Game Trials of the Underworld: Crux

[corinthia]

Trials of the Underworld: Crux

Amid a tumultuous and pivotal era for the Sith, much of the known galaxy has been left vulnerable in the wake of the calamitous battles and massacres. Seeing opportunity, the pirates, crime lords, and outlaws of the galaxy have risen to stake their claim in assailable territories and worlds and snatch at any power within their grasp. Free agent mercenaries and pirate fleets are in demand to provide manpower and protection as governments crumble, and gangs and syndicates seep into the cracks left behind. Lawlessness prevails in the upheaval—do you have what it takes to prosper?​

Rules

1. Absolutely no trolling. Trolling will result in automatic removal from the game.
2. No OOC chatter. Please use the game PM for any OOC discussions.
3. No godmoding, metagaming, or autohits.
4. Please always post with the correct header, and always tag everyone in your tagset and the GM at the end of your post.
5. The GM is the ultimate authority—the GM has the final say in everything.
6. Please send all character sheets to me (@corinthia) BEFORE posting in the Resource thread, for approval. Do not post unapproved CSes; they will be removed without warning.

Setting

This story is set 155 years after the Battle of Yavin, during the events of the New Sith Trials, in the Trials continuity. It's absolutely not necessary to be familiar with the events of the Trials timeline. All necessary information will be exposited in GM posts.


A Note on Characters for Crux

Trials of the Underworld: Crux is a game designed for characters who are not Force-users; as such, Force sensitive characters are not allowed and will not be approved for this game. Characters should be involved in the galaxy's criminal underworld in some capacity.


Character Sheet Template

Character Summary:

Name:
Age:
Sex:
Species:
Homeworld:
Occupation:
Height:
Appearance:
Affiliations and Associates:
Weapons:
Equipment:
Languages:
Description of Abilities:
Strengths:
Weaknesses:
Personality:
Biography:

Class:
Reputation:


Levels and Stats in Crux

About Crux's Class, Point, and Reputation System

Trials of the Underworld: Crux does not use a skill point allocation system with points to distribute as many other RP games do; instead, each class gets a specific type of point that can be spent on class-related feats. For example, Bounty Hunters have Mark points, which can be spent on eliminating an elusive quarry, gaining a lead on an extremely lucrative bounty, or other similarly themed feats. Points from all classes can be used to save your character from any life-or-death situation, but otherwise must be spent in ways that correlate with the hallmark traits of your class.

When you choose to spend a point, you must indicate at the top of your post that you are expending a class point. If you are at all unclear on how or when to spend your points, consult with me, the GM. (Tip: Always assume the deck is stacked against you.)

Please note: Once a point is spent, it is spent. You do not gain points back. The goal of this system is to raise the stakes of the game—use your points too quickly and you may find yourself confronted with increasingly more dangerous situations. Be frugal with your points, and you might just save the day.

Classes

Pirate (Wealth): Nothing attracts a Pirate like the promise of riches. As a Pirate, you are shrewd, clever, strategic, and keen; you know how to get what you want, when you want it. You have a vast knowledge of astrogation, are a natural leader, and are quite handy in combat, both close quarters and ship-to-ship.

Pirates receive points for Wealth, which can be spent to shore up credits, goods, or manpower, or spent on succeeding in acts of piracy.

Smuggler (Luck): Charming and roguish, Smugglers are the couriers and pilots-for-hire of the galaxy; want something or someone moved from point A to point B, no questions asked? Hire yourself a Smuggler. Smugglers are well-versed in piloting, aerial battle, navigation, and engineering.

Smugglers receive points for Luck, which can be spent to pull off risky piloting maneuvers, give you a lucky break when your ship malfunctions, or give your turbolasers just the aim they need.

Mercenary (Heat): You’re a warrior-for-hire, and your code of honor, whatever it may be, is cortosis-clad. You do all the dirty work those who don’t want to sully their hands won’t do. Your expertise in weaponry, tactics, armor, and combat is unrivalled, and your skill is unmatched.

Mercenaries receive points for Heat, which can be spent to gain an edge over any opponents in combat, a tactical advantage, or grant access to greater weaponry or firepower.

Bounty Hunter (Mark): Whether you work alone or with companions, the job of a Bounty Hunter is always the same: you are a hired huntsman. Bounty hunters could be considered the soul of the underworld—the dealings of the galaxy’s seedy underbelly seem to revolve around what, and who, bounty hunters are after. Bounty hunters are hardened executioners, skilled hunters, experts in finding and eliminating or capturing the galaxy's most wanted.

Bounty Hunters receive points for Mark, which can be spent to gain a strategic advantage over your current target, complete a job, or give you a lead on a better bounty.

Gangster (Loyalty): As a gangster, the dealings of your gang are yours, too; perhaps your crew deals in illicit substances, money laundering, or organized crime. And because of your loyalty to your crew and their loyalty to you, your strength will always be the sum of the whole.

Gangsters receive points for Loyalty, which can be spent to call in or bolster your gang or crew to get you out of a sticky situation or give you the advantage of wingmen in negotiations or fights.

Assassin (Stealth): Wetwork is your business. You could be a hired hitman, an eagle-eyed sniper, or a sociopathic murderer, but in all ways, your talents are simply murderous. You're skilled in stealth, combat, strategy, and weaponry.

Assassins receive points for Stealth, which can be spent on subterfuge, succeeding on particularly difficult kills, or erasing your tracks.

Urchin (Con): Sticky-fingered, shady, and slippery, you could be any kind of back-alley pickpocket, spice dealer, street rat, con artist, or even a professional thief. You can talk your way out of any thorny situation, slip out of any restraints, or bribe and trick just about anyone. You absolute eel, you.

Urchins receive points for Con, which can be spent on a successful grift, steal, or deal, or on slipping out of any particularly severe situations.

NEW! Technician (Tech): You're the one who's handy with a spanner, a data spike, or know your way around a blueprint. Technicians are the mechanically- and technologically-minded ones; you're adept at slicing into computer systems, cobbling together weapons from miscellany, or servicing even the most bent-out-of-shape hunks-of-junk-that-fly.

Technicians receive points for Tech, which can be spent to succeed in any mechanical or engineering fix-it or build, slice into a mainframe, or grant you access to just the tools you need to get the job done.

Associate (Influence): You don’t get your hands dirty, but regardless, your involvement in the world of crime is clear. Whether you are a politician with underhanded dealings, a wealthy mogul in need of illegal goods or services, a pretty and vivacious socialite in it for the thrills, or the one pulling all the invisible strings, your role as an associate sets you apart from the action, though keeps you as involved as anyone.

Associates receive points for Influence, which can be spent to pull in favors, succeed in difficult negotiations, or change the way events shape up.

Reputation

Reputation is essentially Crux's level system. The number of class points you receive directly correlates with your reputation level. A Reputation 1 character will have 1 class point, so on and so forth. As you level up, your character's notoriety increases; a Reputation 1 character is unknown to the galaxy, meanwhile a Reputation 10 character's name may be synonymous with the likes of Jabba the Hutt.

New characters will begin at Reputation 1, 2, or 3; I will assign your reputation level based on your character sheet submission.

Your class points do not reset when you level up. Leveling up will be based on character performance and milestone achievements.

The maximum Reputation level is 10.

Multiclassing

Multiclassing becomes available at Reputation 3. Multiclassing is limited to two classes maximum. To multiclass at level up, simply choose your second class and start it with only one class point; your original class will not level up. For example, to level up from Reputation 2 to Reputation 3 as a Smuggler multiclassing in Mercenary, your character will have 2 class points in Smuggler, and 1 class point in Mercenary, and will be considered a Reputation 3 character.

Example: A Reputation 6 Bounty Hunter multiclassing in Pirate might have 4 class points in Bounty Hunter, and 2 class points in Pirate.

However, when multiclassing, your character's notoriety level is only as high as your highest class Reputation level. So, in the above example, the Reputation 6 Bounty Hunter multiclassing in Pirate will only have notoriety as high as their 4 in Bounty Hunter. So when you take on a second class, your fame stalls. The more things you do, the less known you will be.

Each time you level up after multiclassing, you must choose which class to put your additional point into.


Character Death

As a game full of non-Force users, our characters are squishier than usual. I will be GMing with that in mind. Characters are liable to die; and when you die, you are dead for good. So spend your points wisely…

This game is now closed to new players.​

 

[corinthia]

IC: Viper
Coruscant, Level 1313, 155 ABY​

Coruscant's underbelly was timeless. Even after centuries, the deep walls still molded, the inhabitants were still acidic and harsh, and crime still ruled the undercity.

It was a haven for the lawless and depraved.

In a musty alleyway, deep in Coruscant's 1313th level, a crooked neon sign reading "GoRDi'S SCRaP" flashed pink and green above the entryway to an unassuming storefront with grungy windows and a rusted door; to the unaware passerby it was a junk shop, full of useless odds and ends and stolen speeder parts. Inside, a few tired-looking beings shopped passively for wares, perusing the open shelves for gaskets, loose bolts, and other miscellany. Their slouched forms were softly illuminated by the scant few overhead lights in the shop, and as they passed from shelf to shelf, they passed also in and out of shadow. Next door, lights and sound pulsed from inside a raucous club, and the bored-looking Nikto bouncer that sat near the door atop a tall stool was cast in both the shop's pinkish glow, and the club's multicolored flashing. It was late at night, though at this depth of the ecumenopolis, time was marked only by chronos—no daylight ever touched the 1313th level. Even at this late hour, passerby trudged through the alleys, feet dragging and heads bowed.

A night like any other, the alleys were filled with quiet city ambiance with the dark overtones of the underworld. It could almost be considered peaceful.

Almost.

A loud CRASH resounded from within the shop, followed by pleading yelps as the shop's proprietor, a fat Rodian called Gordi, was chased out into the alley on his hands and knees, a bruising cut on his head oozing sticky blood. The Nikto bouncer startled, and the patrons in the shop looked on with mild concern through the grimy windows.

"You said by today, Gordi," a feminine voice hissed as Gordi's assailant strode out of the shop after him, snub-nosed blaster rifle trained on the back of Gordi's head. Her black and emerald armor glimmered darkly in the atmospheric lights of Coruscant's underworld.

Terrified, Gordi babbled in Huttese, beginning to crabwalk backwards across the alley. Transients simply stepped around him as the woman closed the distance between she and Gordi, her rifle hissing as its power pack charged up. Green ready lights flashed on the rifle and reflected in the glossy black visor of the woman's helmet. Gordi held up his hands in frightened surrender.

She fired a warning shot into the wall behind Gordi's head, eliciting a shriek from the Rodian. "Have it done by tomorrow, or next time I won't miss."

"Yes, Viper, yes," Gordi sniveled, curled helplessly against the mildewed alley wall, carbon scoring smoking just above his head. Pedestrians had begun to give the duo a wide berth, and the Nikto bouncer was speaking into a commlink on his wrist.

Viper dropped her blaster to her side and pressed the sole of her boot firmly against Gordi's pale grey cheek. A handful of swoop bike gangers raced past as she did so, tossing her black cloak in their wake. Gordi whimpered as Viper bent close. "When I pay for the best blaster tech in the lower levels to have my equipment ready by a certain time, I expect it to be ready, Gordi." Viper lifted her foot from Gordi's face, and his spindly hands immediately flew to cover up the imprint her boot had left.

Without another word, Viper turned on her heel and strode away to where her own swoop was parked at the alley's corner. She shoved her rifle into a leatheris bag slung over the back of the bike, then swung a lanky leg over, settling into the bike's seat and hooking her heels on the footpegs. Revving the engine to life, she tore down the thoroughfare. Behind her, a shaken Gordi crawled back towards his shop, blotting blood off his head with the edge of his sleeve, where his customers had resumed browsing wares as casually as though nothing had happened.

Scenes of Coruscant's seedy underbelly whizzed past as Viper navigated the convoluted network of alleys and streets in the 1313th level. Barfights, muggings, gang stand-offs, and more passed her by—Viper left only a gust of wind in her wake.

After a while, Viper passed into a more industrial sector; she slowed her bike, dodging to avoid lifting droids and ragged aliens pushing pallets of unidentifiable industrial somethings. Soon, she slowed to a stop and dismounted, keeping the repulsorlift activated as she walked her bike down a narrow alley that cut into a large building, just wide enough for her and her swoop side-by-side with only a little wiggle room to turn. At the end of the alley, a singular light flickered above a rusted, discolored wide door. A sign so aged it was illegible hung above it. Viper passed into darkness before coming to the end of the alley—she stopped her bike and stepped forward, reaching into a pouch on her belt for a worn code cylinder that she slotted into a decrepit reader on the left-hand side of the door. The reader gave a sad bleep, and the door slowly slid open with a grisly screech, stopping just short of all the way open. With a sigh, Viper stepped into the doorway, braced her back against the jamb, and gave the door a violent shove with a heavy-booted foot. The door jerked all the way open.

As she stepped through, bringing her swoop with her, automatic lights flicked on at her presence to dimly illuminate a broad hallway with a crude lift at the end of it. Viper parked her swoop bike to one side of the hallway, shutting it all the way down before turning to yank on the door and fiddle with the buttons on the inside to get it to shut. Once it was shut and latched, she lifted a heavy bar from where it was propped against the wall and fitted it into holders fastened on either side of the door, giving the door just a little extra security.

