Star Wars 5 BBY - The Imperial Fist

Kev-Mas Colcha
Imperial I-class Star Destroyer
Hyperspace

Sadness and Hate

Kev-Mas Colcha, again sat in meditation in his quarters, and indeed, he did feel the sudden stream of emotion from those on the bridge, and he savored it. He basked in the power of those emotions, using them as fuel for his Dark Fury. However, he wondered what indeed was causing those feelings, and he felt the urge to be closer to them.

As such, he waited for a few moments, and then halted his meditation, his crimson hued cybernetic eyes coming to life, the meditation chamber opening. He walked out of the chamber, grabbed his helmet, clamped it back on, grabbed his belongings, and headed out towards the bridge, led there like he was a horse led by a carrot.

While he was in the lift headed towards the bridge, the emotions he felt seemed to die out, but he already knew where he was going. Besides, even if he wasn't going to find out what was going on with the sudden stream of emotions, he was going to find out what was going on with the sudden hyperspace jump, of which they were not informed of where they were going.

Arriving at the bridge, Kev-Mas paused for a moment, looking to see if he could see what was going on visibly. When there was no obvious answer to that question, he simply looked to the crew, and addressed them.

"Excuse me," said Kev-Mas, "I do believe that I was uninformed of our most recent hyperspace jump. Enlighten me if you would, of our current destination, and why exactly I was not notified earlier."

The tone in Kev-Mas' voice was serious, and emphasized self-superiority.

Tag: Crew on the Bridge, Sarge221

 

IC: culain Macshael
Issagra station

Culain closed his eyes momentarily...weighing up the pros and con's of the repairs, he came to a decision and opened his eyes "very well do what you can to repair her, and i will double your rates if we can keep my being here between us two ok?" he finished with a reassuring smile. He could feel time slipping by, he needed to find a way to get back under the radar, to give himself some time to decide on where to go next. friends were in short supply in this part of the galaxy, and the imperials were always hunting for the few remaining jedi left. Maybe if he headed for the outerrim he could find his way to the seperatists, his old master will not have died in vain, Vader, the emperor and their empire would fall....and he would see to it personally.

TAG: Trieste

 

IC: Liesl Bridehead
Issagra Station

"Very well do what you can to repair her, and I will double your rates if we can keep my being here between us two ok?" Culain said with a smile.

Liesl didn't even hesitate. Somebody doubling what she'd said were her rush prices? There was no thought involved in whether to accept an offer like that. And as for a little use of discretion? She had no problem with that--mainly because this entire job needed was going to cruise very gently under the radar.

"You got it," Liesl said, clasping Culain's hand to seal the deal. It was only a brief shake, because after that Liesl didn't dally in leaving the cockpit, but she didn't run. She only started running once she was down the ramp of the ship, her feet flying across the hangar floor. Before she left the hangar she skidded to a halt next to a droid nestled against the wall. She fumbled around in her haste looking for the activator switch for the droid, eventually flipping it.

The droid came to live beeping and burbling.

"Yes, good morning to you too," Liesl said. Morning was a relative term on Issagra Station. It always looked like night out the gaping mouth of the hangar bay to her, but she'd trust the droid and its internal clock on matters of time.

Bewooooop beep blorg.

"I know the shop's technically closed. You're doing this one off the books. Customer request," Liesl replied.

Bleep bloooooop blurrr.

"I'll square it with Scaggs," Liesl insisted, "Don't worry about it. I want you to clean up the outside of that Muurian Transport." Even though there was only one in the hangar, Liesl pointed it out anyways. "Somebody shot it up pretty decently. I don't think that there's any structural damage, but if you find anything pretty bad let me know. I've got to go get a part to fix the engine so you just do that while I'm gone."

Weeoooo beep.

"I know that we have a lot of parts here," Liesl said, "I need to get this one myself."

A low whistle.

"No I haven't checked," Liesl said in exasperation, "Look, this is a rush job so I don't have time to argue with you on this one. Please?"

The droid simply grumbled and moved off to get started on its work. Liesl couldn't agree more and dashed off to go see a parts dealer that she'd done a lot of business with. She just hoped that he was going to have a grav housing for her.

Tag: Morkai, to go have some fun on Issagra Station.

 

Argen Devalie
Issagra Station, Promenade


The further into the station?s depths Argen went the thinner the traffic, and the thicker the atmosphere. There was just something about the ?black market? areas of a world that made the air thick, heavy, and stale. Maybe it was the sweat of countless bodies who had gone unwashed, or maybe the subconscious sense that you were entering areas you shouldn?t, either way to Argen it sort of felt like home.

Having been born and raised on the Smuggler?s Moon Argen was more than familiar with the darker recesses of the Galaxy. Years as a member of a Swoop Gang and running courier for a Hutt let him see things that were darker even than this place. Even though he was now more or less a responsible business man running a simple courier business Argen knew the benefits of the Underworld, as well as how to work in it.

Rett Jennings at the same time apparently knew a thing or two about it too, if the shop was anything to go by. Not too far into the darker areas it blended in quite well with the ?border town? of shops that at least on the outside looked normal, if a bit run down. Entering the shop the concept didn?t change, it looked every much like the average parts and repair shop Argen had been in not four weeks ago on Eshan, if a lot less ?silver oriented?.

Taking a look around the place was practically empty of people, well it was empty of people. The only sounds of life coming from towards the back where the Zabrak spotted the familiar signs of a Swoop and a mechanic at work on it. Giving the swoop a quick once over Argen recognized its make and Model. ?Mobquet Nebulon-S, very nice bike. Got a Flare-S myself, not all too different at least parts wise. Nebulon?s a tad bit slower, but a lot more hardy.?

