First Reply Smuggler’s Score

[Braze]

TAGS:

Rain hammered down on the rusted rooftops of the industrial district, creating a dull drumming sound that drowned out the low murmurs of the marketplace below. Neon signs blinked in the misty gloom, painting distorted reflections on the puddle-riddled streets. Somewhere in this den of debauchery, the Padawan's quarry was waiting—a black-market trader with a reputation for slipping through even the most tightly woven nets.

Their lead had been thin, a whispered name from a Rodian informant who refused to make eye contact. "Grysh Kallen," he'd said with a shrug, as if dropping the name of one of the galaxy's most elusive smugglers was of no consequence. "If anyone knows where it's hidden, it's him. Just don't ask too many questions. Grysh doesn't like questions."

The Padawan pressed onward through the rain-slick streets, every sense on edge. The Force tugged faintly, urging them toward the industrial heart of the district, where shadows stretched long and whispers of illicit deals echoed. There, leaning casually against a crumbling durasteel column near a flickering neon sign, was their quarry. He didn't look like the stories.

He wasn't hunched or cloaked in mystery—he owned it, wore it like a second skin. His weathered leathers and tattered cloak billowed faintly in the wind. A half-mask of cracked leather obscured part of his face, but not the cold, calculating gleam of his single steely blue eye. His other eye was nothing but a ghost, a faint scar tracing its absence beneatha leather eye patch. His white hair, damp from the rain, stuck out in unkempt locks that framed a face too smug for someone who had clearly been caught in the open.

He met the Padawan's gaze head on "I was wondering when you'd show up," he said, his voice a low rasp that carried over the rain. "Though I'm not sure whether to be impressed or disappointed it took this long."

The Padawan hesitated. The Force trembled faintly, a warning not to underestimate this man. "You're Grysh Kallen?"

The rogue's eye sparkled with faint amusement. "I was, once. Grysh was useful until he wasn't. But let's not waste time on throwaway names." He pushed off the column, his movements languid and graceful like a predator deciding whether to strike. "If you're here, you're after the same thing everyone else is. A shame, really—competition only makes things messy."

The Padawan tightened their grip on their lightsaber but didn't ignite it. "You have something that doesn't belong to you."

"Something?" The rogue let out a low chuckle, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders. His gloved hand emerged, holding a small, unassuming trinket—The surface features small grooves, panels, and movable pieces, almost imperceptible unless closely examined. "If you mean this, I'd be happy to point you in the right direction. For a price."

"Or," the Padawan countered, stepping forward, "you could just tell me before this gets unpleasant."

He tilted his head, the half-mask shifting slightly as if he were appraising them. "Unpleasant? My dear child, unpleasant is chasing phantoms through a labyrinth of lies and traps. And you've just stepped into mine."

The words hadn't fully registered before the Padawan felt it—a shift in the air, the faintest hum of blasters powering up. Figures emerged from the shadows of nearby alcoves and rooftops, their weapons trained and steady. The rogue smirked, slipping the trinket into his pocket as he drew a small, sharp vibro blade from beneath his cloak, spinning it idly between his fingers.

"Let's make this simple," he said, his voice like silk. "Turn around and forget this little game ever happened, or we can play. But I promise, kid—I don't play fair."

 

[Joseph Torson]

S M U G G L E R'S_S C O R E
Objective : Neutralize the Padawan

DARK EMPIRE

In a nearby building, the muzzle of a Sniper Rifle poked through an open window, it's scope zeroed in on the Padawan as the black armored individual took aim. "Target spotted. He appears to be in a confrontation with a Smuggler and other unknown assailants. The rest of my team is in position to intercept and apprehend the target" the individual began. "Permission to engage?" he asked, speaking to another person from an encrypted channel through his black helmets comms. "Permission granted." the other voice said from the other side of the channel. "Make sure the target is alive and disarmed. Whether you bring him to me intact or not is none of my concern as long as he breathes" the voice ordered. "Roger that, sir."

Upon terminating the encrypted call, the individual would adjust his aim, targeting the Padawan's hand which was gripping their lightsaber as he stood in that confrontation with the Smuggler and the assailants he had brought with him. One floor beneath him, a single squad of 8 heavily armored and heavily armed men were on stand-by ready to quickly move in to apprehend the target once he had been disarmed at the single black armored individual's command. Once they would have the Padawan locked up, they would drag him back to Carlac where he would answer for his crimes against the individual's superior, a man that had been mocked by the Padawan relentlessly known as Marlon Sularen, the Warlord of the Empire.

Once the crosshairs of his rifle's scope lined up with the Padawan's hand, the individual would proceed to fire three shots from his sniper rifle, launching two self-adjusting durasteel rounds at the Padawan, the first round aimed at knocking out the lightsaber from his hands and the second one aimed at his hand holding the lightsaber in order to severely injure it and give the individual's men a temporary advantage. Once the lightsaber would fall to the ground, the third round would strike aimed at destroying the lightsaber itself in order to prevent the Padawan from fighting back.

