Hey all, it's the sector pub crawl! [First Order T3 Dominion of New Balosar Hex]

[Valae Heavenshield]

Colony Club
Post: 1

Delilah Beckett was normally found roaming among the various TIE fighters in her care, confined to the hangar, and working well into the night. She did like to make sure that all of the crafts in her care were in top shape. Her clothing generally consisted of coveralls, a tool bet, boots, and a good amount of grease to paint her face. Del usually kept to herself, conversing with other crewmates and the occasional astromech… but friendly company was pretty sparse.

Tonight was going to be different.

The young woman passed through the doors of the Colony Club, the first stop on the Sector Pub Crawl. She had left her coveralls at home, and had opted for a simple ensemble of black jeans, a casual shirt, and a leather jacket to cover her shoulders. Her strawberry blonde hair had been brushed for once, and was styled in a simple ponytail. She stood by the door for a moment or two, trying to scope the scene. Del could already see a few notable faces, she felt her posture going ridged… even if they lacked the uniforms tonight. She just couldn’t help it.

Her eyes found [member="Daska Tess"], had she seen her around before? It was very likely, but Del was terrible with names and even worse when it came to pairing faces to those names. She had the feeling that blonde woman was a pilot. She shifted her eyes to the bar before things could get awkward, and tucked a few stray strands of hair behind her ear.

“What can I get you?” Asked the barman, he offered Delilah a friendly smile.

“Oh, uh…” She scratched her head. Her eyes found the nearest drink and she pointed, “I’ll have that.”

It was actually a collection of drinks set on a small wooden tray. Now that she had a chance for a better look, she blinked at the set of five small glasses, each with an amber colored liquid of varying shades. The man nodded, and turned to prepare her sampler. With a moment to spare, Del slid onto the nearest stool to wait, and let her eyes continue to roam about.

 

[Mishel Kryze]

Mishel followed @Samka Derith inside the Colony Club, immediately she spotted her other siblings as it were. Dressed in clothes that she would not call clothes but torture, the newest Ren makes a line for [member="Ara Ren"], [member="Kyrel Ren"], and [member="Kaalia Voldaren"]. Ignoring the blonde [member="Daska Tess"] and anyone else in the club such as [member="Rolf Amsel"] or [member="Rexus Wenck"]. Running a hand through her hair she managed a polite and monotoned, "excuse me." As she parked up along one of the sisters just as Kaalia had mentioned something about knowing her, Mishel pushed her lips to the side and managed out a hello to her fellow ren before looking hard at the drinks along the wall. Not knowing what to order, Mishel leant against the bar's counter looking left and then right, "may I have the drink that the gentleman over there is having?" Mishel asked as she jerked her thumb in Major Amsel's direction.

The barkeep handed Mishel a frothy beverage, without hesitation she drank it. All of it, in one solid go. "I quite liked that, may I have another?" A smile on her face as she then looked around, completely forgetting that Sam had given her explicit instructions about getting secrets. Well, if there was going to be gossip and secrets, Mishel would have quite a hard time looking for them. She was handed a second mug, which just like the first went down in one solid go. "This is delicious, do we have this at home, Sister Sam?" The brunette narrowed her gaze and looked around. "Where's brother Castor?" The young brunette looked at the barkeep again, "might I have another?"

 

[Zmej Ren]

Location: Near Chalcedon
Objective: 3
Post: 5


Granted clearance, the freighter approached a massive station situated in the midst of a barren wasteland made of black rocks. It was just as the captain and his crew revealed, eliciting relief across the bridge when an invitation to dock came. The first part of their plan worked flawlessly, now came the second, approaching with the station’s docking bay. Unsettling, the skeletal structure appeared as if destined to fall apart any second, a platform towering high above the ground, standing on sturdy support beams going deep into the rocky earth. Many smaller objects surrounded the main structure in an impenetrable ring of defences, from ion batteries to planet defenders. All unwelcome visitors would be ruthlessly shot down or disabled and boarded, making space combat costly lest the attackers opted for orbital bombardment. Far away, a mere outline splattered on the horizon, a smouldering volcano raged, offering an impressive sight to anyone looking that way.

