The Bellow of the Beast | First Order Dominion of Belgaroth Hex

[Kayla Wylen]

Location: Phu
Allies: [member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Mishel Zanteres"] | [member="Samka Derith"] | [member="Preliat Mantis"] | @Jaques
Post: 1

Kayla had never really been interested in podracing. Her focus on her work always kept her busy, but even if she did have time for leisure activities it was not what she would have been looking at as a way to pass time. She wasn't here for the sport itself however, but the people behind it. The order was simple: Uncover the corruption in the podracing business and stamp it out. They were going undercover for this, which for the s'kytri was easier said than done. She was tall, had blue skin, and to top that all off a set of wings. Drawing attention to her was easy, but perhaps that was a good thing.

The woman was dressed casually. A leather jacket that accomodated her wings with a plain white tank top underneath, simple blue trousers and a pair of sneakers made up her outfit. It was a far cry from what she would normally wear, but the situation had called for it.

Walking over to the bar she noticed the others who were involved in the operation, some sticking out more than the others. As instructed she went to sit distanced from Samka, instead sitting nearby Kyrel Ren and Preliat Mantis as they were the first she noticed. Waving over the bartender she ordered caf. The conversation Preliat then had with the bartender was in a language she did not understand, and so decided to simply sip on her drink for the moment.

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Location: Phu
Objective: Run the Phu-Phuii Classic
Allies: First Order
Enemies: Ka Zor Cartel
Post: 4/37

Already the charred remains of other podracers have begun to fly, in a lot of different directions, with some of the faster pieces even hitting the people in the secondary grandstand. But with Dunames still in 13th position, the other racer attempting to overtake her isn't going to yield that easily, and she decides to fire the F-Webs at that racer while the racer is side-by-side with her, scoring a direct hit that takes out the racer's starboard engine. And then she attempts to boost to avoid the debris of that podracer crashing into hers; in the process, she attempts to overtake the racer in 12th position in the canyon's entrance, and even manages to be going in 11th by the time she actually reaches the canyon entrance. With the top-10 at a stone's throw from them, it's all too tempting for her to open fire on any of them, even when she stopped boosting. But there was a threat looming from the top of the cliff, which kept everybody on their toes... trained at racers, they may be troublesome to everyone attempting to cross it. Meanwhile, in the bookmakers' office, the bookmakers do not realize that they are being hunted by FOSB agents:

"Dunames appears to be edging too close to the top-10, she might be throwing a wrench in the pre-race forecasts" the bookmaker commented in front of the holoscreen.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

[member="Samka Derith"]​

The delinquent Ka Zor had been a thorn in First Order Security's hide for several months now, as efforts to bring the world of Phu into the fold were put on ice. Several Agents had gone missing in action, presumably found out and imprisoned by the cultists- or worse.

Corruption did not run rampant in the ranks, but when left to their devices and not strictly bound to protocol, the hearts and minds of men became frail. He would not be surprised to find several of his former comrades turned coat among the riff raff during the chaos.

"Another tea, for the lady," he motioned for the server, who complied with a series of beeps. "With sugar, please. Thank you."

He took the seat across from the Ren and folded his hands neatly. Their eyes locked as she spoke quickly, quietly, and made no attempt to veil her intentions. This was a woman with great regard for the nature of her work.

When she asked how much he knew, 0772 became fascinated with precisely which things he did not know. Who was this woman, and how did she have clearance at a level as sensitive as the dealings with the Ka Zor? That was extremely privileged information, such that FOSB played close to the chest with it.

He took a sip of his own drink before he replied. "They have a firm grip on the system," he explained, "one that long predates our current occupation. Repeated efforts to establish a presence on the world have resulted in unresolved dark zones."

The pale man closed his eyes slowly and tilted his wrist back and forth, pondering over just what should be said. There was a strong likelihood that whatever he was saying, she already knew.

His ruby gaze returned to her, and his features remained completely calm. "We selected this date and time for the operation because their presence will be spread thin dealing with the Phu-Phuii Classic, but the fact remains, we know next to nothing about their holdings, security measures, or personnel. The largest faces are at the forefront of Phu's social heirarchy, so any attempt to touch them without concrete evidence will land us in hot water with the local populace. The Bureau would like to prevent that," he emphasized, "to assure a quick, relatively painless transition of power."

He reached into a pocket and produced a datapad. Sentences slowly decrypted as he spoke. "All that we do have is right here," he told the woman, "and while it is a solid lead, it will require a surgical approach to effect it."

The words on the screen were clear as day as he slid the device to Samka.

"The Gilded Lotus" VIP room. Restricted access. Possible human trafficking.

Ka Zor link unconfirmed, extremely likely.

"This information came to us less than five hours ago," he told her, "and the Agent who relayed it has been declared Missing In Action."