Judgement had come for Braze and it would be swift and merciless. Thus is the way of the Empire, the only way of the Empire.

[Tags] | Braze ​

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Joseph Torson

Braze felt the intent before the shots even fired—a sharp ripple in the Force, as clear as a war drum in his mind. His head tilted slightly, his stance steady as the sniper rounds tore through the air toward him.

With a single, fluid motion, his hand rose. The durasteel rounds slowed mid-flight, their velocity bleeding away as if they had sunk into an invisible gel. Suspended mere meters from their target, the projectiles spun lazily, caught in Braze's grip on the Force.

The durasteel bullets hung suspended in midair, their lethal energy neutralized.

His grip on the Force tightened, his will like iron. With a sharp twist of his wrist, the projectiles spun around, their deadly paths reversed. The air sang with a sharp whistle as they rocketed back toward their origin, faster and more precise than before.

The sniper had only a split second to realize his miscalculation. The return fire streaked toward the open window where he lay in wait. The first round aimed at shattering the scope of his rifle with a spray of glass and metal.

 

[Joseph Torson]

S M U G G L E R'S_S C O R E
Objective : Neutralize the Padawan

DARK EMPIRE

As Torson fired the three shots he waited for the target to be hit, however something wrong happened as the target was still standing and there was no sign of a visible impact. Then through his helmet he noticed a small glint, which caused Torson to instinctively duck just as one of the projectiles launched by his rifle came back smashing through the scope of his rifle. As Torson stood back up, the comms buzzed with the voice of one of his Lieutenants being heard from the other side of the call. "Captain? What happened. Did you hit the target?" the Lieutenant inquired. Torson peaked out of the window again, noticing the vague figure of the Padawan who was still standing before offering his subordinate a simple response "Negative. The Target is still standing"

"Confirmation to move in an engage the target sir?" the Lieutenant asked again. "Also Negative. He's still armed and that Smuggler and his guards are still around." Torson responded. "Stay put and don't engage. Let's see what move that Smuggler will make before we act any further." he added, before taking his rifle and putting it in a rifle case before leaving the area to go downstairs to join the rest of his team. As he went down the stairs, Torson opened a comms with a second team located elsewhere on the planet to give them new instructions. "Team Besh. It's time to get airborne, get the Gunship up and running and head for our location."

The Padawan had been given a moment of respite for the time being, but soon enough the full might of the Empire would come crashing down ready to bring him in. Today, they would get him and they would bring him to the Warlord to face Judgement, one way or another, regardless of how much of a fight the Padawan would put up.

[Tags] | Braze ​

 

[Kite 'Lord of the Night']

Joseph Torson
Kite shifted uncomfortably, his keen eye flicking toward the origin of the sniper's attack. The sudden shift in the power dynamic had him reassessing his position. He wasn't one to throw in with blaster-fodder thugs when the stakes escalated.

"Well, this just got interesting," he muttered, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk that barely masked his unease. "Seems you're more popular than I anticipated, kid."

With grace, he stepped further into the shadows, the vibroblade spinning idly in his hand. His voice, smooth and mocking, "Tell me, Padawan—how does it feel knowing both sides want you alive just long enough to make a point? "

Kite wasn't about to let himself get caught in the crossfire, but there was an opportunity here—information, leverage, maybe even an escape plan. Turning to the Padawan, his voice dropped low, conspiratorial.

"Here's the deal, sparkle-stick. You're not walking out of here on principle alone. But... I might be persuaded to tip the odds in your favor—for a price. Think of it as a professional courtesy."

Kite's sharp grin returned, his free hand gesturing toward the smuggler's guards, now visibly uneasy. "You've got two options: we barter, or you handle this mess solo. "

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Joseph Torson

​

Braze resisted the urge to groan, hearing what the man had to say. There were too many obstacles at play here, and the last thing he wanted was to stick around long enough to be baited by some greedy underbelly scoundrel and get caught up in slime ball politics. He shifted his weight, his grip tightening on the hilt of his lightsaber as the Force pricked at his senses raising a warning at the back of his mind.

The rogue standing before him was dangerous, but the unseen forces closing in from the periphery were the true threat. He didn't need to win here—he needed to survive.

With a sudden burst of motion, Braze turned on his heel, bolting toward the nearest alleyway. His cloak flared behind him, rain pelting his face as his boots pounded against the wet pavement.

 

[Joseph Torson]

S M U G G L E R'S_S C O R E
Objective : Neutralize the Padawan

DARK EMPIRE

Spoiler: Gear

• D71 Yajirushi Smart Sniper
• Plasma Disruptor Rifle
• x2 NK01 Fujita Rail Pistols
• Tenebrae Commando Armor Mk. II [w/ Jetpack + Flight Attachment + Ysalamiri Cradle]
• x3 Jūryoku 12 Repulsor Grenades
• x3 Project RUUSAN MK1 Ravenous Grenade

Spoiler: Accompanying Forces

• 8/8 Red Right Hand Operators

"Sir, the target's on the move" one of the Commandos said through the comms just as Torson burst through the door arriving at the room directly underneath the one he had previously set up his sniper rifle to disarm the Padawan. Upon joining the other eight Commandos, Torson walked up towards the glass before turning towards the Lieutenant questioning him. "Where did the target go?" Torson inquired. "Down in a nearby alleyway, sir" the Lieutenant answered.

