Stolen Legacy.

[Drogh]

Alexandria: Mandurah Harbour

Once a prideful and steadfast planet, with a powerful army, a fierce and independent government and a isolated but resilient history. Now the days of the Commonwealth are dead, that empire that could of been, just another ambitious empire that ever saw the dawn. Still, life carries on for the untold millions, going about their lives, serving their planet, and at whole The First Order. The people of Alexandria have never enjoyed being part of the wider galaxy, even less now that they could not control it. Perhaps The First Order were the most sympathetic to the people of Alexandria, but that changed little when their banners were rolled over the old Commonwealth. Still memories were allowed to be maintained, ancient relics of a bygone age.

Mandurah Harbour was quite the city, a massive coastal city to be exact. The cold salty water gave quite the contrasting stench to the metallic machine, trains sped across the countless tracks, great towers of metal and stone piercing into the cloudy sky. The roar of propaganda emitting from many areas filled the city streets with an aura of pride and respect.

The tendencies of this planet was not lost, more so encouraged. Casual patrols of troops were not met with hostility, but rather respected, as the eldest man and the youngest daughter saluted them in unison. Crimson posters of the glory of the First Order hang up high and proudly, with no mark of disrespect to sully them. Drogh having spend so much time in the lower levels of Coruscant found this order and militarized sanity, almost disturbing. Everything was so effective, clean and refined. Everyone moved with direction and purpose, even if the purpose was not their own.

Yet as Drogh moved towards his location, the poorer parts of the city, you begin to see a stark difference. Propaganda still cheers across the defiled streets, it is met with a passive scowl and a spit. Graffiti lays on the wall, calling for a rebellion, a turn to the old ways, or more commonly insults and strange symbols. The refined, pristine and cleanliness of the richer areas seemed to be lost here, as filth and litter paved the streets, high skyscrapers and flats looked noticeably cheaper. Drogh even began to fear some what, he was being watched, people wanted him dead, he could tell. Yet Drogh had a job to do.

Drogh had came here, to steal history. An old museum known rather bureaucratically as "The National Alexandrian Museum" one of the largest in the entire planet, heavily guarded by constant surveillance, in fact the same thing could be said for the entire planet. Of course Drogh was not any where near the museum , he had someone to meet, someone that he could use. Finding a nice little run down shack, a small bar known as the "Lady Alexandria", if he hadn't arranged all of this before hand he was almost certain everyone in there would of torn him to shreds, lucky a few well placed credits can make everyone go away.

As he sat him self down on one of the rather poorly maintained seat, he waited for his partner in crime.

[member="Nemo Sekh"]

 

[Nemo Sekh]

ALEXANDRIA - MANDURAH HARBOUR

Sith, First Order, Dark Jedi. The same types, under different names, as far as Nemo was concerned. Freaks in masks, waxing poetic. Usually paid well, though.

Nemo'd had run-ins with the First Order before; a contract, on Prakith. She'd hit some snags, and the operative they'd sent had been less than charming. Their cities were the same. Polished and fascistic skyward, and peeling below, their rotten underbelly exposed. A ferrocrete monstrosity, sinking under its own weight. A faded jewel among the stars. Then again- in her line of work, any jewel was worth having. Hell, even things that weren't jewels, if you could make them sound old and rare enough; that was half the skill.

The air here was suffocating. Hyperfuel, smog, and harbour-water. Sounded like a cocktail she'd had on Nar Shaddaa once. "Hell of a night, though..." Her voice was a murmur, narrowed eyes scanning the dereliction ahead. Contacts always picked the nastiest spot. Just for once, why couldn't it have been in a hotel? "Always with the cantinas." The Lady Alexandria. They weren't half narcissistic here- the Lady Alexandria, National Alexandrian museum. Whoever Alexander was, Nemo was starting to dislike him.

But then again, today of all days was about taking something back. She wasn't particular to crime, even theft, unless the situation demanded it. After that job on Chroma Zed, however, her principles were feeling shaky at past. Even a wild stay on Lithios hadn't done much to change things, bar the state of her liver. Disenfranchised her further even, perhaps. This at least would prove a chance to get back in fighting form, break the slump. First- to meet the contact.

