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Star Wars Shades of a Whisper

Discussion in 'Role Playing Forum' started by Ktala, Oct 12, 2013.

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  1. Ktala Chosen One

    Member Since:
    Sep 7, 2002
    star 6
    The year is 782 BBY. The planet is Coruscant. The ecumenopolis already alive and buzzing with the millions of life forms that inhabited the planet.

    The Uscru. Also known to some as the Uscru Entertainment District. A rather lively place, that some would call the heart of Coruscant. Here, like most of Coruscant, the district is alive all night and day, full with clubs, bars, restaurants. Almost no light reaches the walkways the populace use, so the place is lit with holograms that light up the streets. It never shuts down, it never sleeps. It is considered by some to be the layer between the jewel city and the Coruscant underworld. Many are drawn to its glittering lights.

    So, it stands that it is also the perfect place. A place where curious eyes would not notice such an diverse group of people, slowly gathering themselves in a non nondescript meeting area. That a Senator, and a bounty hunter would not raise eyebrows passing each other in such a place. After all, it was simply that type of area. No one would care, as they were all too busy diving into their own forms of entertainment. Here, no one asked questions.

    Which is perfect for the group that is slowly gathering. Each being as diverse as the current surroundings. And every being here, has their own reason for showing up to the gathering. Some, were lured by promises and whispers of a large amount of credits be paid. Others, driven by some perceived reasons of honor. Some were ordered. And a few hope to uncover their own answers in this contrived meeting. So it is here that you now find yourself, card in hand. There is soft music playing in the building, but no other clue if offered, either what this building is, or to what the meeting might be about. As you slide the card through a scanner. The door opens to show you a large amphitheater, with seats facing towards a stage. Various beings find their way to seats, and sit down. Some look nervous, others bored. You noticed that there are multiple doorways into the area. After several moments, when people have settled down, a figure steps out through the back of the theater stage area. A tall, slender man, looked out over those who had shown up. He has dark black hair, slightly peppered with white, and he wore the uniform of CorSec, Coruscant Security forces. And the rank was of that of a top official. Certainly, did this did not seem like a typical type of set up for CorSec. Interestingly. Only a few beings present, would know the man on sight, and those who did had reason to give the matter more thought, for this man was not one to have on your radar, for he could make every moment on Coruscant very unpleasant to say the least.

    Randar Vellen.

    But right now, that didnt seem to matter. It only mattered that the man moved to the front of the stage. He looked out over everyone, his sharp eyes seeming to checking off various items as he looked over everyone. Seemingly satisfied, he then spoke, his voice loud and strong.

    "Well, I see our call for 'recruits' did get a response. Good. I will not bother to bore you with pleasantries, but to simply get right down to business. Then you must decide if you shall take the assignment or not."

    The man moved to one side. A holographic scene flickered into view. Those who knew of Coruscant, recognized the image immediately. Those who did not, were greeted by a dim picture. That of what looked like dark red skies which were filled with chocking smoke the floated in the skies. On the ground, it was a picture of desolation. It was easily seen that nothing moved on the surface. That you could even SEE the surface on Coruscant was rare enough, but here, the buildings only stood perhaps 50 stories, if that high. Prime real estate. It almost looked like an alien planet, nothing in the picture would make you think it belong somewhere on Coruscant. But it did.

    The Works. Also known to some as the Grungeon Block, which had once housed several production centers for Serv-O-Droid, Inc., Hunvicko, and Nebula Manufacturing, and a few others. That was until ten years ago. The sector has since earned a new name.

    The Dead Sector.

    Barely ten years ago, the sector had been one of the largest districts found on the planet. A factory district, that was struggling to keep up with off world sites, that could do the work for much cheaper. But they had come up with an idea, that they claimed would revolutionize the industry and would save their industry.

    That was until the 'accident'. Many had theories of what happened next. Perhaps it was some type of corporate espionage, or simply bad blood, it didnt really mater. At least not to those who lived in the area. The area was the site of a chemical explosion. But not just any chemical explosion. It had the distinct honor of setting off the planet's most lethal industrial accident that had ever rocked the planet. The explosion occurred deep under the surface of the planet, unleashing toxic neuritic carbide gases. It was a disaster. Killing and estimated more than 300,000 beings trapped within the complex, that ten years later they were still dealing with the repercussions of the lose of so much life. After the Galactic Republic finished their investigations, which were all classified and all files sequestered, every corporate executive that worked in the district fled the planet, and the entire area was abandoned.

    Rumors of the entire place being haunted abounded. Something which the Jedi had no response to, one way or another. But it was noticed that most people stayed away from the place like it was plagued. Perhaps it was stories of ghosts, or of pockets of lethal gas still active, and the sounds of humming noises kept most away. That and the fact that anyone known to go into the area, were usually never seen again. At least, not in one piece.

    The man simply watched, letting everyone take in the scene before he spoke once more.

    "We are looking for a group, to lead a team down into the Works. As many of you know, all attempts to clear the area, and reclaim it have failed." The picture changed, zooming to a close up of what looked like the center of a very large structure. It looked as if something perhaps had detonated within the area, creating an eighty meter crater and leveling the entire district in that area. But, within tiny pockets, lights of some sort could be seen twinkling deep within.

    "We have no idea what exploded, but the crater was created last year. It was strong enough to disrupt our local power grid. And since then, it has been quiet in the area. That is until now..."

    The pictures went dark, and Vellen looked out into the audience. "Right now, we have been able to contain the activites to within the sector. Squatters wont go near the place, for fear of ferel droids, and I cant say that I blame them. Even the death stick dealers stear clear of the area. Makes my job easier." Vellen walked over to the other side of the stage, his eyes peering out over the group. "Normally, we would not be involved in anything to do with the area, excpet for two recent developments within the Dead Zone."

    Vellen gave a nod of his head, and another picture came into view. It was of a ship, and nothing really stood out. Actually, the lack of anything significant, markings or symbols of any type might make it stand out to some. Vellen walked, as he spoke once more.

    "One, this ship, crashed in the area of the Zone. A few bodies were recovered, but several were unaccounted for, by the partial ships logs we managed to recover. We only had a few hour to search for bodies." The picture changes, and what looks like an on site video of the crash ship is in the background. Sunddenly, there is screaming, and people running, as fire is returned. You cant really see what is firing at the rescue crew, but it seems to be firing from multiple areas. The rescue teams back out of the area, as local security covers them. The video then speeds up.. and what appears on the vid next is interesting. It looks as if the crashed ship is being cannibalized as they watch. Parts and pieces dissapear, but no one is seen in the picture. Suddenly, the entire area under the ship shudders, and the ship slips out of view, dissapearing below the surface as if it had never been there.

    The picture fades as Vellen speaks out. "But that is secondary. This is the main reason we are sending in a search team into the area."

    Vellen nods, and a moment later, a strange sound is heard coming from some hidden speakers. A beeping sound, faint but still quite audible. Vellen nods once more, and the sound disappears.

    "Our analyst have discovered this sound coming from somewhere within the ruins of what used to be Nebula Manufacturing corp. It is a countdown sequence of some sort. We dont know for what, and from what cursed executives we could find from the now defunct company, they swear that there is nothing down there that could or should be giving off a countdown. But whatever is down there, is indeed doing that should be counting down. Of course, I do not believe them. But whatever it is, it is indeed counting down, and in four days, it will reach zero. What that means, is anyone's guess, but I would rather find out it was nothing, then suddenly loosing half of Coruscant to another mysterious blast."

    Vellen crossed his arms. "So, there you have it. Make no mistake, this 'rescue' mission is high risk to say the least. If your group falls into trouble, you are on your own. There wont be another rescue mission." Vellen gave the group a serious look. "Those who are willing to go, give your acknowledgement now. Once we have confirmation of who is going, the briefing will continue with those only."

    Vellen patiently waits to see who is willing to take him up on the offer, as he crosses his arms, waiting for responses.


    Welcome folks!! :D

    This is a little game, created to get some creative juices flowing. (Ie..im falling asleep over here!)

    Please, if your interested, PM me your character sheets.
    Do NOT POST Character sheets to the game, until you get the ok.

