All in the Game [Red Ravens Dominion of Aduba III]

[Glim]

Glim was coming, alright. Walking up into the ship, garbed in his suit, he adjusted the way the duffel hung about his shoulders. It was, coincidentally, a duffel full of duffels. They'd need as many bags as possible to get out of there with as much money as possible. Looking between the two from behinds his glasses, the man gave a faint exhalation. Turns out he didn't need a weapon.

He had one of his own.

An old but reliable scattergun, pump action. Perfect for clearing tight corridors. Or blowing them wide open, at least.

 

[Chiasa Kritivaas]

She'd rather been hoping to get [member="Lurcano Car'dann"] in working order before [member="Glim"] showed up, but there you were. Technically she wasn't supposed to be a babysitter, they were still supposed to be proving themselves but welcome to working with criminals in most cases. If Lurcano was going to insist on flexing like that the shot was going to hurt, but hey, that was his choice. With no regards to bed side manner, Chiasa was not playing sexy nurse for anyone, she injected him with the stimshot and tossed the used container into the nearest waste receptacle.

"The speeder drop is set up. I assume we're sticking with the same time line? I go in half an hour ahead, set up the box and wait for your signal, yes?"

This was less of a question and more reaffirming that everyone knew what they were doing. It looked as if Glim did but..

"I'll assign the RICO units to you two. Obviously the new temp worker isn't going to show up with attack droids. One, for the remainder of the current planetary day or until instructed otherwise by me you are assigned to Glim. Two, you are assigned to Lurcano."

She didn't particularly like this, she liked her droids. They'd proven to be extremely capable in the past but there you were. She had a part to play and she damned well intended to pay it. She flicked a speck of dust of what she assumed was a perfectly acceptable outfit for a temp worker, particularly considering what this one planned to do.

 

[Glim]

Glim gave [member="Chiasa Kritivaas"] a long look, eyes assessing what in the hell she was wearing. That wasn't going to be good for this at all... then again, all she had to do was bunker down on the roof and provide cover. You could do that in high heels, fishnets and a clown costume. With her appearance it wasn't like she was going to avoid attention anyway, so may as well draw more attention with the outfit.

Makes him more forgettable, really. All eyes on her.

None on the psycho next to her.

"I'm ready with tall, ugly and buff is."

 

[Chiasa Kritivaas]

TIMESKIP​

----------------------------------------------------​

"Why'm I doing this again?"

"I robbed the damned Planetary Reserve, I can't exactly just wander down there again!"

"I know, but why me?"

"Because you listen when I tell you to do things and have at least half a lick of sense."

"You're so kind and encouraging to me."

"Shut up and get off the ship. Keep the ear piece in!"

"Yes your Highness."

Henbeddestr grumbled as he left the ship, flanked by a few other Ravens, the Togruta going to find those who could nominally be called in charge, prompted by Chiasa as necessary.

This was a rather neat piece of work as far as Chiasa was concerned. It was slick. Oh it was slick. The original heist had been pulled off, with few hitches worth speaking of. And on the surface, it was stupid. If you were trying to spread your influence to a planet, why would you rob it? But they had. And here was why.

Cleaning out the entire Planetary Reserve had sent Aduba III into bankruptcy. The Shadowport had been plunged into more chaos than ever, further out the farmers couldn't afford seed, fertilizer or to transport what they did manage to produce. Food was starting to grow scarce. In short it was a planet on the very, absolute brink of disaster.

How convenient then that the Ravens just happened to have a boatload of cash, the ability to bring to heel any resistance, and oh right, a highly productive and successful agri-world of their own from which they could easily pull everything Aduba needed to get back on it's feet. If they wanted to stand, all they had to do was play along.

Oh, and of course for any of the enterprising sort, all this disaster meant land and businesses were available at an all time low for those who wanted to invest.

