A step out of the Shadows (ask for invite)

[Darth Abyss]

Nar Shaddaa, One Level Below the Entropy Nightclub

Spoiler

The Entropy was neither one of the biggest or most exclusive clubs that were build in the dirty streets and dark corners of the galaxy's most notorious cesspool of crime. Yet it has a certain brand of charm, based on the fact that it was build in what was once a backdoor medical complex, coming with long, complex corridors and small, isolated rooms and places everywhere, and a place famed for his lax morals even for Nar Shaddaa. As one of the few establishment on Nar Shaddaa not controlled by Miss Blonde and her Black Tie syndicate, the Entropy stood against the forces of the smuggler moon for quite some time, run by a small, but exceptionally loyal street gang that build the club up from the ground. To guard what they build, the entropy is under constant security, and while there is no one guarding the entrance, to not give of the feeling that there is anything that is forbidden in the entropy, there are many inside to fight any intruders.
--------------------------

Spoiler

A single man, wearing full body armor and a sniper rifle clasped to his back stood before the group of mercs and soldiers that had been hired to give the Entropy the owner it deserves. Under the alias of Prophet, Darth Abyss, close friend of the Black Ties, and lingering shadow in every corner of the moon, had started to plan the overtake, without even lifting his own hand once. That was one of the percs being rich, and smart at the same time. Only a handful of his own men were used in this attack, to mask his involvement in this as far as possible, and their leader waited with the hired muscle to brief them about what was coming now:

"The plan is simple, so listen up. The entropy is one level above us, gilders are ready to take us up there once everything is discussed."

On his mark, a set of gilders landed on the small platform on which the mercs and Abyss men stood, waiting for the cue to to move.

"There is no security on the outside, but on the insight we are a awaiting heavy resistance. At least 150 gang members are hidden inside, but they are disorganized. They will hide in the corner, use the shadows instead of using their superiority in numbers. There also 300 guests inside, some of them maybe lightly armed. We are tasked to get them out of the club, and while we prefer them to stay alive, there is no penalty for you if you kill them. Just don't expect a bonus afterwards. If they try to run, let them. We have positioned sharpshooters with sight on the entrance. Non gang member staff is expected to be captured alive."

Stepping behind the man announcing the plan was a group of 13 black robed men, all armed with a lightsaber, faces hidden under their hoods. A small part of the acolytes of the Abyss Academy, which would be used to blast into the club.

"These men and women will go in at first, serving both as hammer and as shield. But from there it is up to you. As you can see we are highly outnumbered, so play your cards well and throw everything at them that you got. Whoever brings the Prophet the head of their leader earns double. Everyone ready?"

There was one small detail the man left out, the reason why Abyss actually wanted the head of the owner, and why he picked such an offensive tactic instead of simply using his skills in brainwashing to infiltrate the club. The owner was a former acolyte of his Academy, one that had picked up one thing to many under the eyes of Darth Abyss. In his arrogance he believed that he would be able to not only rival but beat the sith lords rule of the shadows. But today Abyss would prove him wrong, with all the violence he had.

Spoiler

[member="Drogh"] [member="Sek Kali"] [member="Myles Vylumnar"] [member="Marcus Itera"] [member="Merric Rhoso"]

 

[Drogh]

Drogh enjoyed Nar Shadda, despite his first time being here. It was like the underground but constant, a never ending urban hell. Crime was simply part of the culture, it was what made Nar Shadda. He loved the fumes of oil and alcohol on the metal floors, the screams in the distance, yelling out in
rage, pain or fear. Often all three at same time, this was a truly horrible place no doubt.

The worst of the worst came here, well the worst in criminal regardless, there are still worse places to live. The entire moon felt like a prison, how darkness was day and night, how the darkness swarmed around you and choked you out of any light you once had. The ecstasy here was insane, everything was built around spice, pleasure, guns, fighting, smuggling you name it. In some parts you had species of all sorts walking around with a swagger, having all the fancy tech and guns hanging about their belts, in other parts you saw starving corpses or addicts crawling on the ground, their mouths filled with foam, their eyes lifeless, expect for the constant pain of addiction. Suffering was the usual and it is what made this place rife with the darkside, the darkside isn't in ancient planets of old empires, it's in places were suffering and cruelty and pain is concentrated in a very small area, like this moon. Unlike Coruscant, where you could escape it, feel the semi-fresh air and at the very least see the sun, here could you not. Or least Drogh hadn't seen it. Drogh had spent some time to take it all in, to smell the fumes, see the towers and synthetic lights, it was almost heaven if it didn't make him feel so sick.

Regarding the mission, Drogh knew mostly what he was told. He had tried to gather as much information as he could prior to this but it was minimal. Drogh was surprised to even be allowed to work for Abyss, last time he saw him he had shot him, but was a long time ago and Abyss had apparently changed dramatically since their last encounter, which made Drogh feel nothing but utter fear. Drogh did not know Abyss in the slightest, Miss Blonde even less, just that they were apparently working with each, rumors even spread that their relation might be more personal, but this was only rumors.

He took note of the robed figures, Drogh reflected on his own freedom, how the Sith had not gotten the hold on him and that he was masterless a blessing and a curse, but Drogh saw it more a blessing. These brainwashed fools were serving some cult leader that dabbled in crime, instead of inspiring for greatness they'd rather be nothing more but servants, what they could do with their power is far more then serve some "crimelord" or what ever he calls him self "the last knight of the One Sith" was what he was calling him self when Drogh remembered.

Drogh noticed some thing, these people looked "hard". Drogh was a fairly thin tall man, not a bulky "run 'n gun' type, but he was force sensitive and he knew some tricks. Drogh looked up in the sky, the entire city felt upside down when one looked up, spires poking from the bottom, ships whizzing and flying, the smell of chemicals burning though his nose, the sound of ships and shouts roaring in his ears, he felt some what at peace.

Coming back to his senses, he was ready for this mission.

[member="Darth Abyss"] [member="Sek Kali"] @Myes Vylumnar [member="Marcus Itera"] [member="Merric Rhoso"]

 

[Myles Vylumnar]

ALIAS: DEVIN E'ZELI

Ah, Nar Shaddaa. The beautiful Smuggler's Moon, Myles saw it almost like a second home. He was no stranger to this place. He knew almost every corner and crevice, and as such he knew that word gets around fast... And word always gets around. There were the top-dogs of the criminal underground such as Miss Blonde and her associates, who had eyes in ears in places even so private you'd almost be scared to take a dump without someone watching you. So, to be smart about it, Myles had to use an alias. He never really liked going by a different moniker, but this time was a must. He couldn't risk someone as powerful as Miss Blonde finding out he was involved in messing with her stuff. Thus, he went by the name: Devin E'zeli.

Devin himself didn't seem like much compared to the others. In truth, he just looked like some kid or wannabe Han Solo. He came lightly packed with his DLT-20A longblaster, K-16 Bryar pistol, and vibroknife. Besides that, he only packed light utilities for any situation that might occur.

For Devin, details were mostly unnecessary. Of course, they were important as ever, but things such as the 'why' or 'who' didn't matter much to him. Still, his curiosity always got the best of him. He knew that such details were not really important to the job itself, but it'd never hurt to know. Planning out the scenario in his head, this job could possibly be one of the more complicated ones these days. It was certainly a bit bigger, as he'd found himself working for more and more money to do more and more things; Working alongside a team of others for some big baller-type or the classic shrouded mysterious figure.

Like most jobs he'd have to share with other people, Devin kept his mouth shut during briefing. He always took the time to plan, calculate, and mentally prepare. He always figured he'd sort of worry only about himself unless the employer wanted something done that required teamwork. Besides that, a man down means a bigger cut. He stood out among the others beside him, but that wouldn't matter as long as the job was done. So after a minute of contemplation, Devin was finally prepared.

[member="Drogh"] | [member="Darth Abyss"] | [member="Sek Kali"] | [member="Marcus Itera"] | [member="Merric Rhoso"]

 

[Merric Rhoso]

Merric always loved how city based planets/moons looked from space, he considered it to be a beauty close to a stars. Nar shadda held that beauty well... from a distance anyway, up close the fairytale beauty hit mid night on the clock showing some of the galaxy's ugly side. But hey if you remove the smugglers, crime lords, thieves, bounty hunters and most of the population you might find a gem.

Merric is sitting on a crate, feet just off the floor swinging back and forth similar to an excited child waiting for their mother to return from a candy store. Listening closely to Darth Abyss he holds a single credit, sliding and flipping it with his fingers. Not for looks he just wanted something to fidget/fiddle with during Abyss's mission brief.

The job doesn't seem like it's going too be hard but challenging, and if Merric possibly finds a nice expensive bottle of booze suddenly in his possession there will be no complaints. Pretty simple stuff really Kill anybody with a gun keep that prophet guy alive, and those non gang staff people. Get out and don't die

"These men and women will go in at first, serving both as hammer and as shield." Looking to the 13 hooded people, Merric raises his hand waving to the group. He turns his attention back to the brief he stands up off the crate, clapping his hands together. "Let's do this!"

He wears normal clothing consisting of long pants, shirt and a jacket. On his wrist sits a PAC20 visual wrist com. He holds multiple slicer chips in a pouch on his belt for quick access. Tucked behind him with a shoulder strap sit an F-411 blaster rilfe, along with a DC-15's side arm blaster pistol on his side. A backpack sits comfortably on his back containing a reinforced data pad, a relatively small canister of bacta. A grappling gun stuffed into the bag only just squeezing in. his belt holds multiple grenades, 2x stun grenades and 1x Ion grenade



[member="Darth Abyss"] [member="Sek Kali"] [member="Marcus Itera"] [member="Drogh"]

 

[Sek Kali]

A collection of kills was all that was hoped for.

Money was worth something, enough to make sure cooperation was an absolute, but what always keeps her interest is the chance to murder. You could spend credits on whatever you'd like, especially on such a moon that was thriving with criminality and illegal products, but it was rare to truly embrace talent in the kill. Sure, death exists all over the galaxy and Nar Shadda shared plenty when it came to the ever growing body count, but to be promised a worthy, bloody fight such as raiding a club outnumbered? It seemed few employers in the galaxy would hire henchmen for such an operation, but here Sek was, lingering, as if the wait to start their briefing felt like a forever. Hands fumbled about, feet adjusted in place, eyes flickering and head turning to observe whatever could distract her. It was hard to suppress the ever building eagerness for this operation.

And even when informed of the details, little changed in behavior. Without hesitation or pondering she swiftly said with a hiss "Ready." and nodded, blinking twice. There was without a doubt that the job would end in a success, though Sek's definition of 'success' was very different than the goal given, not like her armament was hiding that. Carrying a DLT-19 with quite a few blaster packs in pouches around her belt, there was no other tool for killing other than her own claws, and no real armor than the natural green scales and civilian clothing. Brimming with confidence in her own abilities seemed to bring no irony to Sek, as if completely unaware or careless of the fact one well aimed shot from a blaster could end her life. Not that this line of work promised a long lifespan.

But such a lack of equipment wasn't preferred by her, instead, there was plenty of fascination with all the other fancy tools and gear other mercenaries or volunteers brought along. A twitch from her pupils was enough, quick glances, quiet observations, studying each of the intriguing fellows who also came along on this task with possibly much cleaner, or higher objectives than her. Individuals, all of them, not exactly faceless but would be difficult to remember clearly in time. First impressions were enough to be convinced on helping make sure they were alive through until they accomplished their mission, if she were not the first to face an unfortunate fate.

[member="Merric Rhoso"] [member="Myles Vylumnar"] [member="Drogh"] [member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Marcus Itera]

Lately, it seemed, that nearly every contract he took brought him back to this damnable little world of Hutts and villainy. Of course, he was not disappointed by the lack of work these beings happily brought to him - but it was becoming rather hard to do his job when everyone on the west side of the red light district growing used to seeing the armor-clad mercenary strolling in and out every week or so. It was good paying money for the most part and helped keep Miranda satiated as he blew lots of that on data storage and processing but it had been far too long since he'd visited the seedier places of the Smuggler's Moon.

"Got all that?" Marcus asked the AI, inhaling a long drag from the cigarra.

Her cyan avatar gave a curt nod, no doubt busily occupying herself with the details provided and calculating approach vestors and resources. Of course, the former commando rarely liked to get too technical but her efforts were always appreciated - to which he offered her a wry smile of thanks.

After a few moments of silence she finally spoke: "Are we going in loud?"

"Very loud," he replied, "You know the girls love it when I do that."

"What girls?"

Another drag. "You know, my girls." Marcus lovingly patted the pair of .48 caliber slugpistols strapped to his sides.

Miranda rolled her eyes in that rebel girl way of hers. "What are you going to do about those gentlemen with the laser swords and space magic?"

He shrugged. The last thing he wanted was one of them approaching him and inquiring about his rather peculiar state of being in the Force. It wasn't everyday that you happened upon one of the last Force Dead humans in the galaxy. That was another battle for another time, he thought.

[member="Darth Abyss"], [member="Drogh"], [member="Myles Vylumnar"], [member="Merric Rhoso"], [member="Sek Kali"]

 

[Causstik Rahn]

Caustik Rahn sat with his back against a wall, carefully eyeing each of the mercenaries the mystic had assembled. Of them all Causstik couldn’t help but feel like he stood out the most. The seven foot tall war chief sat large and proud in his phrik plated, beskar chain, jewel encrusted armor. While gaudy, the jewels were for more than just show. They were void stone. Something the warlord had learned was a necessity when hunting warlocks like the one before him. But, what truly caught the eye of others were the ears that lined the Chieftains neck, the scalps that lay across his shoulders and the lightsabers that covered his waist.

The stock of his large tri barreled scattergun propped up his elbow while the business end pointed to the ground. A Z-6 jet pack adorned his back which was topped by a large napalm missile. Flamethrowers mounted his wrist and phrik daggers sprouted from his gauntlets. A metal patch lay bolted over his left eye and while appearing to be nothing more than a disfiguring injury, upon closer inspection it would be revealed to be yet another weapon. What the trophy hunter lacked in skill he made up for in armament and protection. What he did not have in finesse he compensated with sheer destruction.

Usually at the forefront of his clan, today he operated solo. He thought it unnecessary to bring in a army of elite Lizard warriors when he himself would probably be more than enough for a club full of thugs. The Dread Tooth warband had been trading slaves with one of the many underground business that lined this force forsaken planet when Causstik caught wind of the job. With nothing better to do and a recommendation from someone in the Black Tie syndicate the T’dosch found himself working under the employ of Sith once again. Something always led him back to the dark warriors… Perhaps it was the voices that whispered sweet nothings in his ear. Causstik grinned then lifted his head. His tongue flicked between slit teeth, tasting the air, and he laughed as if at some unheard joke.

[member="Marcus Itera"]
[member="Sek Kali"]
[member="Merric Rhoso"]
[member="Myles Vylumnar"]
[member="Drogh"]
[member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

"My lord, everything is ready. Should we proceed as planned?"

The man with the sniper on his back held his right on his ear, speaking into his comm to contact Darth Abyss. A few seconds of silence followed, as commands were given into the mans ear. The the message cut of, and he turned back to the group of hired mercs and the few of Abyss men that would take over what belonged to the shadow that lingered all over Nar Shaddaa.

"Time to move people."

The dark acolytes stepped on the first gilder, while the commander stayed back where he was, activating a holographic map of the entropy, with markers for all of Abyss men. Using members of the former one sith intelligence was very effective for these kinds of missions as they knew well how to use force sensitive soldiers and others for comparable surgical strikes. The gilder rose into the air, those of the others would follow.

When the gilder touched the ground in front of the entropy, 13 lightsabers in a wide range of color came to live. While red was the dominant one, there were also blue, green, purple and yellow. With a warcry the acolytes pushed forward, using their combined force to blast the door open, throwing it across the room behind. Only a second later they stormed into the room, greeted by blaster fire from several positions. The hammer part was over, now they were the shield. Using their weapons to keep the blaster fire from reaching the entrance they stood and waited. Time for the mercs to make their move.

[member="Causstik Rahn"] [member="Marcus Itera"] [member="Sek Kali"] [member="Merric Rhoso"] [member="Drogh"]

 

[Drogh]

Drogh saw the slaves rush by, getting on the glider, Drogh watched by. Getting into the gliders and flying off into the sky. Drogh followed suit, getting into one of the other gliders, sitting down. A strike of fear came down Drogh down again, that one consistent emotion that never quite went away not matter how hard he tried Drogh was always drawn to it. Yet fear gave him power, Drogh felt it, the dark side would swarm around him, digging into his flesh like bugs, nesting within him making him stronger. Some thing didn't feel right, some thing wasn't right again, he could feel. Drogh didn't feel him self, as he heard the gilder take off all the noises around him began to blur, even his vision was starting to fade. Drogh felt sick, ill and weak, whispers saying dark words in his ear, they were vague, making little sense. Drogh lifted his head up, which felt heavier, the roaring of saber and blaster screeched in the night, like a storm.

As Drogh got out of the gilder he struggled to stand, like a falling tree he stumbled forward not entirely sure why he was walking closer to the chaos, in fact Drogh noticed he was indeed the first to be walking towards the chaos, spear heading while the other mercs were behind him. Usually Drogh would of ran into the shadows, hiding from the madness but this was different. Drogh had felt some like this before but it was often brief, this was consistent, the words were getting louder and the voices became more recognizable.

As Drogh carried on, strength was coming back to him, fear was fading and turning into some thing far more menacing and aggressive, hate. Unreasonable, questionable levels of hate, Drogh didn't know why or how such extreme emotions were clawing at him. But as Drogh got closer, it only became more intense until he was finally in the club. Drogh stood silent and still for a moment, quiet and still like a statue. However this was only brief, finally the whisperers were becoming louder, he was starting to hear it, "Die" "Die""Die""Die""Die""Die"Die"Die".


Drogh simply took a viro-knife out of his cloak, rushing forward into the madness of blaster fire.

[member="Darth Abyss"] [member="Causstik Rahn"] [member="Marcus Itera"] [member="Sek Kali"][member="Merric Rhoso"]

 

[Myles Vylumnar]

Devin followed through as his feet touched the ground. Almost immediately, he quick-drew his longblaster and started picking off the enemy thugs within the club. At some point, he got a little trigger happy as he always does, and started holding down the trigger to start mowing down droves of people. As civilians began to flock out of the club, some were shot down by the thugs returning fire on the mercenaries. The only thing that prevented Devin from shooting down a civilian himself was a *click click* sound coming from his gun.

Devin kept his cool. He needed to chill for a moment. Things like this tended to happen for a loose-cannon such as himself. Always getting carried away in the heat of the action, acting foolishly and even arrogant. This wasn't to say, however, that he was not a careful planner. Devin sat back, taking cover behind the squad of flashing lightsabers to regain his focus. After reloading his blaster rifle, he took a deep breath and scouted the area around him. Inside the club, people were either hiding or trying to run. Those people didn't concern him; What did was the small army of armed thugs swarming the area. They began running down the staircases on either side of the entrance, flipping over tables for cover, and even hiding behind the bar. Meanwhile, Devin noticed that some over the strippers were trapped within their cages, watching the onslaught occurring around them. A couple were even shot down, leaving a bloody, dead mess inside. A pitiful and disturbing sight.

Even as people flooded out of the club, the place was still packed with commotion and people. It was difficult to get a clear shot or look at anything, and Devin didn't want to risk killing anyone who didn't need to be killed. After all, he did want that bonus his employer had mentioned. He'd have to make his way to some vantage point, or at least a spot where he could get a good look at everything that was happening. For now, he'd stick to the plan and stick with the 'shield'. He couldn't speak for his fellow mercenaries, however...

Even through all the commotion and blaster-fire, the booming music still echoed through out the building...

[member="Drogh"] | [member="Darth Abyss"] | [member="Marcus Itera"] | [member="Sek Kali"] | [member="Merric Rhoso"] | [member="Causstik Rahn"]