    As this is during the time of the Jedi, I will allow Jedi, but they will be going undercover, so to speak. I will not allow Sith, but I will allow for Dark Force Users but you do so at your own perils. ;)

    Bounty Hunters, plain citizens, rogues, slicers and dicers and anything else you can think of within the timeline will be allowed within reason as well. Just PM me, and lets talk. Beware of the time line. At this time, Yoda was a young Jedi Knight. And no, you cant be his best friend or his Master. And because of certain 'issues' no Padawan/Knight teams will be allowed to go either. Again, any questions PM me.

    Death will very much be a possibility in this game.

    As we all have Darth Real Life on our shoulders lately, I am expecting at least a ONCE a week post from people who join the game. If you can post more...fantastic, but I would at least appreciate a once a week minimum, so that others wont be held back. If you come up with technical or other difficults, let me know, and that way, we can work out something.

    So, with that technical stuff out of the way, Here is what I need: :p
    Character sheet:

    Description: What do you look like?
    Force User: (Yes/No)
    Job/specialty: (What your character does for a living)
    Equipment: (Anything special?)

    Weapons: (Do I really have to explain this?)
    (Tells us about your character. Why are you here?)


    This is the minimum requirements for your character sheets. If you wish to tie in your character to some parts of the background, again, PM me, and lets talk.

    Also, you can send me notes that you might not wish the other players to know as well. This will include if you are playing a Jedi character.

    And above all else, lets have some fun.
    Pyrophoric and greyjedi125 like this.
  2. s65horsey Otter-loving Former EUC Mod

    Member Since:
    Jun 24, 2006
    star 7
    Ktala approved!

    Name: Arizena Sullivan aka Ari
    Race: Human
    Sex: Female
    Description: 1.6 meters tall, pixie cut short blonde hair, blue eyes. Narrow face, small stature, 20 years old, wears gray and black nondescript bodysuit
    Force User: No
    Job/specialty: Slicer
    Equipment: Trained in self defense combat, access to lots of credits, homemade gadgets such as an analyzer to detect for poisonous gases in the air, a heavily modified datapad for slicing that only works upon a prick of Ari's blood coded for DNA, communications scanner, lock unscrambler
    Weapons: Blaster, several knives hidden in various places
    Bio: Ari was born into privilege being the second daughter of a wealthy family She was raised to wear gowns and attend high end parties. However, Ari was not like her sister and did not enjoy that lifestyle. Technology always fascinated her and when she hacked into her father's comlink at a young age he decided to cultivate her skills. She surpassed most of her teachers and eventually becoming a known slicer with a completely secret identity in the underworld. Ari helped her father remain ahead of his competitors, but she was looking for a new challenge. She noticed several rogues and slicers she kept tabs on were receiving invites to this meeting she set herself up to receive one also. Thus Ari went off the grid so to speak and her family does not know she is here.
    greyjedi125 likes this.
  3. Ktala Chosen One

    Member Since:
    Sep 7, 2002
    star 6
    GM Note....

    Please add the age of your character, when you PM me your CS. .

    I seemed to have missed that on the character sheet.


  4. Pyrophoric Jedi Padawan

    Member Since:
    Sep 17, 2013


    Name: Cella "Cel" Petrichor

    Race: Human

    Sex: Female

    Age: 23

    Force User: No

    Job/Specialty: Underworld dungeoneer, dragoman, and pest control specialist. Cel is highly experienced at navigating the deep underlevels of lower Coruscant and dealing with the cultures and creatures that dwell in the depths, and she takes a variety of government contracts and private freelance assignments.

    Equipment: Multispectrum computerized hologoggles, hunting knife, explosive charges for clearing debris

    Twin vibroglaives for eviscerating hostile fauna, DA-7 heavy blaster pistol

    Bio: Cel doesn't remember much about her mother. Bits and pieces, perhaps- the flash of a gentle smile behind gleaming red bangs, a hug when she skinned her little knee falling, strange men coming in and out of their tiny, dank tenement. Her first vivid memory- the one that echoes in her nightmares- is when the monster attacked. Her mother had thrown her in the cupboard, and told her to be quiet, tears welling in her shimmering green eyes. She could have looked, through the thin strip of light that poured in through the crack between the cupboard doors, but she didn't. She sat there, trembling, listening to the roaring and the bloodcurdling screams. Word spread of the dozens killed by the rampaging creature that night, and the tale of the six-fingered Gundark became local lore, a scare story used to coax children inside at bedtime. Yet the monster had not been seen since.

    Cel fell in with a gang of orphans who traveled across the undercity, hunting vermin and stealing to survive. Being ambushed by slavers, weeklong spice binges, and barely fending off packs of feral beasts were all common occurrences down there in the maze of duracrete and twisted steel. But at the cost of her blood, her sweat, and the lives of her friends, her skills at navigating the metal passageways and hunting predators were honed to a razor edge. When she began to take contracts at only 14 years old, she realized there was real money to be made from her experiences and skills. After nearly a decade, she'd scrounged together enough to purchase a respectable apartment in Uscru.

    Though local officials regarded her as lower-class tunnel rat scum, aware of her humble origins and work with the seedier elements of society, they knew that few could navigate the labyrinthine abyss as well as Cel. And so when the call went out for a team to enter the Dead Zone, the right people made sure she would be contacted.

    The Dead Zone, however, was the one place she had never dared to explore. Superstition runs deep among the orphans of the lower levels, and no locale was more taboo than the haunted sector. Reinforcing her wariness was the disappearance, 18 months before, of her friend and fellow street urchin Ralon Turmond, who had been tracking a creature into the sector through deep access tunnels. His last message to Cel had read: "six fingers".
    Sith-I-5 and greyjedi125 like this.
  5. greyjedi125 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 29, 2002
    star 5
    Ktala approved!!

    Alrighty, lets give this RPG thing another whirl! :p Hey there horsey, long time no see. Pyrophoric, that's a great CS ya got there! [face_peace]


    Character sheet:

    Name: Withershade
    Race: Humanoid
    Gender: Male
    Age: Late 20's
    Description: [IMG] (Withershade/casual)

    [IMG] (Withershade/mission gear)

    Force User: Unknown
    Job/specialty: Private Contractor
    Equipment: Protective gear, communicator/transmitter, scanners, datapad & recorder, personal shield generator. Gloves, boots, breather mask, optic enhancer goggles. Med kit.
    Weapons: Blaster pistols, vibro blades and sword, grenades ( concussion, stun and KO gas )
    Bio: Withershade has been privately contracted to investigate the Dead Zone by interested parties. He normally works alone, but was successfully persuaded to participate in the rescue effort.

    W00T!! :-B
  6. Ktala Chosen One

    Member Since:
    Sep 7, 2002
    star 6
    GM Notice:

    With any luck, I will launch the game most likely this Sunday...
    So hang in there guys!

    greyjedi125, s65horsey and Pyrophoric like this.
  7. DarkLordoftheFins Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 2, 2007
    star 4
    GM approved!

    Name: Eron Zorn
    Race: Human
    Sex: Male
    Age: 36
    Description: [IMG]
    Force User: Yes
    Job/specialty: Hard to say . . . he has become kind of a mercenary with his morale standards when it comes to his customers.
    Equipment: Lightsaber, wristcomm, elastic robe, cable, energy cell and a light armor, food rations, gasmask
    Weapons: Lightsaber (yellow)
    Bio: Was Eron ever a Jedi? Is he a Jedi still? Such questions are for others. Eron himself defines himself as a servant of the force. Jedi? That is a hollow title. It mans nothing, but a dedication to a power far greater than the order. Eron considers himself first a servant of the force, second a man and third . . .

    Well, it was Jedi Master after all who told him to leave the order. Eron had just finished his training and was ready to acquire a title of some sort and rank and position. But this master did realize those things meant little to him. The Great Council intervened, but their words were no more valid to Eron than those of any others. It was not a lack of respect, but rather a certainty of his own path that lead him to another life. The Master approached him one day and summed up Eron's problem and gave him a rather simple and effective solution.

    "You are a servant of the force. You are attuned to it, everybody sees it. If the force tells you not to listen to the council, because your path is a different one . . . then walk this path. Why should you ignore the will of the force? No Jedi would do that!"

    Eron followed the advice and left the halls of the academy the same day. He never returned. Since then he has travelled the universe and has chosen his fights wisely. Sometimes he had been hired, sometimes he had picked his own fights. But never has he compromised his sense of right and wrong. Despite his liking of combat as a connection to the living force, he has never striked out in anger. He welcomes death as the unavoidable companion of himself. If there is any weakness to him . . . it is doubt. Where does this path lead? And why? He had expected his fate would become clearer over years, yet he has left the order twenty years ago and still has not found his destiny. Is it to do good nd travel? No, there must be something . . . more!

    Finally his travels have rought him back to the core. And here he heard about the incident in the dead zone and he knew immediately, that it was the will of the force he would go there. Why else had it send him here?
    Sith-I-5, s65horsey and greyjedi125 like this.
  8. King Grimlock Jedi Padawan

    Member Since:
    Apr 21, 2013
    GM Approved.

    Name: Grim
    Race: Human
    Sex: Male
    Age: 25
    Description: [IMG]
    Force User: Yes (untrained only knows push and pull)
    Job/specialty: Merc
    Equipment: Cloak Suit, com's and trackers, recorder, 4 extra power packs, small energy sythe(personal tool), the mask has low sound sensors and low light visibilty enhancer and a built in air filter, and small unmarked container pod
    Weapons: DC-107 Sniper/Blaster rifle, twin blaster pistols, combat knife, grenades(flash & explosive)
    Bio: A quiet and reserved person, prefers the lone wolf approach. He has little interest of what is going on at the Dead Zone or why things are the way they are. Only the people he's working for seem to really interested and want him to bring back anything of great value or research, though this is only a second priorty to him. Considering that what he is searching for lays at what seems the center of the facility.
    greyjedi125 and ma_petite like this.
  9. Ktala Chosen One

    Member Since:
    Sep 7, 2002
    star 6
    **GM NOTICE**

    I shall be posting an update within the hour.


    Time to put your game face on, boys and girls.
    Last edited by Ktala, Oct 21, 2013
  10. Ktala Chosen One

    Member Since:
    Sep 7, 2002
    star 6
    Randar Vellen, Un-named building,
    Uscru Entertainment District - Coruscant


    Randar Vellen, having the pleasure of working with some of the most highest, and sometimes, lowest of people, ideals and views of what Coruscant had to offer, for so many years, had given him a unique, if sometimes jaded view of things. This stragety had not been his idea. But frankly, he was down to the few options that were still available to him. Personally, he would not have minded if that section of Coruscant had blown itself off the planet. It would be one less annoying matter for him to deal with. But after being persuaded, that, it would be a very unwise decision, he took this as the lesser of annoyances to deal with. And that was his job really. Dealing with varying levels of annoyance, and making sure that they did not escalate to a point where his superiors would be in his way. No, that was something to be avoided as well. So he did what he always had done, and made do at with what was available to him. It was his problem, and he was going to make sure that THIS time, it was taken care of properly.

    So instead, Vellen looked out on the sea of faces, and watched, bemused as they learned where the mission was to take place. He had watched as some faces drained away in varying colors of dismay. Others, as he held onto his stoic expression, had, not to put it a delicate finger to it, all but ran from their seats towards the exits. He snorted softly. So much for the 'best' of the worse. Other, didnt quite exactly sprint for the exit, but indeed, they did exit, never even looking back once. He heard nervous laughter issuing from the darkness. Obviously, someone thought it was a joke. That was fine. It was to be expected. Not all were up to what some might consider a difficult, if not impossible mission. But he had expected better than this. Especially when the Jedi had backed away from the mission. Anything that that the Jedi would turn down, should bring out others who were interested. Most of them, with the same question on their lips...

    Why? What was it that made the Jedi back away?

    Well, it was nice to know that even credits only went so far. Vellen looked around once more, and gave a slight nod. So, there were some who were still willing to go, after being told where. Good. These he would give his attention to. A few more might still leave, but now he knew where he stood. He preferred a small, mobile group who knew what they were doing, unlike ...

    No. That thought was for later. Once he had what he needed. He uncrossed his arms, and looked at those who remained.

    "Well then. It seems that I have not yet persuaded everyone to leave Just yet. Good. That means I have either the most desperate, the most insane, or the most talented individuals sitting in front of me. I'll hold my opinions as to which group you most likely fit into for now."

    Vellen gave a slight hint of a grin.

    "After the rest leave, I will continue the briefing, and you will be prepped to leave, after any question you may have are answered."

    TAG: s65horsey, DarkLordoftheFins, Pyrophoric, Greyjedi125 and King Grimlock

    OOC: No rush. Just wanted to get you started. :)
    Note - Blue color in the header is for the GM
    Sith-I-5 and greyjedi125 like this.
  11. Pyrophoric Jedi Padawan

    Member Since:
    Sep 17, 2013
    IC: Cel

    Cel Petrichor lowered herself out of a dusty maintenance hatch and landed with a crouch on top of a massive, rust-covered drainage pipe running across a narrow alley. The passageway overlooked a dim plaza where a crowd was gathering in front of a small building. She brushed her medium-length red-blonde hair back and raised her goggles, revealing flashing bronze eyes. Squinting, she leaned over and peered out at the scene below.

    Dozens of feet were shuffling into the concourse, filtering through a small doorway flanked by a stern-looking pair of armed CorSec guards. Around them loomed the neon-lit storefronts, run-down apartments, and imposing support columns that cradled the streets of the entertainment district like a dark duracrete mother nurturing her phosphorescent hellspawn.

    Cel dropped to the cold ground, throwing a tattered brown cloak over herself as she ventured out into the throng. She bumped into a passing Weequay, who whipped his gnarled head around and growled, “Cheespa bo coopa, punchee.”

    “E chu ta,” she snarled back. The alien grunted with a sneer as he turned and kept walking. She pulled the cloak’s hood over her head. Best not to be recognized at this freakshow.

    Cel made her way, carefully, through the crowd. As she ambled onto the balcony under the glares of the guards, she palmed a small electronic card from her pocket and touched it against an access panel, and a thick metal door with half the blue paint chipped off slid upward in front of her. The doorway opened onto a lobby overlooking the semicircular, descending rows of an impressively large theatre.

    She headed toward the back row. Always best to sit at the back. No telling what people behind you are doing if you can’t see ‘em.

    At the end of the row, she sat down and began to survey the crowd. From under the cloak, her gaze flicked from head to head, sizing up the competition.

    If you could call it that.

    Most of them were chumps. Smalltime mercs or undisciplined hired guns, their naiveté indelibly etched onto their wide-eyed faces. If they were handing out cards to this lot, the upworlders must really be desperate.

    The word sizzled with contempt on the tip of her tongue. Upworlders. They only came down here to the depths looking for something. A night at a love motel for half the credits it’d cost up there, perhaps. Or maybe a shrink-wrapped brick of freebase glitterstim. Sometimes, even, for a job that needed doing.

    That, Cel assumed, was why one particular upworlder was here- the tall man in a pressed uniform who was strolled out onto the stage with the confident swagger of someone who'd spent less time on the job actually working than pondering which meaningless, overlong title to accrue next. A pompous bureaucrat like Randar Vellen didn’t descend this far to make small talk with the proletariat. She hadn't met him personally- she didn't really know what he did, in fact, only that he was a high-level commander- but she knew a few other people from the department. They'd helped her out when she'd been busted for possession, and she'd returned the favor when that dianoga squeezed itself into Core Reservoir 327-A.

    Vellen didn't waste any time. He came to a stop at center stage and began to address the crowd.

    “Well, I see our call for recruits did get a response.”


    By the end of Vellen’s speech, Cel’s face was frozen as a torrent of emotion cascaded through her fractured thoughts.

    The Dead Zone… that- that was where Ralon had-

    No. No way was she walking into that demon-haunt, that gaping maw of certain death. The CorSec desk jockey could go suck his own chuff. She wasn't suicidal.