Spoiler

[member="Zander del Sangue"] [member="Octavia Dominia"] [member="Khaleel Malvern"] [member="Leilani Paaie"] [member="Lancem Cuiléin"] [member="Jarven Zexxel"] [member="Jalek Sathora"] [member="Abraxas"] [member="Dakita Calfur"] [member="Draco Vereen"] [member="Marek Starchaser"] [member="Dagora-Kel"]

 

[Armand Temi]

"Clean up your act."

It was what her boss Khaleel Malvern was always telling her.

"I don't know what that means, Chief," she said, exasperated. Metaphors were often lost on the poorly educated zeltron assistant. "I took a shower this morning. Granted, it was the first one in a week, but still that should count for something."

"It means you need to start acting classy, Dakita."

She merely blinked at him. Classy was another word that was difficult for her to comprehend. She was raised by a pair of gypsies on Zeltros, literally hopping from pleasuredome to hedonistic city, wandering, stealing and salvaging.

Therefore, Dakita's work ethic was highly challenged. She wasn't even sure if classy was spelled with a C or a K.

To push her into becoming more of a functioning member of the Ravens or at the very least a competant secretary, Malvern had sent Dak to the planet of Aduba-3 where she was going to use her technical skills - mostly slicing skills learned from hacking repeatedly into hologames - to help the farmers on the agricultural world, install the networking systems needed for drainage and other sorely needed technical structure for monitoring, pesticide treatment and food production.

She wasn't in any hurry to de-board her freighter after it had slid onto the landing pad, near one of the farms to which she had been deployed. As she applied her makeup in the freighter's refresher, she wondered if helping on one of these Aduba farms meant there would be hot, shirtless farmers running around. Shirtless farmers.

Malvern had insisted that she wear more "business" attire on these kinds of assignments, but that didn't mean she couldn't alter her wardrobe. She unbuttoned the top three buttons on her white, dress shirt allowing a glimpse of her bright pink bra.

Klassy.

Dak pressed the button to open the hatch when suddenly she heard Malvern's voice crackle out over the ship's comm system:

"Change of plans. Meet me at the Starport in twenty minutes."

Was he serious? She was just starting to get used to the idea of seducing one of those handsome moisture farmers in a secluded barn somewhere. Malvern was such a joy kill.

[member="Khaleel Malvern"]

 

[Arage Bao]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Location: Aduba III, Starport[/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Allies: [member="Dakita Calfur"][/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Aduba III was one of [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px]those[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px] planets.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]And when I say one of those planets, I meant that they were very familiar and happy when it comes to the criminal scum that mostly frequents these parts of the Galaxy. A renowned shadowport had been established by the Hutts a long time ago, we are talking thousands of years if not more than that. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Today we were here to reestablish [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px]business[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px] and the opportunities that came with it. I had relayed a message to Dakita, girl somehow thought it would be a good idea to go stare at poor farm boys when work needed to be done.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Shouldn’t have nodded back at the office, Khally boy. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Point was, I found myself walking out of my own little freighter and onto the steps of the starport on Aduba III. Was aight a place, nothing too shabby or flimsy, just a world like ain’t no other. But I could almost [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px]hear[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px] the sounds of coins running back and forth here.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Opportunity.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Shet was a schutta most of the time, but sometimes y’are in luck.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px][member="Zander del Sangue"] | [member="Octavia Dominia"] | [member="Leilani Paaie"] | [member="Lancem Cuiléin"] | [member="Jarven Zexxel"] | [member="Jalek Sathora"] | [member="Abraxas"] | [member="Dakita Calfur"] | [member="Draco Vereen"] | [member="Marek Starchaser"] | [member="Dagora-Kel"] | [member="Chiasa Kritivaas"][/SIZE]​

 

[Armand Temi]

Dakita re-routed her B-7 light freighter to the spaceport as instructed. She exited her own ship and met Malvern in front of his. He would notice that she was at least making an attempt at business attire, wearing a white dress shirt, a short black skirt and patent leather heels, but her top three buttons were undone and her lingerie was showing. The zeltron was unconcerned.

