Public Finder's Keepers: Mission to Jakku

[The Messenger]

The Horsemen are drawing nearer
On the leather steeds they ride
They have come to take your life
On through the dead of night
With the four Horsemen ride
Or choose your fate and die​

The Brotherhood's armada sailed through the black void of space in the shadow of Jakku. They had emerged from hyperspace utilizing a forgotten path from the Unknown Regions to the desert world before them. The purpose of their arrival was clear, there was little else the desert world had to offer other than the vast swaths of scrap and the skeletal remains of two great navies that fought here so long ago. The heathen navy stayed out of orbit within the shadow of the world as two retrofitted capital class vessels broke off from the main fleet for the planetside.

Two ships, an old Imperial Star Destroyer outfitted with enough durasteel to fashion a capital class battering ram on the bow, and a rusted out MC30c Mon Calamari frigate retrofitted with XX-9 turbolasers from an Imperial-II Star Destroyer, entered the atmosphere supporting painted symbols of the Hidden Maw. Their mission was simple, capture and scrap anything of value they could find on the barren planet. Of course, such orders would not stop the raiders of the Brotherhood from attacking settlements or scavengers along the way. In fact, it was encouraged among the Brotherhood to collect as many slaves as they could to replenish the ranks of slave-soldiers. More meat for the grinder.

Rusted metal and debris broke free from their ancient welds, erupting into balls of flame as the Star Destroyer and it's companion vessel entered the atmosphere of Jakku. The drums of War sounded off within the hallowed halls of the capital ships as they neared planet side, transports lit up with beckons and lights, old fighters fired up their thrusters ready to scour the landscape. As the behemoth bellowed and leveled itself out over the wreckage of the old world, transports shot out rapidly from the underbelly of the laboring beast. Chants and bloodthirsty song filled the barely air-worthy transports as they scattered to the few settlements picked up on their scanners.

With heavy blades and ready blasters, they readied themselves for their quarry, readied themselves for slaves.

The warlords have spoken, the Brotherhood sets out to claim resources from the desert world both technological and organic alike. Wretched slaves and their twisted foremen move to salvage the remnants of the graveyard of starships left behind at the end of the battle of Jakku in the closing days of the Galactic Civil War. Claim your prize among the wreckage of the old world and explore the wasteland of Jakku where hidden treasures await those who know where to look.

Scanners picked up settlements along the barren wastes of Jakku. Niima Outpost and Cratertown pose to be among the first within the Brotherhood's reach, go forth and claim new slave-soldiers for the meat grinder. Take what you please and remember you keep what you kill!

Whatever gets you to post chief..

 

[Scar Worlds Commscan Relay]

A distress call from one of Jakku's salvage outposts bounced its way through Spacer Guild networks. Raiders of an unknown type had arrived at Jakku by an unknown method from an unknown vector.

'Unknown,' in some circles, is just a synonym for 'valuable.'

Aeshi Tillian , Alkor Centaris , Allyson Locke , Amea Virou , Ar'tal Ktruok , Tris , Ay Ge , 3X744, Cotan Sar'andor , Dash Kessler , Davin Skirata, Dax Perl , Frielle Kinniak, Furch Lund , Galen Arterius, Gilamar Skirata , Jorco Czeku , Julius Sedaire , Kaleleon , Kara Moonlighter, Kelsie Sylvan , Kenth Haruss , Kingsley , Kole Eckttor , Kyra Quez, Liam Sedaire , Stace de'Lorne o'Breac , Lucien Dooku , Maynard Treicolt , Miri O'Hare, Muk Moadda, Nova Casamyr , Orson Jade , Ria Misrani , Runi Verin , Subject 73 Red , Sylvia Virtos , Hal Vaiken , Umedara Zaar, Wynter Rackham , Yula Perl , Zak Amroth, Zef Halo , Zivos

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Jakku, Surface, Niima Outpost
Allies: Open
Enemies: Open

The raid on Black Spire Outpost had been glorious, a blood-soaked return to known space in which the Brotherhood had been free to loot, pillage, and slay. Batuu might lie at the very edge of the galaxy, but the tremor of fear that the Maw had unleashed there would reverberate from system to system. In time, terror would seize the hearts of billions. They would be left to wonder: would they be next? That terror was oxygen to the Brotherhood's ever-burning flames. Fear made them strong, and left their enemies vulnerable.

But despite the spoils of the raid, there had been many casualties. Deadly agents of the Eternal Empire, including the lethal Empress herself, had fought back against the marauders, and the so-called Smuggler Queen had traded favors to bring in highly-skilled mercenaries to hold them back. Countless slave-soldiers had never left the craggy forests of Batuu, and the prisoners taken there, though many, had not entirely replaced those losses. That was to say nothing of the lost weapons and vehicles, not so easily replaced.

That was what brought them to the isolated backwater of Jakku, the graveyard of an empire's final stand. They would consume all that this world had to offer, and with those raw materials rebuild their strength.