    And yet… she couldn’t pull her friend’s last words out of her mind. Their significance was buried too deep in the swirling mists of her psyche.

    Six fingers.

    Her heart pounded faster, and her hands shook as her grip on the theatre seat’s handrests tightened. She gritted her teeth and her nostrils flared as she exhaled.

    FLACK it. Let them come.

    She would gun down any spectre to find Ralon. Slice through any demon's rank innards to get to the beast that destroyed her childhood. Grinning out from the foul shadows of the dark sector, her destiny was lurking, and to turn from it now was to turn her back on her fate. She didn't have to be a laser-wielding wizard to know that down in her gut.

    As the quivering shapes of the terrified phonies hurried past her up the aisles, she raised her head to glare down at the administrator’s self-satisfied smirk.

    Fine, upworlder. You’ve got yourself a tunnel rat.

    Tag: Everyone
    Last edited by Pyrophoric, Oct 21, 2013
    Sith-I-5 and greyjedi125 like this.
  12. s65horsey Otter-loving Former EUC Mod

    Member Since:
    Jun 24, 2006
    star 7
    IC: Ari

    Sneaking out of the apartments used to pose a problem for the young woman but not anymore. Ari spent a few hours creating a fictitious slicer conference that she was attending for the week. She packed a small bag of clothing, but really her datapad and gadgets were the most important. She slipped some knives into her boots and strapped her blaster on under her jacket. After kissing her mother's cheek and waving goodbye to her father she left the apartment in the upper levels of Coruscant. Her walk changed as she made her way to the lower levels. Ari was young and pretty, a dangerous combination for the lower dregs of the planet. Despite her upbringing Ari had worked hard to fit in down here. The good jobs tended to come from people who only wanted to meet down here. Sure much of the initial wooing came from anonymous messages, though no one was ever anonymous to Ari, but people seemed to think if you looked someone in their eyes then you wouldn't turn against them. Such naive idiots.

    Ari rolled her eyes as her musing took her even further underground. Eventually she reached the meeting site and quietly slipped into a seat after ignoring several rude catcalls and whistles from men who could only wish to be near her. Her attention was on the tall man currently walking across the stage. He ran through some sort of prepared speech that Ari tuned out for the most part. So far this mission seemed like a bust for someone of her talents.

    "But that is secondary. This is the main reason we are sending in a search team into the area."

    Then she heard the beeps. Her interest caused a shift in her body position and she silently cursed herself out. She's been craving a challenge for awhile now and the slight shift in her seat as she heard the electronic beeps gave herself away. Oh well. Ari pulled out her datapad which had been recording everything since she walked into the room and touched her left fingertip to the small needle on the lower left corner. Her DNA unlocked the datapad and allowed her to start typing. She quickly ran the recording through a series of tests that she had at her disposal. She didn't have everything available on her datapad and she'd be able to know more if she was given access to a real computer terminal. Who knew what kind of resources they had, but the tall man did say his experts had analyzed it. Her fingers itched to be able to get a copy of their findings. She was so engrossed in what she was doing that she didn't even realize people were quickly fleeing to the exits of the room. Finally glancing up she noticed the room had almost emptied. In for a credit...

    "Well then. It seems that I have not yet persuaded everyone to leave Just yet. Good. That means I have either the most desperate, the most insane, or the most talented individuals sitting in front of me. I'll hold my opinions as to which group you most likely fit into for now."

    Ari bit her cheek to keep from speaking. She hated pretentious asses and wanted nothing than to hack into this guy's life and change a few things. However, that wouldn't accomplish what she was attempting to do here so it was important to remain silent for now. Depending on how things went she'd save fixing somethings in this guy's life for after the mission. For now, she'd wait.

    Tag: Everyone
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  13. DarkLordoftheFins Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 2, 2007
    star 4
    Eron Zorn
    Uscru Entertainment District - Coruscant

    He allowed half his perception to be distracted by the man in uniform. Half is more than enough, is it?

    The obvious facts were a countdown, a mystery and a problem and the man's need for expandable people to build a search team. That were the facts that seemed obvious. That was the lie. The truth was always deeper, better hidden. The truth also wasn´t that simple usually. But that the man believed he had summoned them because he needed them to do something about what HE thought was a danger . . . was fine for Eron. The force worked like this. It was a chain of wrong assumptions serving it's will, slowly guiding events to the outcome desired.

    He looked around and tried to get an impression of the people around him. A few were strong in the force. No Jedi yet. None he could perceive. Sensing the flows and ebbs of the force was hard on Coruscant though. So many people. Quite a few were here. Most left now. What they left behind was mostly the usual pack of desperate Alphas. Men who assured themselves they were the most dangerous and best all the time to hide their insecuritties, more of themselves than from anybody else. They would be good on the mission. A man fighting for his own ego usually was a man who could not stop. Eron had fought with many such men before.

    More interesting were those who were not here to proof themselves. What had those others brought here? Curiosity. Dedication. Money. Stupidity. Well, last one was probably the reason why he was here. The force had guided him, but it wasn´t as if he had not ignored such guidance before.

    Yeah and how you loved the results, did you?

    Okay, it had never been a good idea. Under his robes his hand felt the cool metal of his weapon and it seemed to cool him down, too.

    Why is the order not here? What do they know?

    Jedi did not give in to fear, but they seemed to afraid to touch this. So that alone was reason enough to be here.

    Folding his arms Eron allowed his eyes to wander over his left companions and then he allowed half his perception to return to the speaker.

    Tag: Ktala, all others

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  14. greyjedi125 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 29, 2002
    star 5
    IC: Withershade

    Uscru District, Unmarked building

    Moving unseen among the throng of pleasure seekers inside the U.E.D was routine, almost an unconscious act. No one was following, so there was no need to engage in disposal. Truth be told, a tail would be somewhat obvious, seeing how the overall focus down here was the acquisition of 'entertainment'. Even so, one had to remain alert at all times.

    Although his scrutinizing gaze was hid under the shadow of his hood, he could see quite clearly. The sentient security detail here wore plain clothes, in order not to discourage patrons. Still, they were easy to recognize, at least to those who knew what to look for. Equally disguised were the electronic devices. Clever and sometimes inventive. Whitershade felt he should smirk, but did not.

    The hood of his dark cloak was up, and he was as always…a shadow, and so he moved on, milling seamlessly through the crowd, until he found the entrance. This he regarded for a moment from a safe distance. No doubt anyone going in would be recorded and scanned. The question was, did he wish to go through the trouble of accessing the place undetected, which could likely label him as an intruder, or simply walk in? It's not like he didn't have an invitation.

    With a subtle motion of his wrist, the card provided dropped into his palm and the darkly cloaked figure proceeded forth. Why waste a photo op. Besides, his 'employers' wished it of him and he had agreed.

    A soft whooshing sound announced his arrival as the door opened, admitting only him. No one outside seemed to notice or care. They were oblivious. Inside, an amphitheater was revealed. Withershade was familiar with the lay-out, as it was almost generic. Smoothly he made his way towards a seat in the back, in order to have a better, more 'panoramic' view of things. As he went however, he discreetly scanned the faces of those already assembled.

    None of those currently present were on his list. At least none yet.

    Satisfied with his strategic location, he sat and did not have to wait long for things to start. Withershade began recording as soon as the man on the stage appeared. A man he recognized by reputation.

    Randar Vellen.

    So, this was a CorSec op after all.

    The dark haired man began to speak, his tone was serious and he was straight to the point. Good.

    "Well, I see our call for 'recruits' did get a response. Good. I will not bother to bore you with pleasantries, but to simply get right down to business. Then you must decide if you shall take the assignment or not."

    The informational holo played on, revealing a great many things. The general information was already known, but most of the details were not. Withershade listened with great interest. He was 'recruited' because he was effective and results were needed. Part of that was the by product of being informed.

    Chemical explosions, toxic neuritic carbide gasses, he could deal with such things. The Dead Sector was a highly classified disaster area, which was like a cancer, with cancerous results, if ignored. However, the persistent rumors of 'hauntings' were...troubling, but not for the usual reasons.This simply meant, at least to him, that there was something going on which could not be explained or defined by those affected by those events.