The docking process was effortless and easy. Last few seconds of calm before the storm, everyone rushed to their position. One hiss later, the entry ramp hit the floor, landing right in front of three men who came to inspect the freighter’s unexpected return. Relaxed, weapons slung over their shoulders, arms menacingly crossed, none expected betrayal to come rolling from the inside. Surprise and shock twisted their facial features the moment everything unfolded.

“Oh shi-!”

It had to be a terrible sight, staring down the barrels of two dozen rifles wielded by the same number of armoured soldiers. Their neat formation squeezed the trigger as one man, an effect attributed to rigid discipline found among their ranks. The first barrage of red cut down anyone in the ship’s entrance, the second one provided cover as several men and women stormed out, slipping behind nearest objects and taking aim. All gazes turned to the deadly exchange, activities positively interrupted and stopped in a silent staring contest. As if the slavers possessed zero idea of what to do in such situation, caught with their pants down, they dropped like flies when a new onslaught of precise blaster fire started targets picked beforehand. More bodies impacted the station’s floor, leaving no opposition alive.

No casualties for the First Order. There wasn't even any need for Zmej Ren to utilize the Force or her lightsaber. Being the last to leave the freighter, the child strolled through the corpses, casting a satisfied glance towards each lifeless body. Gaping holes adorned every torso and head, a clear proof of professional marksmanship and trigger discipline found among the stormtroopers.

 

[Kyrel Ren]

He sat there still drinking the whiskey, he had needed this badly as his last few weeks were spent in a bacta tank since the Battle of Kaeshana, and his armor being repaired. Since than he had made a name for himself through the story of how he survived an encounter against two Jedi, and managed to kill one and weakening the other. Nonetheless despite the accomplishments from the battle,especially his new status as a Knight. He drank it quickly wanting the memories of his defeat go away, the worst part of it all was he still missed his lost lightsaber. He knew that it was now in the hands of who he had heard from the girl was her Master Kerrigan. He swore to himself that if he should encounter the person one day he would kill and gain his saber back.

He looked at [member="Ara Ren"], and said. "The name is Kyrel Ren, Knight of Ren." He said slowly as his mind was starting to become foggy. He than looked at [member="Kaalia Voldaren"] , and asked. "Well why join the dark side girl? I can clearly sense the conflict within you?" He said as he looked at her, and than saw [member="Mishel Ren"] he had never seen her before, and somehow there was something to her that made his ugly pale skin crawl. He also should interact with the newcomer and get to know her as well he thought.

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Location: Kaeshana -> Chalcedon
Objective: Rebuild the Kaeshana spaceport
Allies: First Order
Enemies: Unknown
Post: 8/38

"We are now in orbit over Kaeshana"

"Set course for Chalcedon and jump to lightspeed"

"Roger, roger"

"Now!"

The freighter left the devastated landscape of Kaeshana behind, and take up a delivery of powdered while Frank's construction crews began exvacating the designated area so that the tarmac gets built. By now the blue streaks flying past them allow them to sit back and relax until they arrived on Chalcedon to collect the rebar and the powdered duracrete, while another ship was underway to deliver mobile cranes, duracrete pumps and other construction equipment, all loaded into an AT-AT barge. It might be a little heavy but one can fit all the rebar and enough powdered duracrete for pouring 60,000 cubic meters of continuously reinforced in a single Dennari, she thought, while wondering how the kark they may even be departing Chalcedon with the concrete in tow. The Dennari was rated for 20,000 tons of cargo, while the powdered duracrete capable of being used for pouring 60,000 cubic meters of continuously reinforced duracrete could fit inside one Dennari, along with the requisite rebar, all of that stuff would weight at least five times as much.

