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Mrrew watched with a slightly ammused expression on his face as [member="Lysle of the Hydian Way"] displayed his frustration and stormed off with a few guards. This was to be expected with an illegal enterprise. Credits where credits, though, and as long as no one innocent was killed, he didn't much care what the Red Ravens had their hands in. And since organized crime rarely killed at random, that was not likely to happen. His ears twitched as he heard the slugthrower downstairs increase iin instensity. Return fire. He could only hope his possible future buisness partner didn't get killed.
The Togorian glanced over at [member="Sebastion Wulfsorrow"], his 'personal guard', and smirked. "Is this normal?" Mrrew fell in line behind him. He wasn't paticularly worried. If the attackers made their way up here, somehow, he was sure he wouldn't be hard pressed to find a blaster. He did wish he had his weapons, however. "I woudl think you'd have better security." Mrrew's ears twitched back again at the sound of cyroban grenades downstairs. They really should invest in some wardroids...
He was about to leave when he saw the assailants being heavily pushed back, then the massive cat asked Sebastion if this was a normal happen stance. "Not usually, this is the first time I've seen it happen, and you see how quickly this was handled." Sebastion decided to head for the bar instead, there wasn't much danger left as the assailants had been pushed out of the building. He walked towards the bar and grabbed a drink. "So what do you think of our little operation set up out here, I hope your satisfied it's especially nice when we aren't under attack by some guys." Sebastion was trying to win over the cat and have a cool demeanour about the situation, he looked at his bottle of rum and wondered if he was beginning to become an alcoholic. It always seemed like he had a bottle in his hand. Oh well thought Sebastion as he chugged the bottle.
Mrrew glanced at the screen that displayed the battle downstairs, before looking back to [member="Sebastion Wulfsorrow"]. "What is your definition of handled? I would say several dozen people were murdered..." A slight growl, came into Mrrew's voice, but it quickly retreated. "Why where they attacking you? Who were they?" The Togorian certainly didn't want to start a buisness relationship with someone frequently visited by hit squads. That would be bad for buisness. Hopefully, that wasn't the case.
Sebastion put the bottle down, "Well we're currently at war with the Black Suns, so it may have been one of their's, but we have no way of knowing until this has settled down and we either capture someone or get some way to identify them." Sebastion looked around noticing all the dead bodies. "It is a shame that so many civilians died though, never want that to happen, it's bad for businees." He took another swig. "I'm sure Lysle will be able to answer your questions when he is done mopping up these rabble."
While the others clamped down on the commotion, Daxton took his time to swirl the wine in its goblet before quaffing it down. "Ah the rebellious cries of dying roach. As you can see the Suns are not even organized to mount a decent raid. They attack piece by piece, like meal worms. Just like a worm they will be crushed beneath the heel." Putting the glass down, he gave another disconcerting smile before rising from his chair.
Pressing the communicator in his right ear he contacted the drones he had circling above the casino, silent observant birds of prey who acted as his eyes. "Make a projection based on current speed and direction, and key to me an intercept point."
Walking to the nearby balcony so as not to burn the new rugs, he activated his jeack and sought to pursue this little worm.
So the only reason they didn't want innocent people to die is because it's bad for buisness... He hoped Lysle didn't share [member="Sebastion Wulfsorrow"]'s outlook. And at war with the Black Sun? Great. So they probably wouldn't last long. This was looking bleaker and bleaker all the time. The Togorian glanced at the screen displaying the battle on the lower floors, nbefore looking back to the guard. And why is the leader of your organization fighting them off, anyway?"
"Oh Lysle, well it's bad face if he shows any signs of weakness isn't it." He noticed the Togorian looking less favourably on the Ravens. "Hey if your worried about the suns don't be, we can handle them, out of all the minor factions we have the most massive fleet and our men are all highly skilled in their areas. Plus I hear there is some dissension going down in the Suns gang, anyway just food for thought."
He'd never heard of a president on the front lines, or a grand chancelor leading an assault. That was a sure way to get the leader of a nation killed. Hm. Mrrew nodded as [member="Sebastion Wulfsorrow"] talked about their war with the Suns. "Fair enough." He glanced back at the screen. "Next time, however, I'm not handing my weapons tot eh security guard."
When Vassago and his men ran for the doors, they miraculously escaped the concentrated fire of nigh a thousand security guards. In sheer fury, Lysle lifted his submachine gun and threw it to the ground. "The second time this week!" he roared at the Orcas. "I'm detailing more security." He didn't know the motives of this man, but with the recent firefights with the Black Suns, it was logical to think it was them. Though there was something deeper at work, he suspected, how else could one not have been gunned down by the multitude of incoming fire. Not even a Jedi could have avoided being eviscerated into thousand shreds by the gunfire of submachine guns, blaster carbines, rotary guns and the countless pistols of the security.