A flickering neon sign greeted her as she entered. Place was cleared out, bar one figure. Perhaps shadow was a better description. Sith, Jedi; they all had the same supernatural power to clear out a bar. Creepy bunch of mystics indeed. But it never hurt to make a good impression. She advanced with a smile, outstretching a hand to shake. Air felt cold around him. Maybe her imagination was running.

"Drogh, right? Am I saying that right? Like 'cough'?" So much for good impressions. "Nemo Sekh. Glad to meetcha." Smile usually charmed them. She'd have to count on it.

"So- how's about you walk me through the plan?"

[member="Drogh"]

 

[Drogh]

As soon as Drogh saw the Twi'lek he frowned with disgust and hatred, "Karking slug" he said in a low snarling hiss. Of course he already knew this but seeing her in the flesh made him despise her even more. That gleaming shiny smile made Drogh distrust her even more, yet he did his best to hide this. Although Drogh did know something about Twi'leks, they hated having their little tentacles being touched, full of nerve endings. Drogh could only imagine having them coiled around his arm, yet Drogh would maintain his composure and let his sadistic fantasies leave him, at least for now.

The girl seemed so cheerful and full of energy, buzzing and brewing with life and charm, Drogh could recognize all of this and a sane person would most likely adore her, yet Drogh was far to self loathing and spiteful to let him self like anyone. Although he would respect her enough to agree to the formalities, offering his hand. Drogh was covered head to toe in filthy rags, the stench of Coruscant seemed to follow him where ever he went, and it showed. His hand was soot stained, his nails almost yellow, jagged and uneven in their length, some bitten off raw, the very tips of flesh exposed, others uncomfortably long.

Drogh ignored her comments on his name, although of spasm of rage did tingle in his hand. "There is a old Royal relic, known as "The Jewel Of The King", a rather generic name, but it's worth a small fortune, a rare gem, a rather unnaturally large ruby" Drogh said, eyeing the door with his typical paranoid suspicion. "We take it, we sell it, we split it 50/50." Drogh said, using all the charm he could, which sounded bluntly forced and maybe even slightly creepy.

Then Drogh turned to her, his crude metal mask hiding his features, yet his bright yellow eyes burned into her. Something, something was showing in her, he could sense something, or perhaps he couldn't, Drogh didn't know, he couldn't tell, the force was, 'inconsistent' around her.

[member="Nemo Sekh"]

 

[Nemo Sekh]

Charming.

As expected, the Dark Jedi was a freak. 'Karking slug?' The hell did that mean? That was, admittedly, not exactly the worst pick-up lines Nemo'd heard recently- that recent trip to Lithios had set a low bar. She shuddered, though whether from the memory, or the living nightmare she'd just now bumped into, it was hard to tell. She recoiled back slightly to shake his hand, grimacing slightly. "Uh, yeah. Karking slug to you too. Has anyone ever said that you could do with a manicure? No? Okay." With a nervous smile she wiped a hand on her trouser-leg and took a short step back. Certainly had some fingernails on him. Could make a Trandoshan blush. Smelled like one, to boot. She'd pass on checking the dental similarities.

If he kept those hands out, and that face in? It was probably one of the few ruins she didn't feel like exploring.

Speaking of which- the Jewel of the King. His sales manner wasn't exactly inspiring, but the idea certainly was. "Sounds like one hell of a take- but what's in it for you? Don't you Forcey types tend to go for artefacts a little... spookier? Crowns of death, blades of pain, horns of destiny, that whole Hallowe'en ballpark?" Credits didn't usually mean much to them, especially the metal mask-wearing types.

Staring too long made her uneasy. It might have been those orange eyes, or something worse, but it felt like he was looking through her. Seeing something beyond the physical, the corporeal. And frankly, if anyone was going to invade her soul, Nemo really didn't want it to be him.

"So, uh, Mr. Drogh." Mr. Drogh? Great work, Nemo. Real quick thinking. "How exactly are you gonna steal this jewel?"

[member="Drogh"]

 

[Drogh]

Drogh turned away, his eyes darting to the door once again before focusing on the girl. The feelings of disgust seemed to be mutual, which in an odd sense made Drogh slightly more at ease, it would of been odd if her reaction was anything different. Her opinion on "forcey types" was a bit amusing, Drogh even admitting a light chuckle that didn't seem entirely unnatural. "Do you think if I had a choice I'd look like this?" Drogh said with a degree of shame in his voice. "If this job karks up, either I'm dead or I starve, we're not all following cults of servitude, some of us are just as poor as the rest of you."