“Kriffing hell, boss. Make up your mind already about what we’re doing,” she said in a slightly insolent tone. “I was getting all set up to help those poor, unfortunate farmers and now I’m here.” What she really meant was roll in the hay with a strapping, young hired hand, but he didn’t need to know that.

She took out a cigarra and lit it up, blowing the smoke away from him. She carried only her datapad which presumably had his schedule on it… somewhere.

Dak had left her large handbag and Wilhelm, her ropo back on her freighter. Her eyes darted around the spaceport which was small and unlike the ones on Nar Shaddaa or Antecedent which were crowded with galaxians and shops. She half expected a tumbleweed to roll on through the spaceport.

“Alright I’m bored, already” she said, even though they just arrived. “Give me something to do.”

[member="Khaleel Malvern"]

 

[Chiasa Kritivaas]

Once upon a time Aduba had been straight up anarchy central. Or at least the parts of it that weren't farmers just getting on with it. No central government, no major powers beyond whoever was the big man in whatever collection of huts made up a village. But times change and places grow, and ambition was everywhere.

You introduce a Shadowport, that means population swells, and a lot of what that population was swelling with was criminals and businessmen, often indistinguishable from each other. Now something both of these groups tended to have in spades was ambition and often a generous helping of ruthlessness. Chaos persists but anarchy? No son, anarchy doesn't last. Someone always comes out on top. And then maybe that makes everyone else who didn't care before unhappy, and suddenly they want a say in who's on top. The individual might be weak and pathetic, but the crowd, the people, the faceless masses? Now that could be a mighty force if it gets restless enough that it decides to act.

So slowly, slowly, Aduba III had found itself becoming something with a passable similarity to a republic. Kind of. There was a council of those with the money of the support to be heard, and there was one being in charge, not necessarily chosen or raised up from the council if they were strong enough to take it, or if the masses howled loudly enough to have them ascended.

At the moment it was a mix of the two. The current gent in charge, a human by the name of Byrec Laa had in fact been on the council, but had also managed to garner the support of the people, and he'd managed this by being extremely handsome and charismatic. He also happened to be a fairly successful businessman, though details on his business were sketchy at best. Still, rumors of piracy and other such practices were hardly something the fine folks of Aduba III worried about.

He'd been enjoying a fairly good run as self-proclaimed tyrant, and oh hadn't that gone over well in the speeches and rallies when he said it with a grin and a wink. Then the Ravens had descended, the heist had gone off, and suddenly instead of a fairly easy job he was being held accountable for the world going to hell in a handbasket.

Quite frankly he was giving serious thought to skipping out on the whole mess before he wound up lynched. The only problem being that most of his capital had also been in that bank..

Byrec Laa was in short a desperate man, and this was who Henbeddestr was currently being maneuvered towards.

 

[Darth Metus]

Location: New Haven
Objective: Follow Up
Post Count: 1/20
Allies: [member="Abraxas"], [member="Theia"], [member="Megaera"]

Aduba III.

This was a planet that the Dar'manda was uniquely familiar with, for years prior he had aided in bringing it under the Confederacy's banner. A battle was fought here, not against a unified nation or organization...but against the Four Hundred Year Darkness itself. What was once a relatively peaceful world had been corrupted. Turned. Its people were contorted into cannibalistic animals with only a single city offering a contradiction to the madness. To make matters even worse, an ancient Behemoth had been reborn.

Needless to say, the last time Dagora-Kel set foot upon Aduba, he had put in some serious work.

Now, after so long, he had returned...and the time now came to see the fruits of his labor expanded upon. From above, a small congregation of dropships descended to the city known as New Haven. The Confederacy-turned-Techno Union had seen this settlement repaired and equipped with towering walls to keep the threats of the world at bay. As the Dar'manda descended, he found himself grinning; for the walls still stood. There was nothing more satisfying than seeing one's efforts persist.