2​

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

Location: FIV Malice, Deep Space In The Belgaroth Sector
Objective: Anti-Piracy
Posts: II

The raiding of spice trade and slavers was a far cry from what Carlyle Rausgeber was used to. Although there was no mistaking, he had a grasp on the doctrine of raiding pirates, it was a far cry to the brutality and blood rush of proper warfare. The Fleet Admiral yearned for another Ison Corridor, another victory to cement his place among the greats. However, all he had been greeted with were petty assignments. Things like the organisation of fleet patrols, construction of naval defences and the like.

There was no real fighting here. The closest thing Carlyle got to that was this. The raiding and interception of spice laden corvettes. But even among them, there was no real contest. The admiral watched glumly, as an increasing armada of smugglers were pulled out of lightspeed by the team of interdictor cruisers delegated to his command. Said vessels were promptly boarded, dragged into the tractor beam grip of Vanquisher and Imperial-x star destroyers.

Carlyle's thoughts were broken by a new presence aboard the bridge. "Admiral," The newly arrived ensign began, "Sir, the guest has requested her permission to come aboard the bridge."

Rausgeber didn't need any prompting, he was bored enough as is with the operation. "Allow it." The admiral barked, "Force knows we could use some intelligent conversation."

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

Location: FIV Malice, Deep Space In The Belgaroth Sector
Objective: Anti-Piracy
Allies: [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]
Posts: 1/20


Now that Tmoxin Temi was in First Order space to stay awhile, held in place by Kyrel Ren’s invisible chains of blackmail, she decided to widen her sphere of influence and vice versa. She may have been under his gleaming black thumb, but the Hapan was no slave.

But for her own protection, she remained in the guise of the Morpho executive that she was and the wealthy Hapan demanded a tour of one of the FO’s finest ISDs. “Let me pay for the tour. No questions asked,” she’d told the young fellow in charge of press for the Order’s Navy Operations.

“We’ll put you on Admiral Rausgeber’s ship. He’s about to head off on a special operation.”

Tmoxin boarded quietly. All the Admiral would know was that he had a paying guest on board. For the most part she was largely kept away from the bridge, but once she’d sat with some officers, joking, drinking, playing sabacc, smoked cigars late into the night in the crew galley, they decided to see if they couldn’t comply with her request to “meet the Admiral.”

Dressed in a conservative, vaguely military-like suit, the Hapan and former stormtrooper commander strolled out to meet Admiral Rausgeber. Smiling and with the kind of polish that only finishing school can provide, Tmoxin said, “Thank you for allowing me to ride with you on this trip. I hear you are breaking up a few pockets of crime and insurrection here in spice. What will you do with the cargo once it’s seized?” She pretended to be perusing the vessel’s various consoles, but she had a surreptitious eye upon the Admiral to gauge his reaction.

 

[Progflaw99]

Post III​

Objective I, Big Game Hunt​

​

It had taken him several minutes of circling to finally locate exactly which pile of salvage was their purposed meeting place, the only indication of life a small landing pad amidst the rusted hulks of salvage long since gutted a flicker of infrared light. Like a moth to flame the Mandalorian guided his vessel ever closer before gently touching down. As he did, debris and dust kicked up around the exterior of his vessel, the small fighter hissing briefly as its systems began to power down. Now at his destination, he sighed. Piloting had never been his strong point, and the journey here had left him tired, hungry mostly. It was a small matter, propelling himself out of the cockpit and acquiring his gear from several compartments of the ship, and as uncomfortable as it had been he'd traveled in his armor. With a soft click, his helmet was sealed, creating a filtered environment from the noxious fumes playing about the lowest parts of the surface.

And so it was that he waited, checking and re-checking his gear and tinkering with his weapons. This was not his abode to trespass upon and so he would wait until either the mysterious "Chromedome" appeared, or his client arrived.

[member="Caehl Ren"]​

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Location: Phu
Objective: Run the Phu-Phuii Classic
Allies: First Order
Enemies: Ka Zor Cartel
Post: 5/37

And then the hitmen of the cartel began to open fire on her from above, with Dunames being unable to return fire because of the firing arcs of the F-Webs. They were necessarily limited in elevation, due to them being bottom-mounted, and hence she couldn't fire at the hitmen of the cartel from her position. The hitmen had a few near-misses, which isn't surprising because of the high speed at which these things travel. But in this environment, she did not manage to successfully overtake anybody before the hairpin comes; she was still in 11th place by then. And it was only at the other end of the hairpin that she actually had a clear shot at shooting down somebody who, knowing how those hitmen react in the canyon, might be vulnerable once shot down. She watches frantically the crosshairs, knowing that she can hit a canyon wall if the smoke from the fire is too thick. The only chance she had at firing at somebody came at the end of the canyon: hopefully she can outrun the debris and then boost provided she scores a hit. Shouldn't be that hard to do even with the F-Webs firing at 4 rounds per second each.