Tag: Solo

OOC: Was gonna be a joint post, but it turned out it'll be easier to do things separately

 

Corellian Orbit
Shipyards, DP20 Frigate

Surprises tended to be behind every door and corner of the gunship it seemed. At the start, they had run into a droid that was currently deactivated and resting on the floor to be reprogrammed. A proper memory wipe and reprogramming was going to take a while, especially with the security blockers and failsafes that were programmed against such things.

At the cockpit, another problem would soon present itself which could not be easily fixed with a memory wipe. The boarding party massed at the door, ready for action, the door was sliced open, sliding off to the side...

To reveal a human male in the uniform of a CEC technician. Within one hand was not a weapon but rather a datapad that was currently on and lit with glowing text. The other hand was, funnily enough, held up and off to the side where the door lock would be located. He had been about to open the door himself before the team had barged in.

Of course, now those hands immediately shot up in the air once the man spotted the weapons, the datapad slipping from his fingers and clattering to the floor while he cried, "Don't shoot! I'm unarmed!"

TAG: NickLitYouAFlame



Naboo
Theed Spaceport, ICS Impinger

The sleep didn't last long for Lieutenant Arantis. What had to be an hour at most upon drifting to sleep, the officer would awaken to a buzzing, the sound of which coming from his comlink. By the time Arantis managed to fully awaken, the buzzing had ceased but a blinking light told him that he had a message.

Upon viewing it he would find that, as he had instructed, Ensign Senn had contacted him of any news from the fleet.

There was. Though the details were not included in the message, the importance of it could be hinted at nonetheless with what was said. Kol Arantis was to report at the bridge. Immediately.

TAG: BLemelisk

 

Argen Devalie
Jett Renning?s shop
Issagra Station

This Renning fellow didn?t seem at all to shocked by the sudden appearance of a customer while his head was stuck halfway up a swoop. Obviously the guy?d been at this sorta thing a while and was used to it. The grin on his face seemed to speak as much as he commented on hardy winning the races, part of the time.

?Speed doesn?t hurt either, just gotta make sure you don?t end up with some faulty accelerator otherwise you might be spiralling down some back straightway and wishing you?d gone with that last minute maintenance.? Argen knew that from experience, having narrowly avoided becoming a wall decoration during a race on Nar Shadda because someone had sabotaged his acceleration stabilizer.

Jett grabbed a rag and started to whip himself off, a mostly useless jesture as good swoop grease would stick to you till the nerfs came home unless you used a good soup. Then he got down to business, asking Argen what he could do for him, that was good, man was friendly and straight forward.

?Well, I don?t just browse so much as I used to at least.? The pilot kept up the small talk as he talked business. ?I?ve come looking for parts, ship parts to be exact. Need four Ion Afterburners that can fit Arakyd H-L Block ion drives. I?m looking to get a bit more acceleration out of my ship without tacking on some gaudy outriders, need to keep up appearances for my business.?

?Speeds a factor in my job, people pay me to get them, or things to places fast, quicker the better. No to to mention I race from time to time so a good acceleration boost is good. So a few months back a couple of Corellian smugglers directed me your way, said you could get what needs to be got for the right price.? The Zabrak grinned, ?after all, the best things come at the highest price yes??

Tag: Solo

 

Idissan Tzek
Imperial Star Destroyer

His boots made a certain thump that the crew of the Imperial Star Destroyer long ago learned to avoid. His dreaded eyes dug deep into the skulls of the crew making them nervous and anxious when he was around. There was no telling of who he might drag into custody and interrogate next.
The last one was an officer which last heard of, was dumped into space due to lack of loyalty. Rumor goes that he confessed to all sorts of rebel activity, but.. who knew? If an officer could be so abruptly be executed no one was safe.

On his tail was that damned IG-86 which followed him everywhere, silent but even the slightest threat was dealt with extreme violence, in Idissans eyes; everyone was a traitor in some way.

He entered a turbo lift and his droid soon after, Idissan drew his dual blasters and the IG-86 driod a T-21 light repeating blaster, there was no telling what kind of treason that was going on up there on the bridge. Jumping to hyper space without notice? Either command had intervened or the captain had gone rogue. Idissan Tzek always knew there was something strange going on with that man.

The door slid open as they arrived at the bridge and Idissan rolled out of it while his droid scanned for hostile targets. None.
He got on his feet and signaled at the droid to join him, there were no hostiles but there was a certain lack of captain on the bridge. Perhaps he had fled the scene? There were questions to be made and answers to be given, either way blood will be spilled for this ignorance.
And there was an overflow of force users present, this Kev-Mas. This former Jedi who claim to have switched side.. There was only a question of time before the mutant switched back.. And when he did, Idissan would be waiting and rid the galaxy of this abomination once and for all. And to his collection, another light saber. The New Orders work was harsh, but it had to be done or the whole galaxy would be overrun of these so called 'force users'.

And then there was the beautiful Victoria Holt, stunning indeed. But one always had to be monitoring the so called 'blue blooded'. Their loyalty to the Empire was based on their own power trip. Blood meant nothing, the best men in service was the farm boys who joined the CompForce.
His eyes glared at both of them, perhaps they had joined forces and had killed the captain. Blasters still in his hand he quickly took two steps back and aimed at the two characters, his droid doing the same.

"Have you and this abomination seized control over this ship? If you have in the Emperors name and by the grace of The New Order I swear I will put you both out of your traitor misery! Where is the captain?!" he addressed Victoria Holt, actually talking to the force user was below his dignity.

