Seeding Chaos

[Subject 37]

Outer Rim - Xira Shadowport
[member="Blackthorne"]

Pirates.

They were always a lovely bunch of people, the kind that would fit right in with The Legion of the Damned. Had his fortunes gone a little differently, if Lord Nashar hadn't found him, he might have become a pirate himself. The profession wasn't a bad one, certainly not in today's galaxy. There were dozens of governments, thousands of planets, and none of them ever really wanted to work with one another.

Trade routes went unprotected, stations were left to fend for themselves, and companies made the perfect victims. Tyrian often wondered how it was anyone got anything done with how easy piracy was, though then again there were a certain few governments in the galaxy that were none too kind to these kinds of people.

The soldier mused as he slowly wandered through the shadowport.

It was places like these that the Pirates preferred, hollowed out asteroids and ancient hulking wrecks that served as the perfect home base for their vessels. This particular shadowport, Xira, consisted of an ancient hollowed out Star Destroyer that had long ago met it's unfortunate end within an asteroid field. Dozens of satellite stations now hung around the ancient derelict, and within that network of tunnels and outposts lived hundreds, if not thousands of raiders, pirates, and cuthroats.

It was lovely really, the kind of place someone could really feel at home.

Most of them were unreliable of course, idiotic or greedy beyond any notion, but a few would be helpful to his cause. So Tyrian hoped anyway.

The soldier slowly continued to wander, his eyes darting from kiosk to kiosk, sign to sign, until eventually he gaze landed upon a small print of letters above a door. He pursed his lips for a moment, his face cracking into a smile a moment later. "The Naughty Nexu."

Interesting name for a Cantina. A second of thought passed, and slowly he stepped inside.

 

[Blackthorne]

It wasn't the cove but it would have to do. The main crew of the Harrowbane shared a large table off to the side, catching a break after nearly a month of travel across the stars. They weren't intending to stay for long as their destination was still a long journey away, but everyone needed to get off the ship every now and then, and ships needed to make port just as much.

The group was quiet, relatively speaking when compared to the rowdy nature of the Naughty Nexu. Everyone sat mulling over a drink, speaking among themselves.

"We're twelve parsecs away from the last main jump and from there we fly blind," the Captain explained to the group from where she sat at the head of the head of the table, Kiin the Ratataki on her left, Ihmoen the red-skinned Dathomirian on her right.

"I still don't think it's worth it, Cap," Ihmoen intoned, "we're going on a rumor. Good chance we find nothing out there."

"A reliable source gave me that rumor," Blackthorne replied, brow raising at him.

"A tree."

"That's lived for a thousand years."

"Aye, but that's a long time Cap. How do we know he hasn't gotten his stars crossed after all those years?"

"I don't have room on my ship for doubters," that brow was looking mighty dangerous right about now.

"Not doubting you, Captain, just the tree."

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Blackthorne"]

Tyrian glanced around the Cantina for just a few minutes.

It was obvious that most everyone in here was some form of privateer, pirate, or smuggler. He wondered briefly just how many of them had come from one Imperial Navy or another. The falling of governments meant a lot of experienced Marines and commanders quickly found themselves out of work with a host of starships and weapons at their disposal. It wasn't uncommon for them to remove themselves to the world of piracy, particularly since it was so profitable.

For a few more seconds the Icarii surveyed the room, then slowly he walked towards the bar. The droid behind it quickly wheeled up to him, it's expression rather gloomy and one of its photoreceptors having been gouged out by someone a long time ago. Just as he was about to step up to it a man cut in front of him.

The Rodian moved swiftly, intercepting the droid and getting in Tyrian's way before the latter could even say anything. A grimace immediately pulled across his lips, his hand reaching out to grab the scruff of the mans neck and press him forward, slamming him into the bar top and letting him crumple to the floor a half second later. Half the cantina suddenly went silent as they watched the Rodian crumple to the floor like a rag doll, his friends in particular staring daggers at Tyrian.