Turning away from the viewport, Dagora briefly put his attention upon the woman who accompanied him today. She was a Templar...well, sort of. Her mind had been enthralled to his will, thereby maintaining the loyalty and obedience of those who followed under her. This was a new approach to getting things done, and thus far it was working. Although only forty strong, the vision Dagora had was growing...and today, the next step would be taken.

"Tara, my Datapad if you would." he said. The woman silently nodded and reached out, placing the device into his waiting palm. Honestly...he could get used to this. Deft taps upon the screen brought him into files created by a Doctor Ashlyn Roberts. During the last operation, she had been tasked with accessing what the kark made the felled Behemoth tick.

And these were quite the interesting findings. Gross engorgement. A healing factor. The ability to shoot blaster bolts out of its head. The Behemoth was a nasty karking creature...and that is what brought Dagora and a handful of his Acolytes to New Haven. They were going to find the remains of the Behemoth one way or another. Rising from his seat, Dagora returned the datapad to Tara and promptly disembarked. New Haven was alright. Dusty as hell, but alright. To start, the Acolytes would need to see the man in charge...

 

[Laira Darkhold]

[member="Chiasa Kritivaas"]
[1/20]

I wasn't sure why I was coming to this planet. I didn't have any clue what was going on, and I didn't know why the Red Ravens were interested in this planet. But none of that really mattered. I was here only because Chiasa had requested I come here. I was sure she would tell me what she needed once I arrived, even if it was a simple as she wanted me around. That thought made me smile, it was always better to think on the positive side, and so far things seemed to be going very well.

My ship pulled into the system and I began searching the sensors for her vessel, which ever one it was. It seemed like she kept several around. Seeing the several ships in the vicinity of the planet I decided it better to simply call out for her over the comm-channel would do better and be more efficient than searching for her. I wasn't good enough with the Force to sense people across hundreds of kilometers, even her. All I sensed from her was that she was here, and well, which was enough for now.

"This is Draco Vereen, I was invited here by President Kritivaas. I'd like to speak to her if at all possible." I said over the open channel, unsure whether she was available or if she would be capable of speaking to me here. I wasn't sure how public she was willing for us to be, or if at all.

 

[Xi'Aberron Qun]

[member="Chiasa Kritivaas"]

Michael nearly sighed as his ship touched down in the shadowport.
He was bored lately and had recieved word of Chiasa, his superior as of a few weeks ago, wanting something done on this planet, as well as rumors of a beast that would be worth consuming that had made this planet its home in the far past.

All of which led to his current position: calling Chiasa over his comm, "Hello, it's Michael. I'm on Aduba 3, and apparently you are looking for assistance?"

While waiting for her answer he went onto the holonet and looked for more information about the planet, and hoped to find clues on whether or not the rumors of a 'Behemoth' held any substance.

 

[Darth Eversor]

Location: New Haven
Objective: Meet with contact
(1/20)
Allies: [member="Dagora-Kel"], [member="Theia"], [member="Megaera"]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AFhC_BfaTi8​

​

What do monsters dream of? Is it their own demise that they know might come within the next blink of an eye? Or is it the pursuit of damning others so that a foot may be placed upon a mountain of corpses? There was no flag to serve under in Abraxas' dreams. There was no army to lead or even a voice to command a legion of soldiers. There was only death and the execution of lives far less superior than the creation itself. Blood strewn across landscapes in a surreal canvas of everything to do with both violence and the grotesque golden age that Abraxas longed for. Banners of flesh, structures of bone. The human anatomy becoming the brick and the mortar of all that once was natural.

The slumber of monsters is a depth no one should ever sink into, lest they themselves be of the most dysfunctional.