Within the hold of his transport, The Mongrel stalked back and forth like a caged animal. He was still growing accustomed to the persistent limp in his left leg, forcing himself through the pain and awkwardness by sheer rage. Although he had upgraded his makeshift brace since the last raid, there had been little anyone could do for the deep wound in his thigh, and the whole way he walked had changed as a result. Still, it would be a mistake to think him weak, as several opportunistic marauders had since his return.

Their severed ears and mangled teeth now danged from a cord around his neck, a grisly warning not to underestimate him.

Batuu had been The Mongrel's baptism in blood, and he had come through it stronger and more vicious than ever before. He had proven already that the dark blessing of the Voice, bestowed upon him in the presence of the Warlords themselves, had not been a mistake, and he intended to keep proving it. Although it seemed unlikely that anyone in this desert hinterland would be able to challenge the dark tide of marauders about to sweep across it, he was determined to show his worth again, whether by blood, by metal, or both.

The transport bringing The Mongrel and some fifty other marauders down to the surface of Jakku was much different from the cramped shuttle they'd used in the Batuu raid; it was larger, with a vast cargo hold that left more than enough room for the crazed warriors to spread out. The change had nothing to do with anyone's rank or comfort; the ship was a captured freighter, and would soon be filled with starship parts and the scavenged hulks of vehicles. There would be room for slaves, too, if the Brotherhood found anyone worth taking.

The freighter set down on the dusty plain, many more like it following behind. While some ships, mostly full of non-combat laborer slaves and their vicious overseers, would head for the great starship graveyard some kilometers away, the warriors had instead been dispatched here: the small but vibrant salvage market known as Niima Outpost. After all, why waste time carving valuable scrap from ancient hulks when you could just kill or enslave those who'd already done that, then take their stuff? The scavs would never know what hit them.

The cargo ramp dropped, and despite his maimed leg, The Mongrel led the charge out of the hold. The marauders screamed and howled, maddened war cries blending with chants of praise to the dark gods of the Maw. In the tent city and the scrapyards surrounding it, people looked up in shock and horror. They were ordinary men and women, hardened fringers who'd scraped out a living dragging junk across the desert, earning just enough to get by. They were tough, and seasoned, and stubborn... but they were utterly unprepared.

"Kill the weak, take the worthy!" The Mongrel screamed, raising his scattergun above his head and beckoning the horde onward. He no longer even remembered what it would have been like to empathize with these men and women, people not so different from the colonists he'd grown up beside. His mind had been consumed by the Maw, and he lived only to spread its terror.

 

[CETCOM]

Disregard Post

 

[Alars Keto]

The dropship hung low to the desert sands kicking up a trail of dust and sand residue as flew above the barren landscape toward Niima Outpost. His crew was small, a veteran band of raiders whom had earned his respect over the course of his tenure as an Enforcer for the Brotherhood. The crazed lieutenant hung from the side of the LAAT gunship, catching the dry wind against his face as his hair fluttered back. A single light beacon turned green, catching the eye of the marauder as he shifted his body back into the cabin.

"Alright boys I want at least a dozen of em' wrapped up in chains. We need more war boys for the big bosses and their raids. Remember make em' hurt, we ain't in the business of charity work." His eyes flashed to the front as the pilot signaled back, Kryll silently nodded in agreement taking a moment to himself before flashing his crazed eyes back to the members of his party. "Alright, alright, alright let's go go go!"

The LAAT gunship slowed to a near halt as it passed the threshold of Niima Outpost, without stopping itself it spun at a 90 degree turn to release its occupants as they leapt down from the side doorway facing the settlement. Loud cheers filled the air around him as they charged for the scavenger outpost, his eyes watched on as other dropships touched down dropping their cargo, more raiders, more competition to claim slaves and valuables from his warlord Syrenno Maraan .

Screaming at the top of his lungs against the heavy winds pressed against their back, Kryll yelled forth to his crew, "Don't let them get the goods! It's ours!"

 

[Furch Lund]

Location: Cratertown
Ergle's Bar
Allies: Anyone not trying to hurt or kill him
Enemies: Those trying to hurt or kill him
Weapons: DC-17 Blaster pistol, survival knife, Extensive mixed martial arts training that his is probably wishing he had.

"How.........how.... da fiek do ya consider dis....BURPS... healthy for consumption?" The Latero complained, his deep raspy voice made raw by the effects of the local strong alcoholic beverage known as Knockback Nectar. It was served in a oil can, tasted like sour spit and made ones teeth buzz along with inebriation. Furch was a few oil cans in, drinking his sorrows away after running a costly cold streak at the back table. The sharks nearly ran him dry of the credits he had earned bringing his clients to jakku. The loss of earnings had left a far more sour taste in his mouth than the rydonium he was drinking that this bar was trying pass off as a popular Local Drink. It was the only drink and sure as hell not going to be on Furch's list of favorites. Though the drink was serving its purpose, the grumpy Latero's attempts to drown his sorrow was in success. By all standards, Furch was drunk. "Someone needs to.......report you to a....BURPS.. health insportor"

The human bartender laughed with amusement. "Good luck in getting one to come out to the literal definition of nowhere to enforce core health codes" he continued to laugh while pouring another oil can and gesturing to Furch to have another.