    Most curious.

    And why would the Jedi 'stay away' from such a place? Most curious indeed.

    The fact there were no squatters or dealers in the area meant whatever spec-ops went in, wouldn't have to worry much about, 'civilian casualties' and could act almost unhindered. Almost.

    Now, the crashed ship. This was clearly the most interesting part of the holo-vid. Whatever was firing back at the rescue team and local authorities could not be determined, but something or someone was in-fact firing back. However, the 'cannibalizing' of the ship appeared quite astonishing, and would leave much to the imagination. However, irrational thought would have you forget of chemical reactions that actually 'dissolved matter' in very similar ways. So much for ghosts?

    The ship going under looked dramatic, but Withershade was not impressed. Gravity is simply doing its work. The strange beeping sound, the 'countdown' had to have a source, undoubtedly. The trick would be tracking it and finding it. There had to be an explanation for what was going on in the Dead Zone, and a concerted effort was being made to find answers.

    …or so it seemed.

    Withershade's hooded head moved ever so slightly as he glanced around the amphitheater. It was nearly empty now. The hooded man sighed and shook his head almost imperceptibly. So much for 'brave souls'….

    From inside his hood, he studied Vellen as the room emptied. After a beat, he glanced to see who was left.

    "Well then. It seems that I have not yet persuaded everyone to leave Just yet. Good. That means I have either the most desperate, the most insane, or the most talented individuals sitting in front of me. I'll hold my opinions as to which group you most likely fit into for now."

    Withershade smiled at this, if only briefly. Perhaps those left were a bit of all the things Vellen had just mentioned, and more.

    "After the rest leave, I will continue the briefing, and you will be prepped to leave, after any question you may have are answered."

    A slow nod was offered by the hooded figure. He had many questions and given the level of risk, it was best to ask them fro the onset.

    As usual, many were called and few had chosen to stay. This was no surprise. Withershade's focused remained on Vellen, for there was still crucial information to be gathered pertaining the mission, information that could mean the difference between success or failure, life or death.

    Within moments, Vellen had the floor once again.

    Tag: Ktala, Everyone
    King Grimlock likes this.
  15. King Grimlock Jedi Padawan

    Member Since:
    Apr 21, 2013
    IC: Grim
    Uscru Entertainment District - Coruscant

    Moving through the U.E.D. to the location given to him, he stopped and looked around examining everyone and everything, to all the bright lights 'different' form of entertainment and only one thought comes to mind 'annoying'....shaking his head he begins to move to his destination, heading for the closet set of shadows.

    Entering the brief, he makes his way to the nearest corner and listens in.

    "But that is secondary. This is the main reason we are sending in a search team into the area."
    Then the beeping begins, a counter? but for what exactly?

    Grim began to smile behind his mask at the possibilities of what it is going on in the Dead Zone

    "Well then. It seems that I have not yet persuaded everyone to leave Just yet. Good. That means I have either the most desperate, the most insane, or the most talented individuals sitting in front of me. I'll hold my opinions as to which group you most likely fit into for now"

    Yea he have to agree he was insane to be doing this.

    Looking around Grim found himself and only a few others still in the room. looking the the few left some looked unsure if they wanted stay or go, but the look and of a few was certain. and he took note of them especially the force user. he didn't like the feeling of force user around, it would only slow down what he needs to do. turning his attention back to the man on the stage

    "After the rest leave, I will continue the briefing, and you will be prepped to leave, after any question you may have are answered."
    Grim let out slight 'sigh' out of annoyance of the idea of waitng, but had no choice. he need as much information as possible in order to compete his objective

    Tag: Ktala, Everyone
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  16. Ktala Chosen One

    Member Since:
    Sep 7, 2002
    star 6
    Randar Vellen, Un-named building,
    Uscru Entertainment District - Coruscant

    Vellen watched, standing quietly by, as most of the assembled beings quickly left. There were a few stragglers, but Vellen didnt concern himself with those. No, he looked into the faces of those who had not immediately made for the door, once the location of the job had been reveled.

    As he scanned over them, he seemed satisfied with what he saw. With a gesture with his right hand, the screens went dark and then the lights came up a bit brighter. Vellen walked to the front of the stage.

    "As I have stated earlier, we are working on a rather short schedule. So we will do our best not waste your time, any longer than necessary. We have a drop ship prepared, to take you to the site, once you have agreed to take on the mission. We cant leave the ship there, as the locals will most definitely attack it. But we will be monitoring the site, so as soon as you regain the surface, you will be picked up almost immediately."

    Vellen began to walk around the stage. But while you are underground, you will be on your own. The 'unique' dynamics of the area, make it impossible to pick up any but the strongest of signals from the area. We were lucky to pick up the ships beacon, but it did not last long. Once it went underground, it was quiet. And the countdown, well we have reason to believe that someone wants us to hear it. Whether that means they are baiting us, or simply wanting us to sweat it out, we are unsure. Again, we can not pinpoint its exact location, because of interference."

    Vellen sighed. "Besides the regular derelicts, you will have to be on guard for a few creatures as well. After the explosion, and gas leaks, the corporations tried to clean up the area. So they sent in a few conduit worms and duracrete slugs in to recover the area. Havent heard or seen them sense. The companies had been tracking them, but lost signals on all of them. So weither that means they are dead, or something else is totally unknown."

    Vellen crossed his arms in front of his body. "So, Do you have any questions for me, before you begin?"

    TAG: s65horsey, DarkLordoftheFins, Pyrophoric, Greyjedi125 and King Grimlock

    OOC: Sorry for the long pause. Hard Drive crashed.
    Also, I have opened up an OOC area in the Resource pages, so that if you wish to plot actions, once the mission starts, you may use that, instead of filling up the game with questions and such.
  17. greyjedi125 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 29, 2002
    star 5
    IC: Withershade
    Uscru Entertainment District, Coruscant-Unmarked Building

    Too many unknowns, too much conjecture and not enough facts..

    Withershade mused silently to himself as he listened to Vellen speak once again of the possible dangers within the Dead Zone. Hostile locals, lack of communications, a rapidly depleting time table…and baiting? Now that was a very curious conclusion which raised a thousand other questions.

    In essence, they were going in blind.

    It wouldn’t be the first time… the contracted facilitator thought to himself, narrowing his unseen eyes. …Nor the last. He added for good measure.

    The 'rescue team' was scheduled to dust-off a.s.a.p. and Withershade knew once they set foot on that transport, the team’s fate would be irrevocably intertwined. He wouldn’t be operating solo this time around.

    “So, Do you have any questions for me, before you begin?” The CorSec official asked of the small group.

    “Many…”He called out almost immediately without raising his hand. His voice was calm and confident, yet laced with a hint of mystery, beside his hooded visage.

    “Withershade here, sir.” The hooded figure said, officially identifying himself to Vellen and the ‘team’…might as well do it now while it was possible.

    “Will you be providing us with ALL the intel regarding the Dead Zone up to this point, will you require periodic status reports from us…and…will there be additional provisions made available to the team before departure…?”

    Withershade wagered he already knew the answers to these questions, however, he had an important reason for asking. Personally, he presumed the individuals that remained for the mission were pretty much self-sufficient and proven survivors, much like himself. Besides, it would be interesting to see what everyone else would say, if anything at all. That in itself would be telling, seeing how he needed to learn as much about his ‘team’ in the shortest period of time for lack a proper briefing.

    Tag:s65horsey,Pyrophoric,DarkLordoftheFins,King Grimlock,Ktala.
    Last edited by greyjedi125, Oct 27, 2013
  18. Ktala Chosen One

    Member Since:
    Sep 7, 2002
    star 6
    Randar Vellen, Un-named building,
    Uscru Entertainment District - Coruscant

    “So, Do you have any questions for me, before you begin?” Vellen asked the group. The response was almost instant. Good. He liked that.

    “Many…” the voice called out. Vellen turned to look at the individual speaking. “Withershade here, sir.” The hooded figure replied. Then the questions came. Nothing unusual.

