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

[Progflaw99]

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Location: Balustrad, New Balosar -> Rocket City, Quesaya ​

Objective: Partake in the Sector Pub Crawl​

Post (4)​

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​

Having finished several drinks between them all, the small group of First Order troopers a la others had begun their journey to the second stop on their four part adventure - inebriation hardly a question though some had indulged more than others. The trio of troopers and their tagalongs had managed to find their way back to the shuttles just in time, the guide just checking off the final names on the list before they had boarded and secured themselves with the lap belts. The shuttle ride to Quesaya was thankfully short - the feeling of space sickness strange to the Major. Attributing it to the few drinks and potent cigar he'd had, Rolf gave it no further thought. As the shuttle landed he once more took the lead, looking back to where [member="Rexus Wenck"] and "Twigg" to make sure he hadn't lost them along the way.

"Next stop boys, you gents'll have to pay for your own drinks this time. I know they tell you lads that us officer folk make a decent bit more but once you get there you'll see. All that extra pay goes to uniforms!"​

​

The Major laughed but he knew it was in part true. Officers tended to have a lot more shiny on their uniforms and each and every aspect of their uniform was always held to the highest standard, everyone knew the enlisted folk could get away with minor inconsistencies, at least in most situations. Strutting off towards the second venue, he looked back to his front - a plethora of people milling about, walking through the streets of Rocket City. Though not the most pristine, the city had a very home feel to it, the burnished gold of many of the buildings glinting as the sun seemed to lower its way towards the horizon. The way they'd planned the trip, daily progression seemed to pass as normal, a luxury Rolf appreciated. Travelling from planet to planet could be energy sapping, especially if one were to go from a natural night cycle to a midday or morning cycle - thankfully they didn't feel the lag of travel. Someone in the planning department would have to receive a commendation for their subtle but incredibly important consideration.

The venue in sight, he appreciated the rather old-timey look, almost like one of those niche science fiction flicks from the holo-vids, "Adventures in the Realms Beyond". A cheesy show to be certain but it had found a certain place in Rolf's heart, the quirky humor and interesting problems the crew of the Artemis experienced endearing. Briefly he wondered what the inside would look like - and then he remembered, that's exactly where he was headed. It seemed the alcohol had already begun to do its work, his mental acuity somewhat suppressed. Checking once more, Rolf waved towards his newfound chums as he pushed in the door, eyes tracing the inside of the room before settling on the most important thing - the bar.

[member="Rexus Wenck"] | [member="Lydia Finn-Camden"] | [member="Valessia Brentioch"] | [member="Kaalia Voldaren"]​

 

[Kuzo]

​

"I like sweet, but I feel like I could drink these all night and walk out of here sober."

She leaned back against the bar before accepting the drink he had mixed up from her. Irajah took the almost too full glass carefully, less because she was already feeling the effects and more because it really was just a scooch too full.

"This, however, I can already tell I'm going to have to be careful with!"

She'd barely taken a sip when the bar tour started to get rounded up. A serious proponent of the 'no booze left behind' rule, she scrunched up her face and downed half of the glass in one go, and then the other half after a quick breath. She shook her head, a sound somewhere between a gasp and cough escaping from her lips, followed by a laugh.

"That one kicks," she said. "Here, if you're not going to drink that....."

The Tatooine Sunburn was easier going down, washing some of the harshness of [member="Darth Prazutis"]'s choice out of the back of her throat. Shaking her head again, she blinked, feeling the warmth curl through her core as she slid off of the barstool. Three drinks, even one as strong as the absinthe had been, wasn't enough to knock her over, but everything was delightfully fuzzy around the edges.

She glanced around the bar, then suddenly went up on tiptoes to wave over the crowd. She'd spotted [member="Samka Derith"], but the way everyone was moving toward the doors made it impossible for Irajah to do too much more than wave in that moment. Maybe she'd run into the young med student at the next locale.....

"You're coming, right?" She asked, looking up at Braxus, clearly hopeful. When he nodded, her smile widened, a little crooked now.

"Good."

Despite the teasing thrown the way of the bartender, Irajah left a generous tip. Without really thinking about it, she slipped her arm comfortably into Braxus's and followed the crowd....

