown and notably, to no one’s detriment. The exchanged with the ‘blind man’ seemed brief and uneventful for the moment. The Captain’s gaze had shifted to somewhere back at the bar. Clearly he was done with the blind human, who moved closer towards Dak for no explainable reason. Winterkill read the captain’s lips, but did not recognize the ‘word’ he spoke. There was an expression of recognition etched upon his face. So it wasn’t a ‘word’, it was a name.

The nagai quickly followed the captains gaze just for a moment, and saw the location he was currently targeting. Two humans, one male and the other female were partaking in recreational pulmonary pollution.

Humans and their love of cigarras.

Winterkill could not assume to understand the fascination.

It wasn’t clear which one the captain was addressing, if not both. Notably, there were several other sentients hanging out the bar who seemed interested in the captain and his activities. Winterkill’s eyes narrowed as he surveyed their current positions and determined their threat levels.

The non-human alien he immediately did not trust and placed him under possible threat. There were too many unknown variables at play. Winterkill had never encountered the species in his travels or aboard the Johnny Boy, at least not during his brief tour. Why would it be so interested in what was happening. Curious beings should really mind their own business, if they had any regard for their own well-being. Besides, he was both green and spotted, neither which were good things.

As he was about to scan for anyone else, the sight of the robed man entering the bar caught his attention. Then man’s physical posture spoke volumes to the nagai. The details did not matter to him. His mission was to see to the safety of the captain.

Trade one blind man for two humans and a green alien.

Things might just get interesting this time around.


Tag: No one yet ( besides those who can spot someone who is ‘hiding’ in a crowd )

 

IC: Yavscout, Fire Chief Herb, UIS Mines
Location: 12 kilometres outside Craci' Imperial Class Spaceport


Yavscout continued looking over the the grounded schoolbus, the crater that it sat in, lopsided on the right-hand inner slope, the the volcano-like hole that it was in danger of sliding in to.

From what he could see, he didn't really need to be here. These people should really be able to handle this themselves, even if their initial efforts had been thwarted by the magnetic anomaly.

He hadn't thought to ask what was causing it, and hoped the locals were looking for the source.

The elf was being held back by a tenet that was taught to first aiders, first responders, and rescuers, if not everywhere, certainly a lot of places. That was not to endanger himself.

He wasn't worried about going in the crater, or even of falling in the fire hole, El Quema Pendejo. And if that was Manaan, it meant "The Burning something." Hole perhaps?

No. If he couldn't figure out a solution more acceptable to society, the fastest way to sort this was to stride down to the bus, rap on the door to be let in, let in, group with five of the passengers, and teleport them to a safe zone.

Rinse and repeat, depending on the total number of passengers.

All these people, several of them holo-journalists, that course of action would endanger him, and might even hurt the Mercs too.

So, he pointed at the bus. "How many people on there?"

"School says thirty younglings, two teachers, one driver. We don't know how many are wounded?"

Yav looked sharply at the man. "Wounded?"

The Chief gestured to the cloudy sky. "Depending how high she was hovering or flying, she dropped like a stone when her repulsors cut out. We don't know if the anti-concussion fields worked, but we can see movement, so plenty of survivors."

The elf gazed into the reflected fires of the hole. "Okay Chief-"

"Herb. Call me Herb."

Yav glanced over to see that a thickly gloved hand was being offered for him to shake. After a second, Herb removed the glove, and he and the elf clasped forearms.

"Alrighty then, you mentioned grapples earlier. How are you deploying them?"

Black sand flowed over Herb's boots as he turned to point down at two single-man tracked vehicles that the elf recognised as Imperial Army Compact Assault Vehicles. Instead of the single medium blaster cannon above the crescent of ceriglase window panes, there were three barrels, one of which he recognised as a thermic lance for cutting through buildings, and one headed by the curved metal hooks of a grapple.

"The old PX-10s," Yav nodded approvingly.

"You know your tanks."

"I know that one. Always wanted to drive one. Maybe even buy a de-commissioned one to live in." Yav sighed at the dream, then turned back to the crater, indicating the far side to the left-rear of the schoolbus. "I want one over there, and one here. They can fire grapples at each other, secure the tethers, then supply enough slack to lower the cables behind the bus." He indicated to Herb where he wanted the cables lowered to, and even the fire chief could see that this was intended to prevent the bus from sliding back into the hole.

Herb turned to descend the outer slope, starting to shout orders back to the throng below, but the elf stopped him with a tap on the arm.

"What's up?"

Yav indicated the rise they were standing on. "What about this? What's it made off, how solid is it?"

"Solid enough to support you and me, but it certainly isn't rock."

"Good." The elf nodded animatedly. "Have the mine people scare up a digger from somewhere."

The dirt-smeared face of the rescuer regarded the Merc suspiciously. "Why?"

"I want it collapsing the crater wall over there, taking material from the part the bus is actually sitting on. If we can get it from sloped to flat, we can more easily tow the vehicle out."

Multiple high-pitched voices that had not broken yet, relayed the words, "Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream-" up from the bus, causing the elf to roll his eyes.

"Oh frag, they're going to start singing." He visibly shuddered, even while recognising it was to keep the little mites' spirits up. "I'm gonnna be with Craft Services; sit with me once you have your people working."

He trudged and slid down the hillock towards a food truck that has seen better days, ignoring the dozens of eyes that followed him from beyond the security cordon, while he made a beeline for the sad collection of white plastic garden chairs set out before the truck.

The Paramedic knew it looked bad to sprawl in a garden chair with an ice-cold glass of blum juicewhile younglings were in danger, but if on the off-chance that he had to use his Lesser Succor teleport to start evac'ing kids out of there, he needed to establish a 'Safe Zone'.

Tag: no-one

 

IC: Sydney Ayres
Outside the Low Night's Bar, CSA

"Sure thing, mister... ?"

Sydney took a long drag on the cigarra. Felt his body lighten up with the rush of narcotics that flooded his system. Man, that felt good. It had been a long time coming and he missed his bad habits.

Letting out a long exhale, full of smoke and flame, Ayres responded, "Sydney Ayres, used to be the hangar chief for the Mercs."

His attention returned to the stand-off in the street. Things should have gotten interesting by now. By interesting he meant some blaster shots, a few dead bodies, small, minor details like that. But nothing happened. Just some conversation and more meaningless words from the Imperial forces. He was about to ask what the young lady's name next to him was when a voice cried out, "Sydney!?"