Drogh felt as if he should of ignored these comments, but he was irritated by her, her grating voice of positivity was almost abhorrent to Drogh. Perhaps a consequence of him brooding for far to long, maybe he was just that miserable. Drogh always hated it when others weren't as miserable as he was, perhaps that's why he always draws him self to the lowest and poorest of any area he can find.

"About the job, we're going to break in when it's dusk, sneak in, knock out a few guards, mess with a few cameras, steal the gem." "It's protected inside a dome of reinforced glass, with an advanced laser detection device, typical stuff." Drogh heard something outside, it made him very uncomfortable, his hands clenched. This planet was under constant and heavy surveillance, where their wasn't CCTV there was sure to be spies peaking around every corner. "Were you followed?"

[member="Nemo Sekh"]

 

[Nemo Sekh]

"You mean you didn't choose to look like that?" Nemo shuddered. He looked like an anti-spice PSA. Yet another reason to keep away from the Force, as if she wasn't trying hard enough as it was. "So it's just money, huh?" Her eyebrows raised. "Never seen a bankrupt Jedi before." She said with a wry grin. "Can't you just... 'magic up' some credits or something?"

He didn't look too pleased with anything she was saying, but she couldn't help but feel a some hint of pity for him, this wretch of wretches. Outcast to outcasts. At least the credits might be able to run him a session with a beautician. Or a trip mask-shopping. Where did they get those creepy masks from, anyhow? "So, uh... what're you going to do with your take?"

All the same, revulsion aside, she leaned in to listen for his plan. Sounded fairly run-of-the-mill. Nothing too wild. But there was always a catch with these types. Haunted gem, maybe. Part of her wanted to laugh at herself for even thinking it, but... past experiences made it sound more plausible than she'd like to admit. She took on a serious look, however. One thing had gone unsaid. "The plan sounds good, but we've got to set one rule, okay? No killing. A breaking and entering charge is one thing; burglary's another. Murder? I do not want to spend twenty years on Alexandria, of all places." If they didn't just execute them in the street, first.

All that aside, followed? He seemed a little paranoid, to say the least. "I don't think so, no?" It was an odd question. "But I mean, if I was... they'd hardly tell me. How would they know your plan? Aren't you a little... tight-lipped for that?"

Maybe his paranoia was infectious; she could almost feel the eyes on her back. This job was getting weirder already.

[member="Drogh"]​

 

[Drogh]

Drogh did not believe her ignorance was raw stupidity, and he took her little quip about his current financial state as an insult. "Something interesting about Twi'lek biologically, those tails at the back of your head, very sensitive aren't they?" Drogh said, gritting his teeth together, making a subtle grinding noise. He meant that as a threat, she was testing Drogh's temper, and Drogh could be some what "explosive" at times. Drogh muttered something under his breath before walking towards the counter. The counter was worn, torn and chipped, with names and numbers carved into the wood, leaning over the counter taking a bottle of alcohol underneath, no label but it had the strong stench of a spirit, something Drogh would need a lot of if he was going to have to deal with this slug any further. Drogh strolled back to the table, giving the girl a cold glare.

Drogh removed his mask, placing it down on the table. There was a very good reason he wore it, his face was more then slightly unsettling. He had deathly pale skin, that of a freshly murdered corpse. His eyes were an unnaturally potent yellow, like fiery sulfur. He had large heavy black sacks under his eyes. Drogh looked very old for his age, for some one who is 30 he looked like in his late 50s, wrinkles appearing on his face, signs of a body that was falling apart.

In some desperate attempt to calm him self, he took an unhealthy swig from the bottle, feeling the burning liquor trail down his throat. Letting out a large groaning sigh of some relief, before giving an almost exhausted look at the girl. "If it goes well, we won't have to kill anyone, but if it doesn't, I'll leave the decision to you." Drogh gave a scoff at the girl, was she to naive to think that no one was watching? "You don't know, eh?" Drogh said, giving another swig, hoping that maybe he could forget he was even here. "Well, pray no one kicks down that door."