She grinned as they stepped into the Jumping Rocket. The sound of the band was an almost physical blast as they came through the doors. Drastically different from the last venue, her eyes lit up, clearly delighted.

Hazel eyes swept the room and she leaned on Braxus's arm for a moment before looking up at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling into a smile.

"So, dance or drink?"

 

[Samka Derith]

The Jumping Rocket​

​

Samka Derith slammed through the doors, not caring how much attention it brought her. The transport was prearranged so it was no issue getting here but the fact remained that [member="Mishel Ren"] had literally ran off to another planet on a drunken whim. Not a positive sign for future, more dangerous duties. Her scowl crossed over the Jumping Rocket, a place far less gracious than the Colony Club which she was sad to leave behind so soon.

"Gambling," she muttered distastefully as she spotted [member="Ara Ren"] and [member="Kaalia Voldaren"] and marched up to the pair. "I hope that's your own savings you're throwing down the gutter," she bluntly stated. "Have you seen-" before the question had left her lips, Sam saw the figure of a dark haired girl stumbling towards the stage.

Samka sprinted over and reached out to steady her fellow Ren. "Mishel! What have I told you about running off like that? Make sure I'm around you at all times!" The stench of alcohol on the young woman's breath had gotten worse.

The secret project of the Supreme Leader would die of alcohol poisoning before seeing combat and she would be responsible.

 

[Perth Levov]

Perth was no more an expert on ships than she was on naval warfare, but the battlecruiser ahead of them appeared a powerful ship. But it was taken apart by the combined cannons of the ship she was in and the fighter squadrons it dispatched. In fact, watching them employed in so efficient and lethal a manner was a joy for Perth to behold.

The slavers got off the first salvo, to their credit, spraying laser cannon and turbolaser fire over the length of the destroyer. One or two shots even made it through the shields, only to be repelled by the hull's armour.

But the return barrage devastated the ship that was one fifth of the destroyer's size. It punched through the shields as if they were mere holograms. Again, the battlecruiser tried to make a game of it by running but the precision of the shots from the ion cannons meant their engines were soon disabled and with it, any hope of escape.

Finally the captain turned to Perth. "She's all yours."

 

[Ara Zambrano]

Objective: 1
Post: 6

Ara chuckled and placed a hand on Kaalia's shoulder gently, accepting her own beverage from the waiter and taking a nice long sip. [member="Samka Derith"] might not appreciate the taste of the spirit, but she did. It was less of a taste, if she was honest, and more of a pure burn, the golden liquid could peel the paint off the hull of a star destroyer if they let it. She opened her mouth to encourage [member="Kaalia Voldaren"] when the whirlwind known as [member="Mishel Ren"] came rushing into their lives and was gone again just as quickly.

She chuckled and plucked a simple hors d'oeuvre from the tray, popping it into her mouth with a satisfied grin. She winked at the man across the table who watched with a bit to much interest, washing the small morsel down with another sip.

As Kaalia attempted to flirt with the men, Ara had to hide her growing smile behind the back of her hand, squeezing the girl's shoulder lightly in support.

She didn't bother to hid her amusement as Samka approached and chastised them for gambling. "Yes ma'am." She lifted her glass in a salute chuckled at the thought of using her own money to gamble. In Ara's world, it was unheard of. Speaking of...she turned to the table and tossed a few credit chips out, smiling sheepishly at the dealer.

"I hope that's enough to get started. We don't have much."

She tilted her head to indicate her friend in the statement and waited for the inevitable flurry of offers to buy drinks or lend a few credits to the two pretty girls sitting at the table. Using the distraction, she returned Kaalia's early whisper, glad to see she was enjoying the beverage that had been ordered. "Just pretend you like them. And if all else fails, don't stay sober." She patted her shoulder and winked silkily at her friend, entertained by everything about the evening so far.