Furch sighed, skulled what he left in his can as his eyes twitched and slamming it on the bar counter. "I drinking dis, cuz you not servin anythin else!" Both his right hands reached out for the next can, just incase one of them missed the other hand would get it. That was out of the corner of his eye he noticed some commotion going on with in the bar. More like, folks were beginning to hastily leave. "See what i mean! Nobody likes this jet fuel!"

Furch had not wizened up to the fact the planet was about to be raided. Nor did he notice that his comm device was blinking repeatedly. "Blue" his BB unit was trying his best to get a hold of his master to warn him of the impending dangerous that he had picked up from the Lunar Belle's radar. But in Furch's drunkenness he had set the comms to silent mode and now he is not the wiser to what was coming. He turned his attention back to the Bartender who had disappeared in the time it took Furch to turn around. "Now where di you go?"

 

[Romi Jade]

Niima Outpost
Viers Connory


She recognized those prominent crest, four arms, and scruffy sensory whiskers anywhere --- "Kando..." She called out while casually tilting her head up, letting her hood fall a bit to reveal her face.

"Miss Jade!" Two of those large appendages took to the air and stretched almost as far as the stall went. She smiled in return, stepping forward and gliding along the storefront counter; Kando sought her hand, "My my...it's been too long." He jerked forward, leaning in. She playfully rolled her eyes a she saw through his facade -- he did this every time he saw her.

"Still no ring on that pretty little finger of yours?"

"You know there's no man in this Galaxy that has my eye the way you do Kando." She followed that up with a smirk that brought them both to laughter and when they couldn't hold it any longer...

"Don't ya work me up lass!" he peeked around her, "And who do you have with ya?"

"This is my cousin Viers, she'll be spending some time with me until her parents resettle."

"Beauties...you Jades."

She playfully smirked at her younger companion, she was actually her new apprentice. But keeping the likes of those here oblivious was for the best. She locked back on to the Besalisk, "Kando, I'll have a couple of crates of energy pudding, a crate of protein cubes, and uh..." she looked back over his manifest, "if you got any more gleb I'll take some of that too."

"You got it!" His waddled to the back.

Rubbing her palms briefly on her bodysuit to dry them, "When we make it back, I'd like to get you going on the saber I have--"

The soft, distant whine of a vehicle.

"--a feeling..."

Then suddenly the world around her become slow, and went silent, but her mind was active. From her peripheral, she spotted a circle of unnatural smoothness -- the faint glint of metal. Abruptly her danger sense flared and time sped back up again; but even as she spun around she knew it was too late; Something dark shot past, flapping a puff of dank air into her face as it swooped past her body; sand sought the sky. She dropped into a mid crouch, snaking her body over Viers and then out into the opening tracking the flying shadow, but it was already out of sight.

Then there was screams, and the sounds of struggle. She looked over and saw women being pulled from the security of their homes and hiding spots.

"Hey!"

Rushing into the square.

Romi never wasted time with words. She didn't hesitate. She believed. She had to.

The scarlet flare of her blade sizzled the barrel of his blaster and in the critical semisecond it took him to realize what he'd saw, the blade had returned and she had hooked her right leg behind his and dumped him to the ground. He had trouble getting to his feet, but when he did, she sent him down again with a fist to the face.

She pivoted around on her knee in the sand, pulled her blaster and let go two salvos; that was two. The third had been taken out by a negligent wave of her hand. Normally she wouldn't have gotten involved, it wasn't her place to play hero all the time...but this chaos was something else entirely and close to home; dispatching them quick was the key. Though, her speed had surprised her -- she drew on Vaapad without even realizing.

"Viers!" She scurried over to the women and started tugging at their cuffs. "Listen to me...take this. We've gotta help out as much as we can. I can try to draw their attention while you free as many of the others and get clear."

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Objective: 3

Alars Keto Romi Jade The Mongrel

The unholy miasma of dark side energy radiated in waves from Kyrel. The Master of the Knights of Ren had appeared on Jakku of all places. There was once such a time as a servant of the First Order, Kyrel had regarded Jakku as a place of worship. The defeat of the Empire brought about a new type of Imperial. But those days were all but gone. Kyrel was no longer a First Imperial, he was not even alive either. He was a monstrosity. Caught between the veil of life and death. For he himself was a wound in the Force. A monster who lived off consuming his enemies.

Having already a plethora of objectives for this world. One of his first targets was the Ruins of Emperor Palpatine’s observatory in order to gain what secrets were among the ashes.. But that in itself would come within due time. As the heavy boots shifted within the sand. Kyrel was now clad in dark armor, similar to the armor of Vader, having the same chest panel that enhanced and modified his armor to his specifications. The helmet from the time as a servant of the First Order remained. Now more dark and rustic, with dark red lines etched through it. As if it had been forged in the same manner that Supreme Leader Kylo Ren’s was.

