Populate Pax Sithicus | SO Populate of Salteract

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Outfit
Belt of Strength, Field Com-Scan Link
Borrowed stun gauntlets

​

His swinging punch was caught mid arc and Naami felt himself held in place, then pushed slightly back while he watched his opponent begin to float in reverse on her trajectory. His forehead mostly felt fine but he could tell her headbutt had landed true and managed to cut his left left eyebrow slightly. The girl screamed and he might have answered the call but he realized her new ire was directed toward the interloper. Naami turned his glare from her onto the blond boy instead but simmered down when the gauntlets were deactivated.

Naami narrowed his eyes as Iskendyr Yvarro preened and fussed, explaining the deal he proposed. The guy had a way about him that was fancy alright and it was apparent even without his offer of payment that he came from wealth. The zabrak reclaimed further control of himself as Micah spoke, it was nice actually to hear his friend talk about a loose understanding of his culture. But had his sour mood been that noticeable? For the boy to mention that the promise of a fight had brought such a noticeable change in him.

Self reflection was cut short by Maiza Vex speaking up after Micah, and her correction of assumptions made about their scuffle or zabrak culture in general. She earned a glance filled with begrudging respect and a mirrored nod, the silent acknowledgement that they'd settle this another time. He'd really called her that, hadn't he? Used the mother tongue to hurl such a grave insult. Well, she had it coming for treating his friend that way…

Finally he had enough of the yammering back and forth. With a roll of the shoulders and clenching of gauntleted fists, he gruffly interjected and made an effort to verbally spar the newcomer. Naami moved to follow Micah tol Powl as he spoke, like an overly protective guard dog.

"I'm Naamino Zuukamano, this is Micah. I think she's called Maze?" He shot her one more glare but genuinely seemed to be trying to get her name right.

"Sounds like an interesting offer. I'm open to it." His voice was cast low and broody, in part surely because of recent events, but also likely due to him feeling more guarded around the newcomer.
"And the stun-gloves aren't overkill if you remember this was an active war zone not so long ago."

Naami grumbled the last bit as he turned to take a look at the section of wall Micah had indicated earlier. He tested his strength on part of the twisted wreckage to see if pulling it back through mundane means would be possible. There was a faint creak while the muscles of his neck and shoulders rippled. But no, it was most certainly a job that would require either finesse with tools or supernatural strength.

 

[Iskendyr Yvarro]

Iskendyr listened to the back-and-forth with a casual air, his eyes shifted in color to an amber-hue filled gaze shifting from Micah to Maiza to Naami with the practiced calm of someone who knew how to navigate delicate situations. His smile, though, never quite reached his eyes as he processed the chaos around him, and his voice slid smoothly into the conversation like a warm knife through butter.

"Well, Maiza, I'm flattered that you think me a 'pretty boy,' but I'll save you the heartache—there's plenty more where that came from," he teased with a lazy wink, his charm fully on display. "I suppose I could let you fight it out," he added, turning to Maize, "but as someone who understands pride and honor, I have to say I'm more of a 'let's live to fight another day' kind of guy. No sense in getting ourselves killed over a few bruised egos, hmm?"

He turned his attention to Naami, who seemed less than impressed with the conversation. His voice dropped to a more deliberate, smooth tone. "Naamino Zuukamano, is it? A name as strong as you, I can appreciate that." He paused, giving Naami a knowing glance, then tilted his head slightly, as if sizing him up. "The offer stands, of course. But if you'd prefer to work that wreckage out yourself, I'll just have to save my credits for a more… peaceful endeavor."

He let the silence hang for a moment before addressing Maiza again, a flicker of a grin tugging at his lips. "As for the 'half-breed' remark, well, we've all been there. Nothing like a little verbal sparring to spice up a dull day. But just for the record, I don't 'buy friends'—I invest in connections. There's a difference, if you're interested in learning it. But you're welcome to take those credits for your trouble. Perhaps you'll find better use for them than the pride of an insulted Zabrak."

Iskendyr's boots clicked sharply against the ground as he stood with his back straight, his posture a mixture of Imperial command and the arrogance of someone who knows his worth. The fabric of his cloak fluttered slightly as he shifted his weight, his amber eyes gleaming with a touch of calculated amusement as he studied the trio before him. His voice rang out, low and commanding, with a hint of smooth charm that softened the edges of his words, making them impossible to ignore. Iskendyr snapped his fingers, "but where are my manners."

"Iskendyr Yvarro," he introduced himself with an almost imperceptible bow, his tone tinged with the authority of someone who expects their name to be recognized.

He glanced at Naami and Maiza, his gaze cool but calculated as he lifted his hand with a deliberate flick of his wrist. With a subtle thrum of magnokinesis, he released the force holding them in place. He did it with the air of one who's used to commanding the space around him—his fingers barely moving but carrying the weight of authority. His eyes briefly flickered to their forms as they were freed, his unspoken command lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

With a final, almost too charming smile, he gave them all a look, lingering just long enough to let the tension simmer without letting it boil over. "Now, shall we focus on surviving this mess, or shall we continue with the 'honorable' bickering?"