Viper sighed.

This was "home".

Snagging her rifle from her bike's saddle bag as she went, she trudged to the cage lift at the end of the hall, stepped on, and let it whisk her upwards. The noises and jerks the old turbolift made were enough to make any sentient nervous, but Viper couldn't care less. Lights lining the lift's shaft flashed by, casting her in brief gloomy light and shadows. As she rode upwards, she placed her fingerless gloved hands on either side of her helmet, fingers with chipped nail polish gripping, and swiftly pulled her glossy Mandalorian helmet off her head. With a grimace, she shook out her hair—half of it was black as the void, and the other half was a shocking acid green. Viper's vulpine, angular face was pale, and her black-painted lips and heavily outlined deep blue eyes stood out against her fair skin. She ran her tongue over her teeth as she tucked her helmet under her arm, jutting one hip out and leaning against the metal lattice side of the lift.

Her true name was Taia Tenau; she was a Mandalorian excommunicated from the culture and disowned from her clan, on her own with nothing but her beskar armor to protect her. Twenty-five standard years of age, Taia had been on her own for the past thirteen years, making her own way with bounty hunting, mercenary work, and her bread-and-butter assassinations as a sponsored member of the shadowed organization known as the League. Taia looked at her fingers, expression empty. Sometimes she swore it looked like there was blood permanently under her nails.

The lift shuddered to a stop.

She stepped off it and into a short hallway leading through a locked reinforced door and into a spacious room that once served as the "back offices" for whatever likely not very legitimate manufacturing company that used to operate the factory down below. Pushed against one wall was a large bed with a tangle of furs and blankets atop it—in the middle of the room was a war table scattered with various bits and bobs and disks and datapads containing information about bounties and missions, all completed. Against another wall were several large storage cabinets with their doors open wide, revealing hooks for armor and racks of weapons and blasters. Across the room from the end of the hall were three wide windows looking out on the industrial part of this level of Coruscant; the view was crowded with tall buildings and racing speeders and transport craft. On all the walls, memorabilia and trophies from various bounties and hunts were hung—helmets, personal items, the like. She even had a human head encased in a small block of carbonite.

It was a lean lifestyle, the way Taia lived—hand to blaster, hand to mouth. Holed up in one of the deepest layers of Coruscant. Not that Taia particularly minded. She had always been a solitary person, liable to bite at the hands of anyone who dared to get too close. If she desired company, she would go get it. But rarely did she tolerate anyone foisting their presence upon her when it was clearly unwelcome.

Taia crossed the room to where the armoire with armor hooks stood open and empty. With great ceremony, she hung up her helmet. The rest of her armor she left on, save for her fingerless gloves, which she pulled off as she approached her war table, revealing the black ink decorating the visible skin of her hands and wrists; across the knuckles of each hand, the words CLAW and FANG were inked in Mandalorian lettering. On the back of each hand was the head of a snake, jaws wide and eyes intense; they were mirror images, left and right, with twisting bodies coiling up her arms.

She ran her inked fingers through her black and green hair before readjusting her cloak, pulling up a chair to her war table, and booting up a datapad with data on past missions.

She passively scrolled through the data on her datapad; she had reviewed the information hundreds of times, but she always felt there was something more she could learn. Another way she could somehow improve. She'd been slipping up, lately, leaving tracks where she used to leave none; there had to be something somewhere that she could fix.

After a long, silent while, the still air of Taia's apartment was cut with the jarring sound of an incoming heavily encrypted transmission. Pulling a face, she stood, punching the button to receive the call and putting herself in front of the holocommunicator's receptors. She knew who it would be. Slowly, she folded her arms across her armored chest.

Before her, the cyan visage of a grizzled human man named Aguro Bizos materialized—his gnarled face was obscured by the hood of a combat poncho, casting the exposed cybernetics replacing his right eye and much of his jaw in deep blue shadow.

"Viperrr," he rumbled, drawing out her name and sinking his teeth into it. "The League has a job for you."

Taia set her jaw, listening intently. "I'm listening, Bizos."

"The League has been contacted anonymously and been paid a not inconsiderable commission to have our best agent take care of a Grand Moff by the name of Odo Herand, who presides over the Bright Jewel Oversector." Aguro steepled his fingers. "Viper, I am forwarding you an encryption of all known information on the target; see to it that you decipher the information, and do what you do best. What makes you our very best. Our client has asked for your absolute discretion, with no questions asked. Do you understand me?"

Taia inclined her head, her eyes steeled. "Understood."

Aguro lowered his hands and leaned closer, bringing his deformed face into the light. "Good." The single word was ominous, leaving the taste of blood in Taia's mouth as the transmission ended and Aguro Bizos' countenance fizzled out. Seconds later, her datapad chimed—the encryption had arrived. She knew also that within it would be instructions on who to retrieve her payment from on Coruscant. Good; she would need the credits to help pay for the service Gordi was doing on her sniper rifle.

She drew her cloak about herself as she sat back down at her table and set about decrypting the intelligence on her next kill. She had to do better.

- - -

IC: Aguro Bizos
Somewhere on Nar Shaddaa, 155 ABY ​

"Poor Viper," Aguro said as his callused finger landed heavily on the end transmission button. He sat back in his chair, making it lean back almost all the way as he tapped on the datapad in his lap, sending off the encrypted data. The vibrant neon lights of nighttime Nar Shaddaa flashed dizzyingly outside the thin windows throughout the room; the rest of the space was lit only by a few buzzing lights hanging crookedly from the ceiling. Everything was cast in moody purple shadow and smelled faintly of baradium. Folding his hands behind his hooded head, he let out a long sigh. "She is going to be very upset with me when she finds out the League is sending her with a team."

Across the room, Synyc sat with his brown-booted feet kicked up on a blinking console, his shockingly white Rattataki skin nearly glowing like a beacon. He had an impish grin plastered across his face, and a partially disassembled blaster in his lap that he was religiously cleaning with a soft cloth. Craning his head back to look at Aguro, his smile widened before he returned his attention to his task. "She's been slipping up, lately. Hasn't had quite the stellar record she used to have." He wiped his polishing cloth down the barrel of the blaster, then lifted it up, peering down the length of it to check for wayward fingerprints and other filth. “Been dropping breadcrumbs.”

Aguro pensively stared at the ceiling. "You are right, Synyc. Girl is burnt out. Remember, it has been almost ten years since she was admitted to the League—most don't last this long." Aguro made a gravelly sound in the back of his throat. There was something like a thoughtful silence as Aguro considered Viper's League career—it was long, storied, and bloody. Few in the business were as precise as she when it came to execution… in all senses of the word.

Putting pieces of his blaster back into place with satisfying clicks, Synyc took his feet off the console and swiveled to face Aguro, still smiling. "Well then," he said, clicking his tongue. "Shall we give the others a call?"

Rumbling, Aguro sat forward, taking his hands from behind his head and placing them on his knees. "No need," he said, taking the datapad from his lap and setting it aside. "They're already here.”

Reaching forward, he punched a button on a small intercom console atop the table before him. "Come in," he said into the intercom. Aguro sat back again, folding his arms across his chest.

At the far end of the long, dim room, the round door hissed open, twisting like a lens aperture; on the other side of it, three beings stood. One, a black-haired human with wide hazel eyes that stood with his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets; another, a Gurlanin presenting as a Chiss, clad in a long trench coat. The third, a blue-haired woman with gold cybernetic eyes that glowed faintly in the shadows. The hallway outside the doorway was bathed in hot orange and electric red neon lights shot through with flashing blue, and the low noise of a muffled nightclub—or perhaps something more unsavory—could be heard, almost as if the ribbons of sweet-smelling smoke that tumbled into the room from the hallway carried the sound with them. The three turned when the door opened, looking into the room expectantly.

Aguro smiled in the deep shadow of his hood.

"Welcome," he said. "Nakamura, Velkor, Melendres. Please, make yourselves comfortable; we have much to discuss."

As the three took their positions in the room and the door twisted shut and locked behind them, Aguro threw back the hood of his deep blue combat poncho, fully revealing the cybernetics of his face—his right eye, right cheek, and part of his jaw were replaced with a faintly ice blue-glowing orb and plated with chromed metal, all surrounded by twisted scar tissue. Two black brows accented his glowering face, and knurled scars decorated his dark skin and bald head. Across the room, the dark green eyes of Synyc watched the newcomers with interest; he hadn't expected Aguro to call them here, and he certainly hadn't expected one of them to be his own recruit. The woman—Elaine. The other two were new to him; which meant they were also new to the League. When they were settled, Aguro cleared his throat and laced his fingers, setting his elbows on the table before him.

"As you were all aware, I did not give you details on this job when I selected you; I could not risk any sort of trail, encrypted or not, leading from me to you, considering the recentness of your affiliation with the League—distrust of you on our part, mostly, until your worth is proven to us—and the nature of your purposes in this particular mission." Aguro rapped his callused knuckles on the table, calling for the rapt attention of the three before him. "Listen carefully to what I am about to say, as I will only say it once. Grand Moff Odo Herand of the Bright Jewel Oversector is to be assassinated on Coruscant in one standard weeks' time. The League has put our best sniper on the job, our number one sponsored member, the Mandalorian called Viper. But she can no longer work alone, as her solo operations have not been meeting the League's criteria for success. I need you," he jabbed a finger in their direction, "to be her clean-up crew. Make sure she leaves no trace, makes no misstep, misses no shots."

Settling back in his chair and lacing his fingers again, Aguro trained his cybernetic eye on the recruits. "I admit that now is certainly not the best time for an assassination mission given the current political climate and the general uneasiness of the galaxy thanks to the Sith Empire, but… our client was quite specific in their request, and quite generous in their payment. Which, speaking of," Aguro waved a hand towards Synyc. "My associate here, Synyc, has your payment for you."

Caught unawares, Synyc startled from leaning back in his chair, setting aside his freshly-cleaned blaster, and pulled a small, reinforced lockbox out from under the console beside him. Unlocking a complex series of locks with a ring of key cards pulled from his pocket, Synyc opened and turned the lockbox to show the three its contents: six petite iridium bars. Two for each. A precious and valuable silver-hued metal, Aguro and the League had gone through the trouble of procuring these bars for payment instead of a traditional credits transfer; it was worth the effort to the League to ensure the payment was difficult to trace. An iridium bar could be bartered in any shadowport or black market for anywhere between twenty thousand to fifty thousand Galactic Standard Credits, and its origins could easily be erased or muddied enough to be untraceable. The bars glimmered dully, alluringly, in the purple shadow of the room. Synyc shut and locked the case and placed his white hands atop it, drumming his bitten nails.

"When you leave here today, you will take half your payment with you; when you return upon completion of the mission, you will receive the second half. If you fail, then you do not receive the remainder of your payment." Aguro stared hard at the trio. "I advise you not to fail." He pushed away from the table and rose to his full, imposing height. Synyc also stood, slinging his cleaned blaster over one shoulder by its strap, and tucking the lockbox under the other arm. "Do you have any questions before Synyc and I send you on your way?”

TAG: @Kint Dranlor, @Daxo_Grimmus, @Raineyday88 ​

 

[Samwise]

IC: Nakamura ​

Somewhere on Nar Shaddaa, 155 ABY​

Nakamura patiently waited in the most dim lit part of the room. He favored the shadows as he spent his time on Coruscant, his crimes on the surface had forced him into the shadows. But it had become a way of life for him. He stands there, leaning on the wall as he is twirling a credit coin between his fingers. It may have seemed to have been a long time to be waiting within the room for his first real job for the league.


"Come in!"


The only words he hears as he places the credit in his pocket, walking forth to the door that is hissing open. Both hands stuffed into his leather jacket. The room was lit dimly as he looked around curiously. Looking for the shadows to be near comfort. His eyes darting around the room, checking for anything that maybe of a threat to him.


What had caught his attention was when Synyc placed the lockbox on the table. Focusing on the contents of the container when it was opened. The Iridium bars was presented before them all as Nakamura pulls out the credit coin to twirl around his fingers. His previous jobs were all about scaring local syndicates on Coruscant, nothing like the job presented before them now.


Nakamura speaks up once the group is asked if there are any questions.


"So we are working with the Viper to assassinate Grand Moff Odo Herand." A slight pause before his next question. "Last I've heard, the Viper likes to work alone. Does the Viper know that we will be assisting?"


Nakamura began to grin widely with a devilish smile. The thought of an assassination against a Grand Moff started to excite him, the thought of the mission becoming a success began to excite him even more.

Tag: @Kint Dranlor, @Raineyday88, @corinthia ​

 

[corinthia]

IC: Jephego Rose
The Moheji Estate, Rishi, 155 ABY​

Curls of blue and purple smoke wafted through the air, teasing and tantalizing. They caught in the low, honeyed lantern light of the spacious room and danced in the warm air. Faint music vibrated through the walls and floor, like it was being played from under water. Jephego Rose, supine and smoking a thin cigarra, had discarded her iconic aubergine greatcoat some time ago, and her burgundy surplice blouse lay open, showing off the bronzed skin of her chest and the gold necklaces adorning her neck. Her long legs and black-booted feet were kicked up on a low, round table where a luxurious spread of finger food and exotic fruits was laid out amid various spice pipes, boxes of cigarras, and bottles of liquor. She twirled one of her two gold-decorated black braids in the ringed fingers of her right hand.