Ayres felt his hair on the back of his neck stand up on end. He recognized that voice. He hadn't heard that voice in some time. Too long. He looked up from his narcotic delight and saw to his good surprise the Corellian who made it all happen once upon a time for him, Jason Lasso.

"Good to see you, Lasso. It's been far too long," Ayres said in a quieter voice. He didn't want to attract any Imperial attention. Had been there and done that.

Tag: Bravo,Heavy Isotope

 

GM APPROVED!! (BRAVO and an Encore )

Name: Havah Jeth
Gender: Male
Age: 35
Species: Arkanian
Homeworld: Arkania
Affiliation: The Mercs

Personality
---Traits: Havah prefers the direct, sneaky approach to missions, and is reluctant to sit back when he thinks danger is an acceptable risk to complete a mission or save a comrade. He keeps his head, if not his cool, at all times, and is generally stoic.
---Likes: When everything ends well, women, the occasional glass of Abrax cognac or shot of accarrgm wine, fine tuning his ship, and combat sparring
---Dislikes: Boring missions & scenarios, weak drinks, when mechanics screw up his ship, failing an obligation, betrayal, and going in blind on any mission
---Habits: Will play a flute when bored and fiddling with his armor/weapons

Appearance
---Skin Color: Caucasian (Albino Pale)
---Hair Color: White
---Eye Color: White
---Clothing – Casual: Loose brown trousers, loose white shirt, dark synthetic leather vest, and tall brown boots. An ensemble brought together with a loose smuggler styled belt with various blades and blaster dangling from it.

---Clothing – Mission: Tan Chitin Armor with no insignias, with concealed vibro-dagger gauntlets and utility belt. Flak vest, respirator attachment, and added sealants are added for space missions.
---Other Attributes: Somewhat broad, with decently rugged looks
---Other Details: Straight hair down to his shoulders, usually keeps helmet hooked at his side when not in combat situations, and has five fingers on right hand.

Weapons: 1 Westar-34 Blaster Pistol (Jango Fett’s blaster type) and 3 spare cartridges, 1 Stokhli Spray Stick, 1 Cryoban Grenade, and the concealed gauntlet vibro-daggers. Additional weapons added as mission specifications advise and are available for use.



Skills (NEW!!!)



---Primary Skill: Commando; exceptional hand-to-hand combat, very good medium range weaponry (shooting), squad level combat, and making traditional military units lives end quickly whether defensive or offensive combat situations.



---Secondary Skill: Starfighter pilot



---Life Experience:

Squad based black ops

Mixed Martial Arts

Pilot

Starfighter repair



Education (NEW!!!)



---General Education: Private tutors and Arkaniaan system of basic through higher education.



---Specialized Education: Combat and repair training by tutors/guards, Arkanian Black Guard/Military/Militia Training



Flaws/Limitations (NEW!!!)



---Physical: Physically deformed, has five fingers on right hand. Alcoholic.



---Mental: Alcoholic.



---Emotional: Loss of family, both blood and squad to death or Imperial kidnapping.



---General: Has suffered emotional outbursts, paranoia, and other interpersonal damaging side effects from excessive alcohol consumption as well as some organ damage.



---Character Critical Failure: Force Blind and distrusts 9 out of 10 crewmates, not to mention is an alcoholic that has nearly killed his new boss once, and nearly himself twice because of it.

Starship


---Name: Dart

---Class: T-65 X-Wing Starfighter

---Speed: 100 MGLT

---Hull Rating: Stock model

---Shields: Stock model

---Ejection System: Yes

---Life Support: Yes

---Hyperdrive Class: 1.0

---Weapon(s): Stock model

---Crew: 1 Pilot, 1 R2-series astromech droid (“Glove”; black primary color, gray secondary color replaces the originals blue accents)

---Passenger(s): 0

---Max Cargo (kg): 110kg

---Interior Description: Stock model

---Other Details: Black paint over the whole craft, with an arkanian dragons head emblazoned upon the forward sides of the cockpit section and nose of the craft, with jaws wide open.



Starship Personal
---Name: Spook
---Class: Customized CloakShape Fighter
---Hyperdrive Class: 1.7
---Weapon(s): 2x Medium Forward-mounted laser cannons, 1x Concussion/1xProton Torpedo launcher (4 concussion missiles and 4 torpedoes)
---Shields: Light
---Sublight Speed: 1000 km/h to 3500 km/h (Shields on)
---Crew: 1 Pilot, 1 Otoga-222-series repair droid wirelessly connected to ships computer
---Passenger(s): None
---Max Cargo (kg): 30 kg
---Interior Description: The Spook has been modified to work as a single man and droid fighter from its previous one man status, and as such the positions which would have distracted him such as power flow control and in flight minor repairs are taken care of by his Otoga-222 droid “Pick”. The power generator has been upgraded to allow for its light deflector shields, engines, and weapons to be used at the same time without serious detriment to either systems. The more common upgrades of a maneuvering fin, hyperdrive sled, and advanced targeting computer with sensor suite.
---Other Details: He rarely allows other droids or people to work on his ship without them being supervised by either himself or Pick at all times. The paint job on the Spook has been intentionally left a mottled tan with cream and rust colored blotches with the exception of white paint at around the missile tubes, giving it an old worn-out look.

The Force
---Sensitivity: None

Biography
---Personal History: Havah grew up as one of seven children, son of Kir, a scientist who works on the main board of the Arkanian Dominion. As this took most of their father’s time they were left to their mother, when she was available, and more often than not to servants to be raised. Some of the servants were of course qualified bodyguards and pilots incase they had to be moved suddenly, and from these he learned many techniques on how to fight and pilot at a young age as they would often use these lessons and training sessions as a way to keep the children busy and out of trouble. As a result, Havah became an adept pilot and fighter at a young age, and as he grew older his skills, with the continued and varied tutelage of the guards and servants, improved. Although he was more of one to break then fix items he had had to learn a good bit about repairing items as even though his parents didn’t mind replacing things, although his caretakers whose wages were docked until the items were fixed or replaced certainly did.

When he came of age of decision it was plane to everyone that the first male born to Kir was not to be a scientist, but instead a fighting instrument, and so he was enlisted into the Arkanian Black Guard. It was there that he increased his talents to a polished sheen, but the pay and job was terrible if one was not idealistically driven by the missions and goals of the group. So when the option became available at twenty five to leave honorably he did, and took what inheritance and wages he had saved to upgrade his ship and droid, and headed out to find new employ.