 

[Alleycat]

Location: Colony Club
Objective: 1 - A drink to get the ball rollin'
(2)

A heavy sigh left Daska's lightly glossed lips as she turned away from the antique store front's display window, leaving wistful thoughts of her late father and family there with the pocket chrono that brought up the bittersweet memories of her youth. The golden blonde then turned a quarter turn on her booted heel that came from muscle memory, then the military officer made her way down the rest of the block to the establishment that was the first stop on the First Order's pub crawl.

Upon entering the Colony Club, the elite TIE pilot took a moment to let her eyes adjust to the interior lighting, then her steely blue gaze peered around the room. The club was a very nice place, maybe too nice for the likes of the group assembled, but they weren't rebel scum so some decorum would be on display, hopefully. Not recognizing any of the personnel that had already arrived and were partaking in drinks and merriment, the Flight Captain strolled up to the bar, slipped onto a leather-covered stool, then ordered a microbrew for starters.

A brunette came in shortly after Daska had and made the same trek up to the bar as she had. The female had an air about her that was lets just say comforting. Maybe they were cut from the same cloth. The Bastionian gave the woman a head nod when their eyes met for the briefest of moments before she talked with the barkeep and ordered of all things a sampler tray of spirits? Now that was bold.

After the bartender placed a chilled bottle of a local brew in front of Daska, the pilot took a thoughtful swig of the cold dark amber liquid, then turned on the bar stool towards where [member="Delilah Beckett"] sat at the bar a couple of stools down.

"You'll have to let me know if any of those samples are worth getting a full glass of. This ale is not bad," she smiled friendly enough for the Ice Princess, turning the label on the bottle towards Delilah to see, then added with a quizzical look.

"I don't think we've met before, though I have a feeling I should know you somehow? I'm Cap... strike that as this is supposed to be informal. I'm just Daska today."


​@open to others joining

 

[Zef Halo]

Repair Depot <Cresh>
Kaeshana

Obj. II
Post IV

Kad called a few of the other salvagers to help him out. With unwavering authority and complete disregard to the orders by the chief of operations at the depot, he and the others began working on fixing the electronic components of the nearly destroyed vehicles. Although the other salvagers seemed not as creative, theyhad good hands. Kad entrusted them with that task as he went back to find anything of worth in the newly arrived barge full of materials.

"You think you can find me a good jet propulsion in the salvage yard at Santaissa ?" He asked the elder man who had spoken with him earlier. The man nodded and the sergeant sent him away to do so while he carried off two rotary guns to where the LIUV was. Mutliple ideas ran through his mind as he and the rest of the team continued their reparing efforts. It was going to be a long day but productive nonetheless and Kad loved that.

 

[Ara Zambrano]

Objective: 1
Post: 4

"A pleasure to meet you, Kyrel." She idly wondered at the easy way he threw out the title of his position. Yes, they were at a First Order sponsored event and he was sitting with others of their Order, but discretion was always the best policy in her opinion. Especially since the Ren were meant to be the shadows of the order, secretive and mysterious, was it normal for her fellow Ren to go about brandishing their existence to anyone they suspected was another based solely on Force auras and presence within First Order space? She sighed and hook her head, grinning ruefully at Kaalia.

They were joined by the familiar figures of [member="Mishel Ren"] and [member="Samka Derith"], Ara recognizing the former from the Military Ball a while back. She watched in amusement as the young girl ordered and drink and knocked it back, ordering another immediately. She took a sip of her own drink, snorting into the cup a bit in laughter, eyes meeting Sam's over the rim of her glass. And [member="Kaalia Voldaren"] thought she was going to be a handful tonight.

She finished her brandy in one fell swoop and set the glass on the counter, catching the waiter's eyes to order a second. When it came, she debated offering Mishel a taste, but decided otherwise. Samka always seemed to be babysitting the younger Ren and Ara had no interest in pissing her off quite this early in the evening.

"Good afternoon, Mishel, Samka." She nodded to them both in turn and saluted them with her glass before turning her attention back to [member="Kyrel Ren"] and her friend.