The hazy atmosphere made for hazy minds, and Jephego's horned head lolled loosely on her shoulder as she sighed. Every gold piercing on her face and ears gleamed warmly in the lantern light. Spice vapor and t'bac smoke burned in her nose and lungs—she hadn't felt this good in a long, long time. Not since before she was frozen in carbonite, almost two centuries prior. It was strange to think about, especially with how clouded her mind was. Nothing would ever be the same. And there was certainly no taking back the recent turn of events Jephego had been put through. She took a drag on her cigarra. Sith. By the Holy Stars, she had fought alongside Sith! The very idea of it seemed preposterous. She laughed out loud, a loud, boisterous laugh, and the pale blue-skinned Twi'lek lounging beside her cast her a long-suffering look.

"What are you laughing at, Rose?" Cash asked, languidly laying their arm along the back of the large, circular sofa the two of them were seated on. With legs crossed and head tipped back, azure lekku wrapped around their shoulders, Cash looked a picture of opulence framed in silk and smoke, draped in vibrant rust and shimmering sienna velvet and gossamer. They lazily blinked their heterochromatic ice blue and brown eyes.

This was Cash Moheji—a gang leader, gambling kingpin, and purveyor of rare antiques and artifacts, they were quite the underworld pillar in this region of the galaxy.

Jephego had only just recently met Cash; after Dathomir and after Jephego had finally been able to put distance between herself and the Sith, she bought a new ship (well, new to her, anyway—truthfully, it was a second-hand transport freighter ironically named the Friendship) with the riches she'd acquired from Dathomir, and soon found herself in a lovely, if a bit sweaty, cantina on the familiar planet of Rishi. She had been happy to discover that Rishi hadn't changed much in two centuries, and was at ease being among pirates and the like once again. She had perhaps partaken in one too many koja-rums while there, and was sitting on top of the bar and loudly regaling the entire cantina with her daring escapades alongside the Sith when a burly yellow Twi'lek tapped her on the shoulder, asked her to come along, then handily tossed her over his shoulder when Jephego refused to do so; and that's how she was taken to meet the remarkable Cash Moheji. Jephego had taken quite the shine to the androgynous Twi'lek—something about them was simply… unflappable. Like a pool of placid water.

"Just thinking." Her accent felt heavy in her mouth. "I have many new opportunities, wouldn't you say?" Jephego grinned and put the cigarra she was smoking between her pearly teeth.

Cash smirked. "You do." They took a long draw of spice, then pointed the slender mouthpiece at Jephego, wisps of vapor escaping from their lips. "I expect you to hold up your end of this bargain, however. What you say about your reputation may be true, but considering everyone who once knew you and could vouch for you likely died over one hundred years ago… I am wary of you. Our shared experiences aside."

Jephego returned the simpering smile, then took a drag on her cigarra, blowing blue smoke in a great cloud. "I'd expect nothing less from one as shrewd as you, my new friend." Jephego's lips twitched. Shared experiences, indeed. Both she and Cash had had too-close calls with the Sith in the past few months, as Jephego had discovered upon being brought back to Cash's den on the other side of Rishi; she with the events on Dathomir, and Cash with their story of how Sith stormed their gambling establishment in Raider's Cove, and took one singular antique from their safe. Jephego abruptly sat forward to pick at the bowl of fruits and berries on the table before her. She popped a small red fruit in her mouth. "I still haven't decided what it is exactly I want from these kriffing Sith, honestly," she said around her mouthful. "If anything. They're so…" She gestured vaguely.

Cash nodded sagely in agreement. "They are certainly different. Strange powers and all that." Cash lifted a blue hand to delicately rub at their throat, gaze distant with a memory.

"Yes," Jephego said pensively, and rested her elbows on her knees. "Strange powers. Never before in my life have I seen the sorts of things the Sith do. And I have seen a lot of bullshit." Jephego jabbed a finger in Cash's direction, then sighed. "I've doubted the existence of the Force my whole life," Jephego murmured, her mood suddenly pulled down, and took one last pull on her quickly dwindling cigarra before stubbing it out in a nearby ash tin. She exhaled smoke. "Ever since I was a little girl on Jedha." She shook her head in disbelief. Her skull pulsed with the distant omen of a raging hangover in the morning, but for now she was content to feel utterly glazed.

Thoughtfully, Jephego laced her fingers and tucked her hands behind her head. A new, more raucous song started up in the bar in another part of Cash's estate, and it shook the floorboards and made the lanterns hanging from the ceiling sway. She let the music rattle her teeth for a long while as she stared at the ceiling and the tapestries draped from it—probably for much longer than she thought (was the ceiling spinning, or was she?)—before turning her head back to Cash and studying their statuesque profile as they puffed on their sweet-smelling spice. It was getting late, and as much as Jephego loved just hanging around, smoking spice and getting drunk with a new friend, she wanted to get back to the Friendship to prepare. Tomorrow, of course. But a night in her own space would be good. The crew Cash was calling in for her would be arriving day after tomorrow, and she wanted to be more than ready to be a captain again.

"Cash," she said, her voice just audible over the din. "You're an absolute peach and I would love to stay, but I'm thinking I'm gonna head back to my ship. Get a little shut-eye in my own blankets." Jephego grinned, flashing the three gold teeth on the left side of her mouth as Cash eyed her sideways. Stretching lazily, flexing her toes in her boots and curling her fingers, Jephego let out a groan before pushing herself up off Cash's giant sofa, stretching again once she was on her feet. All the booze she'd drunk and everything she'd smoked slapped her in the face as she lowered her arms from her big overhead stretch, making her stagger and sway. Why did it always seem like she felt fine until she stood up whenever she drank too much?

"Suit yourself," Cash said with an amused smile. Jephego's gut heaved as she searched around for her purple coat; as she moved, Cash's eyes were on her, bleary but scrutinizing. "You gonna be okay?" Cash asked as Jephego tripped over a cushion on the floor on her way to scoop up her coat from where it was crumpled on the floor.

Jephego righted herself and waved a hand as if to brush away Cash's concern. "I've felt worse." She slung her coat over one shoulder, and fixed Cash with an impish look. "See you tomorrow, eh?"

Giving a little mock salute, Jephego turned and made her way out the door and halfway down the long hallway connecting this back room to the rest of the Moheji estate before sagging drunkenly to one side and leaning against the wall for the second half. She really wasn't quite sure her feet were even on the ground. What in the nine Corellian hells was Cash smoking…? Jephego stopped to double over for a moment before making her way to the front entrance of the estate to pick up her sword and blaster from where they were checked in (no weapons in the Moheji estate—she almost forgot!), then continued on her stumbling way out into the jungled out-of-doors, where Cash's private spaceport was located a decently long walk away.

If the air hadn't been quite so thick with humidity, it would have been a brisk walk; but even in the wee hours of the morning, the air on Rishi was muggy and warm. Jephego carried her coat in one hand, slung over one shoulder, and her weapons belts in her other hand, swinging and dangling as she tromped along, humming loudly. The spaceport was a large, round thing, surrounded on all sides by towering, bioluminescent palms, though once inside it was entirely open to the starry sky above. Jephego dug her pass out of her pocket as she entered into the sprawling port and flashed it to a pink Twi'lek officer as she shouldered right past on wobbly legs. Her ship was docked on the far side of the wide port, obscured by a number of other craft Jephego just didn't care about; she could see the peeling red paint of her ship between landing struts and loading ramps. She dipped and wove between three or four other craft before coming to stand before the galaxy's greatest hunk of junk—Jephego's own second-hand modified Corellian YT-1930 transport freighter, the Friendship.

She had to come up with a better name.

"Home sweet freighter," she muttered, holding her arms wide as she beheld her craft. She certainly could have purchased something far nicer than this old wedge-shaped CEC freighter, but she chose to hang onto her credits for once in her life. Better to be able to pay a crew and carve a name for herself in this new era she had awoken to than spend herself dry and be a nobody. And, it reminded her of her old love… her YT-2400, the Damask Rose. Slapping a hand on the hull of the ship as she disarmed the anti-theft, Jephego clamored up the ramp as soon as it descended, tripping over her own boots. The ramp closed and locked behind her, hydraulics hissing in a quietly familiar way. To be fair to the old freighter, it was well-modified; Jephego had bought it with newly refurbished ventral and dorsal laser turrets, and aftermarket twin ion cannons mounted on the mandible-like nose of the ship, just below the tractor beam projectors. After she purchased it, she'd bought and installed herself a new hyperdrive generator, upgrading it from a sluggish Class 2 to a zippier Class 0.9; it wouldn't do to have a pirate ship that couldn't outrun a pursuit. All in all, it wasn't a bad purchase.

The lights in the ship flicked on automatically as she entered, just a little too bright for Jephego in her muddled state, but she grumbled and stumbled her way to the captain's quarters on the starboard side of the ship, where she fell into bed after kicking off her boots and throwing her coat and weapons belts on the floor. She swaddled herself in a brown cabled blanket and made a nest in the furs and covers piled atop the wide captain's bed, resting her head on an embroidered bolster pillow. Slowly, the room spun around her, but sleep came soon enough.

- - -​

On the day Jephego's crew was set to arrive, the sun shone dully from behind a thick cloud cover, and the Rishi jungle was thick with sweltering air. Cash was set to meet her in the spaceport in less than an hour, when the people they had called in would begin landing. Jephego herself was keeping busy with ship maintenance; she had a toolbelt strapped around her hips, safety goggles over her eyes, and a driver in hand as she knelt on the top port side of the ship, bolting down a piece of paneling that had come loose. She had even booted up the R9-series astromech droid the salesman at the shipyard she'd bought the Friendship from had insisted she have—stupid little silver and green thing—and it was whistling and beeping away at a circuit panel down below, its mini welder extended and zapping at the wires. Her mind was active as her hands worked, running through her plan for what seemed like the zillionth time. Admittedly, she was a little nervous; her previous track record wasn't exactly stellar. Would this crew mutiny, too? She hated the thought of it, and beat it back as soon as it had bubbled to the forefront of her mind. Harrumphing, Jephego doubled down on her task.

Crawling from port to starboard, Jephego checked for any other loose panels and bolts. Not finding any, she stood, holstering the driver on her tool belt, and smacked her hands together to rid them of dust and grime. Satisfied with her work for the time being, she climbed down the ladder leaning against the ship by the starboard docking ring, jumping off the third rung from the ground.

"What's the time, short stack?" she asked, knocking the R9 droid on the top of its metal dome. Apparently, the thing was called R9-T2, or "Tito" as the salesman had said, but Jephego could simply not be bothered. She never did care for droids. R9-T2 tootled a response, to which Jephego pulled a face before unbuckling her toolbelt, pulling off her goggles, dropping both in an open tool bin, and ducking back up the open boarding ramp. As she went, she ran through her mental pre-pre-flight checklist; so far, so good. Everything was in its place. Cargo bays were empty and ready for spoils, engines were tuned up and operational, sensors, hyperdrive, tractor beam, weapons systems, shields, and hydraulics were in as tip-top shape as they could be. Snapping her fingers, Jephego poked her dark-haired head into the cockpit, ensuring nothing had gone wrong in the short time she'd been out of the captain's chair.

Satisfied, she sauntered to her quarters to change; it wouldn't do to meet the crew Cash was bringing for her while wearing a sweaty, engine-greasy shirt. She pulled it off and replaced it with her current favorite burgundy surplice blouse, then buckled on her two belts, fastening her holster around her left thigh and shoving her DL-18 into it and clipping her sheathed vibrosword to her right hip. Around her neck she put just one gold chain, opting for ease of movement over style, today. Last came her purple greatcoat—her absolute favorite garment. It was made of a deep purple gabardine, with ostentatious gold trim and gold buttons, oversized cuffs and lapels, deep, deep pockets, and a fringed gold epaulette on the left shoulder. She slipped it on like a second skin; it hung to her knees, and the sleeves came just halfway down her forearms, leaving plenty of room for the bangles she slipped on next. Flipping her two gold-adorned braids to her front and ruffling her narrow bangs with her fingers, she popped her collar, admiring herself in the captain's quarters mirror. She had to admit—she did cut quite an image when she was all put together.

This was Jephego Rose. Illustrious Zabrak pirate captain, Jephego Rose.

Taking a deep breath, Jephego ran her fingers over each piercing on her face and hands before making her way back outside to the awful humidity of the spaceport. When she reached the foot of the ramp, a sauntering blue Twi'lek on the other side of the port caught her eye—Cash. Cash was clad in gold and red today, and looked utterly dashing draped in an appliqued tunic and cape. With their typical menagerie of rainbow hued Twi'lek bodyguards trailing behind, of course.

"Cash!" Jephego called, waving broadly with an arm.

Cash simply raised a hand in acknowledgment. When they reached where Jephego stood, under the shade made by the Friendship, Cash put a hand on Jephego's shoulder in greeting, and gave a smile. "Good to see you in such high spirits," they said.