 

[Pharazon Draken]

[SIZE=11pt]Location: Kaeshana, Ruins of Santassia[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Objective: 4; A Promise Fulfilled, A Sacrifice Honoured[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Post: 2[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The sights and smell of the intersection assailed Captain Draken and the men of the 4th Platoon despite their helmets. Death was omnipresent on these roads and the surrounding ruins. Dead covered nearly the entire surface of the ruined roads and the surrounding rubble. Stormtroopers and Eldorai guerrillas alike lay in silent, horrifying repose, bodies locked together in savage and overwhelming scenes of brutality and extreme violence. However, likewise did their bodies also both impart a sense of profound grief upon all who looked upon them, Stormtroopers young and old, Eldorai fanatic and civilian resistance fighter, all lay dead, all looked forever toward the sky, the ground, or to the four winds. There they lay, together in death, even though they had sent each other there screaming during life.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The stormtroopers spread out, perimeter established and made a start at the grisly work before them. They worked by squad, moving the piles of bodies so as to separate the Imperial and Eldorai fallen. They were not here to desecrate, and the Eldorai were simply lined up in an orderly fashion. Men were dragged from the mud that had become their tombs, armour had been looted haphazardly despite it being of little use to anyone but it's offical user. Each and every trooper under Pharazon’s command had in their helmet communicators a list of the fallen and their numbers, as well as precise or estimated locations for their bodies. The platoon and likely, Pharazon assumed, the company at large, was speaking more freely. Surviving friends or enlisted relatives began to speak in hushed tones about their fallen companions, or as in many cases that Pharazon could see as he directed them from a rather standoffish place, to them.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]As Pharazon moved over to the building in which they had made one stage of their stand, he let his head hang limp for a moment as he spotted a piece of white sticking out of the rubble. It was the insanely brave megablaster gunner who had held the bottom floor, Pharazon did not know how he died, all he knew was that it was not the building falling on his head that had done it.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“I have located FN-68… I have located Hammos... I need a few men to dig him out of here” Pharazon reported in a low, solemn voice.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The giant Sergeant Hydros merely placed his hand on Pharazons back, gave it a warm and firm pat, and directed some of his lads to begin carefully lifting the rubble. He’s probably looking for his ruined mortar too, madman… [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]Pharazon thought as he watched the excitable giant get to work, though he was solemn this day, not even his great mirth was left untouched by the surrounding reality.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]As he brought himself to his feet he nodded to his once and still loyal Sergeant, and moved away from the ruin. As he walked across the intersection he helped lift some of the bodies and draw the bags across their armoured but bloodied forms, they were going home and would have their bodies prepared in the manner of their families choosing, it was the least the First Order could do Pharazon thought darkly. He would not tolerate a summary cremation for these men. Just as he and several privates had recovered another, his eyes were caught by the form of flametrooper Scorpio, walking over to his brother’s body.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Pharazon did not know where Scorpio was from, few in the company did, and those that did would only say it was a savage and primitive world and that they had no idea how the brothers had managed to get off it. [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]Scorpio placed the flamethrower back into his brother’s hand as he crouched down beside his head and rolled him onto his back. He removed his own helmet, tears clearly streaming down his cheeks as he removed his brother’s helmet and looked upon his pale face. Cradling his head in his hands and on his lap, Scorpio flung his head into the air, long uncovered black hair flinging behind him, eyes red and burning with tears and roared, teeth bared to the heavens. His roar was savage and proud, dark and mournful, powerful beyond belief. Pharazon said nothing at this display, not having the mind to disturb a man’s grief over a brother. Though, however, he did walk over to stand behind the man in silent solidarity, ready to honour the sacrifice and aid in moving the hero who had given his life to give them time to prepare their second suicidal and last resort charge of the day.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The rest of the men continued, however, as they began to gather and respectfully secure the bodies in this ruin. Other men were recovering the body near the palace and attached citadel, no one more would be left behind.[/SIZE]

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Location: Chalcedon
Objective: Rebuild the Kaeshana spaceport
Allies: First Order
Enemies: Unknown
Post: 14/38

"Boss, the prefabricated hypermatter reservoir should arrive from Riflor in about a day or two"

"Good: all that duracrete made the ship a lot slower"

"Hopefully the First Order authorities won't catch us doing that: overloading ships will net us into trouble"

"The First Order has proven to be a little more relaxed when the cargo is used for public works"

Dunames sometimes accepted that it was one of the hazards of the business of hauling bulk merchandise: sometimes freight in bulk was easy enough to load and unload, but bulk freight was a business where one had to trade off with less cycles at the cost of longer times in port and longer flights. It was well-known that, in the case of ships capable of landing on planets, repulsorlifts and landing gears could add up to a ship's maintenance schedule pretty quickly the more cycles (that is, as usually understood in starship maintenance, it means one takeoff and one landing) the ship accrues. Usually smaller ships are designed to a higher amount of cycles, while larger ships are usually designed for longer flights. Ultima-class ships are designed to last 20,000 cycles before major refits are required but 20,000 cycles may last an Ultima well into centuries, according to the maintenance logs of their operators. In comparison, Dennari-class ships are designed for five times as many, and that may mean that the ship may not even designed to last that long.