//...AWAKENING PROTOCOL ENGAGED...//​

​

​

//...ADMINISTERING COMBAT STIMULI...//​

​

​

//...PREPARATION COMPLETE; RELEASING STASIS-CRYPT LOCK...//​

​

Awake was the monstrosity created by both science and machine; drugs coursing through his veins in a dormant state. When the time for extremes came, they would flow as one with the creation's blood cells; tightened muscles, heightened adrenaline, and an unnatural ability to best any mere humanoid in combat. Abraxas would not allow himself to be stopped or put down, no, these were not the qualities of a monster. The true terror did not hide in shadows or corners, it walked in plain sight towards their prey.

And only death would follow.

Going through his usual routine, Abraxas armored himself in his combat gear and strapped himself down with his weapons of choice. A high-caliber slugthrower with a burst fire option. Brilliant for those looking to riddle their targets with gaping holes, or to rid them of their face entirely. A favored piece of the creation, just before his lightsaber. Such a device was an odd concept for Abraxas since he never truly saw himself as one to bear a moniker such as Sith or Jedi; however, it had its uses. It was truly a personalized thing, to slay with blade in hand.

Armed and functional, the creation made his way out of his chamber room to seek out the man that requested his skill-set. It had better be a good reason, or else the awakening of Abraxas would be a wasted moment. Not only wasted, but a hazardous risk to everyone breathing and within the monstrosity's vicinity. There are simply some things people should be more aware of.

Especially since this man deemed the creation worthy of teaching.

 

[Megaera]

Location: New Haven
Objective: Follow up
Post: 1/20
Allies: [member="Dagora-Kel"] [member="Abraxas"] [member="Theia"]

She stood behind her master with an easy grin on her face. She was never without it, unless her face was contorted in rage or the few moments she expressed grief. No, generally the young clone woman and Acolyte seemed rather carefree. For what she was. The idea of a Behemoth however made that grin grow wider. The anticipation of battle, and the pleasure she took in it made her blood sing. She wondered if she would get the final blow today, or if she would be told to still her blade for someone else. Each were acceptable answers, of course. One did not get to her position of combat training without learning some discipline. Whether or not Megaera used said discipline was another thing entirely.

Honestly, she just liked fighting too much sometimes.

She stepped from the ship, 'saber at her hip, clad in the nifty armor her master created and a cloak. Because who wanted dust on their clothes? Brown hair was messily pulled into a bun on her head, and she walked with purpose. She would serve and do whatever her master required of her in this instance.

And only mayhaps kill a few extra creatures for the 'sake of practicing good form'.

 

[Darth Metus]

Location: En Route to the Behemoth Cavern
Objective: Rise.
Allies: [member="Deneve"], [member="Megaera"], [member="Abraxas"], [member="Theia"]

Upon stepping out into the afternoon light, the Dar'manda and those that followed were greeted by the sight of buildings literally erected out of trash. Scrap metal and rust were a common theme; for wealth seemed to elude the planet at the time being. That was indeed unfortunate, but what did one expect? The planet had been unceremoniously handed over to the Black Sun Syndicate as per the exceptional political maneuvering of Norongachi. First he hung Dagora out to dry, then he handed territory over to a criminal syndicate that could barely stand on its own.

The Dar'manda wasn't bitter or anything. Nope.

The arrival of the Acolytes to New Haven was something of a spectacle to behold...at least in the eyes of its denizens. For years they had been relatively undisturbed, and now vessels came down from above. This occurance warranted a greeting from the man the people regarded as their leader; and as such the aging man strode forth, flanked by two poorly-armed guards. "Welcome to New Haven!" he began politely. "To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?"

To this, Dagora said with a slight chuckle. "I am one of the few who saw the Behemoth slain. We have come to inspect its remains so that we can ascertain how it came about...and to prevent subsequent appearances." Part of this was true, part of this was a bold lie. The Dar'manda had every intention of seeing the beast return, in one form or another. Surprise, gratitude, and utter glee washed over the old man's face. Without any warning, he stepped forward and eagerly grabbed Dagora's hand, shaking it thoroughly. "Confederates! Oh, we are in your debt!" came his gleeful exclamation. Then, there was a...cautious edge to his voice. "The remains were moved to a cave and sealed off. We didn't want anyone going near, lest anything nefarious happen. My enforcer, Goa, can show you the way."