Jephego grinned, folding her arms across her chest and tucking her ringed fingers under her armpits. "It's an exciting day, my stern friend. I can't wait to see who you have brought for this venture."

Blinking their blue and brown eyes slowly, Cash simply continued to smile. Jephego studied their face with a twinge of suspicion; it honestly wouldn't surprise her in the least if Cash somehow cheated her. As much as she did like Cash… she was as wary of them as they were of her. Jephego thoughtfully sucked on her tongue stud and found herself a seat atop a crate.

It wasn't long before the air in the port began to beat and move with the approach of a ship; looking up, Jephego watched the silhouette of a shuttle model she was unfamiliar with descend into the spaceport. It was a squareish, ugly-looking thing, with boxy wings that stuck out from the sides and a snubbed snout of a cockpit. It rotated slowly as it engaged for landing, setting down with loud hissing and rumbling. Ah—the first of her crew! Eagerly, Jephego sat forward on her crate, arms still folded. Her amber eyes were bright with anticipation.

As whoever was piloting the shuttle disengaged systems and got ready to disembark, another ship approached. It was another unfamiliar model for Jephego, a pronged transport-type ship that looked to be well-armed. It landed beside the boxy shuttle, then was quickly followed by two other unremarkable shuttles—one would be carrying a crew member from their corvette that was parked in orbit, and the other carrying a crew member from the Rishi orbital station.

Jephego stood as four beings emerged from each of the ships. She counted them as they came forward; four in total. A Morellian, a towering Feeorin, a bearded Devaronian, and the most petite Togruta Jephego had ever seen. She counted again. Four. She swore quietly. Cash had promised five. Jephego whirled towards Cash.

"Cash," she hissed in a low voice, like a warning. "You said five crew members. I only count four."

Cash remained unfazed, merely lifting one shoulder in a noncommittal half-shrug. "The fifth has a prior engagement."

Jephego's upper lip curled, and it was hard to tell if it was a grimace or a smile. Fine. She could pull this trip off with a crew of four; everyone would just have to work a bit harder to make up for the lesser manpower. She'd show Cash this would be no skin off her nose and turn a pretty little profit for the both of them. Taking a deep breath after flashing her eyes at Cash like the glint of a blade, Jephego turned back to her smaller-than-expected crew.

Before Jephego could say anything, Cash stepped forward, holding up a placating hand to quell the interjection that was about to escape Jephego's mouth. "Allow me to do introductions, Rose. These are people I know, or who have been in my network at some point or another, whether they know it or not." Cash simpered.

"May I introduce you to Jax Brt'n; a seasoned Outer Rim smuggler," they indicated the bearded Morellian man. "Jax has done a job or two for me in the past, and has performed admirably."

"Lemmy," Cash gestured towards the hulking blue Feeorin—Jephego thought this one looked vaguely familiar. Though she couldn't place a finger… and surely there wouldn't be anyone she recognized this far in the future. "Lemmy has been around for as long as I can recall; in fact, I am honored he answered my call at all."

Cash indicated the tanned Devaronian next. "This is Devkas Rixian. He's on loan from Crimson Dawn, where I'm told he has a pirate crew of his own."

Lastly, Cash held a hand towards the small, red-skinned Togruta with gold and silver montrals and head tails, and what appeared to be a small furry creature perched on her shoulder. "And finally, Qisohe. She is, from what I hear, a talented technician with a background at Czerka."

By the time Cash had finished individual introductions, Jephego had cracked a wide smile. "Well," she said, putting a foot atop the crate she had been sitting on earlier. "Not too kriffin' bad, Cash. Not too kriffin' bad." She flourished a hand in a miniature bow towards her temporary crew. "Pleasure to meet you all. I'm Jephego Rose, your captain—you can call me Captain Jephego. And this," she pointed to her YT-1930 that loomed overhead, then bit down on her tongue when she realized that Friendship was not the name she wanted to call this ship in front of these recruits. Faltering, her mind panicked as she opened her mouth to speak and said, "Is the… uh, Sugar Baby."

Frink. It really wasn't much better of an alternative. She winced.

She'd once known of a smuggling vessel called the Sugar Baby during her time as a shipyard lackey on Corellia, when she had first left her home on Jedha, but she wasn't quite sure why it was the first name to come to mind… With a mild grimace, Jephego took her foot off the crate, and gestured for her four crewmembers to head up the ramp of the newly-christened Sugar Baby. "Lock down your rides and grab your things. Let's raise this kriffin' ship. Crew cabin is the first door on your right, take whichever bunks you like. It's a day and a half hyperspace crawl to Onderon, so you might as well settle in."

She gave the Devaronian, Devkas, a hearty clap on the shoulder as he and the others tromped up the boarding ramp, then locked eyes with Cash once all were on board. Cash had been waiting oh-so patiently, standing politely off to one side, flanked by their guards. Jephego moseyed over with her hands on her hips, smiling a crafty smile as she looked Cash up and down.

"Cash," she said, drawing out the sibilant sh. "You've been a real help, I'm sure you know. I'll be looking forward to coming back to Rishi with our spoils. Remind me—it was a fifteen percent cut that you'll be taking, correct? As your finder's fee for the crew."

Cash's lips tightened almost imperceptibly. "Thirty percent."

Jephego quirked a brow. "Twenty," she said, and held out a sweaty hand for Cash to shake and seal the deal.

"Twenty-five," Cash replied, flicking their heterochromic eyes to Jephego's hand.

A pause, as Jephego's amber eyes bored into Cash's. Thoughtfully, she stuck her tongue in her cheek. "Deal," Jephego said, and Cash took her hand in theirs, giving a hearty, warm shake.

"Pleasure doing business with you," Cash said, almost sweetly, before releasing Jephego's hand. "I look forward to your return."

"As do I," Jephego chuckled, replacing her hand on her hip and taking steps back towards the Sugar Baby. "As do I."

With one last jaunty wave, Jephego ducked back up the ramp of the freighter, followed closely by the droid R9-T2, smacking the close ramp button on her way. Truthfully, her hearts were racing in her chest; though she wasn't quite sure why she was so apprehensive. Even though she had been suspended in carbonite for 190 years, the time had gone by as if it were a particularly unrestful nap. Jephego herself hadn't particularly changed much—all her skills and all her experiences were as fresh to her as if it had only been yesterday when she was captured by Yana Medine. Setting her jaw, making the linear tattoos on her long face ripple, Jephego steeled herself. To be a pirate was in her soul. She hungered for it; for adventure, for soaring through the stars, for blood, for gold. Resting one hand on the pommel of her vibrosword, Jephego affected a swagger as she strode into the belly of the ship, the bangles on her wrists jangling and the gold of her hoop earrings gleaming sinisterly in the ship's hall lights.

"Everyone," she said as she stopped in the doorway of the crew quarters. Jephego was a tall woman, and her limber frame filled the opening as she leaned a shoulder up against the jamb. "Welcome aboard." She grinned deviantly at the four people Cash had selected for her.

"So, here's the damn deal. We're headed to the Japrael Sector, to Onderon; the Sith Empire recently pulled their support right out from under the Onderonians' noses, leaving lots of supply chains and other kinds of transports high and dry. We're going to hit those. Just one vessel, maybe two. And you moof-milkers will profit." Jephego drummed her fingers against the hilt of her sword. "You'll each get seven percent of the total profits. Good deal?"

Pushing away from the door frame, she pointed a finger at Jax, the smuggler. "You," she said, wagging her finger. "Jax. You seem like you've got piloting on lock. Co-pilot for me. Everyone else… make yourselves at home." Jephego winked before breezing down the hall, making her way to the cockpit and her personal throne—the pilot's seat.

TAG: @Catalyst, @Darth Cruor, @Admiral Volshe, @Revnus ​

 

[Catalyst]

IC Lemmy
The Moheji Estate, Rishi, 155 ABY
​

Lem afforded himself a certain amount of excitement as the Dauntless cleaved through the clouds like a broadsword. He hadn't been part of a team heist in a while and it would do him good to stretch a little. "Play me the message back Turd," he commanded his copilot, the chrome protocol droid 3D-4XR. "Remind me again who it is that called." It had been quite a while since he'd been to Rishi, and it wouldn't do him any favors to start on poor terms with the person that had sent him the invitation.

"Accessing memory banks, sir," Turd groaned before projecting an image of the blue Twi'lek that Lem couldn't honestly tell if it was male or female. Of course, it didn't matter in the slightest to him. It was just a point of curiosity. "Cash Moheji, sir, has sent you an invite to be part of what promises to be an exciting heist, captained by the one and only Jephego Rose."

"Rose," Lemmy repeated, trailing off. It was a name he had heard before, he knew that. In an era long passed, it crept ceaselessly in the back of his memory. This was long before he had Turd to manage his little book of contacts, and he had to do things the old fashioned way. For the life of him, he could not place where he remembered it though. "Yer in charge of the helm, Turd," the Feeorin commanded. "I'm gonna go make myself pretty fer our new friend."

In his personal quarters, Lem rifled through his dresser. The top drawer, he kept exclusively stocked with grenades, of which he pulled out on a belt and laid on his cot. He grabbed a relatively clean tight fitting sleeveless shirt. Age was really getting to him, he could tell that. He could barely fit the thing over his increasing musculature. A hundred years ago he was so much thinner. At least he wouldn't get fat and squishy like the rest of the galaxy.

As the ship landed, Lem left Turd behind to keep watch and make sure the guns were primed if something fishy went down. He strolled down the ramp as it extended and took his place on the platform as the rest of the crew lined up. He elected to leave his cannon behind in favor of his winning personality today. He looked confidently down at the rest of the assembled crew. Yeah I can take 'em. He recognized Cash from the invitation, speaking to an opulently dressed Zabrak whose face looked familiar, but not enough for Lem to say anything. Cash stepped forward, providing a start to the meet and greet.

"May I introduce you to Jax Brt'n; a seasoned Outer Rim smuggler," they indicated the bearded Morellian man. "Jax has done a job or two for me in the past, and has performed admirably. Lemmy," Cash gestured towards the hulking blue Feeorin. "Lemmy has been around for as long as I can recall; in fact, I am honored he answered my call at all." Lem couldn't resist puffing his chest a little at the praise. Cash indicated the tanned Devaronian next. "This is Devkas Rixian. He's on loan from Crimson Dawn, where I'm told he has a pirate crew of his own." Lastly, Cash held a hand towards the small, red-skinned Togruta with gold and silver montrals and head tails, and what appeared to be a small furry creature perched on her shoulder. "And finally, Qisohe. She is, from what I hear, a talented technician with a background at Czerka."

The Zabrak was now smiling like a madwoman. "Well," she said, putting a foot atop the crate she had been sitting on earlier. "Not too kriffin' bad, Cash. Not too kriffin' bad." She flourished a hand in a miniature bow towards her temporary crew. "Pleasure to meet you all. I'm Jephego Rose, your captain—you can call me Captain Jephego. And this," she pointed to a YT-1930 that was nearby, "Is the… uh, Sugar Baby."

Lem stifled a snort at the name. Sugar Baby. Kinda ship that probaby runs on happy thoughts and piss. Lemmy continued laughing to himself as Rose invited them aboard the ship. He wasn't too keen on leaving Dauntless behind especially since he was certain his ship could crush it like a Jogan fruit in a juicer. But it looked fast and nimble, the former his barge boasted, but it couldn't turn on a dime. He tapped his comm as Rose dismissed herself to chat with Cash. "Turd," he said quietly, "change of plans. We're packin' aboard the, ah, Sugar Baby." He couldn't get the name out of his mouth without a less-than-graceful giggle. "Grab my cannon, an' meet me aboard. An' don't ferget to lock up!"

With that taken care of, Lem strode aboard the freighter with the rest of the crew, followed shortly after by 3D-4XR hauling Lem's massive plasma cannon and his vibrosword along with some personal items. Lem picked out a room to call his own in the crew quarters. It wasn't much, but he wasn't unaccustomed to sleeping on someone else's ship. It had been a while though. While Turd finished piling things in the corner, Lem afforded Rose an ear, since she was standing in the entryway of the crew quarters staring them all down like they owed her money. "So, here's the damn deal," she started with a devilish grin. "We're headed to the Japrael Sector, to Onderon; the Sith Empire recently pulled their support right out from under the Onderonians' noses, leaving lots of supply chains and other kinds of transports high and dry. We're going to hit those. Just one vessel, maybe two. And you moof-milkers will profit. You'll each get seven percent of the total profits. Good deal?" Lem was about to protest, but she was already barking orders at the Morellian. "You seem like you've got piloting on lock. Co-pilot for me. Everyone else… make yourselves at home."

She was already walking away when Lem began seething. "Seven percent? What kinda lousy deal is seven percent?" he complained to anyone who would listen. He marched into his quarters and grabbed his vibrosword. Clearly, this was a delicate negotiation that would require subtlety. He strapped the blade to his belt and headed out to the cockpit, finding Rose sitting in the pilots seat. "Let's get one thing straight here," he growled at her from behind. "If I'm leavin' Dauntless back here, I'm gonna need a lot more'n seven lousy percent just to pay my dockin' fees at the end of the day. Cash didn't just call me fer my looks, I know that. Yer lookin' at somethin' that ya can't do alone." He placed a meaty hand on the hilt of his sword. "An' my services'll cost ya at least fifteen percent of the cut."