Naamino Zuukamano | Micah tol Powl | Maiza Vex​

 

[Oleander Webb]

WEARING: X
WIELDING: X | X
TAG: Gerwald Lechner | Adeline Noctua | Credius Nargath

<< “If he moves against us, the galaxy would not miss him.” >>

Easily done. A hint of a smirk tugged at the corners of Oleander's lips. The duplicitous nature of those around him would never not be amusing to the Anzat. Not to mention, it did well to fill his pockets and belly.

His eyes slipped closed as he settled further into his seat once the shuttle began its descent. Normally, he wouldn't be bothered by the promises of complications the mission briefing had presented. This time, assuming the reports were to be believed, it would do for Death to be extra prepared, especially with a new arrival he may have to take care of.

Once the boarding ramp touched ground, Oleander was close behind the Wolf, much like, well, a shadow. The Anzat's own shadow seemed longer than usual amongst the cold light that encompassed them, as if already affected by the energy that permeated the large ship. Oleander inhaled deeply as he took stock of his surroundings, belly all but rumbling as he honed in on both the soup around him and something far more rich beyond. And then, another presence of the soup variety, making its way towards them.

"Incoming," he offered mere moments before the monstrous Sith revealed himself from the shadows, still granting the newcomer the dramatics of their enshrouded appearance. He had to admit, the proximity the Sith Lord had reached before Oleander had caught wind of him was impressive, especially with the looming droids following in his wake. The newcomer was no less impressive in height. Had Oleander been a particularly self-absorbed individual, he may have bristled at the vertical comparison.

He ignored the request for introductions. If Gerwald Lechner saw fit to give their names, that would be up to him (the question was directed toward the Wolf, after all). Instead, his cool gaze honed in on the armored figure with a neutral expression. "What more can you tell us of this place?"

 

[Micah tol Powl]

Episode VI: Last Taungsday Night
Naamino Zuukamano Maiza Vex Iskendyr Yvarro
[ lightsaber ] [ field com ]

The cat just looked between the trio as the Imperial-looking teen tried to smooth things over with the two hot-heads.

All of which was well and good, except they were getting nowhere at the moment. "Yes, well," the cat commented, gesturing toward the wreckage of the Alliance ship beside him. "About those databanks..?"

Were they doing this? Were they not doing this? Was he just going to have to try carving into it with his lightsaber? Because that was going to take a bit. Lightsabers could cut through many substances with ease. Chrome-plated durasteel hull plating? That would take awhile. A long while.

Plus, if they were going to salvage the chromium for credits, taking it apart in sheets would likely be preferable to melting it down on top of duranium that was just going to devalue the resulting alloy.

"If databanks were what you came for, I suspect data on an Alliance bio-computer would get you serious recognition."

He could get the credit for it, so far as the cat cared. All he really wanted it for was the possible alchemical applications. Not to mention, it'd make a fascinating case study. His professors would likely even be intrigued.

 

[Lord Dvasius]

Lord Dvasius and his men stood ready to step into the tangled woods, then for a second hesitated and stepped back. He heard the sound of engines approach. No need to command the men to turn and face to attack. It was close enough now it would have killed them if it was an enemy craft. It got closer till it's shadow flew over them. Looking at it as it passed he relaxed in realizing he was right. A drone. He knew this model. Some Tsis-Kaar used them. Dvasius didn't he preferred to rely on the Force and his senses than on machines. The thing flew right in front of him in the direction he was heading, stopping in the forest clearing before them. "What's it doing?", he thought to himself.

It spun around away from them, then took aim and started firing with it's guns in different directions. It was hard to hear the screams of dying insurgents over the guns, but they were definitely there. "Huh.", The Sith Lord Thought to himself, stepping back a bit and processed the situation. It was odd. He didn't call for reinforcements, but they'd come anyway, even in a minor fashion. What else had he not noticed?

That question was soon answered when he heard sounds of another engine in the distance farther, but coming in much faster. This time he his men turned to track the vessel. The imperials pointed their blasters up at an angle towards it. Dvasius started walking backwards while staring up behind him attentively at the craft. He positioned himself behind the two rows of soldiers that were directly behind him before. If his men were distracted with what was forward and not behind, he wasn't gonna get shot while they all looked on. No shots came as the drone dealt with that direction. As the ship flew closer he could tell this was also a Sith/Tsis-Kaar allied craft. He relaxed a bit then suddenly tensed as he sensed something. At the rear of the formation the bright orange light of fire, turned into black smoke as mean died, some screamed while others were torn in pieces or otherwise too quickly dead to make any sound or react at all. Explosions, followed by blaster fire and continued shouts or screams of battle. It was an ambush and pincer between two enemy forces.

How had he not sensed this, Dvasius thought as he moved toward the fire and death to do his job and lead what idiots he could out of this alive. Perhaps he hadn't sensed any danger because there was none. The ally ship was getting even closer. It appeared they would have help and it might still be any easy day and an easy win. At least he hoped. He was rarely wrong about these things, but sometimes the Force could abandon a person and leave them to die. He wouldn't let that be him. A Sith Lord and former apprentice to one of the greatest Sith and Master of Sith Assassins and spies, Darth Ophidia wouldn't die in such a pathetic way on such a pathetic planet to such pathetic beings. The Tsis-Kaar will teach them the lesson they should have learned when this planet got devastated the last time. The Sith are to be obeyed and feared. The strong survive. The strong rule. The weak submit and serve or die. It's obvious their choice is made.

Omon Kaa / Darth Diem
Darth Malum of House Marr