TAG: Jello, Kev-Mas, Sarge and whomever might be present

 

Kev-Mas Colcha
Imperial I-class Star Destroyer
Hyperspace

Domination

Silence. Silence was the response to Kev-Mas' inquisition. Be it from fear of him or simple ignorance the Shadow Guard knew not, but it frayed his nerves none-the-less. He was after all one of the Elite Imperial Shadow Guards, answering only to the Emperor himself. Refusal to answer was a disgrace, it insulted not only Kev-Mas but the Emperor?s will.

And to top it all off, he was interrupted by Idissan, a man Kev-Mas knew from reputation. He was known for his ruthlessness, and his stupidity. Unwavering loyalty was no excuse for foolishness and ignorance, and in the current case arrogance. Countless loyal Imperial personnel had met grizzly deaths due to not meeting the mans ridiculous notions of loyalty. He was as much a threat to the Emperor and Empire as the people he deemed rebels.

To top it off he demanded from Kev-Mas and this Victoria Holt an explanation. Demanded, the arrogance of such a lowly peon to address a servant of the Emperor himself that way went beyond ridiculous, beyond insanity. The man was nothing but a rank, and ego, the only thing he had to back it up was a feeble droid meant to instill fear. Something that fell short of affecting Kev-Mas.

The Shadow Guard did not answer the man's inquiry with words, instead he stared in silence at the man. Crimson hued eyes dressing down the fool and his mechanical puppet from behind a ebony and crimson mask. Turning away without so much as a word he affixed his gaze to Lieutenant Holt, the subtle whine of cybernetic servos locking onto the woman.

"Tell me," he began after a long moment, his voice carrying a heavier tone of authority as to his mind he out-ranked even the Captain of the ship. "Where is your Captain, and why was I not informed of our altered course or our destination. Do not dally, servants of his Royal Highness have no time for petty games."

Tag: Jello, TDO, Sarge, Imperials

 

IC: Kol Arantis
Aboard ICS Impinger, Tarmac, Theed Spaceport, Naboo

Still somewhat in a fog Arantis laid on his back staring at the ceiling of his cabin, his temple throbbing. It was true even an ounce or two of Zairona would leave you remembering it. Throwing an occasional glance over at his bedside table, he kept eyeing the offending comlink resting there. Its blinking light indicated that it contained a voice message. Wiping his hand heavily across his face, he figured the message was probably from Senn, and that the message was probably urgent. Given a few more minutes, the ensign would no doubt be down here rapping on the door.

"No rest at all," Kol said dryly as he sat up and ambled toward the refresher.

Splashing his face off with some icy water and looking at himself in the mirror, he figured it was fortunate he hadn't gotten out of his service uniform before falling asleep, as it was one less thing to do before going on duty again. A quick glance out the door at his desk's holographic chrono display told him that he'd been asleep for less than 45 minutes Coruscant Standard. He let out a frustrated sigh. On cue, his comlink began to beep again. "I'm coming Senn!" he called sarcastically, grabbing the comlink and disappearing down the corridor beyond.

---

The message they had received from the fleet had been an urgent one indeed. A massive Imperial orbital research and production facility had just fallen silent. Copies of surveillance footage downloaded from the station before its going dark had been sent along as well, and they revealed what appeared to be a Miraluka Jedi who was apparently engaging in preemptive sabotage: [b]Miriana Shaul[/b], a veteran of the Clone War.

The orders went on to state how significant elements of the fleet and beyond were being mobilized for the action of recapturing the station and the sensitive TIE design data held inside, and if all else failed, ordered the destruction of the station.

"I thought they got all these frakkers twenty years ago," said Sergeant Frei, the vessel's stormtrooper commander on seeing the images. "Seems like they're just popping up everywhere now, that's two in practically as many days! Hopefully this is their swan song."

Arantis had just kept silent, his thoughts drifting through the durasteel deck plating to the Jedi anti-partisan badge among his career awards. There was something odd about it, and he wasn't proud of having it, yet wasn't ashamed either. The truth was he had never dreamed of receiving one, and the fact he now had one gave him pause. His memories of the Jedi stemmed only from his early childhood, a foggy time from which only hearsay remained. And in these days it was those who spoke the loudest told the story. Those who spoke from the Imperial corner.

"Looks like that business a few days ago was only a warmup," Kol said crossing his arms. "Let's get the ship in orbit Senn, clear it with Control."

"Yes sir."

Arantis turned and walked quickly toward the turbolift again, "I'll be back with a pot of stimcaf."

[hr]

Kol sipped from a steaming mug as the bitter scent of the caf filled his nostrils and his pounding headache left him. At this moment the [i]Impinger[/i] hung motionless in space, inside one of the Naboo system's Lagrange points. Due to the nulled effects of gravity in this particular position, the vessel was able to remain at a steady position with only the minimal use of auxiliary thrusters. The lights on the bridge had been dimmed, and Arantis was able to see clearly the massive nearby dark orb of Ohma-D'un as they turned lazily along with it, in orbit of the planet.

"Sir, we've made contact with the fleet admiral in charge of the operation," called Senn.

"Good, patch them through to main holocomms," he replied as he handed his mug off to an orderly and stood in the address field. "Admiral this is Arantis of the [i]Impinger[/i]. We received your briefing and are prepared to assist however necessary. We are in orbit of Naboo presently and can be on-station at CT-01 rapidly. What are y

 

Marneg Polo
Theed Palace

There are some things you expect to see every day, and some things you expect to see on occasion. There are still other things you expect to see every day when your mind is reeling at a thousand parsecs a second and Fantazi mushrooms are stirring in your gut like a twisted mockery of breakfast. Then there are those things so downright twisted and ****ed up that you half-expect them to not be products of the drugs at all... except they always are.