TAG: @corinthia @Admiral Volshe @Darth Cruor @Revnus ​

 

[Omegon]

IC: Mortus D'non Velkor
Location: Nar Shaddaa

The lights flickered in the hallway, and Velkor stood, silently, staring at the door in front of him. He glanced to the left, and then to the right, eyeing up and down the two other hunters, trying to figure out what he could. Humans, the both of them, a male and a female. He inhaled, tasting the air with his extremely sensitive nose, picking up hormones, pheromones, and particles in the air.

His left eyebrow raised when he did so. The man, on his right, smelled of treachery and a deadly lack of care for human life. Certainly not someone he’d want to let his guard down around, and not someone he’d be likely to trust. In contrast, the female on his left seemed to have a more… Professional scent, and he suspected that while he may get stabbed in the back by the man, he could more safely assume that the woman would stick to the job at hand, although with the same lack of concern for life that the man possessed. Noticing their blades, his eyebrow raised even more. Close ranged weapons, almost exclusively… what kind of job are we getting hired for?

Velkor opened his mouth, about to make a sarcastic remark about the total silence, when the door hissed open, interrupting him and revealing the room beyond. His mouth was left awkwardly open for a half second, before he snapped it shut, slightly miffed. How dare they interrupt him! Couldn’t they tell he had people to pester?

He stepped through the opening, his left hand fingering his flechette launcher beneath his dark concealing coat as he looked about the room to make sure there were no apparent threats. His suspicions were certainly not eased by the utter lack of information about this job, and he didn’t plan on getting murdered by some gang that he had made an enemy of. But, there didn’t seem to be any significant threats, and thus, he took a seat, listening to the instructions given. He nearly choked on air when he heard their target: a grand moff. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted this kind of attention on his name, particularly from the imperials. It was an entirely new level of heat that he had done his best in the past to avoid.

But, then, anything can be done for the right payment, he thought, watching as the iridium was revealed. Nakamura spoke first, and apparently, he had heard of the Viper before. “Well, Nakamura, I certainly hope she knows we’ll be there… Otherwise, I might begin to doubt the communication skills of this… illustrious organization. Maybe they need a few more workers in their HR department.” He flashed a smile, and withdrew his right hand from his coat, spinning his vibroblade on his fingertip.

“In relation to the strike itself, what is our job? Escorts? Are we dealing with security? Does the Viper know the location from which she will take the shot? I’d like to have some kind of entry plan, so that I don’t end the day with my head on a pike outside the Grand Moff’s estate.”

Tags: @Raineyday88 @corinthia @Daxo_Grimmus

 

[Darth Akhlyn]

IC: Devkas
The Moheji Estate, Rishi, 155 ABY​

As his shuttle entered Rishi’s atmosphere, Devkas found himself lost in thought. Higher ups in Crimson Dawn had chosen to send him way out here on this endeavor, but the Devaronian couldn’t quite tell whether or not this was some kinda reward for service or they just wanted to get rid of a lower member in case things went south. “Guess I’ll find out soon enough.” he muttered to himself as his craft landed.


Stepping out, Devkas was immediately hit with the heavy mugginess of the planet, quickly working up a sweat just by walking to the meetup point. ‘The sooner I get outta here, the better.’ He soon reached the others and respectfully nodded at his benefactors before falling into line and awaiting the full gathering. As Captain Rose gave the introductions, Devkas took note of the others. A short Togruta, a Morellian, and one bigass Feeorin comprised the rest of the motley crew. The Feeorin in particular caught Devkas’ eye, the Devaronian pegging him as the most likely problem member and mentally calculating how long before he became a problem. He continued this as he walked up the ramp to board, smiling and nodding at the Captain as she clapped his shoulder on the way up.


Arriving in the crew quarters, Devkas quickly sat down on one of the bottom bunks as the Captain briefed them on the job. He smirked at the prospect of some good old-fashioned piracy being on the menu. ‘At least there’ll be some action on this getaway.’ He nodded as he was told what his cut would be, seven percent was in the usual range he got on Dawn missions. Moments later, the Feeorin started throwing a tantrum about his cut and stormed out of the quarters after the Captain. “Right on schedule.” Devkas muttered as he followed behind. He eventually came up being his crewmate as the Feeorin reached the cockpit, clearly attempting to threaten the boss. Devkas kept quiet and a safe distance for the time being, waiting to see how this whole thing played out.

Tags: @corinthia @Admiral Volshe @Darth Cruor​

 

[Raineyday88]

Elaine was lounging in her dimly lit flat when she received the transmission from The League. Her flat was quaint and minimal, with no personal fixtures. She learned early on in her life that material objects only slowed her down; besides her weapons, the only object she kept on her was a broken pocket watch.

After the message came through, she calmly rose from the plush chair and began to pack up her things. Taking a moment, she looked down at the watch-- it was a simple silver pocket watch with the initial "I.D.B." inscribed on the back. She took it in her hand and felt the smooth metal against her skin, tracing the letters with her finger, bittersweet memories began to replay in her mind as she stared at the watch. Her trance broke with a sound from outside her window and she finished packing and left.

- Later -

She stood in the corridor alongside the others summoned. she took a moment to stretch her neck out, putting one arm on her neck and pulling, releasing the tense muscles. Looks like this will be a team effort... yay, people... she thought to herself sarcastically. Dealing with people was a part of her job, but that did not mean she necessarily enjoyed it. As they stood in the corridor, her cybernetically enhanced eyes scanned the two men standing beside her. They were both quite different from each other; she noticed the blue man surveying both of them and nodded to his look over. The heat signature on the Chiss was inconsistent with the ones she had met in her past. Melendres almost asked him about it but they were called in before she could. She was interested to see these two... men out in the field.

When they were called in the room she stood in the center of the room and listened to Synyc and Aguro as they spoke of the team's task. Her eyes momentarily met her recruiter's eyes as she glanced his way, shooting him a subtle wink then turned back towards Aguro. Synyc's assistance into the League was something she was almost beholden to. She would prove her place within the League and show him he chose well. She was only slightly familiar with the Grand Moff Odo Herand, but a job was a job and Elaine was known for fulfilling her commitments.

As Aguro spoke of the mission Elaine's hands moved, as each word came out of his mouth, a different finger touched her thumb. they moved in sync. typically she would do this while deep in thought, she had caught herself doing it countless times over. she used it as a decompressive tool sometimes. counting up to four and then back down to one. It cleared her mind and allowed her to focus on the task at hand.

Her eyes flashed to the silver bars as he discussed payment, they glistened even in the dark, smoky room.

Her newly acquired team members asked her questions so she stayed quiet and waited for one of The League leaders to respond

 

[corinthia]

IC: Aguro Bizos
Somewhere on Nar Shaddaa

​

Aguro had asked if those assembled had questions; he was pleased when the human one, Nakamura, piped up. Most gigs were of the "no questions asked" variety, but Aguro always did like giving his League members a chance for critical thinking—it gave him one last opportunity to weed out the fools before sending them on their way. And this Nakamura, Aguro could tell, was no fool.

Nakamura asked the first question. "So we are working with the Viper to assassinate Grand Moff Odo Herand. Last I've heard, the Viper likes to work alone. Does the Viper know that we will be assisting?" It was an astute question, one which Aguro inclined his head to.

Velkor had been eyeing Nakamura, and spoke next. "Well, Nakamura, I certainly hope she knows we'll be there… Otherwise, I might begin to doubt the communication skills of this… illustrious organization. Maybe they need a few more workers in their HR department."

Aguro arched an eyebrow. It was a thinly veiled jab at the League; Velkor would need to be monitored. He was no fool, but one that seemed to be too sure of his own smarts.

"In relation to the strike itself, what is our job?" Velkor began. He was spinning a vibroblade on one finger, which Aguro did not like, even despite Velkor's intelligence. Such superficial displays of superiority were meaningless to the League. "Escorts? Are we dealing with security? Does the Viper know the location from which she will take the shot? I'd like to have some kind of entry plan, so that I don't end the day with my head on a pike outside the Grand Moff's estate."

As Velkor prattled on, Aguro held up a callused had to quell him. "Just Viper, Nakamura, Velkor, not the Viper." Aguro chuckled. "You are essentially escorts, yes, but you will also be providing her with the valuable service of second-guessing her every move. As I said, she can no longer work alone and continue to meet our criteria for a job well done." Clasping his hands, Aguro squared his shoulders. "Yes, there will be security—automated systems, mostly, and I doubt you will be getting close enough to have to deal with flesh-and-blood security—and yes, Viper knows where she will be taking her shot from. She isn't our best for no reason. And don't worry—Viper is aware of your arrival. You will meet her on the 1,313th level of Coruscant, in the industrial sector, at her favorite blaster technician's workshop. She has instructions to wait for your arrival there. I doubt you'll get lost, but if you do, Synyc and I are providing you with datacards with information about all the whens and wheres of this mission. It also contains your travel documents. Now," he said, sucking in a breath and smiling. From over Aguro's shoulder, Synyc eyed each of them. "I do think it's time for you all to leave."

He shook their hands and bade them return, and after Synyc had handed each their first iridium bar and datacards with information on the mission and documents for their travel arrangements, they were shown to the door and ushered again out into the noisy, crimson-lit hallway. Behind them, the round door twisted shut with a twinge of finality that each could feel, somehow, in their bones.

Transportation was arranged for them from Nar Shaddaa to Coruscant; from the Red-Light District and the back office where Aguro and Synyc were stationed, they would catch a speeder taxi to the spaceport. From there, they had passage on an unregistered transport—a League-operated smuggling vessel—all the way to the deepest levels of Coruscant, where they would meet the Mandalorian called Viper. It would be an uneventful trip for the trio, quiet and seemingly quick, despite taking up a full day. Soon, they were disembarking from a droid-operated taxi on Level 1313 in front of a decrepit shop under a crooked pink and green neon sign that flashed "GoRDi'S SCRaP", where a thin woman clad head-to-toe in black and emerald Mandalorian armor waited for them with her arms folded, a long black case with a handle leaned up against the window of the shop behind her.

This was Viper.

And as she saw her team step out of the taxi, she picked up her case and approached them in the street. She stopped several feet before them, letting the case swing in her hand as she looked the three of them up and down. All were either barely armed or only armed for close-quarters combat. Useless, she thought. "Bizos has eyes on me, I'm sure, but if a single one of you even so much as puts a toe out of line, I will blast your brains into oblivion. That's a promise." She pointed behind them. "Get back in the taxi; we're going somewhere more secure to go over this whole operation."

They did—Viper clamored into the taxi as well, in the front seat, and gave the droid an address. As it raced through the Coruscant underbelly, Viper swiveled her helmet to stare at the three in the back seat. "Well? Your names?" She asked.

TAG: @Kint Dranlor, @Raineyday88, @Daxo_Grimmus

- - -

IC: Viper
Coruscant, Level 1313
A day before the arrival of her team

​

Team.

The word, written there in glowing cyan, made Taia's eyes fog with anger.

Balling up a tattooed fist, she slammed it down on her war table, causing various objects on it to jump in inanimate surprise. Team. She wasn't going to work with a team—that was a non-negotiable fact. Viper worked alone. Period. But there it was, in the contract she'd agreed to, sight unseen, because she trusted Aguro wouldn't fuck her over. She knew her track record was slipping, just slightly, but that was something she could fix; she was just in a slump. It happened to all the best hunters who've been at it for as long as Taia had.

Furious, she picked up her commlink, and punched in the encrypted code for Aguro Bizos. It buzzed, and he answered after a few short moments.

"Viper," he said, his cool voice crackly through the comm and its layers of encryption. "I would guess you read up on your assignment."

"I won't do it." Taia's voice was curt; she hoped it left no room for argument.

"Oh, you will," Aguro said, sounding amused. "They are already on their way with their arrival slated for tomorrow morning, and I have your agreement to this job recorded; you know the League's rules better than anyone, Viper. Jobs do not go undone."

Taia pinched the bridge of her nose. "You know me, Aguro. I don't work with teams."

"You do now."

With a click, Aguro ended the comm call. Agitated, Taia hurled her commlink against the door to her den with a feral yell. Setting her jaw and gritting her teeth, Taia stood from her table, shutting off her datapad and tossing it carelessly onto her bed on the other side of the room. Aguro was right—she knew the rules. Taia was a sponsored member of the League, meaning she received support and pay from the League, even when she wasn't actively working. She flew League ships and shot League blasters, spent money the League gave her on food to fill her belly. Should she flake on a contracted job she agreed to do, her League support would be revoked, and she would be left with almost nothing. Just the very little she personally owned and a disgraced reputation.

Huffing resentfully, Taia began putting herself together for her mission. At least she still had until the next day; her rifle was still at Gordi's being serviced. With a grumble, she began putting things into a bag for the assassination of Grand Moff Odo Herand. This job would get done, and it'd get done well. Team or not.

 

[Samwise]

IC: Nakamura

In route from Nar Shaddaa to Coruscant Level 1313, 155 ABY​

Nakamura had retrieved the iridium ingot from Synyc. A bit lighter than what he had expected, but a payment to say the least. The transit to Coruscant was not the best, especially having to be smuggled into Coruscant.