 

[Davin Jusik]

[member="Pharazon Draken"]

Objective 4: Ruins
Post 1

Davin gave a low sigh, just low enough to be inaudible to the microphone that sat off to the right side of his mouth. He'd missed the conflict here. Only shuttling down after with the other units that had been placed in the reserves. From behind his helmet he watched those who hadn't been so lucky fight to maintain their composure as they picked through the dead and not so dead. Frozen, twisted faces hidden behind the cold visage of the locked expression worn by every fallen that wore the uniform he did. The enemy were not granted that dignity, the pain of their last moments displayed for all the Sky and God to see.

Davin looked towards the mudded collection of clouds above before continuing onward with the squad he was attached to, still floating between units and awaiting transfer. The military equivalent of drifting, waiting for the gears of bureaucracy to turn.

"This is a fucking mess." One of the younger men on his eleven o' clock mumbled, about five meters away. He'd yet to take the time to learn their actual names instead of just their numbers. The comment was met with a silence that unsettled Davin almost as much as the grim scenery. It was a mess these troopers wouldn't forget.

"Remember what it's for." Davin said before breaking off from the group to examine the vitals of a trooper who's back plate had been blown off by a stray bolt and helmet thrown off, possibly severing the connection that transmitted his information to the rest of his squad. The younger, still standing trooper gave a audio click back in response. An acknowledgement used when one couldn't speak or in this instance wasn't willing to. The First Order's military had a unique purpose that many soldiers in other such organizations found wanting. Everything they did they did for the collective good of their people, with a strong national identity and pride carrying them into places others wouldn't dare to tread. They didn't have the problem of societal nihilism that gripped those engaged in warfare for immoral and corrupt officials who's only creedo was worship of the self and decadence.

Death in the service of order was an honor. If it came to that.

Davin carefully turned the blast marked trooper over and put a gloved hand to the side of his neck, feeling for a pulse. It was faint but present. Davin's grim mood shifted to one of excited professionalism. The prospect of salvaging a life out of this shit show inspired a manic almost transcendental joy in his heart. He switched to unit wide coms and said in a tone to match his mood. "NEED A MEDEVAC." before keying his location along with it. Besides the low heart rate and blaster trauma to the man's back the force of impact that had thrown his helmet off, probably from an explosion, had broken his right mandible and sent the thick glass of one of his view ports into his right eye. It was a miracle the man had survived as long as he had. A quick scan showed a series of fractures in various sections of the body. The armor had saved him. Davin frantically gave the man a chemical cocktail, one that wouldn't lower his heart rate further. He asked for help from the Divine as he attempted to stabilize the man the best he could until the call for a medevac was heeded.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

​Braxus drank the emerald colored absinthe as he watched [member="Irajah Ven"] down another sunburn followed by the full glass of absinthe he ordered her. A grin formed on his face at her reaction to the far stronger absinthe. When the crowds began to move and the event relocating he had just finished the absinthe, savoring its licorice taste as he stood up.

"You're coming, right?" She asked looking back to him he gave her a nod as he walked up to her, allowing her to take his arm in a swift natural motion.

​While the event was relaxing and he certainly enjoyed that he had Irajah as his partner here, it brought forth long suppressed memories in his mind that he would rather forget. The dim lighting of cantinas and Hutt palaces, the smell of spice, smoke, and alcohol hanging heavily in the air. The many eyes that so often drifted to the infamous killer as he strode through to collect his payment for services rendered. In such places there was a different code, a different set of laws one needed to abide by, and the smallest slight could get you killed if you angered the wrong person.

​Braxus came back to reality when they had arrived at the next club observing the place as they thought about what they would do next. here in the Jumping Rocket. "So, dance or drink?" They had plenty of time to sit down and drink later, Irajah was in an excellent mood. So the King decided then that dancing would be the best choice that she would enjoy the most. "Dance. We can drink later. Let us see what you can do, Doctor Ven." ​He replied playfully, leading her to the dance floor just as the song changed. Braxus began dancing with her then his style of choice befitting the type of song that came on, perhaps even surprising her that the man even knew how to dance.

 

[Progflaw99]

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Location: Rocket City, Quesaya​

Objective: Partake in the Sector Pub Crawl​

Post (5)​

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Always with the alcohol - it was almost a vice of sorts for the Major, partially why he tried his best not to overindulge. Today however, the First Order trooper had thrown caution to the wind, a decent amount of liquor and brew already consumed. The music in the new join had his head nodding and a sloppy grin painted on his face before he even stepped up to the bar. He was having a good time, letting loose a little from the normal up tight and business oriented mentality he seemed to wear as a mask - it was well needed. The First Order had been put through its paced over the last few months, ranging from insurrection to flat out war and this was likely the last chance he would get for a while to truly let himself be carefree. Raising two fingers as the proprietor shuffled by behind the bar, he ordered a double whiskey cola. Nodding his head to the beat he watched as people began to get out onto the dance floor, grabbing their friends and acquaintances and letting the rhythm of the music guide their movements. It was almost trancelike, the subtle clink of ice in the glass being set down beside him jolting him from his momentary lapse.

Gently collecting the glass tumbler, Rolf sipped from it, the smooth whiskey and the carbonated soda sending a wave of euphoria coursing through his veins. Gently sliding over to a stool, he took a seat, content for the moment to simply enjoy the atmosphere, eyes scanning the now crowd of people, some local and others belonging to their tour party.

[member="Rexus Wenck"] | [member="Lydia Finn-Camden"] | [member="Valessia Brentioch"] | [member="Daska Tess"] | [member="Torian Pierce"]​

 

[Ugoto Chivaro]

Post: 2
Location: Space, One of Several Frontiers
Objective: 3 - Sector Patrol, Intercept Slave Shipments

Offuss Higgins took point as he and Wyman Thules marched to the airlock. Not because Offuss innately knew what he was doing or anything. No, it was more like he suspected Wyman would dissolve into a stuttering puddle of tears, sweat, mucus, and piss if he were questioned too intensely. Three times on their way to the airlock, Higgins paused to smack Thules upside the head. "Get a hold of yourself," he said the first time. "Knock that off," he said the second time, referencing Thules' tendency towards nervous muttering. "I said quit it," he yelled the third time, slapping away Thules' hand so the pilot would stop chewing his nails. It was such an ugly, gnawing sound. Didn't do anything for his awful mood.

The fourth time Higgins had to stop, he decided Thules was a liability. He gave the pilot a nice punch in the gut, knocking the wind out of him and forcing him to double over. Then Higgins grabbed Thules' head to keep him stooped over and proceeded to knee his face. Once, twice, by the third time Thules was in a glorious state of semi-consciousness and quiet as could be expected. Higgins stuffed him in a storage locker and continued to the airlock.

Despite the detour, he arrived just in time. The airlock hissed open and it was only Higgins there to greet them. A few Stormtroopers filed out. Higgins was expecting they be followed by a gaunt, disdainful officer who would introduce himself as Baronet Foodle the customs officer or something pompous. Instead he got... A droid? The lanky, lumbering machine had to duck slightly to fit through the airlock, but once he was inside the ship his bright photoreceptors locked on to Higgins.

"Hello there."

 

[Zmej Ren]

Location: Chalcedon
Objective: 3
Post: 9


No opposition came their way; nobody planned an ambush behind every corner, no more droids and turrets to have the First Order earn every inch of progress. Without any tricks to overcome, their pace grew quicker, eventually reaching the station’s heart. As the Force made Zmej aware, the central chamber has been filled with lifeforms, most radiating anxiety. Opening the door revealed the suspicious lack of opposition has been nothing else than an invitation to come in; it was about time they met the station’s boss. He sat at the far end of the chamber, like a king seated upon a throne.

Obese, decadent, surrounded by exotic slaves and armed guards. In fact, the scantily clad women and girls formed a living barrier between their owner and the intruders. The other ring, considerably bigger, was composed of guards, every single one aiming at the ‘guests’ in the middle. Returning the favour, all stormtroopers picked their potential targets, rifles loaded and trained at their future victims. Only Zmej Ren did not pick an enemy among the rabble and went for the fattest fly in the room, taking confident steps towards the man in charge until the wall of bodies denied further passage.

“Welcome to my domain! I am Vex and this is my kingdom.” He dramatically announced with a toothy grin, definitely confident he had just ended the threat to his business. Perhaps he had a good reason for his confidence. After all, nobody dealing with the Hutts and living long enough to become rich planned to retire prematurely, always having an ace or two up their sleeve.

“Who might you be? You and your people are too precise and disciplined for someone from competition. Hmm, Galactic Alliance, I presume?” Vex guessed, missing completely.

“We represent the First Order,” Zmej’s distorted voice corrected, “Slavery is illegal within our borders – and Chalcedon now belongs to the First Order.”

Vex knew of their conflict on Kaeshana – quite a show. He understood trying to kark with the new government would be bloody and painful. Greed still reigned supreme among sentients. Everyone had a price as he had learned, and even the priciest investments usually paid off. Buying the First Order’s officials and benefiting from superior protection while his own business continued interrupted was too tempting of an idea to dismiss.

“I deal with the most powerful Hutts in the galaxy. If you people can look the other way, you can share those benefits with me. Credits, slaves, weapons, you name it. Three lemons for each of you, right now – if you leave and tell your superiors Vex is open to negotiations.”

 

[Kaalia Pavanos]

Objective: 1
Post: 5

The men at the table seemed a bit too eager to help Kaalia out, making her a bit self-concious. Credits came her way to help her get started, and with a sheepish smile she used them to join in the round. "Thanks. I'm still getting used to things, so excuse me if I make any mistakes." In her head, the wheels were turning, hoping to wrap this up as quickly as possible.

The cards were dealt, and looking over her hand, the redhead was the first to go. "I think..." escaped her lips as she laid down a card on the table. She shifted a card in her hand, then looked over to the man next to her with the best questioning face she could muster. "That should be it, I think?" The woman finished the glass of brandy next to her, waiting for the hand to finish. One man seemed to have a winner, and with a smile he revealed a 22. Groans could be heard around the table, when with an innocent smile Kaalia revealed her 23, a pure Sabacc. "I think that should do it? I guess my luck is on my side today!"

The redhead looked up to [member="Ara Ren"], who stood behind her. "Like that?" she whispered as the others around the table complained about what transpired in the last round. Taking the winnings with a smile and a sheepish nod, she stood up from the chair. "I don't want to hoard all the playtime, how about you play a round?" Turning to Ara she displayed a face that said sent a clear message saying 'Happy now?' to her friend.

 

[Zmej Ren]

Location: Chalcedon
Objective: 3
Post: 10


“Are you trying to bribe the Supreme Leader’s Hand?!” The blonde disciple spat, obviously insulted by such notion. Riding the waves of anger still, now possessing a new addition, she took a carefully measured step back, already knowing what to do. Tension filled the Force with its thick cloud, inevitably pointing to an inevitable eruption. The dark side's thirst for lives would be satisfied.

“I would never! Think of it as an offer. Refusing means an awful lot of my girls will die in the ensuing fight – you don’t want these poor creatures to die, do you?” Vex nervously shifted in his seat, taking a moment to observe his own forces and silently calculating their chances against the First Order’s group.

Regarding him with a silent glare, Zmej readied herself. She wasn’t there for the slaves, though the armoured Ren made no attempt at correcting the slaver. Liberating the enslaved women served as a secondary objective – eliminating the slavers took priority. Vex did not know that, probably thinking of Jedi and similar vermin.

“I have a better offer.” Zmej Ren stated, hand hovering dangerously close to the lightsaber.

“What if I eradicated you?”

Her grin remained safely sealed underneath the helmet.

All to follow her rhetorical question happened terribly fast, catching the slavers off guard. At blinding speed, the cross shaped weapon hopped into her outstretched palm, ignited, immediately turning into a spinning scythe of death that mowed down the slavers and slaves alike as it cleaved through the wall of bodies. It did not discriminate between guilt and innocence, armed or not. Anything between the scarlet flash of light and the self-proclaimed king fell, decapitated or mutilated in terrible ways. Vex did not see this coming, evidenced by the surprise eternally carved into his expression as his head rolled over the heap of bodies that used to shield him.

The moment her saber returned from its lethal journey across the room, Zmej joined the efforts of her men at putting out the remaining guards.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Lydia had spent the better part of their time at the Colony Club in the bathroom, struggling to apply makeup in such a way that it would cover up the lingering bruises from her time on Kaeshana. Only on the fifth time did she get it right and emerge back into the jovial atmosphere of the pub crawl, just in time for them to switch locations. The next place looked like something out of an old-fashioned holo. She eased herself onto a barstool next to [member="Rolf Amsel"] and set her small clutch handbag on the counter, then opened the magnetic clasp to dig for a credit shit. When she found it, she pulled it out of her wallet and waved it at the bartender.

"Another drink for the good Major," she said pleasantly. "And give me whatever he's having. Ooh, and an order of fried mushrooms." She picked up the laminated paper menu and held it between herself and Rolf, looking over at him with a half-smile. "See anything that tickles your fancy here? Onion rings, perhaps? Or fried crispic?" She set the menu in front of Rolf and handed her credit chit over to the bartender. "Open a tab, would you?"

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Location: Chalcedon -> Kaeshana
Objective: Rebuild the Kaeshana spaceport
Allies: First Order
Enemies: Unknown
Post: 15/38

"Please, Dunames, point me at an instance where the First Order has actually overlooked transportation safety for public works, even though cargo doesn't otherwise pose threats"

"The Tunroth government on Jiroch-Reslia, the Assemblage of Three, allowed the dark side nexus-powered theme park to proceed, albeit at a cost of political problems among their populace"

"You were caught red-handed on Quintas, remember?"

"To be fair, part of the problems the Tunroth government faced happened because, while legal, a dark-side nexus has already a high NIMBY factor on its own"

While the ship is slowing slogging through hyperspace so that they will arrive back on Kaeshana by night, local Santaissa time, Dunames takes time to reflect on exactly how her actions on Jiroch-Reslia may have given her the wrong impressions of something she took for granted actually wasn't. Dunames knew that transportation infrastructure projects were often laden with heavy NIMBY factors, so she feels she has no choice but to seek locations away from urban centers, if, in the future, Star Tours was called upon to build new transportation infrastructure for the First Order. Then again, Cademimu-Flashpoint, which was one of their northern hubs, was mostly about giving a second life to an abandoned facility, and commissioned long before there even was a Star Tours in the first place. But then reversion was to come soon: even with the speed penalty that comes with loading so heavily, the ship would still need a few hours to travel from Chalcedon to Kaeshana.

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Objective 1
Post 5

Kyrel quietly left with the rest of the group out of the colony club. He made his way along with the rest of the group to yet another bar, he thought to himself ​'This is definitely quite the night indeed.' But besides the good things that came from this night, one thing toyed with him, and that was the figure known as [member="Mishel Ren"] He didn't care much for her, and didn't have the pleasure of meeting her, but the more she kept mocking him the more angry he grew, he figured in morbid way that by the end of the night she would feel the extent of his rage. He never took kindly to being disrespected by anyone, and he didn't care weather it would be some new disciple, or anyone else for that matter. This Knight of Ren wouldn't have any of it at all/

He walked in casually into the Jumping Rocket, not caring about the stares he received from staff, and patrons alike, as he had grown past the social anxiety about the ugliness of his bare flesh. If it intimidated others so be it, His anger was at such a boiling point in his already drunken stupor that he could hardly careless. He sat at a stool next to his fellow Ren [member="Kaalia Voldaren"] and [member="Ara Ren"] just as he had before, and asked in a polite tone, but said it with a bit of a slur. "Hello I'll take a Corellian Brandy." The bartender although seemed distress by Kyrel's appearance he nodded, pouring the liquid into a glass and handing it to Kyrel. He took the glass and started chugging it, He didn't care as he figured it couldn't get much worse than being mocked, and he had to do something other than brood or else someone was going to get hurt.