Lysle moved towards the closest elevator, forcing the Herglic to take the stairs. When he arrived with a ding, the others had moved from the table to the bar with Sebastion, and something told him by the way he spoke and drank, that this wasn't good. He stepped forward, readjusting his vest and smoothing it out. "My deepest apologies." He approached Mrrew and motioned towards the table, "My men are dealing with the terrorists, shall we take a seat?"
"I suppose I should leave you two alone." Sebastion took his bottle and walked away, leaning over and whispering to Lysle. "He is very empathetic to the people who died here and is worried about our war against the Black Suns, also I'm not sure he likes me much." With those final words Sebastion stood nearby, but far enough to give the men their privacy.
[member="Lysle of the Hydian Way"] [member="Mrrew"]
The Togorian glanced back at [member="Lysle of the Hydian Way"] when he arrived back on the upper floor. Mrrew nodded as he spoke, and walked back to the table. The chairs probably wouldn't fit him in the least, however, so he opted to stand. "Does this happen often?" This time he directed the question to [member="Lysle of the Hydian Way"]. "I would think a place as large as this, practically a small city, would have better security. Ecspecially with so many civilians..." Mrrew frowned. "Either way, I was called here for a buisness meeting...?" He was wary, now, but that didn't mean he had to give up a contract. The more people that took interest in the Guild, the faster it would expand. And inetrest from a faction such as this, as long as it lasts more then a few days, could be beneficial. He just hoped he wasn't going to regret anything.
One by one they came out of the casino. Then in small groups and knots, then in swathes of bodies. They fought through the crowd and towards his boys and the speeders they'd rode in on. It was only a matter of time. An Ion grenade went down under the speeder he stood near and he heard most of the personal shields in use go down immediately.
A few more of his boys went down, torn to shreds by enemy fire. He heard the unmistakable hum of lightsabers in action nearby, courtesy of the punk with the two glow sticks he'd seen earlier. One of the men near him that had stooped down for whatever reason dropped, a shot killing him instantly. It wasn't a stretch to figure that shot was meant for Vassago. Between the incoming fire, the armored monstrosity barely a stride or two away, a few droids nearby shooting at the speeders, and the huge amount of firepower coming from some monkey wielding a rotary blaster, Vassado felt it was time for the final stage of the plan.
Escape.
It was a complex plan with many variables, moving parts, and a whole lot of luck. It relied on his boys being uninformed of the explosives in the trunks of the vehicles. It relied on the delayed fuse he'd pressed barely seconds before. It relied on the people inside the casino driving them out and attempting to gun them down in the open. It relied on them trying to close with himself and his boys to take someone hostage or, at least, alive to question. It relied on a great many things. All of which had come to pass. While it hadn't been exactly to plan, it was close enough to pay off as he'd wanted it. And, now, with things as they were, it was time for Vassago to leave.
And leave he did.
With a lopsided grin and a smug look that lasted for a bare second, Vassago... melted. The Gurlanin shifted into a seemingly black liquid and slipped through the grates below his feet. Frozen or unfrozen, the slots in the grate, while not big enough for a man, were big enough for a shifted Gurlanin.
Vassago disappeared down the sewer hatch and slipped into the sewers themselves. He traveled a fair distance away downstream in the muck of the water under the roads... and then all Hell broke loose.
The three speeders had their trunks filled with explosives. The central speeder's payload had a fried detonator, courtesy of the ion grenade going off below it. However, between the other two speeders' makeshift bombs, it was able to more or less sympathetically detonate.
Vassago's henchmen, the ones who were left, were vaporized or torn asunder instantly along with the speeders themselves and a fair amount of the roadway beneath each vehicle. An explosion that size would more than likely cause immense damage to the casino itself, kill scores of clientele and passersby, and do who knew what to the various guards and specialists attempting to catch Vassago and his boys.
Why would Vassago go to such great lengths for such a thing? A message. The attack was not the message itself. The attack was, indeed, suicide, but not for himself. This was the message.
I can hit you when you least expect it, it said.
It was nothing personal. It was just... good business.
FYI, those of you in the blast area, feel free to get out of it and what not. If you wanna get hurt, killed, flung, etc., be my guest, but if you'd rather not turn into an interesting grease smear on the sidewalk, feel free not to become one I've left the damage open ended for y'all, so do as you like within reason Walking away from explosions while looking awesome is encouraged.