Nakamura sat there on the shuttle, a blank stare at the wall, only movement coming from him was his hand. His right hand was always twirling a credit coin between his fingers. A way of soothing himself, to help clear his mind, or at least to try and clear his mind. His mind kept drifting off into deep thoughts as he had the blank stare.


His thoughts had kept running through him like he was getting hit by a speeder. He had not been back to Coruscant in a while, let alone think about going back to his homeworld. Anxiety fills him inside as he wonders if he is still being searched for from the local authorities, if he would be recognized at all. The last thing that he remembers was killing the ones he went to school with. The flashbacks of his memories kept playing back and forth so many times, so explicit with the details.


By the time they had boarded the speeder, no one had recognized him yet. His nerves were beginning to calm down a bit as the speeder continued his path, but it was all arranged from the League. Nakamura begins to drift into his thoughts once more, a blank stare out into the belly of Coruscant. Wondering if the League knew of his history here, if they knew that his history would be a possible risk to the mission.


The speeder stops as he looks over to the shop that Aguro had mentioned the day prior. Then he saw her, Viper, one of the best assassins in the league.


A small whisper comes from underneath his breath as he exits out of the speeder, "The legendary Viper…."


Nakamura was awestruck from the first sight. His coin had fallen from his hand onto the floor, sounding off with a slight clink when it hit the floor. The sound of the coin had made his thought disappear as he looked down, a bit embarrassed that he slipped up the slightest bit. As he reached down to pick the coin up, Viper had told them all to go back onto the speeder to speak in a more secured location. So he followed quietly back into the speeder, this time with the coin dwindling in his fingers in his coat pocket.


The taxi had taken off from where they had arrived. Nakamura was watching the directions this time. Not too familiar with level 1313, but is able to learn quickly as he did live on Coruscant in the past. His face was already a bit clammy with a couple of drops of his own sweat going down. His deep thoughts had made him sweat a bit before they had arrived and he never noticed until now. Wiping away the little bit of sweat from his forehead, Viper turned her face with her helmet and asked, "Well? Your names?"


Nakamura had turned to look at Viper, not expecting to be asked his name. "Ci…….Nakamura is the name." He said, realizing that he almost slipped up with giving his real name.


"I am hoping to grow my reputation to be known as a Namahage." He spoke once more as his eyes drifted back to watching the surroundings of the taxi.

Tags: @corinthia ,@Kint Dranlor ,@Raineyday88

 

[corinthia]

IC: Cash Moheji
The Moheji Estate, Rishi
The day before the arrival of Jephego Rose's crew, 155 ABY
​

In Cash Moheji's private offices, deep within the labyrinthine Moheji Estate on the planet Rishi, Cash sat at an expansive wooden desk, sheathes of real paper and datapads and consoles spread all about before them. This office space was modest, compared to the vibrant opulence of the rest of the estate—so much so that Cash stood out like a sore thumb dressed in silk, surrounded by the simple wooden floor and naked walls. Seated atop a cushioned rolling stool, Cash scooted from one end of the desk to the other, pouring over star charts, probe data, finance reports, historical documents, and shipping manifests. This was much like any regular day for Cash; even when much of the humdrum reading and analysis of reports and the like could be left to any literate goon, Cash preferred to have their own hands on the operations of their empire. It's what made the Moheji Gang and all its dealings so successful, they felt.

Besides—Cash liked to be in the know. To see every figure and list with their own eyes. Leave too much of the thinking to your underlings, and suddenly you may find yourself much less wealthy than you were before, or missing shipments, or getting grifted. They knew a boss or two who'd had lieutenants abscond with startling amounts of credits or goods in the past. Cash was not too keen on allowing the same thing to happen in the Moheji gang.

Today, the day before the small crew they'd called in for this Jephego Rose person would arrive at the Moheji spaceport, they were pouring over star charts and probe readings. The galaxy was a vast and wild place—Cash knew it was home to many, many hiding-places for all kinds of valuables. Pirates hid things in the oddest places, at times. One only had to look. Something Cash had been doing for the past year or so was sending out probes to search for abandoned vessels and warehouses and the like in asteroid fields and various nebulae in hopes of finding lost and forgotten treasure caches. Generally, it hadn't been very successful, except at burning through the gang's budget for the venture. In all of the ten months this operation had been active, Cash had only gotten two blips on their radar—one for an abandoned Clone War-era medical frigate (boring), and the other for a rather disappointing small freighter with only skeletons and a handful of empty tibanna gas canisters on board. Cash was constantly reminding themself of just how big the galaxy was, even though there was no denying just how much of a letdown the whole venture was turning out to be.

Except there was a third blip on the radar, today.

As soon as the console receiving updates from their various probes pinged, Cash dropped the financial report they were pouring over and kicked off the floor, sending their stool rolling over to the flashing panel. There it was: one of the probes was transmitting a location. Cash's finger hovered over the console's screen as the coordinates were received from the probe.

"Seswenna sector," they murmured. More data scrolled across the screen, revealing what the probe had scanned (a large asteroid), what it thought was there (a large warehouse), and, after a moment, its current trajectory.

Cash ran their fingers over the keyboard attached to the console feeding them probe data and typed in commands to have the probe droid close in and scan the contents of the warehouse—this would tell them if this find warranted an extraction. Kicking off again, Cash scooted back to the end of the table with their financial report, waiting patiently as the probe did its work.

But Cash soon found their eyes just slipping off the tedious spreadsheet of profits and losses and slipping back towards the blipping console. This was only the third ping from the probe project in a whole ten standard months. It was… exhilarating, actually. The potential of finding some kind of lost treasure of priceless value—or even better, gads and gads of credits—was undeniably exciting. Cash bit down on their lower lip, and scooched to the middle of the desk, where a circular star chart projector sat. Switching it on, they entered in the coordinates for the Seswenna sector. The celestial blue map above their head swirled and zoomed, bringing into focus just the Seswenna sector and its diamond-shaped border. The map showed all the astronomical objects within the sector: systems and their planets such as Eriadu, Uvena, Spuma, Seswenna itself, Agomar, and more; the intersecting hyperspace routes of the Hydian Way, Nothoiin Corridor, Rimma Trade Route, and the Lipsec Run; a handful of asteroid fields; and, spinning lazily along the most easterly border of the Seswenna sector, a small blackhole known as Moshaw Dark Star.

Cash sat up ramrod straight.

Hold on.

Moshaw Dark Star… the coordinates it took up were suspiciously close to the coordinates the probe scanning the asteroid had dispensed. Cash reached over and had the probe console superimpose the coordinates for the asteroid field in which its find was located over the Seswenna sector map. "Oh, no," Cash said aloud.

There it was, cast in brilliant blue light—the little nebulous boundary of the asteroid field where Cash's treasure lay was laid right over the top of Moshaw Dark Star. Cash's heart stammered a bit before they realized that actually, this could just be nothing. Third time isn't always a charm, it still could just be an empty cache on a dead asteroid. Which Cash would be just fine with allowing to hurtle directly into the heart of a blackhole.

But it could also still be something.

Cash abandoned reading the P&L reports entirely in favor of sitting in front of the probe console with bated breath, waiting for the interior scans of the warehouse to come through. They had pulled up the probe's visual feeds and were watching on the small screen of the console as the probe floated through the warehouse. This place was stacked full of crates and pallets and what looked to be sculptures and artworks with sheets thrown over them. After a while, Cash was sure—this was something. They didn't need the probe's detailed scans to know they'd just struck a massive jackpot. Cash was an antiques dealer. And in this warehouse were at least five to ten pieces of artwork that would fetch a pretty credit at an auction; not to mention what smaller artifacts, precious metals, gemstones, and more could possibly be hiding in the boxes that their probe was taking such care to scan and log. Cash ran some mental calculations, heterochromic eyes briefly glazing over, then stood up from their stool, sending it rolling backwards.

They planted their hands on the edge of the large desk, hunching their shoulders and chewing their lip as a plan hurriedly formed in their mind. Someone would have to make a break for this major cache before it slipped into Moshaw. Someone with a fast ship, who wouldn't balk too badly at getting so close to something as dangerous as a black hole. A smuggler, maybe, and maybe one who owed Cash a favor that they could call in.

Cash chuckled, straightening up and wringing their blue hands with satisfaction. "I know just who to call," Cash murmured, grabbing their stool and pacing around to the other side of the desk where their holocommunicator was. They set it up to record a message, punched in the comm code it would be sent to, then perched atop the stool in front of the device's receptors. When the light indicating the machine was recording blinked on, Cash spoke, their voice as cool and placid as always.

"Hello, Elliot," Cash said, lacing their fingers together and resting their hands in their lap. "I know our last interaction ended on a sour note, as I'm told you engaged my gangsters in a shoot-out at a cantina on Noko's Eye before slipping away, but… I need to pull in a favor from you. If you're able. You're a phenomenal pilot, Elliot, which is exactly what I need right now. I've come across an old treasure cache in a warehouse on an asteroid in the Seswenna sector. Normally, this would be a simple expedition, but fate would have it be a bit more complex than that. I'll be straight with you; I'm asking you to fly into something extremely dangerous. This cache is caught in the pull of Moshaw Dark Star. If my calculations are correct, which they are, we're looking at well over 100 million credits' worth of artifacts that are about to be lost to this blackhole." Cash stared down the holocomm, blue and brown eyes piercing and strangely pleading.

"Here is my deal for you. If you retrieve as many artifacts, artworks, and crates as you can from this asteroid in the next day and a half before it slips into Moshaw, I will reward you with half of everything you salvage, and release you from my service. If these terms suit you, just ping this comm code to let me know you're in—and then I'll see you in a day and a half. Go to the usual place to offload, give them your regular codes." Sitting forward, Cash reached to shut off the recording, then paused.

"Good luck, Stormrunner."

They ended the recording, and punched send.

TAG: @Lord Vassago​

 

[corinthia]

IC: Jephego Rose
Aboard the Sugar Baby​

"Let's get one thing straight here," a thickly accented voice growled at the back of Jephego's head, following her as she made her way to the cockpit. Lemmy's booted feet pounded heavily against the grated floors of the Sugar Baby. "If I'm leavin' Dauntless back here, I'm gonna need a lot more'n seven lousy percent just to pay my dockin' fees at the end of the day. Cash didn't just call me fer my looks, I know that. Yer lookin' at somethin' that ya can't do alone. An' my services'll cost ya at least fifteen percent of the cut."

Jephego had been doing a good job of ignoring Lemmy as she strode down the hall, but once he had her crowded in the narrow passage into the cockpit, she whirled, her annoyance bubbling over. Her DL-18 spun out of its holster on her finger, and she shoved its barrel right up under Lemmy's broad jaw in the close confines of the corridor, fast as lightning. In the dim light, her dark gold eyes flashed.

"Seven percent is generous, and you karking know that, Lem. You've been doing this far longer than any of us," she hissed in a low voice. Roughly, Jephego shoved the barrel of her blaster against Lemmy's neck before pulling away and pointing a finger in his face instead. "Don't push your luck. Seven guarantees you at least five figures, and that's what Cash signed you up for. End of discussion. Now go strap in for lift off—that's an order."

Behind Lemmy and down the hall a bit was that Devaronian, Devkas, who peered around Lemmy's hulking form with interest—Jephego might've thought him handsome if she wasn't already ready to start chewing heads off. She made pointed eye contact with Devkas. "Find a seat and put your ass in it," she said to him.

Holstering her blaster again, Jephego turned back to her cockpit, shouldering off her coat and slinging it over the back of the pilot's chair. She rolled up her sleeves as she plopped down in her chair, wringing her hands as she looked over her flashing console; she breathed a comfortable sigh as she began flipping levers and pressing buttons. Everything was in its right place. Except—she glanced to her right—her kriffing co-pilot.

She slammed a fist on the arm of her chair. "Jax!" she called over her shoulder as the engines kicked on, rumbling low throughout the Baby. "Come on, let's haul ass!"

No response came. Snarling, she swiveled her seat around, peering down the curving hall. This is one hell of a crew Cash put together, Jephego thought unhappily to herself. Backtalkers and no-shows. "Droid!" She called instead, snapping her fingers as she swiveled back to the pilot's yoke. R9-T2 came tootling down the corridor, wheeling itself into the cockpit where it jacked into the droid interface between the pilot and co-pilot. Jephego gave it a whack on its metal dome. "Just start the hyperspace calculations." She snorted. "It'll be a karking miracle if I don't jettison this crew out the airlock between here and Onderon."

With the engines sufficiently warm, Jephego initiated the repulsorlift drive; one switch engaged the drive, another disengaged the landing struts, and within seconds the Sugar Baby was airborne, gently lifting up off the tarmac of Cash Moheji's private spaceport. As it rose up, gently guided by Jephego's hand on the yoke, Jephego reached up to the upper control panel, making sure everything was primed and ready. Then, a smooth voice came crackling over the comms.

"Set back down, Sugar Baby, we've got another one for you," Cash said.

Frowning, Jephego mashed down the button to reply to the communication. "If they're going to talk back to me or shirk being copilot, I don't want 'em," she told Cash. But nonetheless, Jephego reversed the ship's direction, setting back down on the tarmac. She left the engines running as she jumped out of the pilot's seat and stomped down the hall to greet this latecomer to her crew. This had better be worth my time.