"Now that I have your attention-" Just as Tyrian began to speak one of the Rodian's friends stood, charging at the soldier with a loud scream.

 

[Destin Eden]

To be perfectly precise, the crew of the Harrowbane shared two large tables. One for everyone else… and one for Maahes. One of the perks of running with pirates was he even got to enter public places. Civilized worlds (and people) ran away. Or shot at him. Or both.

But here, folks just cut him a respectable breadth and let him drink in peace.

Ehhhh. Mostly, at least.

Some rodian screamed. Maahes hated screaming. He hated screaming so much he leaned to the side and pinched the small creature with his tail, yanking him in the air. Didn’t stick him with the poison end. Yet.

“Quiet,” the beast rumbled, voice loud and deep enough to ripple the beer and mead and cocktails everyone was sipping.

He dropped the humanoid back on the grimy duracrete and returned to his bucket of water.


@Tyrian @Blackthorne

 

[Blackthorne]

"We'll need to hit a few places on the way," Blackthorne produced a datapad and engaged the screen, showing their route in vibrant, glowing blue, "there's a trade route here that's relatively unprotected and a trade outpost moon here. We should be able to-"

YEEEAAAAAH!

Rumble rumble.

"Quiet."

The Captain blinked up from the screen, looking just in time to catch her latest addition to her crew wrangling a Rodian with its tail. Curious creature. She didn't know much about it other than it had flown previously with Thengil and the other togorian captain. Both of whom no one had seen hide nor hair of in some time. Her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the scene, overlooking [member="Tyrian"] as the squaling Rodian was dropped to the floor with little fan-fair.

"...to stock up from their storage caches with little trouble."

"I like the sound of little trouble," Kiin nodded, "opportunity at its finest."

"You are such a schlep," Ihmoen snarked before finishing off his drink, "where's your sense of thrill and danger?"

"We don't know what we're facing out in the reaches so best to meet it as whole and ready as possible," Blackthorne interjected before looking to [member="Maahes"] at the adjoining table whose bucket of water was nearly empty. Hrm.

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Blackthorne"] | [member="Maahes"]

Tyrian wasn't so narcissistic to think that everyone in the room was now looking at him, but undoubtedly at least half of the attention within the Cantina was now squarely on the man who had just a few seconds ago knocked out one of the Rodian smugglers. The others of his crew were of course about to make their move, though one man had already been incapacitated by some sort of...cat like creature which put the others on an edge and a half.

Good for him.

The other members of the Rodians crew stepped forward however, two of them reaching for the blasters planted upon their hips. Tyrian watched them move, but before either of them could draw The Soldier began to speak, his voice amplified by his mask. "I need pirates."

Normally he wouldn't have been so bold, perhaps even tried more subtlety, but he needed to grab more attention. If flooding his voice into the cantina would get the job done then he'd do it. Almost immediately his words seemed to have the intended effect. The crewmembers of the Rodian froze, seemingly surprised by his sudden words. Others within the Cantina turned to him, interested in the crazy man who was apparently just shouting random things.

"Killers." He needed no morally. "And I'll pa-"

Tyrian wasn't able to finish his sentence, the crewmembers of the Rodian suddenly standing and drawing their blasters, three shots ringing out in quick succession.

 

[Destin Eden]

[member="Blackthorne"] | [member="Tyrian"]

The poison-tail twitched behind him. Maahes closed his eyes. Snapped his jaw.

“Ah sed…” the creature rumbled, rising from its seat much like a tidal wave would rise above the shore.

The rodians kept firing. Maybe they couldn’t hear him over the loud blasts of plasma. Maybe they just didn’t care.

“Ah sed, litta mans…”

He was standing now. As much as he could stand, anyhow, in a cantina built for humanoids. His broad back hit the ceiling with a thud, ears flat against his skull as knife-sized claws slid from his paws.

“AH SED… QUIET.”