Not too long later he met the leader of The Mercs, Captain Rick Taller. Although it took a bit of persuasion and a demonstration of his abilities, and reassurances that he wasn’t an undercover agent. The Captain eventually agreed to let him join The Mercs, and he has served loyally ever since. While the constantly shifting ranks and the never-ending proximity to death is familiar and of a hue that one cannot endure forever, he doubts he could ever give up the lifestyle until it either forces him free of it, or it takes it completely. But at least in this field the pay is better and one isn’t bound by anything more than honor and kinship.


Or so he thought, soon the filtering of new leaders, added dead, and deserters left Havah somehow inexplicably at the top of the roster. Needless to say he did not handle it well and the bottle looked more attractive than usual as the dead added up, deserters left, and he. . .despite being the leader now didn’t die. Whatever motion of the forces of life that made his life what it was either were personally hating him or simply desired an outlet for more masochistic tendencies.


A feeling that grew as missions continued, he lived, he drank, and lived. Others didn’t drink and died, if he was one to quiet for no good reason that was the most tempting. The Jod hired them, revealed they had payed through others for most of the more dangerous missions that got others killed and soon Taller had the Mercs working for them. Whatever the deal was he hoped it was enough money to allow him to either never be sober or get drunk and then frozen for a few decades. Maybe the machine would malfunction.


Sent alone on a mission with the Jod after he learned the Empire had his sister, who blamed him for her failed security, he helped them retake a passage-way station that had a rogue AI she had developed and a few droids he wished had changed their minds about coming with him. Still life went on, he threatened the twerp that met the returning shuttle that bore the marks of intelligence. . .well actually a severe lack. Got interrupted, let off some steam with a non-fatal duel with a guy that offered his head if it would make him feel better, and then got stunned and tossed in a brig. Without alcohol, his flute, nor a knife to end the suffering of forced detox. Well at least he wasn’t drying out because he quit, now if only the memories would stop.


Still the battles came and he was forced to work alongside and then under the twerp Taller had elevated. If he wasn’t his boss now and had a severe mental gap, he would be tempted to kill the man out of principle. As things stand he instead has kept his distance, and silence as he worked with the new hires, Mando’a. A terrible situation, but at least they are professionals.

---Military History: Upon turning fifteen he joined the military with his father’s connections he was able to go through intensive training for next three years as a pilot and Elite Squad combat training. Ten years with the Arkanian Black Guard Elite Squads and eight years of service with The Mercs, in both fighter squadrons and covert ops stations.

---Traumatic Experiences: Havah’s second to last mission was to eliminate a traitorous cell to the Arkanian Dominion, only slightly out of the ordinary from their regular pirate and outlaw mission profiles. The mission went without a hitch as he flew air support until the fleet was able to block off the main escape route. Once that was established he landed and joined his team in breaching the final layers of defenses to the bunker, but what surprised him most was when they finally reached their targets, him using his Stokhli Spray stick to trip up the fleeing individuals before a shot was put in the back of the skull. When one body was rolled over for identification to his surprise, and to his horror, he recognized the man that he had brought down as his little brother. Although he has lost many good friends and comrades over the years, and while he never shows it, each of them weighs heavily on him, each having left their own scar in his mind and heart. He feels particularly guilty about his brother’s death, a death brought by his own hands, which still haunts him to this day. Guilt over his sisters abduction and wounding by the Empire watched via a recording as she cried out his guilt for it also haunts him.

_____________


Name: Tiaca
Callsign: Tiss / Reco

Gender: Female
Age: 27
Species: Terrellian Jango Jumper
Homeworld: Unknown
Affiliation: House Renliss, House Salaktori, and Jeth

Personality
---Traits: Tiaca is a hot-rod, loose cannon, and generally short sited planner for a walking encyclopedia.
---Likes: Winning, games of chance, research, and pure sabaac.
---Dislikes: Sitting still, getting shot/stabbed/maimed/etc, and slavers.
---Habits: Often fiddles with her prosthetics, plays games of chance even against herself, and will study HoloNet databases in free time.

Appearance
---Skin Color: Pale / washed-out blue with yellow/gold accents painted on her face
---Height: 1.83 meters (6 feet)

---Hair Color: Bald by choice, red ropes of hair naturally
---Eye Color: Brown organic, black implant
---Clothing Casual: Loose one sleeved tunic, black blaster proof (Myntor lizard) vest, black loose pants with same scale padding over thighs and shins, black thigh high boots, and mechanics utility belt with pouches. Sonic mining probe tucked in left boot pouch, hold out stun baton camouflaged in prosthetic arm, Thunderer blaster pistol slung down off left hip, large vibro machete in leather case secured upside down in middle of back, and glop grenade in one of the belts pouches as well as basic med supplies and common currency.





---Hunt Adaptation Suit (HAS): Used whenever going on a possible mission/hunt. Base layer is a Mando suite of body armor with a pressurized body glove secure for vacuum or deep water diving.

Helmet is made to look like a Trandoshan’s head with the visor being a raged black slit between the suites teeth. Range finders are concealed in the left eye, and snout of the helmet. Sports voice enabled system and weapon utilization, video recording/playback/analysis unit, voice scrambler, infrared and ultraviolet scanning lenses, fine-grain motion sensors, sound amplification/filtration unit, broadband antenna, HoloNet database/access, redundant olfactory sensors (1 part per billion), scent database, pineal sensor and micro cameras for surround vision, and system personalization augmentation. Also has built in three hour reserve air tank and an environmental filter to eliminate contaminates from air or liquids.



Suite armor plates are replaced with the black scale plates from a Kothlis Myntor fused onto a thin ceramic base plate that connects to the suite along the traditional maximum coverage placements from heavy unites from the Neo-Crusaders armor template, including upper gorget for neck protection. (The Bounty Hunter Code book, page 141)
---Other Attributes: Swimmers build, artificial eye (replaceable), and artificial right arm (style similar to Anakin Skywalker RotS, except whole arm), three ribs, and back bracers.
---Other Details: Has coded personal palm sized B2-X droid, unmodified from factory standards beyond life experience, kept in armored back pack. Repulsor boots rated 150meters, she uses these to explain her own jumping feats away and to augment hunts. Scale reinforced backpack with spare battery packs.