She raised her eyebrows at the red-haired woman, eyeing the man from her peripheral. "Blunt, aren't you?" She said in his direction, slightly affronted for her friend. They'd known each other a few scarce moments and already he was questioning her path...Ara needed more alcohol if they were going to play this game. She took another swig and waited for his answer.

 

[Kaalia Pavanos]

Objective: 1
Post: 4

Kaalia chuckled as she looked over to [member="Ara Ren"]. "It's a valid question. If he wants to know, he can." Shifting her gaze over to [member="Kyrel Ren"], her eyes observing the man, she went to answer his question. "Because, although I must still find my way, the dark side sets me free. It likely comes to no surprise to you that I was a follower of the light once. I was shunned for my emotions, and told they must be locked away. I don't need to explain to you why I cannot live with that." She finished her glass of water, and placed it back down on the bar with a slight thud. "Emotions are what seperates you from soulless objects, what makes you alive. I refuse to part with that. Is life worth living if you're culled of all emotion?" It was a rhetoric question, implying emotions were meant to be felt. Her expression turned serious, meaning every word she said. "That is reason enough for me to turn to the dark side. Does that answer your question?"

"Anyway, I'm not in the mood to get too serious tonight. We're about to go to war and I would like to not mentally exhaust myself too much already." She motioned to the barkeeper for another glass of water, and immediately took a sip as it was placed in front of her. "Anything else you'd like to know?"

 

[Zmej Ren]

Location: Chalcedon
Objective: 3
Post: 6


“Shoot anyone who comes through that door!” barked a heavily armoured Weequay, wielding a light blaster repeater and surrounded by similarly equipped sentients.

All their weapons expectantly pointed at the reinforced blastdoor, fingers itching to unleash hell on any fool to open it. Even though they lacked proper knowledge about their enemy, unaware the First Order wished to make an example out of them, the gangsters understood they faced a professionally trained and well-coordinated force. What the slaver rabble lacked in training they made up for in numbers though – several hundreds of undisciplined animals, armed with illegal weaponry and black market accessories.

Once the entire swarm woke up, all threats to the illegal slave trade would be painfully ended with utmost brutality. Still, the enemies in white armour could not be stopped easily, cutting through dozens and sabotaging vital defence systems. They wouldn’t get past this point though; two tripod mounted blaster cannons and fifteen bloodthirsty cutthroats were a wall waves of enemies could crash against without breaking through.

The moment all have been waiting for came when the door opened. A destructive shower of blaster fire filled the corridor and raced towards the open passage. Anything in its way would have been obliterated without mercy. Nobody got in the deadly hail’s passage though. It continued on and on until finally blasting a sizable hole in the wall, revealing the station’s most intimate bowels usually witnessed only by technicians. The slavers exchanged looks full of confusion – and that was when two small objects rolled in and the blast door closed shut. Five seconds later, it opened again. A menacing red cross shined over the decimated slavers. Some have been vaporized, others quickly scrambled back to their feet. Before raising a weapon in defence, the Weequay leader fell, head split in half.

All it took was one being to butcher what little remained. Every now and then, a heavy whizz cut through the air and cut another scream painfully short. Those who managed to fire off a shot or two saw the projectiles batted away, immediately followed by a scarlet slash, filling their terror-filled gaze until all life in their eyes faded away.

The last soul to live gave into his fear and tried to retreat; thudding down on the floor after a thread of invisible energy pulled his legs from under him. Crawling was significantly harder, especially since his arms have been vaporized by the thermal detonators. Crying, screaming, cussing, the slaver suddenly stopped, eyes wide open as something infinitely hot went right through his spine. Nothing else came after that. Only pain and pitch black night.