Arriving on the outskirts of Nimma Outpost. Vader’s Bane in hand. He cut down any scavenger in his path. Those that begged for mercy was left with none. As he drank in the fear that was all but palpable. Jakku was home to resources the Maw would need in order to achieve the rite to the great journey. A crusade said to bring about the appeasement of the gods through blood and conquest. Through death would the galaxy experience rebirth just had Kyrel did. But all on his mind was the desire to consume and burn. The scavengers kept fleeing in terror as the dark figure slowly made his way through the gate of nimma outpost. Crimson blade in hand. Projecting his aura as if it were a sickness.

 

[Maestus]

Dropping from hyperspace, the beat up slaver ship appeared like magic. It was off from the main fleet a bit, as if the pilot wanted to stand out from the crowd. The ship was pointed towards Jakuu, and began the perilous descent into the atmosphere.

As the ship dove towards the planet, the occupants of the ship prepared themselves. The Chosen 40. Maestus elite marauders. Chosen by her personally. The 40 wore little armor. Scavenged helmets, bare chested and covered in scars. Some even still had blood on their bodies. War paint from Batauu. A warning to those who cross their paths of the fate awaiting them. The 40 were restless, their bloodlust simmering just below the surface. They moved around in the cargo hold, vibropikes in hand.

Maestus stood in the cockpit. Black eyes with red flame rims stared towards Jakuu as they came close.

I want to see this hemisphere. Scout before landing.

THe pilot nodded briskly, and pulled the ship into a horizontal flight path, parallel to the planets surface. It swooped past mountains and wreckage. Maestus made note of the types of ships wrecked, but made no move to stop the captain. She wanted to see the lay of the land. Make the most calculated plans possible.

Up ahead, was Cratertown. Decent sized, the probability of slaves was high. She motioned outside the city, and the captain made the necessary change and began to land. From deep inside the cargo hold, the marauders could feel the battle immenent. Booted feet began stomping. Out of time and disjointed at first, a dull roar. The the marauders began to get in sync. The stomping of feet was deafening, even in the cockpit.

The ship finally landed, and the ramp lowered. Maestus strode down, stepping into the sand. Black robes with red stitching flapped in the slight breeze. On her hip hung a lightsaber. She surveyed the vicinity, then began striding into town.

Behind her, the 40 marched down the ramp. 7 units of 5, 40 in total. 1 unit stayed with the ship, poor shmucks have guard duty. There would be no glory for them today. The remaining 6 units spread out and prepared to sack Cratertown.

 

[Aaran Tafo]

Again with these lunatics?

Aaran frowned, fingers drumming on the handle of the repulsor trolley. How was it that a simply request from Romi Jade to pick up some supplies once again gets him caught in this kind of a situation. He comes to a world, sees the sights and then some lunatics attack it.

At least he was in a position where he could do something about it. Maybe it was a good thing that Master Jade sent him on this errand. It was not like he was going to refuse after all. Similar to Auteme, the Queen of Hapes was more than capable of giving the Padawan a look where in he could hardly refuse any request that was made of him. But it seems right now he'd have to leave his supplies alone and deal with ore pressing issues.

Pushing on the handle of the trolley, Aaran shoved it into a nearby alley, well out of sight of the Marauders. Hopefully, they'd be more interested in something a bit more valuable than a crate full of parts.

As it was for all these kinds of raids. Cutting off the head of the snake would usually suffice when it came to dealing with them.

Ducking into the shadows. He did his best to mute his own presence. Slowly making his way to the landing craft. Observing for now, checking numbers, weapons, what kind of force he was dealing with.


And he was willing to bet a few credits that the red skinned Twi'lek Maestus was the current commander. Marking her as the target.

For a few moments he would wait. Allowing the raiders to disperse. As confident as he was in his skills. Fighting forty men at once was not an appealing prospect. He'd deal with the Sith first. Then hunt down any stragglers that remained.

Waiting until her full force was no longer right next to her. Aaran would step out of the shadows. Appearing just a scant few meters away from Maestus. "Afternoon Miss." He called out cheerfully, pulling down the hood of his robes, revealing his face fully.

"I don’t suppose I could convince you and your friends to leave?"

 

[Thalia Senn]

Enemies: Alars Keto The Mongrel
Allies: Romi Jade Viers Connory Aaran Tafo
Location: On the way to Niima Outpost

Thalia yawned, stretching her arms through the railing of the upper deck. She was with another caravan that had asked for a Jedi to help them get from the Ship Graveyard to Niima Outpost. She still didn't know why they went all the way to Niima when Steadfast had better prices for salvage. The best answer she could could get from most of the old-timers was 'Tradition' or something lame and tired like they were.

A gust of wind billowed her hood and she was suddenly thankful for the shroud she wore over her face. A Jawa waddled up beside her and sat down, his beady little eyes watching the dunes roll by. They were on a modified AT-Sand Crawler. A Jakku specialty. They moved faster than a happabore and had a better chance of fighting off raiders. She'd grown to know this particular one quite well and she knew exactly who it was that had sat down next to her.