Weapons: Adjusted Sonic Mining Probe (Doctor Who’s gift to Dr. Song image & Razors Edge SW book references), DC-15s blaster, FC-1 Fletchet Launcher / alternates with a Decksweeper, 2 Glop Grenades, 2 ABC grenades, prosthetic droid arm, 1 Medpac, 1 grappling hook with high-tensions wire, 4 spare ammo packs FC-1, three bladed vibro-knife in thigh scabbard, phrik climbing vibro-sinks (stabbing spikes) one in each shoulder poltroon, retractable boot climbing claws, and helmet based needler hidden in ‘snout’.


Skills (NEW!!!)



---Primary Skill: Bounty Hunter/Hunter, Researcher

---Secondary Skill: Pilot, Soldier

---Life Experience: Slave training, acting. . .as bait, martial arts, scrounger, weapon and armor smith, and basic self medic.



Education (NEW!!!)



---General Education: Pantoran Middle School graduate, and bounty hunting training course.

---Specialized Education: Advanced Hunter training on Kamparas Jedi training grounds, and advanced Trandoshan hunting courses.



Flaws/Limitations (NEW!!!)



---Physical: Has extensive replacement parts for right arm, and right eye. Facial scars have been professionally repairs but leave her right side of face mostly frozen in a bland expression. Sometimes will feel phantom pains and usually is in pain from missing nerves and nerve damage all the time.



---Mental: Nerve pain makes it harder to think long term plans through. Identifies to an extent with her captors from her younger years.



---Emotional: Loss of limb, eye, family, and brutality of enslaved teenage years.



---General: Spent a considerable portion of her youth simply striving to survive instead of being a child.



---Character Critical Failure: Cannot hold breath well nor can she trust individuals without years to acclimate to them and learn them well enough.


Starship
---Name: Shadows Lament
---Class: Customized Tug – Heavy Lifter Type 2
---Hyperdrive Class: 3
---Weapon(s): 1x dual barrel Medium top-mounted laser cannon
---Shields: Moderate
---Sublight Speed: 7MGLT ?? km/h to 10MGLT ?? km/h (Shields on)
---Crew: 1 Pilot
---Passenger(s): Four (cramped)
---Max Cargo (kg): ?? kg / ??
---Interior Description: Shadows Lament is considered a generational tug.
---Other Details: Weapon system is an aftermarket customization when the ship was overhauled for routes in the more often pirated sections of the Rim. Rusted mottled coloration with fused on grime.

The Force
---Sensitivity: Minor

---Religion: Split

---Force Abilities: Level Zero

---Force Weakness: All

---Other Force Objects: N/A

Biography
---Personal History: An infant orphan she was adopted by a lovely Pantoran family. This lasted for a few years until after her seventh birthday when they were killed by a group of pirates on a family vacation, where she was kidnapped, sold, and afterward kept alive solely to be used as future bait by her Trandoshan buyers. Sometime after her sixteenth she was rescued by an cleanup crew of the Arkanian Black Guard, whom she merely knew as her rescuers.



After being rescued three members of the team acknowledged her wishes and took a two week vacation to relocate her with an established Bounty Hunter who desired a protégé. The Mando she was paired with was a Trandoshan who worked for House Salaktori out of the Bothuwai sector, a situation that was used as a test of her resolve to follow the hard path of becoming a hunter and to face her fears. From this sprouted her desire for her stylized armor as she faced her own fears and learned the ways of the traid. After she went out on her own she was approached by House Renliss, who she readily joined having just turned twenty, and utilizing their further training she has become a good hunter in her own right, although enamored with a cross of Mando’a and Trandoshan beliefs to guide her life and honor her lost parents.



Recently she acquired her own ship and took a mission to the CSA on a joint mission with her old teacher as the prey was large enough to require an extra hunter, and both needed someone they could trust and anticipate in a fight.

---Military History: Served aboard a Pirate/Hunting/Poaching crew against her will for several years. Bounty Hunting/Hunting Career for over ten years.

---Traumatic Experiences: Lost her adoptive family, used as bait by Trandoshans in their hunts, and being raised her last teen years by a Trandoshan Mando’a Bounty Hunter.

 

IC: Havah Jeth / Tiaca
Somewhere in the city of this twice cursed rock

It had been an interesting journey to say the least. Literally that was to say the least possible of the intervening years. The group had fractured and reformed, with Mandalorians added into the mix, with positions of power and influence. If somebody was to be bought to turn on them he held them as the first suspects, no fault of their own, it was simply in their nature and national heritage.

Although his friend. . .friend? Yes, he supposed he was a friend, Winterkill had returned in silence as he had left, there was something different. He did not know what had changed but the sense of respect he felt from the man toward the new Mando's was enough to make himself question if their sparring sessions would someday become all to real. Not to mention the Red eyes had left to babysit their Jod leftovers in a mining operation. Leaving Lasso of all miserable sods to run the whole operation, someone he had already tried to kill, and would have again when times had gotten tougher if not for the fact that the man had amnesia. A quality that made him to much of a fascination and subject of pity and envy in his own mind to end for such petty reasons that he had to bear upon the man.

Then he was broken out of his introspection by the sound of explosions, intermittent, but nearby. Granted the location was a seedier end of town, the edge of where the slums met the blank portion of the tourist maps that dealt to the more unsavory aspects of society. Only no one ran as he hurried his pace to match the most fast moving in the streets, they were seemingly content to desert the streets in an orderly manner, as though they were prepared. Fear was there, so thick he could nearly smell it, but at the end of the alley he was passing he saw two ESPOs standing guard of the pathway.

They were facing the wrong way.


Passing the alley, careful not to slow for a better look he paused in front of the next building. Opening his bulky cloak he pulled out his helmet and fastened it on, undid the latch so his cloak could more easily be removed in haste, and made sure to unfasten his holster for an a quick draw. Silently cursing himself for not bringing his stohkli spray stick on this errant mission he took deep breath to steady himself, then a quick nip from the flask in his boot before rounding the corner into the next alley way. The ESPO's immediately locked onto his presence and pulled up their repeators to aim at his center mass, "This area is restricted! Controlled demolitions in progress, use an alternate route to achieve your destination at once, or under article forty seven GSA 10724 for unit and material safety paragraph seven we will consider your intentions hostile!"