Without hesitation, Torson took his disruptor rifle and shattered the glass before looking back to his troops. "Alright men, time to put down this Jedi Brat" he said. Then, he activated his jetpack and propelled himself outside the building he and his troops were in, heading towards the very same alleyway Braze had retreated into followed by the rest of the Commandos. Soon enough, Torson and his squad of 8 Commandos would make landfall in the alleyway, their guns aimed carefully at all corners as they turned on the flashlights attached to their weapons as they searched for the Padawan.

"Keep an eye out, men. The target could be anywhere" Torson said as he took the lead of his squad, slowly advancing through the alleyway as they began their pursuit of the Padawan.

[Tags] | Braze ​

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Joseph Torson

​

Braze bolted through the narrow alleyways, his cloak furling behind him as rain continued to pour from the dim, neon-lit skies above. The industrial sprawl of Nar Shaddaa closed in around him. Boots splashed through oily puddles, each movement accompanied by the distant echoes of shouting and the hum of blaster fire. The Force prickled at the edge of his awareness, warning him of danger with every turn.

The alleys were crowded with the refuse of the Smuggler's Moon—overturned crates, broken droids, and huddled figures cloaked in shadows. Braze barely noticed them, as he sought an escape. He turned a corner sharply, only to find a group of thugs lounging beneath a malfunctioning streetlight. Their eyes snapped to him instantly, noting his lightsaber and Padawan robes with predatory glee.

"Hey, kid," one of them snarled, stepping forward and cracking his knuckles. "Wrong place to be running scared."

Braze skidded to a halt, his boots sliding across the wet puddles. He didn't have time for this. He extended a hand, pushing out a wave of Force energy that sent the thugs stumbling backward into the walls, scattering their weapons. He didn't wait to see if they got back up.

The sound of repulsorlift engines whined somewhere above, and Braze felt the distinct presence of his pursuers closing in. A quick glance skyward confirmed his fears—a gunship swept through the narrow skyline, its searchlights cutting through the gloom. The beam swept dangerously close to his position, and Braze darted into another alley.

The next alley opened into a bustling marketplace, an explosion of light and sound that stunned Braze causing him to falter for a moment. Merchants shouted their wares, neon signs flashed above stalls selling questionable goods, and a cacophony of smells—both delicious and foul—assaulted his senses. The crowd provided some cover, but it was also dangerous. He couldn't afford to get caught in a firefight here.

Blaster fire erupted behind him, and panic surged through the marketplace as patrons and vendors alike scrambled for cover. Braze ducked low, weaving through the chaos, when he caught sight of a figure in the distance—a Nikto wearing the telltale insignia of the Empire. The Nikto's commlink crackled, and Braze realized he was being tracked not just by sight, but through communication networks and informants.

Desperation clawed at him as he scanned the crowd for an exit. His gaze landed on a narrow maintenance tunnel to the side of the market, half-obscured by a flickering holo-sign. Without hesitation, Braze sprinted toward it, shoving past startled civilians. The tunnel was dark and cramped, the hum of machinery reverberating around him. He could hear the distant thud of boots—the Empire's commandos were closing in.

As he ran deeper into the tunnel, Braze felt something shift in the Force. It wasn't a warning this time, but a faint presence—subtle yet undeniable. Someone was waiting for him up ahead.

The tunnel opened into a dimly lit room filled with crates and discarded machinery. Standing in the center was a figure draped in shadows, their features obscured beneath a hood. A faint smirk played on their lips as they stepped forward, their voice smooth and mocking.

"Well, well," they said, their tone dripping with amusement. "Running from the Empire, are we? You've certainly made quite a mess out there."

Braze froze, his grip tightening on his lightsaber. He didn't know if this stranger was friend or foe, but he didn't have time to find out. The sound of pursuit was growing louder behind him, and he was running out of options.

The stranger unleashed a storm of stun bolts, blue rings lighting up the rain-soaked alley. Braze's lightsaber blade struck out as a blur as he frantically deflected the incoming shots. Each deflection sent jolts up his arms, the strain evident in his tight grip.

His boots slid on the slick ground as he tried to reposition, a fatal misstep sending him sprawling. A stun bolt struck his shoulder, then another hit his side, the electric shock ripping through him. He gritted his teeth, the world spinning as his grip on the lightsaber faltered.

A third bolt caught him square in the chest, and he dropped to his knees, his body trembling. Every muscle screamed in protest as he fought to stay upright, his vision blurring. Another bolt hit, and his lightsaber fell from his hand, extinguishing with a hollow hiss.

Braze collapsed onto the cold, wet ground, his fingers weakly clawing at the pavement as consciousness slipped away. The world faded to darkness, leaving him alone in the rain.