    “Will you be providing us with ALL the intel regarding the Dead Zone up to this point, will you require periodic status reports from us…and…will there be additional provisions made available to the team before departure…?”

    Vellen looked towards the hooded figure. "Well, Mr. Withershade, in response to your questions, my answers are yes, while you have already received most of the intel regarding the dead zone, what little more we do know of the area, and its rumors, will be provided to you and whoever is going on the mission. Second, no, we will not require periodic status reports, because frankly, we believe that will be impossible once you are below ground. Getting a signal through, is sporadic at best."

    Vellen walked closer to the edge of the stage area. "And since we assume we are hiring professionals, we assume that you already have everything you need to complete your mission. Unless there is something that you feel would be beneficial to the team, then we are willing within reason to provide that item and equipment to the group as well."

    Vellen turns, and walks back to the middle, so that he can see everyone clearly once more. "I hope that answers your questions Mr. Withershade. And I am sure that some of your possible companions have a few more as well?" Vellen turns the statement into a question, as he waits to see if there are any more comments to be put forth, before any final decisions are made.

    TAG: s65horsey, DarkLordoftheFins, Pyrophoric, Greyjedi125 and King Grimlock
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  19. Pyrophoric Jedi Padawan

    Member Since:
    Sep 17, 2013
    IC: Cel

    Come on, girl. Compose yourself.

    The dingy chair creaked as Cel leaned back and put her legs up on the empty seat in front of her. She pulled out a flask and took a swig of cheap domestic tihaar. As she lowered it, swishing the engine-sludge-tasting liquid around her mouth, she looked over the room.

    Most of the chumps had scampered away. Scared little tookas afraid of the big bad dark sector. There were only a handful left.

    One was a little human girl. Young. Blonde. Pretty. But something about her… something was off. Her posture looked… forced. Like she’d been trained to sit up straight all her life and she was hunching just a bit too far here, among the thuggish and destitute.

    Cel watched her scowl as she typed away on that shiny datapad. High-class foreigner new to this dank chunk of metal and unfamiliar with the local petty theft statistics? Upworlder running away from the tedious cradle of a debutante? Rookie government spy relegated to a particularly sithy assignment down here in the dregs of the cosmos?

    Can’t trust her.

    Then there was this older guy. Arms folded, chin raised. A look of placid concentration as his gaze swept across the room. He reeked of confident entitlement like a dianoga reeked of rotting sewage. Unlike the blonde, this one didn’t even try to hide his noble upbringing.

    But that confidence meant something. He may have been an outsider… but he was a dangerous one. He knew what he was doing. And he had dealt with the type of scum that lurked in the darkest corners of the underlevels before.

    At his waist, a dark metal cylinder dangled. A thermal detonator, maybe? That’s a lot of firepower to bring to a business meeting, buddy.

    Can’t trust him, either.

    Across the room, there was a hooded man. She couldn’t quite make out his- wait. When he turned and she glimpsed his face, she knew she’d seen him before. Weather- no, wait- Wither… something? Witherstorm?

    He was a merc, but a cut above the average hired gun. She’d wandered into the aftermath of one of his jobs a couple years back. Never again would she have to wonder what an Ithorian’s ribcage looked like turned inside out.

    But all that stuff he carried. The man lugged around more gear than the crusty junk dealer with a hovercart that trawled level 1284. Cel wondered how long his toys would last when he was wading through the fuel leak pools and proton fog mists of the blackness below. But regardless, he was a sellsword. And when push came to shove, the only thing his type took orders from was a wallet.

    Can’t trust him.

    Finally- for now there were only four others left of the dozens that had filed in ten minutes ago- there was Orange Face over here.

    Who would wear a glowing combat helmet to a briefing? Someone who wanted to keep their identity secret, obviously. Still… blowing your power cells on intimidating the guy in the seat next to you seemed a little wasteful when you could pick up a cheap plasteel face shield at the night market down the street. But Cel was a tunnel orphan, so maybe she was a little more frugal than most. And Orange Face looked pretty loaded. Just like Witherstorm, he was weighed down by more gadgets than Mynockman.

    His mask turned, but slowly, and not very far. Not the most welcoming body language. Either he was disinterested in the grimy details of this little operation, or he wanted his future compatriots to believe he was. The lone wolf type. Unpredictable. No loyalties. Walking Hallowe’en decoration though he was, she’d have to watch out for him, too.

    Great. Four teammates, four wild cards.


    Withersomething was asking their new boss a question. “…Withershade here, sir.”


    So close.

    "...and I am sure that some of your possible companions have a few more as well?"

    Nah. Cel was pretty sure she'd have a better handle on the terrain than the rest of the crew. And the mission seemed straightforward, albeit potentially lethal and more than a little bit terrifying. But that was par for the course.

    The rest, she'd learn along the way, from that greatest of teachers- the darkness of the depths.

    Tag: s65horsey, DarkLordoftheFins, Greyjedi125, King Grimlock, Ktala
    Last edited by Pyrophoric, Oct 29, 2013
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  20. DarkLordoftheFins Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 2, 2007
    star 4
    Eron Zorn
    Uscru Entertainment District - Coruscant

    Eron turned his head slightly, as the man asked his questions. He was all about procedures, but the answers were actually quite revealing. Did htey have to report? No. Did they care? No. Once they were inside of the Dead Zone these guys would not know if the team ever made it past the first blastdoor. And they did not really care. Why?

    Eron considered different answers and then finally realized there was really only one. They had no choice anyway. This group of expandables were their only shot.

    Which brought him to the main question of it all.

    "What happened to the last team you send in? How long did they last?" Eron stood up, allowing his cloak to fall over his lightsaber. He pushed the hood back to reveal his face. He liked men to look into his ees when they were tempted to lie to him. It often brought out the truth. So he stared directly at Vellen and spoke again.

    "You have no idea what kind of expensive, dangerous, threatening or powerful source of this countdown awaits us down there. It is powerful enough to scare the Jedi Order away. It might be dangerous to you and your interests, too. But yet you send men and women like . . . " He made a pause and looked around. The soldiers of fortune and shady characters left over all had courage and little loyalty to the man in the uniform. Much like him. " . . . us." Eron shrugged. "I can think of only one reason for that. You cannot send your own men. Because you already did that and it turned out not so well. So what happened to them? If you use us as your expandable fodder for a desperate measure, we at least should know as much about our imminent fate as possible. That way we might have a chance to avoid it. Right?"

    Eron gave the man a cold smile. He knew the kind of man he was dealing with. A man who needed results. Men like Randar Vellen needed results more than anything.

    "After all this is not a second chance. It might be last one. Depending what is attached to this countdown you talked about we are running out of time rather quickly."

    Tag: Ktala, others
  21. greyjedi125 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 29, 2002
    star 5
    IC: Withershade
    Uscru Entertainment District, Coruscant-Unmarked Building

    Nodding silently at Vellen’s satisfactory answer, it was clear to him that this mission was sorely needing prefix; Suicide. In the end, it was business as usual, at least as far as he was concerned. Before another word could be uttered, another voice spoke up, not too far away either.

    Withershade listened and turned his head slightly to get a glimpse of the speaker. From the look and sound of him, this man was not much unlike himself. The look in his eyes bespoke of a being who had seen far too much in one lifetime, and the grey hairs lining the side of his head were evidence of stress’s hard labour. This, the hooded man gleaned at a glance, but what stood out more than anything else where two things.

    First: The man’s line of reasoning was, again, not unlike Withershade’s. The question he asked was one Withershade had considered, but ultimately decided that the answer was generally unknowable and inconclusive at best, given the circumstances. Dead men told no tales…well, at least not literally. Still, it would be interesting to hear what Vellen had to say on the matter. Any insight on the previous team’s failure could prove…insightful.

    Second: There was a metallic glint that caught Withershade’s ever attentive eye. It only lasted for a split second as the man’s cloak suddenly covered what appeared to be….

    Is that really…

    The hooded man mentally filed his observation. He’d have to confirm what he saw somehow, but if this was true….

    Still listening to the man, Withershade nodded slightly, concurring with the man’s words. After all, knowing what happened to the previous team was part of the intel he sought. Their fate was not in question….just the obscured details.