Jumpy, not a good sign. He hadn't even threatened them yet. Although as he amplified the sounds he could tell that was no demo-blast but a frag grenade followed by screams and wailing. Still, with a few eye blinks he was scanning through his HUDs information on who he was tracking known associates and allias', "I am here with Tressor." he called back without continuing to advance.

The two ESPOs stepped to either side of the alley, and one leaned over the roof top with a scatter gun, one on the ground waving him through. "Running late are we?"

"Had to stop for liquid courage." He grinned back as he held up the flask in salute, taking another swig as he passed them. Well, this was going well. Albeit the screaming and blaster fire he could now hear as he passed the sonic baffling equipment made him wonder if didn't just trick his way into his own funeral. Still rounding a corner found him looking at an odd scene. Up the road around a sleazy structure there seemed to be a running firefight. Snipers on roof tops around the main structure were fallen and dangling dead. The front was alive with the constant hum of a black figure in full scales whizzing off of any and all projections on the building as she shot round after round of frag grenades into the structures windows as she passed them.

The fact that a blast was going off every two seconds seemed to keeping the return fire down. As did the motions that made his own back hurt from watching the figure undertake as a jump turned into a twist, grab, spin, summersault, and a dismount through a window only to jump out the side and drop to the ground as a third that floor seemed to erupt in flames and shattered glass. "Must of been a military grade plasma grenade." He muttered to himself. Advancing around the edges of buildings he watched as the slaughter continued until he was only one building away and standing to the side of the structure. Coming out he back he saw a Houk holding up a Trandoshan with all four limbs obviously broken at the main joints of elbows and knees. Not that that was preventing the armored Trandoshan from snapping and trying without success to snag the Houk with its bloody jaws. The figure in black tumbled with a few shots around the back and rolled to stand blocking the figures retreat.

When being in black stopped moving the grenade launcher continued traveling as she brought a Clone War era blaster to bear upon the Houk with his obvious meat shield. "Drop him." came the gravelly voice of the one in black. The Houk seemed to consider a moment before shaking his head.

"Let me go and I'll double your fee, triple it even. I have powerful bosses, something can be arranged, even lucrative work for life. OR I kill you and this one, generous considering." with a slow blink Havah realized the situation, and who the Trandoshan was. Sneaking forward he made his way toward the things back. The one in black continued to keep the things attention. Talking out terms, and keeping it busy as he advanced without moving its head. Until Havah was able to leap the short distance toward its back with fist extended to hit just above the back plate of armor the Houk was wearing. Granted he must not of been quiet enough as the wide eyed Houk pulled the trigger blowing the Trandoshans head off, before crumpling to the ground.

The figure in black approached silently as Havah stood there waiting to see if he had a fight on his hands or not.

"My employer will love this, thanks Jeth."

"No problem." he replied ash e look down on the alive albeit paralyzed Houk.

tag: No oNE

 

IC: Sunri Lasca
Low Night's Bar, CSA

Sunri watched curiously as the woman left first, followed by the old man and Selkath. The Mando was left alone, and it seemed like the only interesting thing to happen in this bar lately had walked right out the door. Thus, Sunri let out a sigh and got to his own feet. Might as well head back to the Long Strider after all. Not like those interesting people would hang around outside the bar for some reason. More likely they had already zoomed off somewhere in a speeder.

But, as he walked out the door, the young man was pleasantly surprised to note they hadn't left. The little group had gotten a bit larger though. The old man seemed to have just finished addressing a man in the 'outside' group as Sunri had quickly labeled them to differentiate from the 'bar' group of the old man, young woman, and Selkath. But, that didn't give him much to work with, so Sunri merely leaned against a wall, continuing to observe the situation, and wondering if these people may be able to help him on his mission of doing as much damage to the Empire as humanly possible.


TAG: All outside the bar.


(OOC: Just keeping Sunri in the loop here. Unless directly addressed he's not likely to try talking to anyone though. Cautious is surviving after all )

 

IC: Havah Jeth / Tiaca
Somewhere near a wreck of a building

Tiaca stood there, motionless with her blaster raised as if awaiting some final challenge as Havah knelt next to the Houk, who was quiet a chatty fellow. Turned out he was a major domo for a Hutt that was trying to set up a presence on this world. Or in basic, take the place over via corruption from the gutter up until only the good were in the gutter. It was an odd feeling to kneel there as he waited for this figure in black scales to finish what he knew was a private conversation with her 'employer', all the while standing with one foot where the Trandoshan was missing his brain pan.

An odd image considering he knew that the Trandoshan had basically been this black armored warriors tutor, trainer, and surrogate family since he had left her with him. Trauma builds monsters, and sometimes monsters create others merely because they are lonely, and other times simply by accident. Havah and his fellows who taken pity on this individual off the books so many years ago had caused this form before him to be molded out of the ashes of a survivor. Whether they were monsters or had made one he had little doubt, just as he had little doubt what kinds of prey she would hunt and forever gravitate to even after she was able to retire, something his contacts had estimated she could do already on her own continent somewhere for the rest of her days in the Outer Rim. He had placed a bet she would die on the hunt, and looking at the remains he noted as the Trandoshan centric modified Neo-Crusader armored girl turned to him. A signal she was done, "Sorry for Tressor." he nodded at the remains the Houk partially obscured.

"He died as he would want, almost." she replied with that graveling hissing voice her armor distorted her words into. "Cleanup crews are entering now, I got an extra Life Citizenship to CSA space and special permits for life. You get Tessor's cut of the bonus." She was blunt with that and the pair waited in silence until the ESPO's arrived to take possession of the Houk's body, by the way it was done and lack of extensive medical attention beyond the bare minimum to prevent death he doubted the beings private audience with whomever had hired Tiaca was going to pleasant or short. "Drink?"

"You've kept tabs on me." he replied with a smile as they moved out after Tessor's body had been cataloged and a receipt for pickup at the spaceport been exchanged between the ESPO's and Tiaca.

"Someone has to, and not want you dead." she replied as she led the way back into the city, a zone he already knew had a fine cantina selection list with live music at a couple.

"Warms my heart." he softly replied, and somehow possibly meant it as well. "What do you have on your plate?"

"Just cleaned it. You have something old man?"

Chuckling he shook his head as they passed the ESPO check point on their way out, "Yes, but nothing that short winded. I lost a lot of those I trust in an organization I work for and gained more I trust even less."

"You trust?"