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Location: Chalcedon
Objective: Rebuild the Kaeshana spaceport
Allies: First Order
Enemies: Unknown
Post: 9/38

Two hours later, Dunames reverts to realspace and arrives over Chalcedon to take delivery of the duracrete and the rebar associated with it. Because rumors of slaver activity abound in the area, she has to be mindful not to interfere with First Order operations. But Dunames realizes that the duracrete maker didn't supply them with coordinates. Due to these two constraints, it was best to stay in orbit until the coordinates of the Chiloon Rift Duracrete facility were ascertained. Apparently that company had trouble selling duracrete to other parties in this sector; it was quick, too quick for them not to already have significant stockpiles of dry duracrete that was almost ready to mix. It was prudent on their part to avoid all the hotspots of either slaver or First Order activity if at all possible; something's odd. The First Order, however, counted on Dunames' role in rebuilding Kaeshana's transportation infrastructure, even though Star Tours could only really do just that in terms of construction activities.

"Chiloon Rift Duracrete, isn't it? Merrily, locate the Chiloon Rift Duracrete delivery area"

"Roger, roger"

 

[Valae Heavenshield]

Location: Colony Club
Objective: Pub crawl!
Post: 2

Delilah watched as the bartender set her sampler down before her, noting the five shades that ranged from light golden to deep amber. She leaned forward and tried to listen as the man explained what types of ale she had in front of her, but her wavering attention span and the din of the crowd made it difficult. She nodded a couple of times before he went on down the bar to tend to the next customer. She pressed her lips together into a thoughtful expression, gazing down at the small glasses. Her fingers closed around the first one on her left, the lightest and least threatening option.

Just as she brought the glass up for a quick sip, she caught a voice to her side. She turned slightly on her stool, spotting the blonde woman sitting nearby. Delilah offered her a friendly smile to match the one given, and she slid her drinks over to join [member="Daska Tess"].

“Oh yeah, this pale… something-or-other ale is pretty good. Can’t remember what the fella said it was called.” She said and took another sip, hoping that the other woman didn’t think that she’d already hit the bottle a bit too hard. Delilah offered her hand and a nod.

“It’s nice to meet you, Daska. I’m Delilah, but call me Del, everyone else does. Sure is nice to get out for a change, but I gotta say… I feel a bit out of my element. But I suppose it’s nothin’ that a drink can’t fix.” She let her glass clink against Daska’s bottle, “Cheers!”

 

[Darth Prazutis]

​New Balosar
The Colony Club...

​​After the great storm that was Kaeshana the Dark Lord of the Sith never skipped a beat. Immediately returning to continue managing his vast empire. King, Warlord, Despot, Arch-Prince all titles that he held. But also the training for one [member="Valessia Brentioch"] and [member="Malok"] alike had begun in its aftermath. Each began in a very specific way as each required different methods of teaching in order to ensure absolute success.

​Whether it was holding court in the throne room, training with his apprentices, or continuing to weave his intergalactic game of chess the Destroyer was always busy.

​But when he chose to come to New Balosar?

​Could it have been work, or some other sinister plot?

​The opportunity to come to the Colony Club wasn't one he'd miss. In addition to promoting inter-faction relations it was an opportunity to relax. So carefully he was provided with one of many backstopped identities his intelligence network provided him with before setting out. For the night the King chose to wear a suit a designer brand, it wasn't overtly flashy like the extremely expensive brown one he chose for the ball but simplistic, excellent looking, highly fashionable, perfect for the businessman cover. A set of black gloves were pulled tightly over his hands as he pushed the door open to the club, a careful use of the sorcery ability of mask hid his burning eyes, and a taozin amulet hidden around his neck within the folds of his suit concealed his force presence.

​The Destroyers eyes glanced around the club and the various individuals who crowded within, before his eyes settled on one in particular he knew well: [member="Irajah Ven"]. The doctor who had developed into far more than he expected when he brought her to Panatha. Now she was spending five days out of the week there through his subtle manipulations, and the many plans hatched to take her down the path of darkness, the Doctor wasn't always working when she came to stay with them.