As she passed by the one-room crew quarters, she thumped a fist against the door jamb and briefly poked her head in to see Jax Brt'n leisurely settling in. "What the kriff, Jax," she said, not necessarily posing it as a question. "Be in the cockpit in 5 minutes."

Tromping down the boarding ramp as it extended down again, stopping at the foot of it and planting two fists on her hips, Jephego got a good look at this last-minute addition to her crew. A Quarren with a cutlass on his hip and bag slung over one shoulder stood beside Cash Moheji—this one had arrived by shuttle mere moments after Jephego had loaded her crew up onto the Sugar Baby. He'd gotten Cash's call for crewmembers same as all the others had, he was just late in his arrival. And Jephego, ever in a hurry, had taken off before Cash had a chance to get the Quarren on board. Jephego looked the man up and down. Rough and tumble, worn-down clothing, a look of pure pirate-y malice in his eyes. Yeah. He'd fit in just fine.

"Well," she said, tossing her head back. "You look like one hell of a piece of work."

She motioned with her chin for the Quarren to follow after her, then started back up the ramp. As she went, she told him the terms of the job—seven percent of whatever goods they pirate from the supply chains hanging unprotected over Onderon, all that—asked him his name (Viktor Tarr), and pointed out where to put his things before telling him to find someplace to sit. Jephego made her way back to the cockpit, settling into her seat again, and heaved a big sigh before re-engaging the repulsorlift drive.

Now they were off.

TAG: @Catalyst, @Revnus, @Darth Cruor, @Darth Kain​

 

[Darth Kain]

IC: Viktor Tarr
Aboard the Sugar Baby​

It had been quite the journey to this damnable planet. And, as it was with all good stories, this journey began with terrible violence.

"P-please!" sputtered the tiny Twi'lek man, scrambling away as his broken nose released a sea of sapphire blood. "Take whatever you want!"
Viktor Tarr, the fallen Quarren pirate, snarled as he looked on to the man's ship. It was not the most efficient of vessels, if his memory served him correctly on this model of Marketta-class shuttle. But it was available, as its pilot so kindly pointed out.
"I admire your generosity," Viktor replied smugly, not yet making eye contact. "What is your name, boy?"
"Gavelo," the Twi'lek answered quickly, yet all the while confused. "I-it's Gavelo."
"Very well, Gavelo," said the pirate. "I can take whatever I want, you said?"
"Yes! Yes, whatever you want!"
"Then I will take your ship, and all of the contents within." Viktor took a step towards the crawling pilot, his eyes now finally locking on the man he just throttled.
The Twi'lek nodded. "Fine, I--"
The pirate drew his blade, a Vibrocutlass that began to hum with malicious intent. "And I will be taking your life. No witnesses, and all that."
Gavelo's eyes widened in terror. "No, no please!"

It was a quick death. Perhaps far more than such a snivelling coward deserved. But Tarr was not in the mood for mercy. Even on his best of days, it was a rarity for the quarrelsome Quarren to show such kindness. But this was not the best of days.
It had been less than a week since he had escaped captivity, but the scars would take far longer to heal. The worst scars of all being the horrifying visions that were forced into his mind, flashing every single time he blinked his eyes. The roaring winds of a typhoon. Dark clouds above. The gullet of a monster. His brother nestled deep within the heart of the beast, crying for aid.
He knew there was only one way to find his brother, whom he had been separated from ever since they were children. He would have to find information, which took credits. And in order to get credits, he would have to do what he did best. Such activities required a ship. Though this shuttle was not worthy of his flying, it would have to suffice as transport to his first job back in the galaxy.
Normally he did not accept missions with these parameters. After all, he was a bloody captain, not a mercenary. But his contact, another Twi'lek funnily enough, had informed him of who the leader of this band of misfits would be. A name that Viktor Tarr had only heard whispers of, spoken among the Underworld like a fairy tale on what happens to young, brash pirates. Jephego Rose. Funny; everyone thought she was dead.
But Viktor had heard stranger stories.

Blood pooled along the permacrete landing platform, a bit of the splatter staining Viktor's already-worn coat. Metallic footsteps came from behind, and the pirate nearly spun with his sword outstretched. But a moment's thought allowed him to realize whom the steps belonged to, giving him the wherewithal to deactivate the cutlass' vibrating blade and sheath it before meeting the droid at eye level.
It was a protocol droid, a 3D-4X administrative droid to be exact. One that Viktor reprogrammed only a few days before. And while the droid served his every command with absolute loyalty, there were certain… abnormalities in its programming; no doubt from Viktor's subpar droid work.
"You slaughtered that nerfherder," stated the droid, motioning towards the fresh corpse. "Well done, Captain."
"Let's get her into hyperspace, droid," Tarr replied. "This platform will be swarming with Federation dogs before long."

It had been quite some time since Viktor's last visit to Rishi. His crew has always taken kindly to such ventures here, drinking away their sorrows and singing songs with strangers. But Tarr never quite understood the pleasure found in those taverns. Relaxation was found in solitude, not among others.
The shuttle settled down onto the landing pad, alongside the other ships that were already here. It appeared that his acquisition of this shuttle had made him a tad bit late.
No matter.
With the shuttle landed, the pirate spun in his chair, facing his artificial co-pilot. "Remain here unless I say otherwise."
"Aye, aye, Captain," the droid spoke lowly.
"I can't hear you," snarled Tarr.
"Aye, aye, Captain!" the 3D-4X repeated much louder.
Viktor nodded, then signalled for the boarding ramp to descend as he tossed a leather bag of his belongings onto his shoulder. He strutted down the ramp with the vigor of a Quarren half his age, eager to meet a woman he believed he would only ever hear of in stories.
She awaited his arrival, dressed in perhaps the gaudiest attire that Viktor had seen in a pirate. She appeared to be far too young to fit the description of the same Jephego Rose he had heard of, but Cash was not one for false information. Quite the peculiar conundrum this was.

"Well, you look like one hell of a piece of work," she said, drawing a curious glare from the Quarren.
You don't know the half of it, he thought.
As the pair of pirates boarded the freighter, awkwardly named the Sugar Baby, Jephego gave him the professional courtesy of telling him the details of the job, and his cut of the profits. Seven percent? That simply would not do. Yet he could tell that debating her on the matter would prove to be a sensitive subject, due to her tone upon mentioning it. Perhaps one of the others here had already raised the issue?
Then she asked him his name, pulling him from his thoughts on the matter.
"Viktor Tarr," he answered plainly. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Captain." The final words tasted like poison upon his tongue, but he dared not spit until she was gone.
She went on to show him where to put his things, and where he could get comfortable. Unfortunately he doubted such a thing possible. He preferred to be separated from the crew, not sleeping among them. It was an indignity, to say the least. However, it did give him an opportunity to size up his fellow crewmates.
The first he saw was a gargantuan Feeorin, who appeared rather angry at the moment. Certainly an ally to make, not an enemy.
The next was an aged Morellian. He seemed to be off in his own world at the moment. Strange.
Then there was another big man, though this one was a Devaronian. Seemed to be trying to keep to himself.
The last was a Togrutan woman, the only other female on this ship besides the captain herself. Another quiet one.
He did not bother to learn anyone's names as he set his things down at his bunk, save for the cutlass which still rested on his hip. His eyes scanned the others', digging for any sign of fear. It was perhaps one of the few things he enjoyed in this galaxy: watching fear wash over a being's eyes like the tide.
Standing among the crew, the Quarren began to speak as the ship lifted off. "Any of you lot willing to fall upon my blade? I could use the extra seven percent."

​

TAGS: @corinthia, @Darth Catalyst, @Revnus, @Darth Cruor

 

[Catalyst]

IC Lem
On Board the Sugar Babyi
​

A steely glare met Jephego's brilliant golden eyes as she whirled her gun into a threatening position under Lem's jaw. "Seven percent is generous, and you karking know that, Lem. You've been doing this far longer than any of us," she hissed in a low voice. She lowered the pistol-shaped threat to shove a finger into his face, and his lip quivered as he tried his damnedest to suppress the smile that was tugging at his facial tendrils. "Don't push your luck. Seven guarantees you at least five figures, and that's what Cash signed you up for. End of discussion. Now go strap in for lift off—that's an order." She peered around him to bark another order at the Devaronian that was lurking in the corridor behind. "Find a seat and put your ass in it."

Lem let out a derisive snort as she turned to her control console and he stormed back out of the cockpit in a huff, making a show of trying to shoulder past Devkas roughly. Once he was in his room, he could contain himself no longer. "Baaahahahahaha!" his laughter echoed through the crew quarters. "Oh Turd, she hasn't changed a bit ol' Rose! I can tell this'll be a fun bit o' crime and pad the pockets a fair amount!" He relaxed on his cot, content to relax for the duration of their journey. A couple of his lekku twitched as the ship turned and he felt the powers of inertia and gravity working against each other. They were going down again. Lem grumbled as he stepped down from his cot again. He felt the ship touch down and heard the hiss of the airlock as the ramp dropped. "Sit tight Turd," Lem spoke in a hushed tone. "I'm gonna see what the holdup is."

The hatch slid open and Lem peeked his head out into the corridor. He could barely hear Jephego speaking. "Well, you look like one hell of a piece of work." Now Lem was curious. He stepped out of his quarters and sealed the door behind him. Walking out to greet whatever pathetic lifeform they had picked up, Lem stopped in his tracks when he saw the Quarren that had entered. "Viktor Tarr," the weather-worn pirate answered. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Captain." A swift appraisal of the squid gave Lem little ammunition to work with, and he watched the newcomer head to his room to deposit his belongings. It didn't take long for Viktor to reemerge, still wearing his sword. It looked like he was ready to play, and his greeting only confirmed Lem's suspicions. "Any of you lot willing to fall upon my blade? I could use the extra seven percent."

Lem wasn't sure what kind of reaction the Quarren was hoping to elicit, but he wasn't about to grant the satisfaction of bowing to this latecomer's newly imposed authority. "Only extra seven percent I see happenin' is seven percent of my boot in yer cloaca, squid boy," Lem growled at Viktor. "I've stepped in bantha droppings more imposin' than the likes o' you. Go back to yer mud hole. This job's fer real pirates only." He shoved past the rest of the crew and back into his quarters, instructing 3D-4XR to leave the door open in case anyone wanted to make him a man of his word.

TAG: @corinthia @Darth Kain @Revnus @Darth Cruor

 

[Darth Kain]

IC: Viktor Tarr
Aboard the Sugar Baby​

A voice echoed through the ship, one of experience and aggravation. It was the Feeorin.
"Only extra seven percent I see happenin' is seven percent of my boot in yer cloaca, squid boy."
Viktor cocked his head, the tentacles upon his face twitching at the insult.
The Feeorin went on, "I've stepped in bantha droppings more imposin' than the likes o' you. Go back to yer mud hole. This job's fer real pirates only."
He had then barged through the rest of the crew, making his way to his quarters. Yet the door remained open, obviously inviting challenge to follow him. The rest had remained quiet so far, allowing the Quarren pirate a cold, droning chuckle.
"I like him," said Viktor, his eyes scanning the rest of them. "Perhaps he is one of the few here with a spine."

In truth, this Feeorin reminded Viktor of his first mate - Worz - back during what the old Quarren had considered his prime. Ruthless, unyielding, and physically imposing. It was a shame that the old Lasat died during their failed theft of a Sith Star Destroyer, cut down by some demented bastard with an amber lightsaber. He was a valuable right hand, enforcing Captain Tarr's authority over the rest of the crew.
But it took many triumphs in order to earn the Lasat's trust, and Viktor knew that the same would be required here.

With the last word, Viktor marched to his own bunk, sitting and remaining silent as he delved deep into thought.

TAGS: @corinthia, @Darth Catalyst, @Revnus, @Darth Cruor

 

[Darth Akhlyn]

Devkas just smirked as he watched Rose put the Feeorin in his place. He thought to himself ‘That big sack a’ bricks is gonna slip up sooner or later, and when he does it’s gonna be oh so sweet to watch.’ Lem’s subsequent shoulder shove only elicited a laugh from the Devaronian, which was cut off by Rose’s order. “Find a seat and put your ass in it.” He smiled and nodded in recognition of the order. “Right away, boss.” He decided to head back toward his bunk for the time being, briefly raising an eyebrow when he saw Jax just sitting on a bed instead of heading for the cockpit. Devkas sat down on his bunk and started to inspect his blaster, running it through the various modes and checking for any abnormal splotches or signs of wear. He soon felt the ship shudder with the initial takeoff and began mentally steeling himself for the mission ahead…


Only to be broken out of it when the ship almost immediately landed. ‘What the hell’s going on?’ Before he had a chance to go see what was happening, Captain Rose stopped in the doorway with some choice words for the wayward co-pilot before continuing down the hall. Devkas let out a hearty chuckle as he got up from his bunk to follow. “Better watch out, Jax. Make yourself look too useless, and the Captain just might feel like jettisoning some excess mass.” Stepping out of the crew quarters he soon got his answer, seeing as the boss was escorting somebody who was clearly a new crew member onto the ship. A crew member who immediately asked if anybody felt like dying. ‘This fella certainly seems serious. Better watch my back around him.’ The new guy soon got caught up in a brief square up with Lem before they both left to their quarters, leaving Devkas to contemplate. ‘Let’s see, a giant blue meathead with impulse control issues. A co-pilot prone to letting his mind drift from his assigned duties. And a new guy who I don’t yet have a read on, but at least seems to have his head on straight for this kinda thing. Should be an interesting time.’ As the ship started to take off again, Devkas peeked his head out of the crew quarters. “Hey boss, I’ve flown ships before. If Jax here still ain’t up to it, I could co-pilot." @corinthia @Darth Kain @Darth Cruor @Catalyst

 

[Omegon]

IC: Mortus D’non Velkor
Location: Coruscant Underworld, level 1313

Mortus internally chuckled at the poorly, if at all, disguised disdain for him displayed by Aguro. Clearly, he was a straightforward, down-to-business type, which for Velkor only made him more fun to mess with. He, therefore, continued his knife twirling antics, listening halfheartedly to the answers to his questions. Instead, he spent his time eyeing Synyc up and down, and inspecting his reflection in a metal surface of the wall across from him.