"Alright, respected and could believe would shoot me in the face and not the back. You know how it goes. Anyway I need someone I can trust, by our definition. . .triage, respect, utility, supply, and traumatize. I need you for all five, the hirer left against his will I believe and I already tried to kill his successor once when he was fifth fiddle."

"You, you missed?"

"I was sauced. It was petty."

"You do need my help." she simply stated. "Come on, we can cement particulars over a pint. I might even give you a below going rate. What's the group? Just tell me you aren't still with that crazy organization. . .tell me."

"Well, you know how if you like someone you might stick around? Get comfortable? Well..."

"You will owe me."

"I know, I know."

"I doubt you do." she coolly replied as they rounded a corner and he spotted the Captain down the road a ways they had just turned onto.

TAG: Bravo, Etc.

 

IC: Beskaryc Taab/Atin Taab
Outside the Low Night's Bar, CSA

Apparently satisfied with the answers given by the blind man, the stormies left without further incident. Taab was grateful for that, rounding up the Mercs scattered all over the spaceport and making their way back to the Luck's Gamble with Imperials breathing down their necks would have proven an almost impossible task. He didn't relax though, he was uncomfortable with all the people gathering in one spot.

Making matters worse even more people filed out from the bar. Taab recognized Masha, one of the Mercs pilots followed closely behind by Atin. Before them were two people Taab couldn't identify, an old man and a Selkath. Though he doubted anyone else would see it, looking at Atin's body language as he walked out of the bar, Taab could tell the lad was somewhat perturbed but not overly tense, What was going on? Taab immediately looked to see where Winterkill had positioned himself, but couldn't see the Nagai. He was still out there though, Taab was sure of it. He probably could have found him if he kept at it, but it was enough to know that their unplanned backup was well hidden. Besides, if Taab couldn't see him right away, then no one else would and that suited Taab just fine.

---

/hr]

Atin wasn't happy as he followed the others out of the Low's Night bar. He knew it had been rash of him to partially draw his blaster, he was in an armored suit covered with weapons both hidden and overt, he had no need to draw down in order to be threatening. He had bristled at the rebuke from the bartender, but hadn't replied. Such would have been beneath him as a Mandalorian and as a warrior. That had been a lesson he had learned all too well at the hands of his father. Still he was irritated.

He would have been more irritated by the smoke coming off of Masha's cigarra, but the filters in his [I]buy'ce[/I] (helmet) kept the smoke away from his lungs. He knew again from his father that the habit was common among soldiers and pilots, but it was not one he partook in. He knew he needed to be at top physical fitness for the training his father was constantly pushing on him. Of course Then he saw the stormtroopers. He once again started to go for his pistol before seeing that they were actually being...friendly?

Much to his surprise, they sped off without further incident but still Atin hung back. His surprise grew as the old man that had been asking about the Mercs was recognized by the Captain as Sydney Ayers. So, he was telling the truth! Atin hoped that there would be no hard feelings from the old mechanic, he knew he could use the help in upgrading the Trial to his own specifications. Stormies turning tail without a fight, potential recruits for the Mercs that could be a real help to him and best of all the Captain had gotten out of his meeting fully intact. This was turning out to be a pretty good evening.

[hr]

Taab had abandoned his search for Winterkill and had instead opted to keep his T-Visor on the targets closer to hand. The old man and the Selkath were being covered by Atin and Masha. Taab could handle the blind man, Jedi or not, who seemed to have abandoned his attempts to speak directly with Lasso. Instead he turned to the droid and spoke in Huttese. Taab strained to listen to the words, one couldn't be a bounty hunter without knowing at least some of the gangster's language. But it had been years since he had used it himself and he was more than a bit rusty. He caught something about training and a cantina but that was about it. Taab didn;t know what to make of that, but figured he would find out soon enough. In any case it didn't sound very urgent and the blind man wandered off. Time to voice his own concerns.

"Skipper, we're bunching up here something fierce. We should disperse or at least take things somewhere more private."

TAG: Bravo, greyjedi125, Vehn, Heavy Isotope, Master Selkath, anyone else I may have missed.

 

OOG: Forgive any mistakes.


IC: Captain Jason Lasso
Road outside, Low Night's Bar, somewhere near the Spaceport in the city


Between Stormtroopers, Sydney's arrival a crater rescue with Yav', and the sudden gathering of Mercs, Lasso was stuck between hurried events and a easy target to take out the Mercs. For now, Lasso had kept quiet. The old man with the blindfold had made a interesting story...if anything, Lasso wanted to know what happened to Sodalis. It may be worth meeting with the old crazy hoot for that. Last time Lasso had heard Sodalis' name was above that desert planet where they first encountered the Be---

"Skipper, we're bunching up here something fierce. We should disperse or at least take things somewhere more private."

Taab's thoughts echoed Lasso's. "Have Atin assist Yav, Chief," Jason said, knowing that despite Atin's skills, if things went South here in an ambush, the elder Taab was the better choice in a firefight, "I'm not too interested in the good of anyone but us to be honest. Check to see if Yav is actually there and provide whatever assistance he can to Yav. But tell him to keep it on the down low...we don't need holo cameras following around the city's new heroes. It would disrupt our business dealings here. Dak, remember that warehouse block East of here we saw on our approach? See if you find a less used one, so we can set up temporary base of operations. Whether we were targets or not, we were on those Stormtroopers' holo feeds in their helmets. That means we are now identifiable in this part of town. Report when you have the place and," Lasso withdrew a $500 credit chip and tossed it to the droid, "In case the locals need motivation to keep law enforcement away." The protocol droid nodded and walked away, blending into a not too far off crowd. Droid or not, Dak had certain "skills" that Taller had upgraded him with.

Lasso allowed the elder Taab to deal with his son. There was little time and Lasso didn't need to be issuing orders twice over for the sake of being in command. Lasso could identifyMasha next to Atin, their new hire during the events of Port Haven. Next to them was a unknown Selkath, unidentifiable so much as Atin wasn't killing him at the moment, which was a good start. Jason quickly caught everything else: Havah and another unidentifiable rounding a corner, and Sydney slowly approaching. Still, something felt wrong...


***************************


IC: Scout Trooper KE-9-2-2-2
Industrial District, roughly 1 mile from Low Night's Bar, roof-top of deserted plant, between smoke pilliars

....22:36 hours, Coruscant Standard Time
11th Sector Army, aka Blazing Claw Command
Korphir Enforcers Legion, Imperial Scout Trooper 987th Platoon attached
2nd Squad, unit Alpha-Two-Six...