Jace who was right beside one of the exploding speeders was lucky enough to be able to stop most of the explosive force with some of his own abilities, but he could not stop the heat, and although non-lethal, he burned his left arm almost entirely, making it nigh unusable without proper treatment, causing Jace to fall to the ground, writhing in agony.
Hovering over the destruction, Daxton could not help but smile. Total and utter destruction, pure chaos. Whoever this one was, he or she would bear watching. Perhaps they would be of use in the future,
Meanwhile there were the fires to attend to. Landing near the blast site, the Sith raised both arms to channel the force, drawing all the oxygen from the immediate area and cocooning it in a void absent of air to quell the flames.
The raven haired man in the black leather jacket sitting at one of the Dragon Palace's many slot machines was not over seven feet tall, nor did he have an entourage of impressive(ly numerous) security guards. In fact, he didn't even have that much money. Pretty hard to find a job when you were on every government's undesirable list, which Mikhail Shorn definitely was... or at least he was pretty sure he was.... He frowned. Now that he thought about it he wasn't sure what bounties were currently out on him, if any. He shrugged. Oh well, someone somewhere wanted him dead.
He reached forward to pull the lever of the machine when the sharp whine of blasters cut through the incessant casino 'bings'. Several stray bolts slammed into his machine, instantly putting it out of commission. Ice blue eyes widened, surveying the smoking black holes in the side of what was supposed to pay for his hotel bills.
A spike of anger and resentment flared to life in his chest, like a hand tightening viscerally around his heart. This was supposed to be a brief getaway from all the B.S. he'd gone through recently, what with the mind wipe and the Dathomiri and Salem. He'd just wanted to gamble away every cent he had left before coming back to Andra with an empty-hand and a big smirk, but noooo.
"What-"
The explosion came without warning - aside from a massive increase in the volume of firepower spitting throughout the casino - and blew Mikhail off his feet. The casually dressed Sith Lord landed on his ass amid a pile of burnt wreckage. The machines in front of him had caught the worst of the blast. He grunted as he got to his feet, noticing the bits and pieces of humanoid body parts littering the floor. Ok, maybe not just the machines.
Shorn dusted the blast residue off his jacket and glared around. No. It wasn't somebody who wanted him dead, it was the damn galaxy.
"Seriously?" He growled, "You've got to be kidding. Just one day-"
Very blue, very angry eyes alighted on a certain zabrak whose face looked entirely too familiar.
"Finally," Shorn muttered, shoving past first responders as he strode furiously toward [member="Daxton Bane"], "Someone to blame."
Bane had been a little before his time. Made bad with Moridin. Something about an attempted revolt. Moron. A lot of Sith held him up as an ideal. Shorn hated that, because... well... he hated Sith. Who better to be pissed at for this whole sudden series of shenanigans than a Sith? Mikhail honestly didn't care if Bane was responsible for the mess. All that mattered was that he was present and ridiculous looking in his pretentious black attire.
"Ew. Sith," was all he said before extending a hand, fingers curled, and wrapping all his telekinetic will around the Zabrak's throat.
My life seems to be running a common theme at the moment. You see, I was on my way to investigate potential new employers at their business meeting. Nothing really frightening, just a meeting inside their headquarters, which was located inside a casino called the Dragon Palace. I quickly learned it was not the most ascetic of affairs with the incessant bing-bing of gambling machines rather annoyingly buzzing about my ears immediately upon arrival.
I'd made it through the front entrance and toward the meeting room, when suddenly the whole place was engulfed in a firefight. Like any rationale being, I did the intelligent thing and hid in the nearest bathroom until it was all over; after which I managed to pick my way through the newly torn up place and nearly bumped into my prospective employer's rather haggard looking Herglic bodyguards.
"I say," I exclaimed frightfully, taking a step back from the two seven foot monoliths of blubber. Peering around them I spotted the man in charge and extended a hand along with my best smile. I'm very good at smiling, you see, no matter the circumstance. Unless a Sith Lord has his lightsaber pressed up against my groin, in which case I don't think I'd be smiling much at all.
"Lysle? Yes, I'm Sasha. The smuggler. I believe we spoke on the comm. Yes, well, you Red Ravens certainly seem to be a delightful bunch. Do you always start out your business meetings by beating back massed assailants?"