​Braxus placed a hand lightly on her shoulder a light smile on his face "Good to see you Irajah, its been awhile." He teased sliding into the barstool next to her. It was only very recent that he saw her last, and it was quite the interesting time indeed. The barkeep walked over to him then placing her hands on the counter "What can I get for you Sir?" She said after a moment with a grin on her face.

"Absinthe."

​"The Core style or the Outer Rim style?"

"Outer Rim."

​"Alright." ​She said pulling a bottle off of the shelf filled with emerald green liquid. Those who drank the anise flavored drink knew all too well the very large differences between the core and outer rim versions. The outer rim version was significantly ​stronger, a hundred eighty proof with additional herbs the core version simply didn't carry. It was a favored drink of the Dark Lord that all who served him in his various citadels knew how to make. After many, many decades of building up a tolerance to alcohol coupled with his own significant size, he could more than handle it. Braxus took a sip of the emerald green liquid savoring its licorice taste before setting it down. "You have got to try this Irajah. We brew our own of this back on Panatha. Its one of my favorites" ​He said, sliding the glass over to her.

 

[Kuzo]

​

Post 2:

As people started to filter in, Raja offered waves and hellos to the few familiar faces. Each group went their own way, and for the moment, she was perfectly content to sit alone at the bar, enjoying her drink and watching the people come and go. She swung her legs absently as she turned back and forth on the stool, enjoying the atmosphere, the change of pace, the-

She blinked.

"Your Majesty!" she said in surprise. Surprised, but pleased. "And yes, it's been absolutely forever," she chuckled, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she played along with his teasing.

Finishing off her drink, she was about to motion for another when [member="Darth Prazutis"] ordered. She paused, watching with some level of interest as the drink was prepared. With a glance at the bartender and a tap on the bar, she indicated that he could make her a fresh one of the Tatooine Sunburn.

When it was offered, she didn't hesitate to reach out, accepting the glass.

"Never heard of it," she said, peering into the cloudy liquid for a moment before giving it an experimental sip. Sweet, bitter, herbal and.... "Tastes a bit like a cough drop," she admitted, but took another sip, moving the flavors around in her mouth contemplatively. "Not a bad one, mind you. I think it's the anise.... and it's strong!"

She grinned, spinning her stool slowly, offering him the glass as her own was refilled.

"But what are you doing here? Not that I'm not thrilled to see you," her face grew warm, flushing a little pink. "But this doesn't seem like..... well, honestly like your scene?"

Unless he was slumming it. That was a thing royals did, right? Before giving him a chance to answer, she offered her own drink, watching him expectantly with those hazel eyes.

"He said it was a Tatooine Sunburn, but dunno," she shot a playful arched eyebrow at the bartender. "Seems kind of tame for a name like that."

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Location: Chalcedon
Objective: Rebuild the Kaeshana spaceport
Allies: First Order
Enemies: Unknown
Post: 10/38

"Duracrete production plant located"

"Roger, roger, will fly to this location"

"Landing sequence initiated"

The ship began its descent towards the atmosphere of Chalcedon, where they expected to enter the cloud cover to fetch a heavy shipment of dry duracrete and rebar to be used on nearby Kaeshana to rebuild a spaceport and a four-lane highway extension with continuous meshes of reinforcement rods (which is what the rebar is for). Soon they realize that Chiloon Rift Duracrete built their away from most settlements, presumably because either the base material is located away from the urban centers or the NIMBY factor associated with heavy industry is just too much for them. But also that the tarmac is larger than the tarmac they are to themselves build on Kaeshana. As they make their approach towards the tarmac, which has silos full of dry duracrete on one side, they realize that the tarmac is empty: not even an AT-AT barge or other ship with similar bulk cargo capacity.

 

[Perth Levov]

Perth was a team player. Sometimes she made her way to First Order missions alone – but that did not automatically make her a loner.

And as she headed towards the planet, she considered if she was being aloof right now? Fun was well and good, but in her opinion, she had a task to perform and the idea of a period of time travelling from one drinking establishment to another held no appeal.