"How's it going Joedt?" The Jawa shrugged and pulled a flask out of his robes. He muttered something in his language and nodded as if having said something profound, and took a swig from his flask. He offered it to her but the smell nearly made Thalia wretch.

"No thanks," she said meekly. She lowered her veil and took a sip of water from her own canteen. They weren't that far from Niima outpost now. She could be a little selfish with her water. As the cool liquid ran into her stomach she felt a chill run through her core. Her eyes snapped up to the looming ships headed their way and cursed. Raiders? That was a big ship, way too big for any of the local gangs. Was that a Sith Star Destroyer? It looked old, like older than her dad old.

"Joedt, I'm gonna have to hand you an IOU for that speeder." The Jawa jumped up in protest but Thalia was already headed down the stairs into the hold. The speeder was waiting for her, an old Ubrikkian. She'd been working on it since they pulled it out of the Sinking Fields. She told the Jawas that the Jedi would pay for it, but it was looking like that would have to wait. A large crate fell nearly sending Thalia through the roof.

It was just Kujo.

"KARKING HELL KUJO!" The droid tilted its head and stood too its full height.

"My apologies Padawan Senn, I-" She slammed a fist into a large red button on the wall and the side panel began to creak open, the dull sound of the sand treads becoming a roar once the compartment was exposed to the harsh sand and wind outside. Thalia didn't have time to deal with the annoying Page droid. She revved the engine once, twice, and launched away from the AT-Crawler, speeding ahead of the caravan towards Niima Outpost. Master Jade should be getting back today too. Maybe she was there and-

As if on cue her Jedi emergency beacon began buzzing. This was serious after all.

"Storms, storms storms! Cricking KRAYT-SPIT!" She pushed the little speeder as hard it would go, ignoring the sand in her mouth. She had to be there to help save those people!

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Jakku, Niima Outpost
Allies: Alars Keto , Kyrel Ren
Enemies: Romi Jade , Viers Connory , Thalia Senn

Savage glee broke out across The Mongrel's face as Alars Keto and his marauders landed on the far side of Niima Outpost, killing and slaving as they came. At last, a worthy competitor for the favor of the Maw! Still, the tortured slave-soldier was confident. Kryll might serve the mighty Syrenno Maraan , a fearsome warlord indeed, but The Mongrel had been anointed by the Voice itself. He was certain that he and his tribe were more than capable of claiming the most trophies, slaves, and spoils, even against such fearsome competition.

There could be no doubt about their overall victory, of course; only the glory claimed by each tribe was in question. After all, Kyrel Ren himself walked among them, slaying their enemies with contemptuous ease. The Mongrel watched in awe as the deathless demigod of darkness butchered the scavengers who had tried to assemble a defense of the outpost, cutting his way through a dozen at a time seemingly without effort. This was the blessing of the dark ones who spoke through the Voice: power beyond imagining.

Then The Mongrel himself hit the combat lines, and all rational thought was subsumed by his thirst for blood. Slowing to a brisk walk, he fired his scattergun from the hip, each shot reducing a brave but foolish scav to red mist. When ten corpses littered the ground behind him and the weapon clicked empty, he slung it back over his shoulder and traded it out for a much different rifle: his electrified net gun. With the defenders softened up and their lines broken, it was time to capture those who were courageous enough to fight.

They would be tortured and reshaped. They would serve the Maw.

Of course, noncombatants were also sometimes worth enslaving. They could always be put to work scavenging, repairing, and carrying cargo beneath the electro-lash. Only the old and feeble were completely useless, worthy only of a blade in the gut or blaster bolt to the head. But there was far less glory in dragging back these lesser captives; a good slave-soldier was worth twenty pathetic, cringing laborers. So as the tribesmen around him streamed into the tent city to claim scrap and weeping, terrified prisoners, The Mongrel hunted bigger game.

In the chaos of battle, with gunfire and screams filling the afternoon air, it was difficult to pick out any one combatant... but Romi Jade stood out. Out of the corner of his eye, The Mongrel caught a brief flash of something he remembered all too well from Batuu: a crimson laser-sword. It was only a glimpse, and then it was gone, but the marauder felt a pang of painful memory rise up in his wounded leg. He growled low in his throat as he stalked forward. These magic-wielders were like sand flies, constantly turning up to irritate you wherever you went.

The woman who'd wielded the blade was certainly brave; she'd charged into the center of the besieged town without hesitation, and showed no fear despite the overwhelming odds. She was fast, too, inhumanly so, and her magic was clearly strong; The Mongrel had seen her dispatch a howling marauder with nothing more than a wave of her hand, sweeping him away with an invisible wind to land in a battered heap. She would be an incredible prize for the Maw, but she was clearly even more experienced than the last crimson-blade he'd faced... and in that fight, The Mongrel had nearly met his doom.

But then, the great Kyrel Ren was here with them; who could stand against them? Ducking into cover behind a market stall, The Mongrel braced his electro-net rifle against the counter and drew a bead on the lady warrior's back. She was speaking urgently with a younger woman... one who also seemed to carry a laser-sword. Perhaps that youth would be a point of vulnerability for her if the next few minutes went badly against the marauder. Calming his racing heart, The Mongrel breathed out slowly, steadying his weapon. Gently he squeezed the trigger...