Lysle gave a quick thank you to Sebastion before letting him depart. "No, this is the second event since its opening, but otherwise, everything has been smooth sailing. Our security is tight, a thousand bouncers across the gaming floors and a handful in the restaurants. It seems the terrorists who did this had something else on their side. I cannot say what, but I must admit, no sentient being I know of can bypass a thousand security guards unharmed. It just isn't natural." It was clear that Lysle was grossly concerned about this. The sounds of blaster fire had become a distant whisper to their ears as the firefight continued to be pushed further away from the casino. "Let us continue the meeting, shall we?" Placing the ELG-3A blaster pistol on the table, he relaxed into his seat. The pistol wasn't for Mrrew, rather it was in the event that two miracles happened in one day for the scum who attacked his palace. But no amount of miracles was going to save them from a molten ball of blaster through their skull.
A distant boom was heard, and the building rocked, but nothing seemed damaged. The bomb hadn't been so effective on taking out a portion of the casino. Lysle assumed it to only be a trio of grenades, and he forced a smile to Mrrew. "I can assure you, that when I find the men or women responsible for this, I'll personally be cleaving their fingers off with a bolt cutter." He motioned his desires away with the flick of his hand, "You can be certain these dealings will not interfere with your business, sir. If they do, I give you full consent to do more than cutting off a few fingers." His anger boiled and festered, seething from him as he tried to pull everything together. But everything had just gone so horribly wrong.
Someone called his name, as a new ball of events rolled out. He was ready to call the meeting off, and throw a chair into a wall in frustration. He was greeted only be a contagious smile, and Lysle's forced one suddenly became genuine as he shook the mysterious mans hand. Then he mentioned the meeting, and what smile had come to his lips vanished just as fast. He curled his toes, licking his lips and glancing down to the floor to keep himself well mannered - as well mannered as he could be in a situation of utter catastrophe as this. "Yes," he replied with irritant and a deadened voice, "Lysle." Lysle motioned Sasha to a chair, "I'll be with you in a moment."
Was she finished? She guessed she was, but that comment Lysle had made before leaving hadn't been for the actual concern for her words. She frowned, glancing towards some of the people standing in the room, realizing she had never seen some of them before. Perhaps they weren't Ravens after all. Something that was confirmed later when Lysle made the "honorable quests" remark.
His words commenting on her age hit her right in her face, was she being scolded? She for sure knew one thing and that was that he wasn't her father! Jennifer took a deep breath, trying to keep herself in check. "Pfft.... Shut up." She whispered quietly at herself in protest, otherwise not challenging Lysle. As he, accompanied by his guards and some ravens, exited the room Jennifer decided to sit down into a chair by the table, crossing her legs as she leaned back into it.
Sitting still there with the data-pad in her hand she simply started browse various daily news magazine, waiting for the people to return. Which they did soon enough. However she decided not to interrupt just yet watching them continue their conversations instead. She would stay quiet for now, continuing to sit leaned back in the chair, trying to not seem too offended.
A thousand bouncers. Prehaps he was relying on numbers instead of skill? The Togorian shrugged. As long as his buisness partner, or he, wasn't killed,, it wasn't any of his buisness. Mrrew nodded when he suggested continuing the meeting. The reason he came here and watched the catastrophe in the first place; the Red Ravens wanted a contract with the Beast Hunter's Guild. Which could certainly be profitable, if the Red Ravens oculd stay in one place, and their money was good. Well, as good as casino money can be. Mrrew opened his mouth to respond, when ad distant explosion shook the building. ... The Togorian slowly looked to the nearest window, then to [member="Lysle of the Hydian Way"]. Cleaving fingers off with a bolt cutter. I'd use a glass dagger. But to each his own. Once the building stopped shaking, Mrrew opened his mouth to speak again... And then Sasha spoke up. Mrrew blinked, and slowly looked over to the Near-human.
Once he and Lysle extended a few words, Mrrew looked back to his future buisness partner. "Yes... Where were we? Ah. The meeting."
"Ew. Sith," he heard the voice say from behind him, as the orbalisks around his body began to writhe at the presence of dark side energy began to wrap itself around his throat. Sigh so typical a combat move it was both a great disappointment and an amusing note to the Sith that some one was still naive enough to try that move on him.
Not only was Daxton well versed in the counter to that attack, as he wrapped a collar of Force around his neck, virtually stopping all pressure from being exerted. He turned to face his assailant and said, "Surely you could have thought of something more inspiring than Ew. Sith. What's wrong? Got an upset stomach? Maybe your underwear is on too tight? Use what pitiful excuse you have for wit and at least come up with something interesting."
With a dismissive sneer, he lashed a telekinetic limb at the other man to strike him across the chest with the force of a rampaging Wookie.
I've left the damage open ended for y'all, so do as you like within reason 