Excellent. They had a guide.

The next few minutes were spent readying the handful of speeder bikes that the Acolytes had brought along for the trip. There was not enough for the whole group, so the majority of the host would follow along from the air. As for Dagora, [member="Abraxas"], [member="Theia"], [member="Megaera"], [member="Deneve"], and Tara, the speeder trip had just begun. The Dar'manda allowed the guard to lead the way, before gunning his bike forward and following along. Tara was at his heels, and he expected that his apprentices would soon follow. As they moved, Dagora opened his mind to the Force and reached out, making contact with those whom followed closest behind.

What is the difference between Magick and general usage of the Force? he asked. It was not a ridiculously difficult inquiry, but one intended to begin the day's instruction. After all, what Dagora had in mind would expose them to his Arts for the first time.

-Sidenote-

Inquiries into the HoloNet would yield a rather basic news report. One detailing the Confederacy-turned-Techno Union's acquisition of Aduba III years prior and their defeat of a Behemoth. @Xi'Aberron Qun

-/Sidenote-

 

[Leilani Paaie]

[SIZE=12pt]Location: Aduba III, Starport[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12pt]Allies: Unknown[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12pt]Enemies: Unknown[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12pt]1/20[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]Leilani was moving from starport to starport lately gathering information and working angles that sometimes panned out for her and other times left her with nothing to show for her effort.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]What was she doing here now Aduba.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]Her dark eyes looked out at the horizon she felt no attachment here, not wanting for something more for some reason when she looked out here she felt empty.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]She walked slowly taking in the movements of those around her. She could not be too careful she always tried to be careful but the last month she had felt followed. Was someone watching her?[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]Had the family of the lovely man who gave her a bunch of credits following her to find out what she did for all those credits? Or was it the designer of stealth technology that she liberated from his care. Or was it as Zander said that the one who had performed their ritual on him was now following her.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]She stopped to see if the feeling went away, it did not. The hair on her neck rose up, she smiled. She picked her head up and focused on a place to sit, then she would see what happen.[/SIZE]

 

[Darth Eversor]

Location: Following [member="Dagora-Kel"]
(2/20)
Objective: Observe
Allies: [member="Deneve"], [member="Megaera"], [member="Theia"]

This was an interesting experience to behold. One of socialization and embracing a path that would be typically narrow for Abraxas to begin with. These others, however, were individuals that the creation did not much care for - rather, he saw them as a challenge. Where they would hope to find themselves in the future, Abraxas had a parallel thought to cut their threads thin and be above them. The creation had no intentions on making nice with any of these individuals, for there was only an objective and nothing more.

Revving the speeder bike to full throttle, Abraxas jolted forward and found himself riding alongside the man that had requested his presence. Leaving the others behind, the monstrosity only had the single notion of doing every he possibly could to be superior in every regard. The Force was a foreign concept to Abraxas despite the fact he used it in combination with his combat prowess and lightsaber efficiency. It was a tool, really. There was no spiritual involvement, only mechanical usefulness and a means to destroy a target.

And by the looks of things, these other folk were largely considerable as prey.

Feeling a connection being made with him through the Force, Abraxas hadn't the slightest knowledge of what the man was asking. The Force was not a philosophy to the creation, it was merely an applicable strength to ensure the death of someone. Severing himself from this trivia, Abraxas kept silent and kept riding on with the group he was with.

Prey... that is all they will ever be.

 

[Alexis Altunen]

Location: Aduba III Spaceport
Allies: [member="Khaleel Malvern"] [member="Dakita Calfur"]
1//20

Octavia was a bit late meeting Khal at the Aduba III Spaceport. Just like a man, Malver, could just pull on some slacks, throw on a shirt, fingerbrush his hair and no one would bat an eyelash. But if Vi left Malvern's Freighter looking like she did after a few hours of doing what they did...well the whole spaceport would be eyeing her funny. Such double standards, but that was the way of the galaxy wasn't it? Still you couldn't blame a girl for wanting her makeup done right, her hair just so, and perhaps to be dressed.