For me, thousand-eyed monsters in Imperial uniforms fall squarely into the last category. Still, the uniform was a dead give away, and seeing as the Imperials have no great love lost for non-humans, I could conclude that this was, once again, the drugs. Suits are always especially entertaining during a high, since you hate their guts anyway and they turn into something downright offensive as if to accommodate. Would that all of my hallucinations could be so polite.

He started muttering something, each of his hundred mouths taking turns with the individual syllables. "Another bounty hunter I assume?" No ****, you idiot suit. Actually, I'm the thrice-damned exterminator, here to take care of your bug problem. I chuckle a bit when I realize that that isn't very far off the actual mark. "You have come to the right place...unfortunately...and if you would so kindly be patient, we are waiting to see if there are to be anymore arrivals." Oh, fan-bloody-tastic, competition. Because when you're taking contracts from idiots you can't stand to make sure you're legally killing other idiots you can't stand so that you don't end up dead until all the idiots in the universe are dead before that last, grand, drug-addicted idiot bites the dust, what you really want is some competition. You know, to help you keep your edge or some crap.

Count on the suit, though. He directed me to a table with booze - bonafide alcohol, no mistaking it even in the flower bed wormhole it's sitting in. There were a couple of giant lizards - a great big horned one and an oversized Rodian swamp one. They were each sipping from some fairly expensive looking glasses filled with... ale? ALE? I requested rum Forcedammit! Damn that suit, I should have killed him where he stood for that outrage, one less suit, one less idiot I have to kill later, I had my hand on my blaster... but I let it slide. Play by the suit's rules, kill the amphibians, figure out a way to bomb this whole ****ing planet back to the cosmic dust it sprang from.

It'd possibly be easier to bomb the whole ****ing planet back to the cosmic dust it sprang from first. But where was the fun in that?

Instead I ended up tipping my hat to the rat bastard like one of those polite mercenaries they like to keep as pets - the ones that aren't ****ed up mentally and physically and don't just blow their payments on enough dreamdust to put an ordinary man into a coma for weeks.

Take my word for it - you'll probably die, but it'll be a hell of a coma. If you're unlucky, you wake up and you're confronted with the fact that you're totally alone, and your wife is-

Your wife is...

...

Next thing I knew I was drinking an entire bottle of this ale - premium, at least, but where's my damn rum? - in one massive gulp. Brain goes through a bit of a shock as the clarifying distortion of the booze cuts sharply into the Fantazi haze, but the sensation passes. I could probably crush one up and mix it with the next drink, but over the years I've learned that the suits don't take too kindly to your lighting up like an exploding sun in their immediate vicinity. Why? The prospect of the degradation of society a little too raw for the sheltered freaks? A little too real? Maybe they'll get an idea of how real and raw it all is when they're staring down the sight of my blaster barrel stuck right in their mouth, my finger twitching mere millimeters from the trigger.

Oh yeah, that's a nice fantasy. I took the time to savor it, in stark contrast to how I had approached the alcohol. N

 

GM Announcement

Alrighty, after the first week there have been some players that needed to be weeded out so I now have openings in The Imperial Fist. I already have a waiting list written down and I will resume accepting people that have their names down.

Additionally, I will be going away Tuesday night for a five-day trip to Florida. As you may or may not know, Star War's Celebration 5 is taking place in Orlando and I've made arrangements months ago about going there. Not only will it be me, but there are a few others in the forums - a couple of them that are playing right here in this game in fact - that will be going as well.

I will be making sure to make an update for those who need it before I take off. I'm unsure about internet access (maybe one of the others I'm going with will have a laptop that I can use for a quick update ), but more then likely you can probably consider me as being completely absent during the five days in Florida. Fortunately, for most of you, you should be able to continue RPing despite my absence. Imperial Fist was geared towards lesser GM intervention and giving more control and space to the players which is why I think my disappearance shouldn't hinder the game much. If you can, you may continue posting and give me a lot of reading work to do when I get back

 

OOC: I was hoping to have another post in before I left, but my interaction has disappeared so if she returns while I'm gone hopefully she'll see this. I'm also going to Florida for C5. I'll be gone Tuesday til Tuesday, but will jump right back in when I get back. Sirak if you want to respond and move off that's totally fine so you're not stuck without me around.

 

A newbie has arrived on the scene!