So she’d signed up to patrol the area and attempt to intercept illegal shipments of slaves headed to and from Chalcedon.

Perth gazed at the planet and several expanded displays. It was rocky, all right. Several great volcanic peaks rose from the flanks of the world, deforming the sphere. It was hard to imagine how the planet maintained a steady rotation.

The world had an atmosphere that was barely, marginally breathable, thanks to the continuing volcanic activity. It had some weather, mostly dry violent storms, and erosion. It had some water. But it had no indigenous life. Here and there, scattered across the surface of the world, as far from the tremendous volcanic peaks as they could be, a few blue and green blots blemished the surface: two struggling colonies, and a way station.

She wondered how it was that the Sith – so proud of having their chains broken, were always careful to leave plenty of shackles intact for everyone else. She suspected they were behind the latest wave of slaves – but finding them and disabling them would be a challenge.

 

[Alleycat]

Location: Colony Club
Objective: 1 Pub Crawl
(3)

"I know the feeling," Daska nodded back to [member="Delilah Beckett"]. She was most comfortable in the cockpit and sure of herself in that arena. This, this was foreign. The career pilot had usually stuck to herself, keeping an icy air about her as a protective shield almost; not really getting much into mixing with fellow comrades, though over the years there had been a couple of close 'friends' that she opened up to, But they weren't around anymore, hence why it was easier to close herself off to others.

"Cheers indeed!" she exclaimed with a small smile after the strawberry blonde clinked her glass of ale against the Bastionian's bottle. The dark amber liquid was downed in a heartier sip than the first. It tasted good and hopefully would lighten Daska's mood. The golden blonde was probably wound too tight at the moment to truly enjoy this rare chance at relaxing away from combat, and the daily grind that which was the Starfighter Corps; rewards as it was.

"So where do you hail from, Del, if I may ask?" the flight captain inquired, reaching forward on the bar top to a bowl of nuts and grabbing a couple.

 

[Samka Derith]

Sam liked the Colony Club, there was nice class about it but before she could analyse the environment, she had to first examine the other patrons. They were mostly unknowns but among the Ren gathered within she recognised [member="Kyrel Ren"], [member="Ara Ren"] and [member="Kaalia Voldaren"] and nodded in polite recognition. She recognised [member="Rolf Amsel"], an Imperial officer with whom she had an interesting history. A few other familiar faces she'd seen around but couldn't place and, of course, [member="Irajah Ven"]. Sam sighed, she had nothing against the doctor, in fact, she found her pleasant company. The more time she spent with the woman, the harder it became for her to imagine that she may hold dangerous secrets but she had to keep up the facade of an entirely different persona while the woman was around. She'd prepared as such, features disguised and hair recoloured but it was getting tiresome.

"Blast. That woman is everywhere," Sam said as she spotted Irajah's small figure at the bar. "Remember, if she is ever in earshot, I'm not 'sister Sam'. My na-" Samka turned to find [member="Mishel Ren"] was no longer by her side. The other Ren had gone to the bar... and ordered a drink. Internally, Sam grimaced. It was going to be one of those evenings.

She took a brisk march to join the other Ren at the bar. "Hello to you all," she said in a friendly but rather formal manner. Apparently she was just in time to catch the red haired Ren talk about the Dark Side. Sam's eyes flickered left and right. Everyone else seemed too caught up in their own conversations to pay attention but if anyone overheard...

"Well said," she nodded at Kaalia. "Let us keep the serious discussion for a less... public occasion, shall we?" She shot each of the Ren a meaningful glare in turn. If she had to babysit all of them for the evening then so be it. "And no Mishel," she moved to address the barrage of questions. "There's little in the way of recreational drinks back home, Castor is on other business and no, we have a long evening ahead of us. I believe you should wait. You'll be feeling some of the effects from that one soon."

"So," Sam clasped her hands together in an attempt to look relaxed and casual. "Ara, recommend me a drink. You grew up surrounded by drunkards. You must know something good."