"Hey Pete," the voice came over KE-9-2-2-2's internal helmet audio system, "You have any plans with those Twi'lek twins tonight?"

KE-9-2-2-2, or more commonly known as "Peter" among his comrades, shifted slightly from his prone position, the scope of his E-11 Sniper Rifle bouncing off target from the group of mercenaries he was tracking down at a road near Low Night's Bar, "What is it to you?" he responded back.

"Well," Rogers or KE-9-5-3-8, "Ever since I got transferred to this squad, I hear the stories."

"You don't want Pete's luck," came another voice over the comm system, "It involves large amounts of booze and forgetting the women by the morning...and anything that happened. One time he lost his off-duty trooper cap to a girl. One of the garrison officer's spotted it on a girl the following week. Pete got an arse chewing. Heck, we're all surprised he can remember his identification number, but we figure as long as he can remember the number nine, the rest is easy, all two's. Who can forget that, right?"

"It takes skill, George," Pete replied to KE-9-2-4-8, "Something you lack. At least I get dates. Twins at that too. I just choose to forget the night's previous activities...it makes denying said events work better."

"Shut your traps, people!" Came the Sergeant Major's stern voice, "Update?"

"Wind normal. Higher near the spaceport. No additional movement detected in outside zones," came George sudden militaristic voice in reply as he held the Model TD2.3 electrobinoculars to his visor, "Two by Two in the kill box."

"Shot Two clear," came Rogers voice as he was prone on the other side of George (Pete on the other side of George prone as well), while he aimed down the scope with a T-28 repeating sniper rifle. "Target Two, Sydney Ayres, identified."

"Shot One clear," came Pete's voice as his sights zeroed in on Lasso, "Leader identified, Jason Lasso."

"Stand-by for orders," came the Staff Sergeant's rough voice; he switched comm channels and said, "Command, Alpha-Two-Six."

"Go ahead Alpha-Two-Six," came a female's voice back from command.

"Targets confirmed. Awaiting further orders. Targets are two-by-two in the kill box. Targets could relocate any moment. Advise immediate action."

There was a sigh on the other end, "Command copies, Alpha-Two-Six. Awaiting confirmation of kill order. Stand by."

The Sergeant Major gritted his teeth and his response echoed a rough response, "Alpha-Two-Six copies Command. Awaiting confirmation order."

The Sergeant Major wanted to slam down the DLT-19 heavy blaster rifle he held in his hands as he knelt beside one of the smoke stacks, watching their rear; everyone in the Corps thought he should of taken a desk job years ago. He was too old, too old fashioned they said. He had been one of the original clones during the First Battle of the Clone Wars on Geonosis and had fought his way all the way to here, seeing countless comrades die and taking his fair share of scars in the process that reminded him every day of his service to the Republic and now the Empire. He was too by the book and always thought he was right. Thing was, the Sergeant Major thought, he was right, the new bloods in the Imperial Stormtrooper Corps never saw it that way though. They thought he was too old and too stubborn for his own good. Might of figured why he was sent out with a bunch of new bloods on this op. Maybe they wanted him dead, Command that was. Well, they would have to do more to him then the Confederacy did to get him killed and they were nowhere close to that hell yet. In fact, this op was more like a vacation compared to the Sith he'd be put through back in the Clone Wars.



************************


IC: Captain Jason Lasso
Road outside, Low Night's Bar, somewhere near the Spaceport in the city


...Lasso looked off towards a set of double smoke pillars in the distance. Something was there, so far away, not visible aside from the smoke pillars' blinking red lights to warn air traffic of their height.

"Chief," Lasso said, "We need to move and move now," Lasso said quietly, walking up to the new comers, "Everyone, lets meet inside Low Night's Bar! I'm sure we can stay out of the cold there!" Lasso tried to walk with speed, without looking like was walking with speed. That so called "Danger Sense" was no longer tingling, but screaming now.



**************************



IC: Scout Trooper KE-9-2-2-2
Industrial District, roughly 1 mile from Low Night's Bar, roof-top of deserted plant, between smoke pillars


"Targets on the move! Targets on the move!" Pete warned.

"Targets movement confirmed!" George replied for all to hear, "Moving towards Low Night's Bar! Out of kill zone in twenty seconds!"

"Command, Alpha-Two-Six! Targets are moving! Targets are moving! Advise! Advise!" Came the Sergeant Major's hurried voice.

"Alpha-Two-Six, Command. Stand-by."

"Sith it!" The Sergeant Major said out-loud and not over the comm channel, "Rogers, stand over-sight watch! George. Pete, keep with those targets on foot!"

"But Command said---" Rogers started.

"Shut it pretty boy!" George said as he got up from his prone position and exchanged his TD2.3 electrobinoculars in one pouch for his E-11 Blaster Rifle and started running along the roof top, using the rifle's own scope as a view finder; Peter was fast on his heels.

"Alpha-Two-Six, Command. Orders confirmed. Kill order confirmed. Go for the shot."

"Clear! Fire! Fire!" The Sergeant Major ordered to his squad as soon as the order was confirmed.

"Shot Two, target out of sight. No shot, no shot!"

As soon as the order came, Pete sled to a kneeling position and reestablished his target best he could. He zeroed in on the retreating back of Jason Lasso, his finger rushing to the trigger, feeling the trigger. starting to squeze the trigger, then the target was gone, mixed in with the bar scene, "No shot! No shot! Civilians in the way!"

"Next time, just shoot," George replied, "Their only low lives. One less trouble maker as I see it."

If George could see Pete's glare through his visor as he turned and looked at him, the man would be like the debris of the Death Star right now, "I'm a Imperial Stormtrooper. Not a murderer. Those were civilians in the way."

"Yea," George said, shrugging, "I thought so too. But there's a difference between recruiting posters and the real galaxy. Lets face it, we point blasters and shoot. That's our job. Get use to it."

"The Empire has ideals and---" Peter started.

"Shove the patriotic bull," The Sergeant Major said as he came standing up behind them, "We're all loyal here. No reason to talk about it. Command wants us to pursue and recon. Act when given orders."

"And miss another shot?" Rogers said from behind as he walked up to the three squad members, "Oh. and the street is clear. No targets in sight."