Name: Bbaru (formerly Klliv)
Age: 23
Race: Gand
Homeworld: Gand
Personality: Though acquainted with Gand society for only half a decade and Jedi culture for an equally short length of time, Bbaru still has some of the combined humility associated with both. He is certainly not anywhere near as selfless as either other Gand or other Jedi, but as long as he can see a way to help those in need and nearby without any undue risk to himself, he will generally try to do so. He doesn't usually refer to himself as Gand, and may even use pronouns rather than simply "Bbaru" (though this is partially to avoid slipping up and saying "Klliv"), but in spite of his generally casual manner of speech his actions and his general demeanor give off a polite and docile air. That is, unless the Empire is involved. While years of hiding and the remnants of his Jedi training allow him to keep his emotions in check for the most part, Bbaru still finds it difficult to remain calm when dealing with Imperials after witnessing what he did of Operation Knightfall and related tragedies. When merely speaking of the Empire as a third party, however, his anger is generally hidden by forcing even more politeness into his mannerisms and generally into his speech as well, sometimes bordering on the obsequious.
Appearance: At 1.55 meters, Bbaru is moderately above average height for a Gand, and similarly is somewhat less stocky than most. While "lithe by Gand standards" is not exactly notable for most humans, this does set him apart somewhat because he still has the typical spherical Gand head; taller Gand usually tend towards slightly more elongated skulls. Much more significant as compared to other Gand is his rather small compound eyes ("small" again being relative in that they cover approximately 15% of his head from a frontal view as opposed to the usual 45% common for most Gand). Though it is rarely visible under the strange vocoder-like device he wears in order to speak Galstandard Basic, at least his mouth is typical of a lungless Gand: very wide, vaguely resembling a short beak, and with a pair of seemingly vestigial worm-like appendages near the chin. Of course, even this is slightly atypical in that lungless Gand are in the minority, though not very much so. Bbaru often wears dark brown robes, an attire quite common for findsmen; under these he usually has on a similarly thin and light shirt along with loose khaki pants, each facets of human clothing that are decidedly not normal for Gand; however, most Gand don't need the mobility that he feels is necessary in case he must ever run from someone discovering his identity.
Profession: something of a "findsman bodyguard/escort" for hire
Weapon: DH-17 semi-automatic blaster pistol, pretty much always set to stun
Ship: Bbaru flies a MorningStar-B, somewhat outdated by this point but with the best cost-to-effectiveness ratio of any starfighter for his purposes. Having obtained this used craft in mint condition as alternate payment from a previous client (it was worth about 12,000 credits, and the suggested payment had been 10,000), he's modded it only slightly since then. After all, he's not exactly swimming in cash; even a Z-95 Headhunter costs 45K used, and they're similarly dated, while modern fighters tended towards the 150K mark, over ten times the worth of his ship. All Bbaru's really done to the Morningstar, aside from dropping its weight by replacing unnecessary components such as the navsystem with cheaper equivalents, is to upgrade the shielding slightly; the model is already light and agile enough to keep up with other starfighters in space, but its maximum atmospheric velocity is limited due to the friction damage that would be dealt to the ship through its weak shields, so upgrading them as he has allows an atmospheric velocity equaling that of a Headhunter. This ship, now worth maybe 18,000 creds, marks the bulk of Bbaru's physical assets, as other than this he has maybe 35,000 credits

 

OOC: Im soooo sorry. I COMPLETELY Missed your post somehow.

Lana Vangress - Striker
Aboard the Blue Mynok, Merson Orbit

Striker heard the small hiss, that signaled that the connection had been made, and that the person on the other side was on his way. With hat and goggles firmly in place, Striker stood, and maneuvered himself on the other side, so that they could speak in the main room. After a few tentative steps from Oakes she heard him call out.

"Okay, I'm aboard, Captain. My hands are up, and I can't see where you are but I'm betting you can see that the only weapon I have is slung over my shoulder and not that easy to bring up and use. I know this entire situation may seem strange to you, but believe me, I'll make it worth your time," he announced.

Striker saw that Grim was covering the both of them, and with that Striker stepped out from around a corner of items.

"Glad to hear it. As much as I enjoy floating around in an asteroid belt, I do have better things to do." Striker looked the other man up and down.

"Alright. Now that you're here, tell me what you have in mind? I taking the guess that you have something on you're ship you rather not have found with you, since you're willing to space it, and not even collect decent salvage for it. And this ship already has a Captain, so what exactly are you proposing?"

Striker stood calm, eying the man as she waited for a response.





Tag: Liam, GreyJedi

 

Idissan Tzek
Imperial Star Destroyer Redacted

If silence could speak, if emptiness could explode and if worlds could collide at the wink of an eye then that would be exactly what happened between Idissan, defender of the Empire and Kev-Mas loyal servant of the Emperor. A few more moments with the two of them exchanging eye contact and the galaxy would probably have imploded.
Instead the Dark Jedi broke aways and addressed Holt.
Idissan smiled to himself, victory. The emperors wrath truly burned in his eyes and the fuel and power of the new order ran through his veins.

He was close, to close almost.. damn this! His body wanted to burst out into a victorious laughter and split the heads of these feeble souls who did not fully realize the power of the new order.
But his mind.. He twitched with his entire head and regained clarity. He locked his eyes on Victoria Holt who was trembling under the presence of the Dark Jedi, the abomination. She began to explain the situation which forced Idissan Tzek to lower his blasters and finally holster them and seeing that so did his droid.
The news was formidable, a rogue Jedi had been located and it was up to them, him to find her!

Idissan Tzek, hero of the Empire and the definition of loyalty himself found himself in a pretty awkward situation, on the basis of mutiny the abomination was nothing more than a traitor. However with this new information given from such an outstanding citizen of the empire who did not give herself away as a liar, Kev-Mas could no longer fit into that category but fall back on his previous one.

Which outranked Idissan Tzek by far.

However; Idissan Tzek would be damned if his pride would get in the way of following the rules and regulations set up by the New Order to it's fullest. He snorted, took a deep breath and marched up to Kev-Mas, clashed his heels together, straight back, belly in chest out, stare into the empty space and even though every cell in his body repulsed the idea it was protocol, so he saluted the man.

'Sir!'

And to Victoria Holt he simply nodded, more out of respect for her long bloodline than her rank which he in turn outranked by far.
But given the circumstances it seemed like a good idea. Or was it? Perhaps he should withdraw his nod, show her her new place in the new ruling order of the galaxy. Why did his mind fixate so much on the word new? Had he been brainwashed? Perhaps the Dark Jedi wasn't a Dark but simply 'a' Jedi and all of this was tricks and games to fool him!

Damn you damn you! His mind fought back the notions of traitors everywhere and regained clarity once more.

TAG: Jello, Kev-Mas

 

IC: Romeyn Oakes
Blue Mynock

Romeyn lowered his hands to a more comfortable position as he took in the cluttered surroundings of the Blue Mynock. One quick sweep of the room told him a lot about the person who called this craft home and that being was standing right in front of him with hat and goggles and a physique that seemed to deny any obvious reference to gender.

Looks like a man, guess I'll go with that Oakes thought as he listened to Striker speak. "Glad to hear it. As much as I enjoy floating around in an asteroid belt, I do have better things to do." Striker looked the other man up and down.

Romeyn relaxed, but just a bit. Was not sure if this person was alone. Better to be ready in case anything untoward happened. The being spoke again,"Alright. Now that you're here, tell me what you have in mind? I taking the guess that you have something on you're ship you rather not have found with you, since you're willing to space it, and not even collect decent salvage for it. And this ship already has a Captain, so what exactly are you proposing?"

"You guessed right. See, somebody back on Alderaan happened to sabotage my computer. Bad joke or malicious intent, it doesn't matter to me. The point is my ship is beyond my financial means to have her repaired and she's carrying cargo I did not know I possessed until looking over the manifest during the jump to Merson. Three cargo loads of weapons, roughly one small container, highly illegal varieties, you know, the kind an Imperial Customs official might find interesting," Romeyn began.

"Running guns, that ain't my thing. Doesn't mean I'm not capable of using one, however," Oakes paused as he gently tapped the 9118 carbine slung over his shoulder. "But that's for another time. Point is, somebody put them there and I have no use for them. You seem like the kind of person who could use extra fire power. Anybody who pilots a craft like a Skipray Blastboat always has a need for more guns, especially, based on your appearance, a being in your line of work."

"And as for the ship," Romeyn paused, "well, it's got one last good jump of hyperspace left in her but I don't want her drifting anywhere she can be found. My plan is to send her some place obscure and out of the way and come back for her legitimate cargo later. It's the cargo that's important. Not the ship."

Romeyn paused, looked deep into the goggles, couldn't see the eyes beyond in the lighting of the Blue Mynock. Hoped his speech hadn't put his potential rescuer to sleep.

"So that leaves me. What to do about me. I can' be drifting through space for weeks on end. That doesn't help anyone out. And since you were so kind as to stop by and help me out, I want to do you a favor by offering my services. Very accurate with a blaster carbine, less so with a pistol, but smart, capable and dependable. Grew up on a ranch on Roon and I am a whole lot of country but much more. You look like you're going somewhere important. I know stopping by here wasn't part of your plans, but honestly, I could use a little adventure and I'll pay you in credits to board me, if you're willing."

Romeyn paused, studied the being in front of him. Hoped they'd bite.

"So what do you say?"

Tag: Ktala

 

IC: Liesl Bridehead
Issagra Station

Liesl darted in and out of the flow of beings in the halls of Issagra Station. There were enough rough characters here that a diminutive, dirty woman in an equally dirty jumpsuit weaving through the crowd didn?t attract attention, except from some of the wealthier visitors to the station that were aghast that something so oily might actually dirty their clothes.

In what she hoped marked record time, Liesl skidded into the cheesily-named Part & Simple Supply, a name proclaimed by a bright, blinking sign. Nobody ever figured out the grammatical pun that it was lamely attempting, but Issagra Station's part stores usually didn't attract the sharpest vibroknives in the drawer. As Liesl came through the door an electronic tinkle of a bell sounded, alerting the owner to a customer.

?Welcome to Part & Sim?? started the Besalisk proprietor, who went by the name Darius Flintster, before he suddenly boomed out, ?Well if it isn?t my favorite Kowakian grease monkey-lizard!?

Liesl really wished she hadn?t gotten the particular distinction that Darius had laid upon her. Lucky for her, she rarely stuck around one place long enough for a nickname to annoy her too much. ?Darius, I need a Muurian grav housing stat,? Liesl said before she even got to the counter.

?In a hurry today I see?? Darius replied, ?Let me just check and see if I can accommodate you?rush job??

?You have no idea,? Liesl said as she dug around in one of her jumpsuit pockets to find some crystalline vertex with which she could pay.

?Knowing you, probably some high roller who?s making a day trip,? Darius remarked as two of his arms tapped away at a keyboard.

?Sorry, the customer?s paying for discretion,? Liesl smiled as she pulled out some finely cut vertex crystals that aught to be near the price.

?You know what they say?there are three beings who need to know the 100% truth 100% of the time: your lawyer, your accountant, and your mechanic!? Darius said, proceeding to laugh at his own joke.

Liesl kept the grin on her face. Truth was that she only needed to know 100% of the truth with what was wrong with the ship and maybe how it got that way. So, all told, she probably only needed 100% of the truth about 50% of the time when it came to her job and she didn?t mind that that was the way it was.

?Ah, you?re in luck. I?ve got a Murrian compatible grav housing in stock,? Darius said.

?Refurbished?? Liesl inquired, knowing it was an important question to ask, even with a trustworthy guy like Darius.

?No, only new parts for you, my dear,? Darius said as he sent a droid scurrying off to get the part, ?I only sell refurbished parts to hard-up backwater world full of hicks who don?t even know what a broken part looks like.?

?You know I happen to come from a backwater planet full of hicks that don?t know what a broken part looks like,? Liesl said. Prevailing galactic opinions regarding Agamar were not exactly kind?and that was if beings actually knew that Agamar existed. The vast majority didn?t.

?And you would be the delightful exception to the rule,? Darius replied, ?My dear girl, you should be getting your doctorate in quantum engineering with the skills you have. Never before have I heard of a being fixing a KDY sublight drive using parts stripped from a Sienar hyperspace drive.?

?Heard about that one did, you? That was really working on a budget and on the clock,? Liesl said.

A droid puttered out with a shrink-wrapped grav housing. Liesl picked it up and examined it. ?This?ll do,? she replied, ?How much??

?Paying in vertex? It?ll be 45,? Darius said.

Right in line with what she thought. Liesl put her credits on the counter. ?It?s been lovely to chat, but you have no idea how tight my schedule is. You?re the man?err?Besalisk, that is.?