    The rest of the team remained silent. Just as well.

    As they waited for Vellen to answer and perhaps wrap things up, Withershade typed a quick list of additional items he planned to request. He had no doubt certain items would be denied, but he planned to ask for them just the same. Going into unknown territory with no back-up and with a countdown over their heads called for certain…measures.

    Yes, this was undoubtedly a desperate gambit. No wonder they lined his pockets with such a ridiculous amount of credits. They weren’t expecting him to be able to spend it. Well, he’d just have to prove them wrong.

    Tag:s65horsey,Pyrophoric,DarkLordoftheFins,King Grimlock,Ktala
  22. Rebecca_Daniels Chosen One

    Member Since:
    Sep 3, 2006
    star 5
    [Thanks to lovely GM Ktala for approving and letting me slip in a bit late :) First post is below CS to avoid double-posting]

    Name: Oriya Gotabor ("city engineer" in Mando'a)
    Race: Mandalorian, Mirialan
    Sex: Female
    Age: 23
    Description: Oriya is of average height and very fit from carrying around such loads of armour and weaponry for many years. Like some Mirialans, she has yellow-green skin, blue eyes, and straight auburn hair kept no longer than her earlobes. Additionally, she has a black tattoo on her chin, similar to those her species get, but of a more Mandalorian design. Her facial features are not very prominent or sharp, which doesn't lend to the terrifying Mandalorian mercenary image, though only rarely does anyone see anything but her grey and blue armour.
    Force User: No
    Job/specialty: Mercenary

    Equipment: a full, if slightly battered, set of durasteel Mandalorian armour including a full range of detection, tracking, combat, repair, and analysis programs in the helmet, climate-controlled and filtered bodysuit, short-range jet pack, hydrospanner and a selection of seemingly harmless items that can be built into explosives, cable launcher in right forearm

    Weapons: retractable knives on each forearm, a range of explosives from lock-popping to thermal detonators, a single powerful blaster rifle, two blaster pistols

    Bio: All Mandalorians can fight, but every planet needs mechanics, engineers, builders. That is how the Gotabors ended up on Mandalore so many generations ago. They weren't called that when they arrived, but when they joined with a clan they took Mandalorian names, and so it has been ever since.

    Many, over the generations, were talented engineers; others took the lonely path of the mercenary or sold their skills as mechanics to crews around the galaxy. Oriya's mother was one of the latter, her ability to salvage a ship from almost nothing was near-legendary among the local clans. Oriya had a lot to live up to.

    Too bad her talents were with bombs.

    Bombs and knife-fighting, that is, with some of her mother's knowledge of mechanical systems learned from sitting on broken engines while her mother cursed at the fools who let them fall into such disrepair. It was just the two of them, her father having died when she was too young to remember, but they were very close while it lasted. They lived in a more rural part of Mandalore, eking out a tough existence the traditional way, and Or'ika was often left with neighbours and friends when her mother had a job that took her away; it was never a problem, they were all family anyway.

    That was how she learned about wiring bombs and how to take a knife to a blaster fight, from the knowledge of her townspeople, her clan. She had a knack for both, though she didn't get to use live explosives when she was experimenting, much to Oriya's disappointment. At least the knives were real, though blunted until she earned her place. From the elders she learned about clan and honour and discipline and courage. And at the age of eight her real training began, five years of survival and combat training overseen by her mother until her rite of adulthood, which she passed.

    At that point she was considered an adult, and so began to work with her mother, able to go on jobs and see the galaxy with her, where she caught her first taste of the adventure the galaxy could offer. Adventure and filth. It was exhilarating.

    Her mother gave Oriya her first set of armour, which, while a bit worn, was everything to Oriya, who spent days adjusting it to fit properly and learning to move in it. It wasn't made from the highly expensive beskar, but durasteel was more than enough for her. Best of all was the helmet which added advantages that had Oriya wondering why everyone didn't wear them.

    They still returned to Mandalore regularly, for while they were comfortable on the move, that was where their clan was. During her early teens, she met a young Mandalorian man, just a year older, and they fell in love in the rough and tumble way of their people. At sixteen, like many Mandalorians, Oriya Gotabor and Ciryc Hettir were wed, and the two left their home shortly thereafter to face the trials of the galaxy together.

    Their skills complemented one another perfectly, filling in for the other's weaknesses. They worked with mercenaries and on their own, using her talents with explosives to pop locks and blow open vaults, using his to slice holocam feeds, get their target, and never be seen. They even saved a bunch of people they didn't care about on Nar Shaddaa, where Oriya defused an active bomb that threatened a spaceport - pretty normal for that part of the smuggler's moon. The reward payments were worth it, though.

    They freelanced as mercenaries for some time, enjoying the freedom of space and living contract to contract. Only on occasion did they take bounties, however, as their talents were better used in other ways. One of the few times they did, it nearly ended in disaster as she found herself fighting off pirates looking to break into her target's vault, while Ciryc had to run interference with the guards. They escaped with their lives, which was enough that day; it only took them three more to collect on the bounty.

    Oriya knew that their luck would run out eventually, but most days she felt like they were invincible. At twenty-two, she wasn't ready to have a family, but they had been discussing it, for when they felt it was time to return to Mandalore. But that wasn't going to happen.

    Jedi left Mandalorians alone for the most part, at least those that knew their history; this one was just more determined than most. They were cornered on Coruscant after a botched job, and neither of them with beskar armour - that lightsaber would rip right through durasteel. He tried to get them to surrender peacefully, as if that was an option, but all their training amounted to nothing when a lightsaber burned a hole through her husband's chest. But Ciryc had given her time to escape, and so she did, using every skill she'd ever learned to hide, to survive, and ended up taking refuge with other Mandalorians on Coruscant while a notice that a woman in purple armour was wanted for various homicides.

    And so she waited. Oriya repainted her armour, gray for the loss of her lover, and dyed the fabric pieces blue. No one knew what she really looked like under the armour, and with those changes she was safe again. They managed to recover pieces from Ciryc's body - his weapons as well, as they'd go to waste once Coruscant Security got there - and she took his yellow shoulder pieces for herself, marked with his clan's crest, and his blaster rifle. Now it was time to move.

    Coruscant security had impounded her ship, and while she'd accepted the aid of her fellow Mando'ade, she couldn't ask them for passage off-world. Coruscant was as good as any planet for work, but there was too many Jedi. Too many reminders that she'd fled rather than died beside her husband. Yet she wouldn't run from those memories. No, she'd do what she did best until she could get off this shabla planet.

    And if this one, last, high-paying job didn't end well, she'd get to join Ciryc in the manda.


    IC: Oriya Gotabor

    There were a lot of idioms about having your back to the wall, but in this situation Oriya would make an exception. The room had clear sight lines from this vantage point and with everyone's attention forward (mostly everyone, at least), she was all but invisible, a rarity among her people, who'd rather scare their enemies off by letting their recognisable armour and reputation win battles before they'd even begun.

    Someone could always break through the wall to get to her, but considering the location and the riff-raff's reasons for being there - likely similar to her own - danger aimed at her specifically was unlikely. Even if Coruscant Security knew who stood at the back of the room, the fact that she was going to sign on to their suicide mission would probably get her pardoned. Probably. Not if she survived, though, but she'd cross that bridge when she got to it.

    Most of her fellows left in varying degrees of speed, and she chuckled to herself, silent and sealed behind her grey helmet. The problem with low-lifes was that when it came down to it, most weren't willing to go up against impossible odds for the chance to win; not too long ago she'd have laughed off any offer to join this ill-fated crew but... situations changed. The danger didn't concern her anymore, though she wasn't there to search out death, nor did she necessarily need the credits; this was Coruscant, anyone with a blaster could find mercenary work.

    At least the remaining handful didn't look like they were going to budge. For a moment she entertained the idea of running their holos through the bounty database, but stopped herself; no need for that kind of distraction on a job like this, though it'd be so easy to make it look like an accident. Maybe after, if there was an after. From her vantage point in the shadows she couldn't get a clear view of most of their faces anyway, even with her helmet's enhancements, but she suspected that some hadn't noticed her back here; her armour likely blended in with the wall, and remaining as still as she did during the entire presentation didn't attract anyone vigilant for motion or attack. They'd see soon enough.