The electro-net raced toward Romi Jade 's back, poised to wrap around her body and shock her.

 

[Viers Connory]

//: Objective 3 //:
//: Allies //: Romi Jade //: Aaran Tafo //: Thalia Senn //:
//: Enemies //: Kyrel Ren //: The Mongrel //: Alars Keto //: Maestus //:

​

Hands remained stuffed into the worn leather jacket pockets, and Viers listened to the woman beside her introduce them as cousins. The young Corellian's face gave a disapproving and forced a smile as she nodded, letting the Master Jedi's story play out. Her eyes wandered off, catching glimpses of Jakku; it was a planet she had only read about. Viers kept to herself, letting Romi handle the errand they were on; the girl allowed her mind day dream until the lyrical voice of her Master spoke. "Hmm?" She responded, turning her attention to the blonde woman. ​

​

Viers let out a nervous laugh as Romi trailed off. "Tonight's going to be a good night?" She quipped but soon realized that there was something very wrong. "Romi?" ​

​

Everything happened faster than Viers could realize. The peaceful day full of boring errands was soon thrust into a fit of chaos. Following suit, she crouched and remained near the Jedi Master. Everything that was happening reminded her of how she lost her last Master. The one that raised her quietly away from the rest of the galaxy. Hands ached to grab the lightsabers that rested against her thighs, but she waited for her orders. ​

​

Romi moved, and Viers followed suit, lightsabers ripping from their straps and into the Padawan's hands. Azure blades moved through the air, cutting and deflecting the stray blaster bolts towards their shooters. A deep, bellowed cry echoed as one of the attackers charged up with a viroblade and swung downward with both hands providing his full strength into the blow. ​

​

"Chit," Viers murmured as she twisted her frame, using the longer of the two sabers, to deflect the blade away from her as she promptly cross stepped and countered with the shorter Shoto blade. Djem So was her guardian's favored form, something that she had longed to perfect. Once more, the sword was a blue blur as it swung at an arch, driving into the off balanced attacker. The man stumbled back and collapsed onto himself, quickly giving into the strike. ​

​

Hearing her name, the Padawan looked over towards Romi, who had moved closer to her. The blades disappeared into their hilt as she grabbed the device from Romi and gathered her orders. It took everything for the Padawan not to argue; this was how it happened the last time. The disapproving look returned to her face, showing Romi that she disagreed with this course of action. ​

​

The hesitation from the Padawan would pay off; as they spoke and she stood defiantly to her Master, something caught her attention. Stepping forward, she pulled her Master towards her by her arm and threw the once more ignited shoto blade towards the electro net to aim towards Romi's back. ​

​

"Who are these people?" Viers asked with a hint of panic in her voice; she pointed to the electro net and then did her best to spot the shooter. "I don't see where it came from!"​

 

[Calruss Shiman]

Location: Jakku, Niima Outpost
Allies: None
Enemies: Kyrel Ren The Mongrel

Just outside Niima outpost, a small shuttle slowly landed on the outskirts of the settlement. Dust flew everywhere as the ship landed perfectly on the desert floor, leaving it dormant until the ramp began to lift down. Two pilots came out first, wearing standard clothing along with the Eternal Empire Insignia plastered over there right shoulder. They both wondered to the back of the ship where they seemed to be checking damage to the under side, where small drips of fuel rained onto the ground below. Not far behind them was Calruss, who was wearing smart everyday clothing after finishing a week long reconnaissance mission to gain more knowledge on the planet Selvaris. His time there was stress free, and proved to be a planet with great potential if the Empire chose to conquer it.

Calruss rolled up his sleeves and slowly joined the pilots who were busy analysing the leak "Status report" asked the teen as he knelt down to the inspect the damage himself "We have a significant hole on the fuel tank, possibly caused by a freak object when we turned off our shield upon re-entry from Selvaris" commented the man, who nodded to his fellow crewmate to get the tools "It shouldn't take long to fill in, at most thirty minutes if I'm not rushed" he said up to him, a small nod coming from Calruss in return "Do what you must, we're in no rush here" replied the boy as he turned around and left him to his own devices.

He walked to the front of the ship and stared over to the outpost with a hand near his eyes, almost curious to see what was going on. Jakku barely had anything other than the remains of a war gone by, as well as the odd few pockets of civilisations that had somehow made living on this hospitable planet work. Although, that would soon begin to change. In the distance, shuttles clad in familiar attire zoomed across the sandy surface with urgency, heading straight for the defenceless outpost. It only took him a few seconds to recognise who had arrived, and they only seemed to confirm his thoughts when they began to barrel out of the shuttles like madmen. Calruss showed a rare smirk to the sight of them, considering he had unfinished business with the heretic faction

His head swivelled back to the two man crew who were beginning to notice the threat coming their way and motioned them to get ready "Now i'm in a rush..." the crewman grumbled under his breath as he hurried to fix the ship in time. On the other hand, his crewmate quickly ran back into the ship to prepare the weapon systems just in case any of them got too close to the shuttle. Their ship wasn't too far away from the outpost itself, pretty much in walking distance from where the countless maw shuttles had landing. It didn't take long until some of the warriors caught wind of their predicament and charged head, where they were met by automatic blaster fire from the ships turrets as well as a red lightsaber.