At the mention of the Iridium bars, he blinked and stood up straight, sheathing his knife and reaching forward, slipping the bar into a pouch on the inside of his trenchcoat, patting it once it was in place, enjoying the feel of a thick wallet. Before he stepped out, he blew a kiss to Synyc, knowing it would only frustrate him and Aguro further, before turning and leaving without saying a word. His eyes sparkled with mirth, but he didn’t let it show, leaving them with nothing but a swish of his cloak.

He stepped out the door, breathing in deeply the smog-filled air of coruscant; nothing quite like it, he thought to himself. The filtered indoor air felt too…. Artificial, unreal. This was the real coruscant, and it was well worth the experience. Stepping into the taxi, he took an outside seat, and used the time to begin reading the data chip about the mission. Or, rather, skimming it. After all, as he had often said, “if it wasn’t in bold, there was no point in reading it.” He finished It up, and sighed. Looked like another boring escort mission, but he would do his best to not let it ruin his mood. He felt the taxi begin to slow and descend, and before it could fully reach the ground, he flipped his collar up, winking at Nakamura as did so, and stepped out the side, dropping the last 7 feet to the ground, landing lightly on the balls of his feet, his shotgun on his back and a brace of daggers across his chest.

Striding forward, and running his fingers through his hair, slicking it back, he bowed lightly to Viper. “Greetings, Viper. D’non Velkor, at your service.” He bared his teeth in a roguish grin, delighted at the presence of this harsh female Mandalorian. This would certainly spice the mission up, no doubt about it. He laughed out loud as nakamura developed an instant stutter and sense of nervousness around Viper. As he walked past him to enter the taxi, he gave him a friendly slap on the back, and a few words of encouragement. “Don’t worry about her; She’s all bark, no bite. Well… that is, until she decides to bite you. But I haven’t gotten that far yet. I’ll let you know when I do.”

He hopped into the new taxi, sprawling back, kicking his feet up, and putting his hands behind his head, the epitome of relaxation.

Tags: @Raineyday88 @corinthia @Daxo_Grimmus

 

[...]

Jax Brt'n
Aboard the Sugar Baby

He hadn't been spoken to like this in years, but he had to admit that Jephego reminded him a bit of his father, stern and blunt. It didn't bother him, in fact he had to stifle a chuckle until he was in the privacy of his quarters, after a few moments to ensure his belongings would be secure he grabbed his father's .48-caliber Enforcer and made his way to the cockpit.

Jephego wasn't back yet as he settled into his seat, after a few adjustments to ensure that he was comfortable he leaned over and tucked the slug thrower under his seat. Old habits.

It didn't take him long to familiarize himself with the controls of the Sugar Baby, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary and in short time he was comfortable with the dash. "It's not the Gamorrean Express, but it'll fly." He muttered to himself.

Tag: @corinthia @Darth Kain @Catalyst @Revnus

 

[corinthia]

IC: Synyc Andromeides
Nar Shaddaa​

When the door slid shut behind the team of three Aguro was sending to escort Viper, sealing off their office from the pulsating music of the brothel next door, Synyc’s deep green eyes were immediately fixed on Aguro. There was something Synyc couldn't quite put a finger on that seemed deeply, deeply out-of-place. But so far, everything had been done by the book. Everything was moving along just fine. He set his jaw and rested his blaster against his shoulder, crossing his booted ankles. Then he grinned—a manic, mischievous grin.

"Think they'll do a good job?" Synyc asked after a moment.

Aguro huffed in an odd half-laugh. "No," he said, sitting back down in his chair after seeing off the trio. "No, I do not. Not a single one of them came ready for what this mission entails. Which is why I am sending you to tail them." Aguro fixed his cybernetic eye on Synyc, who raised a white eyebrow in return.

Incredulous, Synyc leaned back. "Really," he mulled, drawling out the word. This was an opportunity he hadn't seen coming.

Synyc had always hated Viper—ever since Aguro Bizos had brought that bedraggled little Mando girl into the League, over ten years ago. She was only fifteen years old, and Aguro put a sniper rifle in her little hands and told her she'd be the most cold-blooded killing machine in the entire galaxy and the most feared mercenary and assassin unknown to the Underworld… but it was a sniper rifle he'd taken out of the hands of seventeen-year-old Synyc Andromeides. Aguro told that girl—Taia Tenau, she was called, before they started calling her Viper—that every opportunity would be afforded to her, as the League's youngest sponsored member. As long as she did exactly what she was told, killed exactly who she was supposed to, and behaved herself. Synyc, meanwhile, was pushed to the side, confined to sidekick gigs until he was eventually "promoted" to Aguro's personal assistant. Some bullshit promotion it was, too. Took him out of the action, prevented him from building his reputation as a mercenary.

But now… Aguro had just unwittingly placed Synyc in the most opportune position. Given him permission to put Viper's helmeted head in his crosshairs and… oh, if his finger did slip on the trigger… Viper was surrounded by incompetents to place blame on.

His grin widened as Aguro slid a fourth datacard across the table. "Your travel arrangements and documents, my friend." Synyc picked it up and turned it over in his hand a few times before pocketing it and standing up.

"I guess I better get going, then," Synyc said. Beside his chair at the console he'd been sitting at was the duffel he typically carried—he picked it up and slung it over one shoulder, heading towards the door.

Aguro put up his hood and smiled in its shadow. "Good luck."

Giving a little salute, Synyc thumbed the door open button and stepped out, letting it shut behind him before laughing.

"I'm gonna kill that green-haired Mando bitch."

- - -


IC: Viper
Coruscant – Day 1 ​

"Greetings, Viper," the Chiss said after slicking back his hair with one hand and bowing. "D'non Velkor, at your service." He snarled a roguish grin, and Viper was glad for her helmet and the fact it was hiding the utter disdain on her face. This was going to be a long, long mission. The human male beside Velkor seemed utterly starstruck, and the third, a woman who was hanging back behind the rest, looked more distracted and nervous than anything, her gold cybernetic eyes shining under the shadow of her hood. Viper stared for a moment, watching the woman's bright eyes flick several times to look at something in a nearby alleyway.

Viper cast a glance over her shoulder to see a shadowed figure lurking behind a stack of pallets. A ha. Of course they were being followed—probably some League crony, keeping one more set of eyes on Viper and her new "team".

She watched Elaine shift uncomfortably out of the corner of her eye.

"Bizos has eyes on me, I'm sure, but if a single one of you even so much as puts a toe out of line, I will blast your brains into oblivion," Viper said, turning her helmet back to the group. She pointed to the taxi they'd just gotten out of. The boys seemed oblivious to what both Viper and Elaine had just noticed—and perhaps that was for the best. "Get back in the taxi; we're going somewhere more secure to go over this whole operation."

Letting out a soft sigh of relief at hearing they were going elsewhere, Elaine, Viper, and the others all clamored back into the taxi, Velkor clapping Nakamura on the shoulder and offering him words of encouragement; but not before the figure in the alley caught Elaine's gaze and held it, green eyes meeting gold with an electric sensation. The figure raised the blaster in its pale hands and aimed it at Elaine, raising it up in mock recoil.

"Synyc," Elaine breathed. Instantly, she knew she had to quit this job and get off Coruscant—if Viper didn't kill them all like she had promised, first, then he would. To get to Viper. He was a grudge-holder, and when she had first met him when he'd recruited her back on Ando Prime, he'd told her all about his vendetta against that kriffing Mandalorian bitch Aguro loves so much with such a manic smile that her skin crawled. Elaine had liked Synyc well enough, but she hadn't made the connection between what he'd told her and the specifics of this mission until Viper was standing right in front of her, all venomous words and bared fangs. It had made her suddenly understand the rancor in her recruiter's words. She clenched her hands into fists and held them tensely in her lap in the back seat of the taxi.

Viper smirked under her helmet at the three in the backseat of the taxispeeder as scenes of underworld Coruscant flashed past outside. Velkor was lounging like he owned the place, Nakamura looked like he was sweating bullets, and Elaine looked flighty. "Well? Your names?" She asked the two that hadn't introduced themselves yet.

"Ci… Nakamura is the name." The human male one said, haltingly. "I am hoping to grow my reputation to be known as a Namahage." Thoughtfully, he gazed out the window.

Viper chortled. "I just asked your name, not your hopes and dreams. What about you?" She nodded towards Elaine.

Elaine looked up at Viper—then looked out of the taxi. It was one of those open-top taxis, and before Viper could say another word, Elaine had calculated her chances and vaulted out of the speeder, tucking herself into a somersault and skidding to a stop on the wet pavement before melting into a throng of passerbys, pulling her hood up over her head as the taxi continued to race along the dark streets.

Dumbstruck, Viper murmured a tiny "Huh," leaning back against her seat. Well, that's one way to skip out on a job. So much for a team of four.

Before long, the taxi slowed to a stop outside a building that would otherwise be nondescript if it weren't for the scraggly groups of underworld-types hanging around the entrance. Bounty hunters, assassins, thieves and the like huddled together in small groups, or stood standoffishly alone. Quickly paying for the taxi ride, Viper stepped out of the speeder and motioned for the remaining two to follow. With her long black case in hand, she walked into the unmarked establishment—to locals, it was known as 546. A low-key bar good for discreet meetups, 546 was lined with dimly lit booths equipped with sonic damper fields available for patrons' use, for a fee. It was also known for its superb appetizers… but that wasn't why they were here.

Approaching the host, Viper requested a booth in the back, and motioned again for Velkor and Nakamura to follow as they were led to an empty booth. The host keyed a code into a panel, activating the sonic damper as Viper settled into one side of the booth. Sighing as Velkor and Nakamura also sat, Viper waited for the host to leave before pulling off her Mandalorian helmet and shaking out her black-and-acid-green hair.

"So," she began, setting her helmet down on the table with a hollow thud. "Let's get down to business, shall we?"

TAG: @Kint Dranlor, @Daxo_Grimmus ​

 

[corinthia]

IC: Jephego Rose
Aboard the Sugar Baby​

The spaceport on the jungled world below grew smaller and smaller still as the Sugar Baby ascended, passing through hazy clouds and atmosphere. Jephego's hands were steady on the controls, and she felt utterly pleased to be captaining a ship again. She could hear Viktor and Lemmy getting to know each other in the hallway outside the crew cabin, and she could hear the Devaronian, Devkas, call to her.

"Hey boss, I've flown ships before. If Jax here still ain't up to it, I could co-pilot," he said, his head poking out of the crew cabin's doorway.

"I may just take you up on that, Dev," Jephego replied over her shoulder, checking gauges and coaxing the ship's altitude higher. But then not a moment too soon, none other than Jax Brt'n lumbered into the cockpit, taking up the co-pilot's seat and tucking a slugthrower under it. Leisurely, he looked over the controls. Jephego cast him a sidelong glance that asked, Where the fuck have you been?, before minding her own side of the cockpit again and putting her comm headset on with one hand, situating the headband between the horns atop her head.

"It's not the Gamorrean Express, but it'll fly," Jax muttered.

Jephego snorted derisively. "I'd sure hope so, considering we just broke atmo."

She breathed a soft, if a bit uncharacteristic, sigh at seeing the black expanse of space outside of the viewport in front of them. Space. It never got old for her. She pushed on the yoke, urging the ship further out into the void. "How're we looking for hyperspace, Jax?" she asked, glancing over at the Morellian. The droid should have finished hyperspace calculations by now, and Jax would see the numbers flashing on one of the screens in front of him.

Nodding when she heard an affirmative, she said, "Punch it."

The tiny stars in the viewport stretched and streaked, and the ship plunged into hyperspace, hurtling through that ever-beautiful pulsating blue. The hyperspace journey would take about a day and a half, all-in; the crew, in the meantime, would have time to catch some shut-eye, get to know each other, have a bite to eat in the galley, or play a game of dejarik in the crew lounge on the port side of the ship. They were free to do as they pleased; Jephego, herself, kicked her heels up on the console and folded her hands behind her head, content to watch the transfixing light show of hyperspace.

TAG: @Catalyst, @Darth Kain, @Revnus, @Darth Cruor ​