Darius just laughed as Liesl sprinted off. Time was a-wasting.

Tag: No one in particular

OOC: As a note, thus far all credit amounts I?ve been using have been on a 10:1; USD: Impe

 

IC:Grim
Aboard the Blue Mynok

Positioned as he was against the wall, the boarding pilot known as Oakes could not see him at all, while Striker had a clear peripheral view of his position.

Grim listened to the man speak and listened carefully for anything that might give away any foul intent. He did not hear anything of the sort. With the Force, he had not sensed anyone else with Oakes, who was clearly alone. The man had no conventional way of knowing that Striker was not alone. If he'd wanted to hijack the Blue Mynok, he would have tried by now, were he a desperate man, but to the contrary, Oakes sounded quite reasonable, and from his story, was an unwitting victim of someone's treachery.

It dawned on Grim, that if Oakes story was true, then whoever sabotaged his ship and sent it to Merson, might have accomplices who'd most likely be looking for the illegal cargo. If that was the case, they could not tarry here at all. Company, not of their liking, would come calling sooner or later.

Grim believed the words that Oakes had spoken, and was also in agreement with his plan to deal with his ship and cargo. The man might be a farmer from Roon, but he had a sensible head on his shoulders.

Smoothly, Grim signaled Striker and gave a 'thumbs up sign', denoting his approval. And to show his readiness, he raised his hands to a guarded position.

The 'ball' was now in Striker's court. The next move, the next call, was hers. Grim was certain that she'd connected the proverbial 'dots', now that Oakes had revealed his illegally hot cargo. The Ruby Peak was sent to Merson, so that meant that the cargo was meant for Pirates....or, it was possible that it was some sort of Imperial trap. Either way, the longer they stayed here, the more likely something unfortunate was to happen.

That, he could feel clearly.

Tag: Ktala, Liam

 

Lana Vangress - Striker
Aboard the Blue Mynok, Merson Orbit

"Alright. Now that you're here, tell me what you have in mind? I taking the guess that you have something on you're ship you rather not have found with you, since you're willing to space it, and not even collect decent salvage for it. And this ship already has a Captain, so what exactly are you proposing?"

Striker stood calm, eying the man as she waited for a response. She could see Grim in his position.

Romeyn lowered his hands to a more comfortable position. "You guessed right. See, somebody back on Alderaan happened to sabotage my computer. Bad joke or malicious intent, it doesn't matter to me. The point is my ship is beyond my financial means to have her repaired and she's carrying cargo I did not know I possessed until looking over the manifest during the jump to Merson. Three cargo loads of weapons, roughly one small container, highly illegal varieties, you know, the kind an Imperial Customs official might find interesting," Romeyn began.

"Running guns, that ain't my thing. Doesn't mean I'm not capable of using one, however," Oakes gently tapped the 9118 carbine slung over his shoulder. "But that's for another time. Point is, somebody put them there and I have no use for them. You seem like the kind of person who could use extra fire power. Anybody who pilots a craft like a Skipray Blastboat always has a need for more guns, especially, based on your appearance, a being in your line of work."

Striker almost smiled. Almost. Instead, he gave a slight nod. He had no clue what 'his line of work' was..but she understood the comment. Meant he did his job right.

"And as for the ship," Romeyn paused, "well, it's got one last good jump of hyperspace left in her but I don't want her drifting anywhere she can be found. My plan is to send her some place obscure and out of the way and come back for her legitimate cargo later. It's the cargo that's important. Not the ship."

"Makes sense." Striker nodded in agreement.

"So that leaves me. What to do about me. I can' be drifting through space for weeks on end. That doesn't help anyone out. And since you were so kind as to stop by and help me out, I want to do you a favor by offering my services. Very accurate with a blaster carbine, less so with a pistol, but smart, capable and dependable. Grew up on a ranch on Roon and I am a whole lot of country but much more. You look like you're going somewhere important. I know stopping by here wasn't part of your plans, but honestly, I could use a little adventure and I'll pay you in credits to board me, if you're willing."

Ahh. Payment suggested. Really was desperate. "So what do you say?" He asked.
Smoothly, Grim signaled Striker and gave a 'thumbs up sign', denoting his approval. And to show his readiness, he raised his hands to a guarded position.

Striker looked back at the farmer in front of her. "Well..I dont have anything to farm out here, but I can always use an extra hand. You say you want some adventure? Well, heading off right now for a job. Might not be much...might be more than you bargained for. You're welcome to come along. Sorry, I'm outta a main room for you, but I've got bunk space in the back. You welcomed to a bed there. Do want you need to do with your ship quickly. If someone sabotaged your computer, most likely someone else is looking for your cargo, so the longer we sit here, the longer we're target. There were listing on Merson for 'salvage'. So your rig would look quite tasty quite now."

Striker then looked up.

"Go. Set your ships autopilot, and then hurry back. We're not sticking around. Grab what you need...and anything that will identify that ship to you. We'll keep lookout for you, in case someone comes sniffing around."

Striker moved back over towards the doorway. "We're gone in 5. Faster if anyone shows up. Striker then smiled. "Grim. Make sure nothing sneaks up on us." Striker nodded. Daks will have to deal with you later farmer boy. Now, get moving. I'll plot our new coo

 

Bbaru (Issagra Station)

Sometimes it proved more difficult to worm one's way into trouble than out of it. Given that the mafia-like background scene of Issagra Station could often render it trouble personified for the wrong people (Bbaru himself among their number) this was the case for him more frequently than he'd've liked. Now was one such time.

