Chris Flynn
Death Riders SC (President)
“Spice.When refined… Smoked..Inhaled..And snorted…Originally from the mines of Kessel, where slaves were taken to do the labor. Ryloth is a popular place to start. Or Naboo. But it’s popping up everywhere. Even in the health clinics. They extract it’s chemical makeup and use what is safe for medicinal purposes. Get where I’m going here? Many variations throughout history and to this day are around the galaxy. But to get the biggest haul..It would be by means of transport. Our guys on the grounds say that some pirates are looking into taking a shipment containing Spice in export from Kessel. I say, We take it from them. But not how you would think..They’d expect that. Find out who controls the shipment. Pilot the damn thing to it’s destination. Let them come and they won't expect an ambush waiting within the vessel. Now…I wouldn’t ask you all to do something I wouldn’t do myself. So…Just to get there is dangerous enough. I volunteer to lead a small team to extract the containers. We’ll need a splicer and programmer on the score and navigation decoy routes so no alarms are raised. Blasters and armor plates for protection and…”
Tycho: “A chit load of alcohol.” He laughs and looks around the table as the others laugh along in agreement with his statement.
“Right. Now then…we don’t move on this until we’re ready. We need the cred. And this is going to be big. Let’s make travel preparations. Meeting adjourned. To the deathless!” He yells as every member at the table reaches for the custom spiked hammers before them. They all raise the hammers in the air and slam them down with force into the grooved circles to the right where previous hammer strikes from the weapons were placed. The five rose from the table as Chris lights a black candle on the counter of the refined Oakwood table.
All the members start to leave the room as the group's VP hangs back glaring at Chris. The look of intrigue, which he often has, kept Chris wondering what was truly on his mind.
Tag: Tycho Rond
Tycho: “A chit load of alcohol.” He laughs and looks around the table as the others laugh along in agreement with his statement.
“Right. Now then…we don’t move on this until we’re ready. We need the cred. And this is going to be big. Let’s make travel preparations. Meeting adjourned. To the deathless!” He yells as every member at the table reaches for the custom spiked hammers before them. They all raise the hammers in the air and slam them down with force into the grooved circles to the right where previous hammer strikes from the weapons were placed. The five rose from the table as Chris lights a black candle on the counter of the refined Oakwood table.
All the members start to leave the room as the group's VP hangs back glaring at Chris. The look of intrigue, which he often has, kept Chris wondering what was truly on his mind.
Tag: Tycho Rond
Last edited: