Faction Light at the bottom of the world

[Asher]

Eighty credits. Asher took the credits and bowed his head in thanks as he pocketed them within his own jacket. In all honesty he could have just gone along, but this was at least a week’s worth of food for something as simple as tagging along and pointing out where not to go. That made it all the more a sweet deal for himself. Yet as Asher pocketed his credits Aaran seemed to ask him a question. When Asher began to shape the first syllable of his response on his silver-like little tongue he’d find himself interrupted by none other than the authorities themselves, projected from a hologram instead of showing up in person.

And these people wondered why there was little to no faith in the ‘law’ around here? Asher had seen six, maybe seven different governments try to calm the streets where he lived and they had all failed. Either because there were not enough resources, or because they imploded upon themselves, although mostly because a bigger fish came around and began to blow up everything in their path until they were in charge of the topsider’s paradise in their stead. At this point the local populace of the lower levels were more likely to form their own militias meant to keep the peace than they were to turn to the authorities, and Asher himself was hardly any different. He tried to hide his disdain for this person, someone that he by all means thought to have no reason to believe in.

And then, on her belt, he saw not just the one lightsaber but a second one as well. His eyes went wide and then set on Aaran and Loske again. They were Jedi then, or something of the sort. In what seemed like a very short time’s span he went from okay with his deal to displeased. He didn’t relish in the idea of having to work for those that pretended to care for his people, but he had accepted their pay and he was still a man of his word. Besides that, he was offered more payment upon completion and in the struggle between personal gripes and being guaranteed to live for a few more days, Asher would choose the latter any day of the week.

“I don’t know who did this, no. But I do know these levels. What to look for, what to avoid, and what type of fronts people like to hide in.” He whispered to Aaran as Loske spoke with this ‘Tasha’ person. As Loske turned around to speak to him he couldn’t help but raise his brow in confusion. “Pastry shops? Unlikely, unless it’s a front.”

Asher scratched his stubble and turned around to look in the direction of Xiao town. He knew where it was, but it was a big sector that spanned more than one level. The Atrisian Triads had a great deal of influence there. Displaced Atrisians and criminals made their home there. People that either had no choice but to disappear, or who acted in the shadows. Held themselves to a code of honor that had people thinking they were better people than they truly were.

“It’s this way.” Asher said and began to lead them down the road. “The local gangs should leave you alone unless you look at them the wrong way.” He threw a glance over his shoulder. Was that hologram coming with them? “I’ve never been to Atrisia, but their gangs and their culture is… Lively. I can give them that.”

Loske Treicolt // Aaran Tafo // Tasha Blackmoor​

 

[Aaran Tafo]

"Well. I'm glad y'all at least know where you're going. I'll let someone else lead the way. I'm likely to find my way down to the Core if I keep going by myself." Aaran replied to Asher, turning his attention to the Street Rat, one eye on the projection. His eyes idly drifting down to the Sabers on the woman's belt.

It seems Loske was not alone in the Force Sensitive agents working down here in the depths of the Capital. Mentally filing that tidbit of information away for later. He turned his full attention towards Asher. Stepping in line with the local as they began to lead the group deeper into the underbelly. "So. The local gangs. What's their story." He asked, both hands going into his pockets as he hunched over ever so slightly. Attempting to minimise his large frame without appearing that he was trying to be unnoticed. "How many are there and who are they. They all a group of baseline humans who just wanna be left alone. Or am I gonna get punched in the face by a Trandoshan for showing up?" His questions were genuine. But they were also a way to fill in the time as they made their way through the undercity streets and towards their destination.

 

[Cataline Holt]

Another Jedi Master? Cataline seemed to be meeting those strong and trained in the Force more than she ever expected. It was nice to see that someone else was coming to help the people. The more hands they had, the better. And to be truthful, she felt much more comfortable in the camp with people who were trained with the Force.

If something broke out, they would have a much better chance of calming or protecting people than she could. A warm smile crossed her lips as she gave a small nod to Salamander . "Well, we really need all the help we can get. The situation here is very dire. Do you know much of what is going on? Forgive me - I'm Cataline Holt." She wasn't sure if he was up to date on the situation, or if he was walking blindly into the group.

Her attention turned, though, to Avo as she heard his voice. She bowed her own head in return. "There was much higher priorities going on than introductions. Cataline Holt. It's great to meet you, Master Graendal." The compliment made her smile, "Thank you. I couldn't have done it without your help," she'd reply. It was a teamwork effort that made them save as many as they did.

"I'm glad you're both here. Things are getting... Heated." She said quietly, nearly whispering so only they could here. "A food dropoff is coming, any minute now. Since people will congregate, I figured it would be a good time to talk with them and try to calm and reassure them. Otherwise, I'm open to suggestions?"

 

[Tasha Blackmoor]

Indeed Loske Treicolt had at least another Jedi ( Aaran Tafo ) with her so perhaps she would be fine. And this Asher also seemed to be offering his services. She realized though if this was a matter of credits, in a world like this, she might have a bit of influence Loske explained what she did know and what she didn't. Including unfortunately no ID, but at least some idea of where the explosives came from. Tasha nodded her head as she explained it appeared like a pastry dealer from the outside.

Asher seemed to know a bit more about the levels though. Not only assuring it was likely a front but how to navigate. Tasha again nodded her head, deciding that she wanted to ensure the aid of Loske further, since it seemed there was really no cover going on here. She spoke more quietly, manipulating the droid so that it moved closer to Loske to add this part, deactivating the hologram, "Should you need any additional aid I can either try and come their myself, try and call in some help, or perhaps double your offer to ensure people can work as guards or guides when things get messy. Though I do think you can probably take care of yourself, I really don't know how skilled you are. And even if you are quite skilled you never know in places like this what can happen. In the mean time, I'll try and hunt down the sniper."

After her explanation, if there was no serious comments to her, then she would continue focus on searching for any of the snipers. Should Loske request it Tasha would also have one of the probe droids show evidence of her ability to provide additional payment, if necessary. She hoped Loske would at least use discretion. If any further help was needed she would try and provide that as well. She hoped that the sniper would be discoverable by completing the perimeter and closing in, searching for the weapons or people most likely capable of taking such shots from those locations.
(OOC: Sorry for the lack of information. I'll be gone mostly till like Friday. So I have to leave the Drones mostly as NPC's. Just assume Tasha is helping keeping things organized from a distance)

 

[Salamander]

Heliobas observed Avo without emotion. If the Jedi Master were to merely gloss over his mind, he would find no evidence of trickery or deceit.

To Cataline Holt he said, "I know that most of these people were brought here by the overtures of kindness and generosity proclaimed by the Imperator. They believe the Imperium can provide everything they lack, but I am not sure if this is the case." He looked into each of their faces, looking for signs of dissatisfaction or concern. The girl's face in particular would likely tell him the truth regardless of her answer. "It is paramount that we either assure them that all promises will be fulfilled, or try to let them down gently."

 

[ECDT-999]

The depths of the Coruscant never seemed to change much, no matter who was running the planet. The Republic, the Empire, the Galactic Alliance, and now the Imperium, there was always a constant drone in the background, blasterfire, swoop races, the assortment of illicit activities that authorities had long stopped attempting to quell, having merged themselves into the societies culture as much as the scars of war, the ancient blaster marks, the dwindling Vongforms that still stalk the most forgotten alleyways, and factories, pushed deep beneath the surface. Intended to be forgotten, worked in for only credits an hour by the downtrodden. Those that had little choice, those that would never get the return from their hour despite the large scale automation. Now, the echos of warfare and stray shots, power shortages and the occasional scavenger, had seen the Elite Class Dark Trooper, model number 999, blink into this reality. Not fully, not as one would expect, personality quirks had developed, long since buried among the circuits and wires that kept his processors active even in low power. They were there, simply buried, inactive, slowly churning as his body began to rise from it's housing, ferrocrete dust coming off of the droid's form like snow off of a waking beast. A low hum began to come from it's frame as the sensors came live, a dull glow to the black-lit eyes.

Taking two, shaking, steps out from the housing array that kept enough power going to the droid to keep him from failing if combat needs would have ever raised, He stood, if for a minute or two, maybe even five. Simply staring at the blackened room straight ahead, his sensors having settled rather simply on the obelisk of a wall in front of him, littered with shelves filled to the brim with forgotten hydrospanners and neglected datapads, a dizzying amount of tools designed for the endless amount of issues that could have come from the GA's dabbling with droids, even an emergency blaster or two simply laid next to a much blander implement. A progress bar filled the Dark Trooper's vision, text littered about it, text that eventually held meaning as every simple concept had to be reregistered and reregistered again. The HUD came online, a blue overlay across the admittedly low-resolution that his ancient sensors displayed. Lettering appearing next to every new object, storing it inside of his memory banks, before even that was trivial, as the blank sum of basic concepts finally was loaded and processed inside of what counted as the 'mind' of the droid.

He looked down, the sound of his servos moving nearly threatening to light something on fire. He brought his hand up, looking over it, flipping it to the palm and then back, over and over, before clenching it to a fist.

"Loadout." A booming voice came from his vocoder, every syllable a distinctive sound, as if he was never exactly made to speak, much less to himself.

There was another one of his kin, slapped against a table, a mockery of an operation gone horribly wrong. Despite that, however, the sum equipment that the Trooper would have been carrying was simply set up against the table. Leaning against it or placed directly by the droid's unmoving form as if it would simply awake one day and take on it's task once more. They bet on the wrong droid, it seemed. 999 began to move, every step threatening to be his last as the acceleration and deceleration of his legs came off as a clunky attempt, unnatural, misplaced, until he found a pattern. Still, uncanny to normal eyes, seeming as if the droid was a poppet with his strings being pulled by some unseen force.

DLT, detonator, SE-14, basic items for a basic purpose. The detonator and SE-14 simply found themselves attacked to the droid's hip, the larger, Heavy Blaster rifle, was simply slung over his arms, his hands loosely holding at the grip and lower barrel. He turned, taking steps in the direction of what seemed to stand as the exit to the building, a plain durasteel door. One that no longer oscillated at the approach, the droid, registering this as he walked, kindly brought a hand up, the blaster not seeming to shift at the weight change, as the now free hand was placed flat against the door as he stepped. A horrific screeching sound came, the buckling of durasteel, and moments before the still advancing form would have made impact, the upper half of the door crumpled and folded, nearly popping it out of frame. The next two steps of the droid simply crunching the rest of the door below him. Opening his new world to the streets of Coruscant.

He looked back and forth, both ways down the street, the endless homes, the distant figures of what should be gangers harassing who knows what in the dark. 999 looked down at his blaster rifle, gave the power pack a jolted slap, before looking up at the horizon-forms.

"Disperse."

 

[Loske Treicolt]

The droid drew in nearer to her person, and the knee-height Tasha Blackmoor disappeared. Vacuumed into the belly of the projector droid. The interchange was done in an undertone. "I've already drawn a lot of attention." She admitted, bashfully when Tasha laid out the options for continuing to work together. "If you can try and locate the sniper, that'd be useful if they could talk. Hopefully there's some level of organization to these randomized attacks. I'll call you if I need you." She made a quick exchange of a chip from her datapad through to the droids, establishing a connecting channel should things go sour and backup be required.

She stood to rejoin Asher and Aaran Tafo - letting the other Padawan do most of the talking while she glanced around. The streets were lined with disposed goods, hardly recognizable as distinct objects. Small creatures skittered about, between the feet of the locals who didn't pay any mind to the activities underfoot. Neon signs were brilliant, some fully lit, others flashing randomly.

She'd never heard of Artisia -- the suggestion of a lively culture seemed nice.

 

[Asher]

The hologram disappeared and Asher would let on a relieved sigh, his small frame seemingly hunching over in just the slightest amount of ease before it tensed up again at the thought of what he was even doing, and with who. The love for topsiders had turned sour with the rumored attempts at pacifiying the underworld. The blood of formerly alive and breathing leaders of several different gangs might have run through the streets in certain sectors, but that hardly meant a thing.

Cut one head off and another would pop up when you didn’t look. Fear in the underworld didn’t mean that you simply stopped committing crimes, it meant that you had to get smarter and circumvent the new security systems put in place. While it was arguable whether or not it made things safer, Asher had found that the streets had at the very least grown just the slightest amount quieter. People played it close to their chest for the time being which meant that in order to strike at them you needed to get even closer.

It was part of the ebb and flow of a planet that had seen so much abuse over the years. This was a high, which meant that whoever came next was far more likely to be a low than anything else. From Jedi, to Sith, to Republics, to Imperials. It seemed to be the cycle of governance.

And on the topic of governance Asher gave Aaran an amused glance. “You do realize what you are asking, right?” He said and exhaled with a chuckle as he turned his attention back to the road ahead. “There are more gangs than I have fingers and toes, just like you topsiders and your families. Just about everyone that is either from here — or that comes here from somewhere else — has lost their family or never knew it in the first place.”

Asher himself was part of the last group of people. His mother and his father were both people that were entirely unknown to him, although given where he was born and later had been left to fend for himself it stood to argue that they were as likely to be a courtesan — as his adoptive grandmother had politely tried to phrase it — or long dead. Either way, the concept of family was rare on these levels, or so he felt rather convinced of.

Up ahead came the bright neon lightscape of the Xiao Town District, thusly named based on some kind of story from their home. Asher had heard it once before but then forgotten it long ago. The basic premise being something about a crayon dragon, and a bucket of water? What crayons and water had in common he would never know.

“Welcome,” He said and spread his arms by his sides as the first beams of neon lights struck his leather jacket to make their entrance a bit more theatrical. “To Xiao Town.” His arms lowered as he pointed at a seemingly abandoned building. “Solid spice in there, I imagine.” Then he pointed at a nearby noodle stand. “And that’s most likely the most genuine noodle shop in the place, heavily protected by the gangs in the area.”

“Any questions before we begin?”

Loske Treicolt // Aaran Tafo

 

[Aaran Tafo]

"Just figured I'd ask. Dont lose nothing by asking." He said in response to Asher's declaration of the multitude of different gangs and criminal organisations that populated the Undercity. It was a natural curiosity that one who had never been in such an environment before would ask. The bounce to his step, the easy smile on his face. The simple lack of any attempt to minimise his large physique was a clear sign to anyone who was paying any amount of attention that Aaran certainly did not belong here.

He even acted like a tourist. Eyes flicking about, his head on a swivel. And while such a thing was not uncommon in the Undercity. Aaran was not keeping a lookout for potential attackers. But simply trying to take in as many different sights as he could. If the tension in the air was affecting him. It certainly did not show. He simply gave off almost an aura of peaceful contentedness.

At the arrival to Xiao Town. He only half paid attention to Asher's explaination. Instead taking in the sights of the brightly lit neon district. Eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. "Are the noodles any good? I have not eaten all day." He said, before turning back towards Loske.

"Well Miss Matson. Your call. What's next?"

 

[Loske Treicolt]

The neon welcomed them, and bathed the trio in technicolour. Shapes and foreign architecture were all consuming and Loske took a moment to look beyond their tour guide's arms at the angles and awnings of the shops. The floors looked as if they may give way if someone tread to heavily, and there were layers folded within layers. This was Nai Shì.

Asher spoke of noodles and beginning, and Aaran Tafo spoke of noodles.

Something did smell awfully good.

"Maybe we can get something to go.." she considered, glancing between the two. She was never one to turn down food, and it would be another token of appreciation toward the Coruscant underworld native as he helped her and her new companion, a fellow padawan, navigate the streets. Weird that the noodle shop was protected, unless it was another front like her mysterious pastry shop located in near Gion Chiku. "Why is it so protected by the gangs? Would that be a good or bad move at this juncture?"

 

[Asher]

Aaran Tafo // Loske Treicolt

“Good is a relative thing.” Asher said with a shrug to answer Aaran’s question. “They are greasy, but filling.”

He led the others towards the noodle stand where it’s owner would welcome them with a friendly wave and a surprisingly open smile at their approach. His jaunt features spoke of a man who hadn’t eaten a lot, yet the two guards that flanked each side of the stand seemed overweight. The old man held out a shaky, frail hand towards Asher’s companions. With his other hand he had extended four fingers to indicate the price.

“Why is the topside protected by a gang loyal to the Overlord?” Asher asked Loske to answer her question with one of his own. “Everyone wants security, even down here. We just don’t turn to the same people, and we probably never will.”

One of the guards turned towards them. Their puffed cheeks lifted on one side with an almost mocking grin at the blonde woman’s questions. Asher gave the man a grin of his own who seemed to perk his brows with an amused glimmer in his eye. He raised his hand towards his nose and slowly began to smear it from side with a snivel before he lowered it again, the full-sleeve tattoo on his arm twisting and shaking under the stress of gravity.

“We appreciate them nonetheless. Even if they have a questionable…” Asher let in a deep breath and considered his words. “Reputation.”

The old man and his guards all let on a satisfied smile at the guide who clearly shared the right insights into the underworld.

 

[Aaran Tafo]

Upon hearing that the food was at the very least, filling. Aaran stepped forward without hesitation. "Three of whatever it is I'm smelling." He said, placing a few credit chits onto the counter as payment. Receiving a quick nod from the stall owner in return as the credits were collected. The Padawan turned back to his companions, leaning his back against the stall.

"When people cant trust their own Government. That's a massive failing on the Government's part." He said, shaking his head. Looking a bit despondant. "Sorry you're having to deal with the downsides of other people's actions." He was quiet for a moment, eyes somewhat downcast before he felt several cardboard cartons be placed on the stall beside him. "Ah, thank you." He said, nodding to the chef once before taking the two cartons of noodles and some unidentified, but fragrant meat. Passing them out before taking his own. Breaking the chopsticks apart with one hand before taking a quick slurp of delicious fried noodles.

They were indeed greasy. But satisfying on an empty stomach. Licking his lips after one mouthful, he turned his attention back to Asher and Loske. "Alright. We're looking for people who are trying to cause trouble. We're here in Xiao. Where do we start looking? Who do we start talking to?"

 

[Loske Treicolt]

The silence from the shopkeeper, only communicating the price was a little unsettling. The knuckles within the skinny fingers seemed to poke out, almost gnarled when he presented 'four' felt eerie and suppressed, given the juxtaposition of his immediate fleshy surroundings. Maybe she was reading too sombrely into it. Aaran Tafo didn't seem bothered by it, and before she could coordinate who-bought-what-for-who with him, he happily spent his credits on the trio. She'd have to offer to get something later - he was already being more than helpful by even wanting to get involved, let alone opening his wallet.

"Oh, thank you for that." Loske spoke up quickly, before they got into discussing politics. It wasn't her realm, and she wasn't comfortable with it. Aaran seemed to sum it up well enough, and questionable affairs summarized the other part.

In her opinion, there was a certain folly behind the idea someone could claim a space rock with their name on it. Coruscant had it's own ecosystem to maintain, as did Sullust, as did Korriban. They were entities of themselves, and the people that inhabited it were just dust. Or -- they'd end up as dust. Contributing to the soils of the planet.

Happily, she accepted the pool of noodles and the utensils required to poke at them.

The conversation quickly pivoted to their immediate focus, and less on the grander scheme of things. While they had some relationship with one another, she was much happier to keep a myopic hold on the task at hand.

"Well, there was that one pastry shop." Loske inclined her head in Aaran's direction while jabbing at the steaming food in her hands. "I think Xiao town is broken into sects -- this seems to be one of the main markets, but if that pastry shop was a front, the seedier areas may be a bit deeper.