They listened, now. Glossy black eyes turned upwards to the jagged shadow stretching from here to forever. Fingers faltered upon triggers as they turned one by one. The faint smell of piss wafted to his flared nostrils.

“Little mans take shooty outside, or Maahes crush little mans.” A beat. The giant leaned closer, sniffing at the fear clinging to their skin.

“Get?”

Someone had the presence of mind to nod. It wasn’t a dignified exit – didn’t even try to pretend they were doing anything but running for their lives.

With a grunt, he sat back down.

The durasteel bench squealed.

 

[Blackthorne]

Well this was certainly an interesting turn of events. Irritating, but interesting. Blackthorne watched them unfold with casual curiosity, leaning back in her chair to observe as her newest member lumbered into action. She knew very little of [member="Maahes"] and found him to be somewhat slow on the uptake but, to be certain, she had no doubts about his moxy. One couldn't claim to stand on the crew of Thengil Ri'Shajiir without having some guts to back themselves up.

The show was, although lacking somewhat grammatically and a bit anticlimactic, not disappointing.

Blackthorne smiled to herself as she shifted in her seat, green eyes now keenly watching the man that had attempted to garner the attention of the bar patrons.

Two more shadows moved from the back but they did not get far.

PEW.

A single angry red bolt bore a hole through one shadow's head. The bar went quiet again as the figure stumbled and slumped to the ground.

"The next person to interrupt this gentleman will die much more slowly," Blackthorne eased the nose of her blaster upwards, a faint gesture to those in attendance, "no takers? No one? Well then," a hand waved lazily towards [member="Tyrian"], "continue."

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Blackthorne"] | [member="Maahes"]

Tyrian let out a loud cough, the blaster shots which the Rodian's had sent his way had landed squarely in his chest. Thankfully for the soldier he'd been wearing his synthweave vest, something that allowed him to survive the three strikes with little more than a few bruises. He pounded his chest for a moment, letting the agony flow through him. His eyes closed and he took a deep breath, trying to center himself before he could actually speak again.

The mask on his face didn't really help.

Getting shot hurt a lot of the time, though apparently his newfound...friends were willing to at least hear him out. The soldier frowned for a moment, then finally managed to pull himself back onto his feet. Pale gray eyes flashed across the room, immediately focusing on the woman who had just spoken. He perked an eyebrow for a second, a small smile touching his lips. "How kind."

Tyrian stated as he took a step forward.

Most people within the cantina were now paying attention to him, either because of the little incident or because like Blathorne they were interested in what he had to say.

"I need pirates willing to kill and slaughter." For the effect he needed there would need to be no quarter or survivors. Tyrian wanted the Sith to find empty freighters covered in blood and bodies. The security of the nation needed to be questioned. "You will be paid, and you will keep whatever you find aboard the ships I send to you."

Tyrian glanced towards the woman, eyeing her before taking a few steps closer. "Interested?"

He certainly was.

 

[Blackthorne]

"That depends," returned the Pirate, producing a silver tin from her jacket and a rolled Sten from within. She lit up on the flame of the Dathomirian at her side and expelled her next words over a plume of purple-hued smoke, "on the pay."

[member="Tyrian"] [member="Maahes"]

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Blackthorne"] | [member="Maahes"]

He smiled, slowly leaning back for just a second. "Oh I promise."

Tyrian had long ago discovered that the best motivation for ninety percent of the galaxy was money. It was such an odd thing to think about considering that most of the time money was just something that people claimed had value, but if you really wanted to motivate someone that was the way to do it.

The Soldier himself had always held himself to be a little bit above that, mostly because he had long ago realized that all the money in the galaxy couldn't fulfill ones true desires.

"I'll make it worth your while." He reached up into his synthweave vest, his index and middle finger pinching a small golden bead from a pocket. He pulled it free and revealed it to Blackthorne, letting the light glint off of it. The bead was made of pure aurodium, a substance so valuable that the small orb he carried could buy an entire house in Naboo's Lake District.