Speaking of hairs out of place, Khal was currently standing next to a pretty little Zeltron thing who had just about everything out of place, and artfully so. By the way her lingerie poked out of the front of her top, Vi assumed that the red babe was a working girl. If Khal needed to see a prostitute after the things that they just did in his Freighter, then the poor man had more problems than just running the Red Ravens.

Octavia walked forward, her high heels clacking on the duracrete, gave the woman the once over twice, and then turned her head to Khal. She gave him a stiff smile and a very slow blink.

"Who do we have here? Mr. Malvern."

It wasn't her usual term of endearment.

 

[Arage Bao]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Location: Aduba III, Spaceport HQ[/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Allies: [member="Setzi Lunelle"] | [member="Coren Starchaser"][/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]“[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Alright, so ya wanted to talk about something[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px].” Khal would say, while slumping onto one of the couches. They had just arrived from the Primeval mission, could reasonably assume that it had been a success, if slightly.. chaotic at points.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]But that’s most of his missions all the time, so can’t really judge about that anyway.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]He was tired, a little bit sweaty and desperately needed a shave - which didn’t really mean a lot, because Khal always needed a shave. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]That was part of the charm, probably.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Cigarette found its way from his pocket, into his mouth and a light came soon after. He didn’t really wonder about what Setzi wanted to talk about, it could be a variety of things and most of ‘em were probably related to the missions they had been running for quite some time now, she was more experienced now and less hinged upon stupid rules that only counted when ya wanted them to count.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]She got potential, just… roughen up those polished edges.[/SIZE]

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Location: Abu Dhabi Orbit
1/20

He fething hated when things went south. That didn’t happen very often, after all, he was Coren Starchaser. But every so often he needed to take a hit to help the Underground members get away. See? He wasn’t infallible, as much as he liked to think so. It was another supply run and he was in his ship, the Tiburon, but apparently the place he was at didn’t care for the falsified transponder. He wasn’t going to be broadcasting the Levantine as his home port. This one was actually a Hutt Cartel transponder.

Simple really.

But apparently certain planets don’t take kindly to the Hutts. He gave the team their escape routes and took the hit, leading the patrol boats on a chase. He made his first jump, and waited, his second had seen him launch two probes.

Well, they had a thirty three point three repeating percent to find him.

Fething Luke H. Skywalker.

 

[Setzi Lunelle]

Location: Aduba III, Spaceport HQ
Allies: [member="Khaleel Malvern"] | [member="Coren Starchaser"]


Right. The talk.

"I know we've skirted around this issue before," she said. "And you've shared your viewpoint on light and dark." Come to think of it, had he? Even if he hadn't specifically pointed this out, it was clear to Setzi on where Malvern stood. It wasn't necessarily the intermingling of Force powers that concerned her. It was his application of them. For example, the way he healed her wound in the speeder taxi on Ziost. None of that looked and felt like lightside magic. She had also done some research since that trip and discovered that Jedi healing would have taken much longer. The healing ritual Malvern had performed on her took no more than a couple minutes. Although the intense pain made the entire ordeal feel like hours.

"But Khal, I have to ask," she said, her blue eyes making direct contact with his. He looked especially scruffy today and a little exhausted. But they had been going nonstop since Ziost, so that wasn't surprising at all. "Just what exactly are you mixed up in?"

While her inquiry was vague, her serious tone left no mistake. It was a pointed question without room for nuance in his answer. And if he tried to dismiss her, that would also be telling.

As she waited for his response, with a wave, she hailed a servo-droid which whirred around the Spaceport and ordered two stimcafs with no milk. Since she was born on Aduba-3, she knew the caf was potent and would probably give them the energy they needed to continue this conversation and whatever else would transpire today.