"C'mon, Bbaru," the Gand's comm needled him again with clipped, choppy words. Rodese had always struck him as a particularly ugly language, but perhaps this was psychological, an effect caused by his interactions with dozens of Rodians without finding a single one he'd liked. This Neelo Krash was not an exception. "Just one lil' job, and you know the pay's great."

Bbaru cursed irritably and hit the thrusters, his MorningStar-B corkscrewing away from its original destination as its pilot looped around Issagra Station to find a different docking bay, the voice muttering darkly as he left comm range. While Issagra wasn't exactly overrun with rampant crime, those who ran the black markets did have their dirty claws in every corner of the place and thus had some degree of influence everywhere. Of course the hangars were almost entirely under their control; "smuggling" cargo into the station was not a matter of skill, merely of blatant bribery. Unfortunately, this meant that people whose services were requested would generally have such requests made of them in ways that were difficult to turn down...such as Neelo's current attempt to lock Bbaru out of the station entirely for refusing to escort a spice smuggling run. Again.

Thankfully, Krash was not much of a criminal overlord despite his delusions of grandeur. He was an average lackey in a spice ring far larger than himself, and thus Bbaru knew his personal influence would not extend past Hangar 16. Bbaru would head to 31 now, and, just in case, he'd be doing so in a manner that would make his right to dock much more difficult to refuse.

First impressions were always important. Even the second and third had their uses. And flying in slowly, nose tipped upwards to hide the craft's dorsal cannon, all while speaking in an authoritative yet bored monotone through his vocoder, could give off quite a frightening impression: that of an Imperial officer coming in on a Lambda-class shuttle. He expected that few questions would be asked of him this time. He'd even altered the paint job to emphasize its resemblance to the dreaded shuttle just for moments like these.

As expected, Bbaru was on the ground in Issagra Station less than two minutes later. Which gave him less than seven minutes before Krash's goons were to arrive. This had been one refusal too many for the egotistical Rodian.

((Since you Issagrans are all paired up already, I'll just make an introductory post for now and go solo until someone needs, or at least could use, a third wheel. I can integrate myself into any Issagra-based storyline fairly easily and, in fact, can probably get off-station without much issue as well, tired of dealing with idiots like Neelo.))

 

IC: Romeyn Oakes
Blue Mynock

Striker looked back at the farmer in front of her. "Well..I dont have anything to farm out here, but I can always use an extra hand. You say you want some adventure? Well, heading off right now for a job. Might not be much...might be more than you bargained for. You're welcome to come along. Sorry, I'm outta a main room for you, but I've got bunk space in the back. You welcomed to a bed there. Do want you need to do with your ship quickly. If someone sabotaged your computer, most likely someone else is looking for your cargo, so the longer we sit here, the longer we're target. There were listing on Merson for 'salvage'. So your rig would look quite tasty quite now."

Striker then looked up.

"Go. Set your ships autopilot, and then hurry back. We're not sticking around. Grab what you need...and anything that will identify that ship to you. We'll keep lookout for you, in case someone comes sniffing around."

A smile broke out on the young face of Romeyn Oakes as he nodded and dashed back into his ship to plot the last course into the navicomputer of Ruby Peak. He'd send the transport that had gotten him this far to a quiet spot in the Death Wind Corridor, some tiny place where he had once visited as a teenager. It should be safe there.

Once the course was properly plotted, Romeyn packed what few possessions he had and took one final look at the cramped bridge of the Ruby Peak and whispered, "See you later, old girl."

Stepping back into the Blue Mynock, Romeyn gave a polite nod to the 'Captain' and stowed his stuff in the bunk. He could hear the engines whining up in preparation for flight and the inevitable jump to hyperspace. Once his gear was stowed, he looked out a tiny transparisteel window to see Ruby Peak enter hyperspace.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Romeyn made his way up to the cockpit and said over the shoulder of the Captain, "I appreciate you taking me aboard. Here's some money for your trouble, and if you need anything, you just holler, I'll be in my bunk."

Romeyn turned to leave and then stopped, frowning slightly. "I never did catch your name?"

Tag:Ktala, GreyJedi

 

OOC: Alright, this is pretty much my last update until I return from Florida which I have to take off for in ten minutes. While I'm away, I'm installing Kahn_Iceay as a caretaker to watch over the game while I'm away. Any questions or character sheets you feel like showing, send them to him. Of course, he may not be able to answer all your questions or approve CS's, but he relatively knows what I want when it comes to the game so he can provide advice.

Anyway, with this, see ya all later!

Naboo
Theed Spaceport, ICS Impinger

"Ah, Lieutenant Arantis, our celebrity of the week it seems."

As soon as the holocomms were active, the holoprojector immediately went to work to display the image of the Imperial Admiral that was leading the expedition. "I just reread the report of you seizing the corvette and the fugitives that were aboard, one being a Jedi too if I read it correctly." A brief nod. "Considering that extra little detail I think you'll make a fine addition to the assault. Who knows, you might find yourself bagging another one so soon after your last one. Now..."

The hologram of the admiral vanished, being replaced with an image of a galactic map. Naboo, of course, was highlighted, displaying Arantis's current location. The destination, however, was not another planet but rather a section of empty space. Of course, the facility had been specifically designed and built in order to work in deep space. Unfortunately, while secrecy had also been an important factor in its construction, it hardly seemed to have worked considering the current debacle.

"You're probably going to be lagging behind the rest of the ships but, fortunately, the size and speed of yours may allow it to catch up. Considering your locations, you will have to make a couple series of jumps." As if on cue, a red line, starting from Naboo, stretched forth, making a couple turns before ending at the location of the station. "Hopefully, barring any delays, you will be able to arrive before we mopped up the invading forces so that your trip won't be a total waste. Fleet, out."

TAG: BLemelisk