Am I allowed to say seedy? Is that bad? The less...neon and noodle areas." Asher would probably have a better sense of the layout, and if it was offensive to refer to the more unscrupulous locations.

 

[Asher]

Asher’s brow raised in surprise that the topsider would buy him food. It went to show where his preconceptions were, maybe, but it didn’t really change them. Asher was still just trying his best to be useful to people that otherwise would have been entirely out of their depths. He housed resentment for them for the ideals they represented, the lack of understanding that they showed. The fact that Aaran would refer to his government as Asher’s government made him wrinkle his nose as if he had just smelled something really nasty.

“We are our own government, several different of them.” Asher said and shrugged. “I think that’s what topsiders—”

Asher was cut off by the arrival of the noodles. He grabbed his box and sticks to hold them like he had seen in the movies. He tried to pincer his food. “And I guess—” he tried to speak but food took all his attention. “Things—” He sighed with an exasperated sense of defeat as he grabbed the two sticks in his hands like a knife to shovel food into his mouth with even less success. He let out a groan and turned back towards the stall owner and to ask for a fork.

The old man grinned with mischief as he held out his open palm and held up an index finger.

“A whole fethin' cred—” Asher let out with bitter indignation before he sighed and handed him one of Loske’s credits. “This better be good.” He said and shoveled a few strings of the noodles into his mouth using his newly acquired whole-fething-credit fork. The saltiness of the sauce that the noodles were bathed in hit just the spot and he turned back towards the old man with his eyes squinted. “You got lucky.”

The old man grinned to show his near-toothless teeth for Asher to see. Asher turned back towards Loske and Aaran again who seemed to be talking about places to start with. Asher slowly began to look around them to find suitable places to start.

“Sheedy ish a good deshkriptor, yesh.” Asher said as he continued to shovel food in his mouth while talking. He swallowed and let the food sink for a bit before he opened his big mouth again. “Just don’t put it in a bad spin. You know, like, ‘this place is feth’en seedy’, or ‘he had a seedy look to him.’ Yeah?”

With his attention set on the streets around them once more Asher would continue to shovel the food into his mouth trying to find a place to go.

“Did you say you had a picture of this place?” Asher asked and turned back around towards Loske. “How do you guys know that it was a pastry place?”

Loske Treicolt Aaran Tafo

 

[Aaran Tafo]

He raised one hand, chopsticks gripped tightly between his fingers, in what appeared to be an apologetic motions towards Asher "My bad." The Padawan mumbled, looking away, his voice somewhat sheepish. Clearly apologetic for his assumption and lack of understanding of the complexities of Coruscant's underworld. It was unfortunate really. For all of his good intentions and desire to actually improve the lives of others. The Padawan did speak from a place of relative privilage.

While being raised on a Farm was hardly opulant. It was safe, he was fed and he was cared for. More than many who lived in Asher's shoes could claim to have. It was high time that he start realising that.

"I should not have presumed. Please accept my apologies." One hand going to his chest, the Padawan gave the streetrat a quick bow before turning his attention back towards Loske Treicolt

"I remember you saying you got a look at the pastry shop?" He said, quirking a brow. "So, just show us where you saw it. Or describe it and our friend here can show us where it is. Then we go snooping and see what is what?."

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"Yeah, no, not a picture -- I was following after someone after one of the attacks happened on the refugee camps. I was able to get a little deeper than we are now, before the person disappeared. It was around a pastry shop." Loske gestured with her chopsticks beyond the layers of lanterns and floorboards they were seeing now. "At least, I think it was a pastry shop. It was a linear logo that looked like a ridged crescent, so I thought it was kind of like a croissant." She slurped up a noodle, and it flipped up to boop her on the nose before disappearing down her throat.

She took a moment's pause to stop chewing and furrowed her brow in concentration. Had she seen any signs that would help her navigate through the city? It was far brighter when she'd been running through the streets. She should have taken better stock of her surroundings.

"Does Gion Chiku mean anything here? I think that was the sect I was in.."

She hoped Tasha Blackmoor was having better success in finding the fellow that had shot her from the sky.

Aaran Tafo / Asher