 

[Ugoto Chivaro]

Post: 1
Location: Space, One of Several Frontiers
Objective: 3 - Sector Patrol, Intercept Slave Shipments

If Wyman Thules was one thing, it was a nervous man. Smuggling slaves was always a nerve-wracking business, but now for the first time in his life his freighter had been intercepted and was being boarded by a First Order patrol cruiser. Wyman swore and kicked, punched and groaned, all in anger at his rotten luck. He didn't even want to be a slaver. He'd been bullied into it- blackmailed, really. If it were up to him he would have just surrendered, but he wasn't the only one on this freighter. He was joined by Offuss Higgins and several of his goons, all masquerading as part of his crew. Wyman's ship was officially on business in between two unimportant, undistinguished worlds in this sector ferrying food to some far-flung colonies.

In reality, they were dropping off sentient chattel to be picked up by some Hutt. Higgins never told Thules a damned thing, even though that slaving bastard knew it made him nervous. Speaking of him, Higgins crept up behind Thules on the bridge and smacked him over the head disdainfully.

"Get a hold of yourself."

Wyman yelled, twirling around and rubbing the back of his head where he had been struck. "Is that a joke? We're being boarded. They're gonna-"

"I says, get a hold of yourself." Higgins made himself much more persuasive by producing a blaster pistol and waving it at Wyman. The pilot turned an unpleasant shade of blue and became considerably more quiet. With that settled, Higgins continued. "They're gonna come inside and they're not gonna find anything. Understand?"

Wyman could not see, for the life of him, how that would be possible. But he found himself nodding along with such force that an outside observer might have thought it was his own idea. Higgins gave a toothy grin and holstered his pistol.

Meanwhile, the shuttle carrying the First Order inspection team was latching on...

 

[Zmej Ren]

Location: Chalcedon
Objective: 3
Post: 7


Offered a quiet moment before another killing spree, Zmej knelt down and meditated while the stormtroopers reloaded their guns – whether using ordinary ammunition or the Force, all had to manage their resources. Fatigue started taking roots, but there was still work to be done. Submerged into the flowing currents of the Force, it became easy for Zmej Ren to sense the growing confidence of her allies as she bathed in the dark side’s refreshing corruption she had helped to create through spilling blood and ending lives. Many more signatures spread across the base still waited for their executioner to come and decapitate their worthless existence. The thought made her impatient, eager to spear through more slavers. Her body wanted it. The Supreme Leader demanded it. The dark side required it.

A subtle disturbance reeking of fear crept into her senses. Not far away, coming closer, albeit from an unexpected direction. Someone wished to escape through the ventilation system overhead. If not for Zmej’s close relationship with the Force, the First Order’s soldiers would have missed the hidden intruder. A gesture of her hand cleansed the entire room of chatter. Without saying a word, the young Ren stood up, gaze fixed upon the ceiling. Was the enemy trying to get in their backs? Several pairs of eyes curiously observed the Ren’s behaviour as she unclipped her lightsaber in deliberately slow moves before a quick motion that saw the blade ignited and cutting through the shaft. Sparks flashed everywhere and from them came tumbling down a female Twi’lek, just a child judging by her small stature, followed by a specifically shaped bag that demanded Zmej’s attention.

Without anyone breaking the Twi’lek’s fall, the small sentient crashed into the floor, yelping in pain and surprise. Before she could recover, strong arms pinned her down and two rifles pointed at her green forehead. Despite tears rolling down the young captive’s face, the Ren somehow found the task of feeling an ounce of sympathy impossible. The disciple’s gaze focused on the mysterious bag; opening it revealed at least a dozen of thermal detonators, telling everything they needed to know about the small saboteur’s purpose. Nodding knowingly, as her mind had already made the decision concerning the child soldier’s fate, Zmej Ren returned to the pacified girl. Weak, crying, harmless. The Galactic Alliance would have helped her, and perhaps the slavers truly thought they were being attacked by the Jedi and their dogs.

They were wrong.