 

[Kuzo]

In a rare turn of events, he didn't really need to lead her. Once she knew his preference, she turned onto the dance floor, her hands in his.

Everything was delightfully hazy around the edges, and the music the band struck up was cheerful, upbeat and energetic- nothing she particularly associated with [member="Darth Prazutis"] if she were being honest. The twinkle in her eyes, the way she wrinkled her nose when she smiled, made it clear that she didn't think he'd be able to keep up.

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6eESNJYzE_E[/media]

They were an odd pair. The towering Sith Lord and the petite doctor. Irajah wasn't a particularly accomplished dancer, but she made up for it with energy and enthusiasm. And Braxus was a surprisingly good dancer, especially considering that this seemed like a type of music rarely heard on Panatha.

If she were a little less tipsy, she would have poked at that a bit. He'd already hinted at it. But between the energetic movement across the floor, she was starting to not be entirely sure when he was turning her and when the room was just spinning a little.

Of course, the absinthe didn't help at all.

Setting both of her hands on his forearms as she song came to an end, she realized she was laughing. Her face was flushed, and she tried to catch her breath as she turned her head. For a moment, she thought she saw something fluttering at the edges of her vision, but when she turned to look toward it, it was gone again.

"I think I need to sit down," she said, still laughing, not entirely sure why beyond the simple fact that she was having a grand time.

 

[Alleycat]

Location(s): Colony Club > Jumping Rocket
Objective: 1 Pub Crawl
(4)

~Colony Club~

Daska followed down the nuts she'd popped into her mouth with another healthy swig from the microbrew chosen for her first drink of the crawl. The dark amber liquid was actually quite tasty for a darker ale than the pilot normally would go with.

“Say, I know we’re not here to talk shop tonight… but do you fly for the First Order?” A hand came up to scratch her head, “I feel like I’ve seen you around, but I’m only ever in the Starfighter Garrison on Dosuun, or working in various hangar bays. I’m one of the techs; I work on the TIES in the 501st.”

Slender fingers wrapped around the chilled bottle loosely after setting the glass container back down on the bar top. Clean, short fingernails picked at the label for a minute in thoughtful contemplation, then the Bastionian turned her golden head to look back to [member="Delilah Beckett"].

"Well I won't tell if you won't," the blonde smirked a little before answering her bar counter, drinking companion's inquiry.

"I used to command the 181st Saber Squadron. We flew TIE Defenders, and were the Swords of Kalast, but..." Daska paused for a moment. This part stung. The outcome of her top secret mission still quite fresh in her mind. "That was a year ago. I have just returned to active duty after a leave, and awaiting orders for my reassignment, The 501st is a good place to be, or at least was," she said with a heavy sigh, though that latter sound was hid by tipping back the bottle and emptying the rest of the contents in one gulp.

Catching movement with her excellent peripheral vision where the other First Order peeps had been sitting at tables, the TIE pilot turned around on the bar stool and saw they were leaving.

"Well better kill those samples, Del. It's time to crawl!" she exclaimed with a chuckle, then started walking towards the club's exit to catch their ride to the Jumping Rocket.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

​To be honest dancing like this wasn't exactly in his element.

​Braxus thanked the force that he was such a fast learner and he was able to pick up from those around him, it was a fairly simple dance. To those around them it must of seemed incredibly odd to see the two of them together, the massive Tyrant Zambrano and the short Doctor Ven dancing. It wasn't at all what one who knew of the Sith Lord would've thought to see him doing.

​But nevertheless he was enjoying himself.

​A tolerance built up over the centuries coupled with his size ensured the glass of absinthe he downed barely made a dent in the Dark Lord's constitution, merely easing the tension in his muscles. But as they continued to dance he could already tell that they were beginning to effect Irajah. As a short, petite woman who he didn't at all expected to be a heavy drinker, she had to be a lightweight. The absinthe was an incredibly strong drink filled with a double action high based on the herbs it was made with, and she drank a whole glass and two more mixed drinks.

​When the song came to an end she braced on him laughing hysterically but no one had particularly said anything funny, it was still good to see her smile. "Certainly. Enjoying yourself I see." ​He said guiding her to a stool down by the edge of the bar. "I have to say I don't remember when I last danced quite like that." ​He said a light smile on his face.

[member="Irajah Ven"]