[member="Nemo Sekh"]

 

[Nemo Sekh]

"Depends who you ask." Nemo winked, with a flick of her Lekku. She rose from the table, chair legs squealing against the scratched floor. "Some say it's just a myth." A blue hand slid to her hip, fingers stretching over the holster. Smooth leather. "You really wanna find out?" The warmth in her eyes had frozen cold. "I thought we were raiding a museum, Cough Medicine. I'm not seeing how a double-homicide fits in."

It would be a shame for this to end so quickly. But she had no intention of leaving in a body-bag. Not tonight. The sharp look he shot her back seemed to say the same, With a sharp exhale she watched him walk to the bar, taking her seat again. Her hand hadn't moved. He'd set the mask down; her steely gaze tentatively shifted over to see what'd been hiding behind. She broke a smile again. "You know you're meant to moisturise twice a day, right?" Tone had warmed slightly. "I take it you date a lot of Miraluka, huh?" She giggled, rising to take a bottle of her own. Drinking on the job was never a good call, but... most jobs didn't have quite this kind of company.

This was about as cheery as sharing a Life Day with Darth Sion's ghost.

"It's not my murderous instincts I'm worried about." Nemo furrowed her brow. "You sure you'll be able to keep it cool if this gets hot? No ritual sacrifices, or cannibalism, or whatever it is you types do when you get testy?"

[member="Drogh"]

 

[Drogh]

Drogh gave the Twi'lek an almost defeated look, "Chaos take you." Drogh said, he was out done in terms of insults. She had the ability to constantly bombard him with an endless stream of quips and jabs that Drogh couldn't respond effectively in time too. Drogh was almost certain if he went into the downright cruel and spiteful, instead of the playful horribleness, that she was boasting it would most likely end in violence. What perhaps Drogh found most interesting was her reaction to his face, most would react out in fear, disgust, repulsion or even outright hostility, but rarely did anyone jeer. Drogh found this oddly refreshing.

Drogh took another swig for good measure, seeing as she brought out her own, "A toast, to new friendships." Drogh said, sounding only slightly under the influence. He still despised her, even more so then before, but Drogh held a small measure of respect, her gleeful and robust ability to insult him brought him a degree of humor, self loathing being one of his many hobbies.

Drogh gave her a stern glare, to be fair he didn't blame her to think that Drogh was an utter lunatic, to be sure. However he wasn't smart enough to know any "rituals", or that desperate to eat anyone, although he had certainly bitten a number of ears off in his youth. "How fethed up do you think I am?" Drogh said, before backtracking some what "Look, I ain't that bad, besides we won't have to hurt no one if it goes to plan, and if it don't then we'll probably not be alive long enough to kill anyone, if that puts your conscious at rest."

[member="Nemo Sekh"]

 

[Nemo Sekh]

"Let's just say I'm used to spending a lot of time around mummified remains." Nemo grinned, not meaning any particular offence by it. Drogh didn't seem entirely stable by the best of measures, but he could certainly take a joke better than most Jedi she'd encountered. They were just as likely to burn you to a crisp with lightning as laugh. A strange insecurity came with the territory, she supposed. Too much power, too scared to lose it. She answered his toast with a cheer. "To new friendships!"

These were strange times indeed, drinking with Jedi. "You are a Jedi, right? Or a Sith? Part of one of the big cults?" They might profess ideological differences, but from where she was standing? They tended to look about the same. Too many robes and too many rituals. Left some nice temples though; she'd give them that.

"Fethed up?" She giggled at his turn of phrase. "I mean, I don't meet many do-gooders wearing black robes and metal masks-" At that she paused, eyes narrowing with a gleam. "-Is Drogh your real name? Because that's one hell of a Sith-y name, is all I'm saying. The kind of name that screams 'I might kill innocents'." She rose a hand to correct herself. "Not that you will- clearly, appearances are deceiving." She smiled to alleviate the tension. Didn't need to be deep-fried by him just yet. "Anyhow; if we're on the edge of death? Kill all you like. We can shoot back. Just not first."

She clapped her thighs as she finished the bottle, rising to stand. "Onwards, then? I'll follow your lead."