Rushing forwards with fire raining over his head, Calruss quickly went for a warrior on the far left who had broken away from the main group. He quickly ducked under the swing of his weapon and rolled behind the warrior to send a deep slash down his back, leaving him to fall in a heap on the dry floor. The turrets proved to be effective as they mowed down multiple warriors at once, dividing them up so Calruss could pick them off one by one swiftly. Even with the pile of bodies more kept coming, and it wasn't going to take long until the ship ran out of ammo.

 

[The Messenger]

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Location: Jakku, Starship Graveyard
Allies: Brotherhood of the Maw
Enemies: Open

Far from the brewing battles at Niima Outpost and Cratertown, the dry desert wind howled through the Graveyard of Giants. Though the vast warship hulks that lay there, half-buried in the sand, had fallen centuries and centuries ago, they were so massive and so numerous that even now they were far from picked over. Plenty of useful scrap, in addition to weapons, droid parts, and half-functional subsystems, could still be found within the titanic starships. Salvage was pretty much the only product of otherwise-barren Jakku, and had been for as long as anyone could remember.

That day, the salvage would be headed somewhere new: the forges of the Brotherhood.

A group of rugged freighters, adorned with grisly trophies over their peeling paint, set down between the towering wrecks, and nearly two hundred slaves filed out. They were pushed out of the holds and onto the hot sand, raising their hands to shield their eyes from the glare - it had been weeks since most had seen sunlight. They came from a wide variety of species, genders, and ages; the only thing that they had in common, besides the Maw's brand between their shoulder blades, was that they had been deemed too weak to be warriors.

As the wretched captives assembled, Tu'teggacha moved among them, lashing out with his neuronic whip when he saw anyone stumble or hold up the line. Each pathetic, despairing cry of pain brought his twisted mind a jolt of satisfaction... but he reminded himself that he was not here to sate his appetites. No, he had been dispatched to ensure that the salvage operation went smoothly. After the loss of multiple shuttles and light vehicles on Batuu, the Brotherhood needed raw materials to rebuild its strength. He would force these slaves to secure them.

Putting prisoners to work with anything other than their own hands was dangerous. Even simple tools, like shovels or chisels, could be used to break chains or injure overseers, and if two-hundred desperate people had access to them... But then, this salvage operation was even more precarious. Scavenging ship parts from these massive, sand-bound hulks meant fusion cutters, excavators, and grapples, any of which could make for potent improvised weapons in the hands of a slave with nothing left to lose. That was what made oversight so important.

And so Tu'teggacha made his rounds of the work site, checking on each and every crew, lashing those who fell below the pace of work he demanded. But his neuronic whip wasn't even the weapon he was truly wielding against the slaves; it was the Dark Side. As he passed by, he reached into the minds of the prisoners. He heightened their anxieties, deepened their despair. He pulled to the surface memories of the Brotherhood burning the worlds from which they'd been captured, reminding them that opposing the Maw was hopeless.

The Ebruchi's tendrils twisted and writhed in satisfaction as he drank in the misery he was amplifying. These pathetic slaves would obey, and the Brotherhood would grow stronger. Even better, the marauders were on the hunt at this desolate rock's few settlements. Soon they would bring him a fresh crop of prisoners, filling his torture chamber with new victims. He would enjoy stripping away everything that made them who they were, leaving behind only another fanatical soldier for the Voice. Praise be to the Avatar of Rebirth, he loved his work.

Until then, he would force these wretches to labor in the hot sun until either the salvage pods were full... or they dropped.

 

[Maestus]

Maestus moved towards the center of the settlement. She did not cloak herself in the Force. No, not at all. She wanted her presence known. Let the Dark Side radiating from her be a warning to all who could feel such things. And either Aaran Tafo could not feel it, or he was foolish enough to feel it and not run.

Or maybe, just maybe, he did feel it. Maybe he was thinking himself capable of defeating her. Either way, she turned slowly to face him. Every footstep deliberate and calculated. She studied him through red rimmed black eyes, and the faintest smile on her face.

Why, how could I refuse such a polite request? Of course, the Brotherhood bows to simple things.

Her smile turned into a smirk, and she winked at him. She lifted a gloved hand, and beckoned Aaran Tafo closer. Then, she waited.