"We have our orders," the Sergeant Major replied to all three standing before him, "Our holo-cams have the recorded imagines of the group. We'll find 'em. We're Imperial Scout Troopers. We're trained for this. Now, collect your equipment and move out. We have a ways to the bar."

"And why didn't that infantry squad take care of them?" Rogers asked as they started to collect their gear and equipment laying around the roof top of the deserted factory.

"Because Pretty Boy," George said, "They probably weren't in with our op. Command doesn't spread our business like dirty laundry to the Corps. Especially to those low-functioning infantry rejects."

"Watch it, I started in the infantry," The Sergeant Major replied.


************************************


IC: General Preeminent Hilick Soal
Private Study, Darkest Night, Assertor-class Star Dreadnought, unknown location in real space


The glow of holo screens in the dark reflected off of Hilick Soal's face as he watched the live holo-feed from the Scout Trooper's helmet cams. Yes, they had located the Mercs. But no one would know. No one in Command would know. No one on Coruscant would know. The logs were wiped, the recordings destroyed. Hilick Soal had delayed the order in the Craci System. No one needed to know the reason but him. His contacts in the Imperial Court---despite however much revenge they wanted against a aging mechanic such as Sydney Ayres---would understand that the mechanic had slipped through their grasp once again. Hilick Soal never asked the reason why they wanted Sydney dead...all that mattered was that someone with power and money---some of that money now in Hilick Soal's hands---wanted Sydney dead. Probably over some old dispute or something else that didn't concern the galactic populace. You had to pay money if you wanted a Assertor-class Star Dreadnought to alter course on a personal mission and they had paid well. So well that they had located the Mercs in the process. Follow the loyal crew...and you always found the home base. The only reason why Hilick Soal took such a under the table deal was that the belief that Sydney Ayres would lead them to the Mercs.

And he had. And Hilick Soal had purposefully let the Mercs go.

Prophecies and Destinies, always a tricky thing when you deal with the Kingdom of Jod...


****************************************



IC: Captain Jason Lasso
Low Night's Bar, somewhere near the Spaceport in the city


That uneasy feeling had disappeared now inside the bar. Lasso had found a table out of the way, stuck in the corner. The two passed out drunks were removed by bouncers and the collection of various Mercs sat down at a elongated table with booth and chairs. If they were here, then they wanted to talk. If they weren't. then the Mercs could move on without them.

Lasso was quick to order some Corellian Rum as he sat down. Everyone sat down wherever they could, others stood. Lasso was sure no one else felt what he did---but he was also sure others were concerned about their quick reentry. Maybe the blind old man was in here somewhere too.

"Well," Lasso said, "Let me start with this: some of you are not part of my crew, which means two things. Either A, you want to be part of my crew or B, you have a death wish. I would hope its not the latter. We're mercenaries and we're looking for fresh blood and," Lasso nodded towards Sydney, "And returning blood. Question becomes, what do you want to do with us?"


TAG ALL

 

IC: Low Night's bartender, Low Nights Bar
Location: Craci's Imperial Class Spaceport

The bartender watched and sighed as the Mandalorian styled out his rebuke, slid off the stool, and ambled towards the exit.

He was not a fan when economics won over citizen safety. He had moved here from Nar Shadaa precisely because the Corporate Sector Authority made such a big deal about weapons scanners on their worlds so visitors could not carry guns around, then, after all that hassle, someone on the City Council, planetary council, or whatever, suddenly ups and says, "Hold on, what about the Mandalorian trade? How we gonna marry up the no weapons policy with, well, them?"

Sighing again, the bartender peeled two white serviette flimsis off the neat pile next to the cash register, balanced a pair of small black dishes containing spiced warra nuts, and carried them over to the table now occupied by the blind man in the grey robes, setting the serviettes down before him, and the space to his left where he had been facing for his earlier...conversation.

The bartender recalled from xeno' studies at school, that somewhere in this galaxy were sentient beings made of vapour, so it stood to reason that some of them might be invisible.

It was a stretch to believe that such a gas being was going to be able to handle nuts, but it was bar policy, and he only worked here.

He trudged back to the bar, figuring one of them would call if they wanted something to drink or eat.

Movement and sound from the entrance drew his gaze, several beings entering, including most of the group that had been holding up his bar.

More nuts and serviettes.

A human male in his late twenties, wearing a lot of black military-style clothing with an abundance of pouches, heading for one of the corner tables, called for a Corellian Rum.

"Coming right up, Sir."

He poured a "finger" of rum from the bottle into a shot glass, and prepared the requisite number of warra nut dishes and serviettes, then, with his back to the Mercs, paused to scrawl on one, You played well. 7pm. Hutt Caravel. Dock 29.

Tag: Mahaben, Jason Lasso, others in the bar

 

IC: Masha Tinovorsh
Low Night's Bar

Sydney, that was his name. Masha casually looked on, unaware of the greater picture at hand. "Nice to meet you, Sydney," she said.

Cap' began to move inside, Masha followed suit. Better to keep close, as the alcohol wore off she began to feel more conscious of the situation at hand. Here they all were, in the open; an Imperial sector? Good golly holly, the remnant of her drunk brain thought. She flicked the butt of her cigarra and stepped on it. Following Lasso into the bar, she placed her hand on Atin's shoulder, "Go get 'em boyo," she said with a completely straight face. Looking over to the elder Taab, she gave a little nod, then disappeared into the bar. It's probably better to be respectful to people who scared me half to death, than to avoid them completely, she thought and sat at the table with Lasso. Looking over to the Captain, "So... Quite a night this is turning into," not sure what to say; she was just glad he was there. Being with her crew members made her feel at ease, as did the drinks.

Maybe I could play another set... She thought, her face remaining expressionless, though narrowing her brow. The music wasn't bad, but maybe... No, nevermind, she thought, too big of a crowd. Especially with the rest of her crew mates arriving. The bartender set a bowl of nuts in front of the group, hastily taking a hand full, she tossed it back and began to chew, taking her gloves off and stowing them in her jacket's inside pockets.

Something else strange caught her eye, You played well. 7pm. Hutt Caravel. Dock 29. Message on a napkin, nice. Masha didn't know where that was, or what a Hutt Caravel was. Though it is... Intriguing, she thought. Re-reading the message, she raised an eyebrow and looked to the bartender, motioning for him to head over so she could ask where and what this was, "-- Also, Ebla beer, if you would?" she asked.

TAGS: Bravo, Bardan_Jusik, bartender, anyone else