[member="Drogh"]​

 

[Drogh]

Drogh did his best not to get angry at the comment, but it was more truth then he'd care to admit. Drogh was a rotting corpse, even without the parasitic effects of the dark side, his abuse of drugs and alcohol was leaving it's mark.

"Does it matter?" Drogh said, of course it didn't but Drogh saw no reason to lie. 'Just a man, besides what does it even mean to be a Jedi or a Sith any more?" A meaningless question.

Drogh gave a small chuckle, perhaps a merit to the alcohol swirling in his system. Drogh took another long slurp from the bottle, at this point he wasn't feeling much of anything below his neck.

Drogh couldn't lie, for someone who was so paranoid he didn't exactly dress like he wasn't seeking attention, at least not in this plant. Perhaps in the urban dump of Coruscant he could get away with it, but here in the pristine, martial and clean streets of Alexandria he looked very out of place.

The girl had asked him a personal question, usually he would lie or ignore It, he felt the gnawing stupidity that came with excessive drinking. "I don't know, I don't think that was my birth name, I can't remember not being called Drogh." Drogh despised him self for this, the family he missed so much and he couldn't remember the name they choose, such depressing self relfection was best left when after the job, crying in a gutter ideally.

The girl seemed much less principled then he thought, she was just as blood thristy as any criminal, but it was true, if no one dies the better.

"No, we're not leaving until it's dark, doing this in board daylight will just get us dead. I'm going to bed, if you need me I'll be in the cellar."

Drogh with clear effort pulled him self from the chair, staggering around with no hint of coordination, almost throwing him self towards a rather dour grey door. Opening it, he glared at the dark abyss below. Forgetting to turn the lights on he stumbled down the stairs, soon after the inevitable crash as he fell down the stairs. A rather miserable and painful sigh is emitted as Drogh staggers to his feat, only then to fall on a mattress.

[member="Nemo Sekh"]

 

[Nemo Sekh]

"Jedi or Sith? Tends to tell me which end of the Hallowe'en-Life Day scale you fall on, is all. Monk or cultist. I know which I prefer, and I definitely know where I'd place you." That curious sympathy Nemo felt for him still undercut her words. Wasn't even sure what his real name was. Glitterstim and spice were one thing, but the Force? Now there was one hell of a drug. "You remember anything of the past?" In a way, she supposed, that was her job; poring through the mists of what was and what could have been. Sometimes, there might even be something worth finding in there. Perhaps.

"Hey. Don't give me that look. I'm not a killer, not by nature. But I think it's a little early to be shaking death's hand just yet, don't you? If we get shot at, then they've signed up for the same game. Do or die." She flashed him a devilish grin. With that, Drogh looked to be turning in for the night. Fair enough. If she was going to get shot in the back in a museum, at least there ought to be some night-time ambience. "Alright! I guess I'll just... sleep here." Strange company indeed. Nemo pulled up a second chair to rest her feet on. Hardly comfortable, but she could live with that.

A crash from the basement. She struggled to stifle a giggle. "Drogh, are you, uh, okay down there?"

[member="Drogh"]​

 

[Drogh]

"I'm fine!" Drogh shouted in a slurred speech, as he dug his face deep down into the mattress hoping to suffocate him self to sleep. Drogh feel asleep rather easily, being drunk and oddly always feeling at home in lowest of places. As the sun sunk into the sea and the night sky hovered over over the city, the moon gleaming against the cold waves. Military patrols barked curfews at the cizitens and Drogh was woken by the low aggressive hum of military vechials driving past the bar; Alexandria was different from most advanced planets as it still relied heavily on vechials with wheels, an almost exotic thing. The lights were off and Drogh staggered back to the switch, flicking it on. A miasma of pain swept across his mind, his eyes aching feeling as if they were about to fall out.

His head hurt, a lot. It felt as if a icepck was lodged in the back of his head, groaining in pain to him self as he slowly began to come too. Then perhaps he remembered what kind of company he kept, which hurt even more. Then a rather dark smirk crossed his lips as he remembered exactly how they were going to get to the museum. He crept up the stairs towards the sleeping twi'lek. "Wake up, we're going though the sewers" Drogh said as he crept back down into the cellar, going towards a crude looking hatch.


[member="Nemo Sekh"]