 

[Zachariel Steelblood]

The Messenger | The Mongrel | Alars Keto | Thalia Senn | Romi Jade | Viers Connory | @Aaron Tafo | @
Location: Niima Outpost
Allies: Brotherhood of the Maw
Enemies: Everyone else. Come fight me, if you dare ​

Zachariel's warbands plan of attack was exactly the same as it had been on Jakku, aside from one minor change. They would allow the others to enter first. Let them get whatever glory they desired, Zachariel would focus on those trying to run, or rushing to help from outside. As such, the warband stood on a ship hovering not too far from Niima outpost, keeping a watchful eye on the proceedings. Eventually a clear path was seen, one that the citizens of this desolate outpost were taking to flee. They were running for their lives, these slavers, slaves, scavengers, and other fools. They were running for safety, but Zachariel and his warband would prevent that. Coincidentally, this exit path that they were taking led towards a Sand Crawler in the distance. A prize for later, to be sure.

Deciding that it was finally time to move, Zachariel and his followers leapt form the ship. They flew down to crash amongst and before the fleeing people. Rising, they began their slaughter, cutting down those who ran. Zachariel himself had landed on two individuals, before cutting apart a further five. Grinning at that, he allowed his followers to finish the slaughter. He enjoyed killing as much as any of the rest, but he desired a proper opponent. Thus, his eyes scanned the area, searching for one not engaged already, or one rushing to defend these fools.

The thought amused him, others came to defend these people. They came to Jakku because it was so out of the way, and because they had to flee thanks to their past. Slavers, slaves, pirates, and far worse were here. But there would always be others rushing to defend those they perceived as innocent. Shaking his head at that thought, Zachariel waved his hand forward, directing his followers to attack the outpost. They rushed past him, howling their war cries. Zachariel himself stood still, eyes still scanning, watching and waiting for a more unique person, whether from without or within.

Standing head and shoulders above the rest, he was clear to see to anyone coming in, or trying to flee. But to hammer home the point that he was there, that he was waiting, Zachariel raised his sword high and let out his war cry. It was one taken up by the rest of his followers, then the other marauders, one he had uttered during their grand meeting and on other planets he had burned, and one he planned to see fulfilled.
"Let the galaxy burn!"

 

[Aaran Tafo]

It was not that he could not feel the presence of the Dark Side radiating from the woman. It was more the case that he did not see her as anything special compared to the Dark Side adherents that he had faced numerous times in the past. It was a marvelous feature of the human brain that allowed it to normalise all forms of stimuli. Maestus was no doubt potent. But simply due to the sheer amount of power houses that Aaran had encountered during his journey. She was barely a drop in a rather large bucket.


Of course, he doubted that things would be this easy. It never was any time situations like this had happened in the past. It usually involved people trying to kill him. But if nothing else he'd at the very least try to resolve this situation in a non-violent way. So, with his hands remaining in the pockets of his robes. He would begin to make his way towards Maestus , Stopping within arm's reach of her.

"Glad you're willing to see reason." He said, tone still congenial as he smiled down at her. His own form towering over the comparatively lithe Twi'Lek. And from here, she could feel it. The quiet, but still powerful presence in the Force that the Jedi carried with him. Not something that he openly broadcasted for all to feel like the Sith in front of him. But a quiet, subdued strength. One that held enough potency that certainly told Maestus that she should not underestimate the man in front of her.

"So." He began, one hand raising to scratch the back of his head. Looking down at the invader. "If you could call off your men and just leave Jakku, leaving anyone you're looking to take back with you with me.. We can forget this whole mess happened. How does that sound?" He asked, now at this distance, Maestus would notice something. Or rather, the lack of something.

He was unarmed, there was no lightsaber or even a blaster at his waist. The man in front of her was incredibly confident. Or perhaps foolish.

"My name is Aaran by the way. Might I get your name Miss?"

 

[Alars Keto]

Location: Niima Outpost
Allies: The Mongrel , Zachariel Steelblood , Kyrel Ren , Brotherhood of the Maw
Enemies: Romi Jade , Viers Connory , Calruss Shiman, Free People ugh..


"Don't bugger off now! Grab me some scavengers." His pace slowed as he approached a captive held down in the sand by one of his war boys. Not but seconds ago the poor soul had been tackled down and wrestled into submission, the first sight he'd see from the moment his face rose from the sand was that of Kryll. "Aye you look strong lad. I think we'll keep ya. Throw em' on board the ship, if he gives you trouble take a finger." The poor man rose up as the raider yanked on his collar and struggled to drag him off.

Kryll shifted his gaze back to the settlement as the ensuring chaos unfolded. "Keep em' coming. More for the Taskmaster to break! The stronger the better..." His eyes glanced toward another settler being dragged off, "..stronger the better, he loves a challenge. They all break!" His stride continued onward as he shouted throughout the area, only with the flashing of lightsabers within his peripheral vision did he break from his rounds. "Aye! I want that sword!"

Drawing his Atrisian warblade, he approached the two Jedi defending the people of Niima Outpost. His blade hissed as the red electro-plasma filament edge lit up, his eyes on the fancy laser swords the combatants wielded. He knew about the Jedi, faced one even before his imprisonment and subsequent arrival into the Brotherhood's ranks. Never again would he suffer such disgrace, such was why he learned certain martial arts like Teras Käsi to prevent such from happening ever again.

"I'll pry those swords from your cold dead hands!"

Romi Jade
Viers Connory