    One of them, a male in a hooded garment of some sort, drew her attention when he moved, and she directed her helmet's HUD to zoom in on the unidentifiable cylinder at his waist. Shadows of a shaft of light emerging from Ciryc's back danced in front of her eyes like they were permanently etched on her retinas; a couple blinks cleared them away. Oriya knew there was no way a Jedi would work with the likes of them, it had to be something improvised.

    The others were interesting too; the questions they asked, or didn't ask, said a lot about a person. None of them could be trusted, and it made Oriya wish for a squad of her people. They weren't foolish enough to do this type of job, but they would follow a code of honour, unlike these... people.

    Complaining, even to herself, wouldn't change the situation, so she instead flipped her considerations on their strengths. It wasn't clear what kind of skill sets these people had, but they looked like the sort of people that would be tough to take down. Well, other than the blonde one up front. She had an air of something, maybe arrogance, and Oriya didn't like it; on the other hand, you had to be a real di'kut to take on a job like this without some sort of survival skills.

    The others, especially the other woman, looked like survivors. Tough, hardened, the sort who might make good Mandalorians themselves if they had a code to follow. If they weren't on such a tight deadline Oriya would want to see them in action beforehand, but that would be something she'd have to see on the job. And from what it sounded, they'd hit trouble fast.


    Finally she pushed herself away from the wall and into more light, and put both hands on the back of a seat.

    "No questions from me, aruetii," Oriya said, her Mandalorian accent thick even through the slight distortion of her helmet's speaker. "I thought we were on a deadline." Job like this, she didn't expect much more information than they'd already been given, and questions would just solidify how little CorSec knew.

    TAG: Ktala, s65horsey, DarkLordoftheFins, Pyrophoric, Greyjedi125, King Grimlock
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  23. Ktala Chosen One

    Member Since:
    Sep 7, 2002
    star 6
    Randar Vellen, Un-named building,
    Uscru Entertainment District - Coruscant

    As Withershade nodded, in response to his questions, Arizena, Cella and Grim had decided to stay silent for the moment, each carefully calculating the job, and deciding on their own how best to deal with the information, or the lack thereof. However, another voice soon chimed in.

    "What happened to the last team you send in? How long did they last?" Eron asked as he stood up, pushing the hood back to reveal his face. He stared directly at Vellen and spoke again. "You have no idea what kind of expensive, dangerous, threatening or powerful source of this countdown awaits us down there. It is powerful enough to scare the Jedi Order away. It might be dangerous to you and your interests, too. But yet you send men and women like . . . " He made a pause and looked around giving a slight pause. " . . . us." Eron shrugged. "I can think of only one reason for that. You cannot send your own men. Because you already did that and it turned out not so well. So what happened to them? If you use us as your expandable fodder for a desperate measure, we at least should know as much about our imminent fate as possible. That way we might have a chance to avoid it. Right?" He then smiled. "After all this is not a second chance. It might be last one. Depending what is attached to this countdown you talked about we are running out of time rather quickly."

    Randar Vellen replied with a smile of his own. he nodded, and with a gesture, the lights became a bit brighter within the room. Another gesture, and Vellen was joined by a much younger man, blond hair and tanned. He did not seem to wear a uniform, but there was a emblem on his right shoulder. Most of the people would recognize the symbol to stand for the Intelligence branch. But not that of CorSec. This was more connected with the Chancellor's office. The young man gave one nod towards Vellen, and then looked towards Eron and spoke.

    "To answer your question, we dont know what happened to the other team. None made it back to the surface, and are presumed dead. The last contact we had from them, was from 25 levels down, as they were making their way towards the area of the old Serv-o-droid plant. We received a single signal ping, and that was it. The direct coordinates will be downloaded to your own devices if you wish, along with the last reliable maps we had of the area, before the blast." He paused for a moment, and then continued. " As for the dangers in the area, we are pretty sure there are some rather nasty creatures in the area. A few years back, several of the companies tried to reclaim the area, dropping in some conduit worms, and duracrete slugs. Probably a few other creatures in the area. Of course, the locals tell their own tales of 'ghost' and undead that wander the area. We attribute this, to the possibility of a few feral droids, that have gone rogue, and wander the ruins, but they seem to keep to the vicinty of the blast range, though a few are known to venture out from time to time, killing any sentient that is unlucky to be in the area."

    The young man looked around at the others. "Obviously, no one is claiming this to be easy. Areas could be flooded, pockets of possibly poisonous or explosive gasses, could still linger in the area. I suggested in sending in ... 'your kind', as you put it, because you are more experienced in the unknown. You can deal better with certain contengencies better than some of the rank and file. You have skills that others do not."

    The young man gave a slight smile. "And as far as the Jedi Order is concerned, they have their own reasons for things. The original discovery of the current situation, was made by a single Jedi, who happened into the area for other reasons, and gave us updated information of the area, which we will give to you as well."

    A lone figure who was far in the back, pushed themselves away from the wall and into more light, and put both hands on the back of a seat.

    "No questions from me, aruetii," the Mandalorian stated. "I thought we were on a deadline."

    Vellen looked up at the outspoken Mando. "Indeed, we are. Anything else?"

    TAG: @s65horsey, @DarkLordoftheFins, @Pyrophoric, @greyjedi125, @King Grimlock and @Rebecca_Daniels

    NOTE: To speed this up a bit, you can request items or info in the Resource page OOC link, and I will pass it out there, or through PM's so I can get you guys on your way!! ;)
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  24. DarkLordoftheFins Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 2, 2007
    star 4
    Eron Zorn
    Meeting of the Coruscant Expandables

    It was not the most shocking revelation. They were dead. They were all dead or worse and now . . . they send them. With folded arms Eron leaned against the wall. They were running out of time and everybody else seemed to be too budy meditating about how awesome they were. It was time someone spoke out another essential truth.

    "I think we have little time for any more questions, do we? Get us the maps and the best route to the point of origin of this signal or at least a close as you can bring us and let us go. Things won't get any easier when the time get's shorter."

    Tag: Ktala, others
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  25. Pyrophoric Jedi Padawan

    Member Since:
    Sep 17, 2013
    IC: Cel

    Cel had her fingers interlaced in front of her mouth, eyes flicking back and forth, watching mister thermal detonator and the two government suits having a testosterone contest.


    Thermie brought up some decent points, but there was one thing Cel wasn't so sure about. The Jedi afraid? She hadn't seen a Knight in person since she was a small child, but if the rumors had any truth to them, fear wasn't an emotion to which the laserbeam monks gave much thought. They'd sooner hurl themselves into a nest of spider-roaches in a breeding frenzy than sacrifice an innocent. Little tykes liked to tell you with the twinkle of young awe in their eye that the Jedi were fearless heroes, but Cel found that attribute rather suicidal in its idiocy. Fear was healthy. Fear was necessary. Fear was why she'd made it past pubescence in one piece when most of her street family didn't.

    Either the Jedi Order had nine hells of a serious policy change, or these federal flunkies weren't giving the riff-raff they'd assembled the whole hologram. Her pazaak chips were on the latter.

    Cel quietly got up, threw on her warm tauntaun hide coat, and slinked out the back. She hadn't had a deathstick in ages. Stepping out into the cool, dank air of the street, she shivered and cupped her hands as she held a lighter her mouth, the warm glow of the flame illuminating the contours of her face as a speckle of orange embers flickered to life at end of the stick. She closed her eyes and let her arm drop as she exhaled. Then she turned to watch the auditorium from the door as the boys continued to bicker.


    A trek out into the badlands with this motley crew. This was going to be a doozy of a mission. No doubt the hassle would outweigh the credits. But the possibility of finding Ralon was worth it. Oh, and maybe something like saving the entire planet from utter obliteration via time bomb. That was probably worth it too.

    But hey, no pressure.

    Tag: Everyone
    Last edited by Pyrophoric, Nov 13, 2013
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