 

[WolfMortum]

Location: Belgorath.
Objective: Droidbreaker Hunt & Capture.
Likely Hunting Party: [member="Buruk Surhaai"], "Chromedome" ([member="Rolf Amsel"]).
Caehl Ren's Inventory

​

As he moved throughout the junk yard tundra, the visor of his helm was drawn to his right as the force spoke to him, pulling his attention away from his priority goals and to the movement that seemed to be following him. Junk yard scavengers, raiders and survivors of the harsh world who made their share of profit off of the bludgeoning and theft of others. Upon Caehl Ren there was no doubt a variety of good looking equipment that they were not privy to, armor and weapons that were far above the standard of Belgorath's graveyard of metals and scrap. Slowing in his pace, the Disciple of Ren turned his gaze away from the environment around him and instead lifted the device strapped against his left gauntlet, the bulk of the combatant glove covering his cybernetic hand, phrike plated around the knuckles for higher grade of impact; the SB-U01 Wrist Datapad covering his forearm and lighting up as he tapped the surface of the holo panel, a transparent blue set of keys appearing to almost drift atop of the device each bobbing once as he triggered a sensor wide sweep of his location.

He was being tricked by a small group, one on each side hidden by the mounds of salvage and these poor fools trash and treasure, another coming up on his six though the Disciple gave no sign of turning back. Intelligence had been correct, though that wasn't unusual of the First Order Security Bureau. The local populace of this world were like caged animals, stuck here with no means to afford venture off world or otherwise moving within the sector using the two significant settlements to ply their trade, dirtying their hands but getting nowhere in the galaxy regardless of their efforts. It would be almost criminal the way these people treated each other, back stabbing and violence often the means of gaining momentum over their competition yet around here who was there to really enforce the law if not for the likes of the First Order. These poor fools who were following him needed to be made an example of, least he lead them to his contact and whomever else might be seeking to take on the hunt.

As the Disciple soon turned to kneel and begin sifting through the rubble around him, those of whom were drawing in slowly began to move in on their would be plunder. "Ey you, don' be makin' any moves. Yer' going to drop what ya got or we gonna bleed yer' for your gear!", poorly spoken as they were uncivilized, their leading man called at Brennan from the back while to his sides, the other two moved from outside of their cover and aimed blaster rifles down upon him. Ahead, the one barking the orders seemed to be holding the likes of an improvised vibro-blade, hardly the look of reliability though a threat to the typical salvager you might find here; he too had a blaster pistol pointed in Brennan's direction. Multiple firearms baring down upon him, Soresu seemed the best answer here.

He had not practiced the form in a good amount of time, rarely these days did he need to be patient where as he often sought out his targets in his service to the First Order, not the other way around. Soresu was a defensive form taught to him by the Jedi long ago, one that focused on pacing ones self, using as little energy as possible and keeping ones guard high while others worked to lead themselves into their own defeat. Within a moment, his lightsaber hilt had detached itself from his belt and slapped against the metal plate of his right gauntlet, a loud snap echoing about the area as a blaze of crimson energy splashed out against the bleak world that swallowed all natural beauty and killed the hopes of man. Stabilizing into the blade, his lightsaber arced around his front, intercepting their leaders shot first, though carrying through as the force cried out in alarm, a further two defensive sweeps, flicking his wrist as he sought to protect the left of his head bringing the weapon above and around him before coming down from the three sixty degree rotation and ending with the hilt coming into his left, three consecutive jolts vibrating through his grip as the shots were all redirected back at his aggressors, pegging every single one of his marks and dropping them by the time he had deactivated the weapon, the red gleam of energy receding back into it's metal cage.

Silence followed, satisfying and calm to the world he stood upon. The threat had been brief, these idiots lacking the training fit for someone worthy of his attention least of all approaching the hand of Sieger Ren. The Knights of the Supreme Leaders will were the embodiment of his vision towards progress in the galaxy. Here in this cesspit of filth, civilization had been forgotten and all that remained were these hunters need to strip others of their possessions, they they might instead make some credits from the suffering of others. It was the chain of survival in the galaxy, he supposed. Too bad for these creatures that they were to weak to fight for something that held real promise, something so much larger than themselves.

Turning, he left their dead bodies to lay in open sight for others to see, should they have the courage to attempt to take from him; they would quickly learn the consequences for opposing the Order of Ren.

 

[Arage Bao]

Location: The Phu-Phuii Classic, VIP Stands
Allies: [member="Beka Barineker"]
3

The toilet was dirty, moths circling a lamp hanging from the ceiling with exposed wiring and the trashcan overflowing with crap Adrian didn't even want to try and classify. The guy he had followed in was already washing his hands, but was paying attention to the newcomer in the toilet. The focus was just there, palpable in the air, as irises smoothly brushed past the corner of his eyes and the thug tried to do two things at the same time.

Adrian moved past him- seemingly moving to one of the toilets himself, but that was just a misdirection. Just as the goon would switch directions, he got a fist rammed against his left side. As he doubled over, clutching his stomach, his head was lammed against the sink, before being dragged into one of the toilet cabins.

The slot changed from Free to Occupied.

A soft hiss as the lock to the bathroom suddenly slit-shut. Then Adrian was back in the cabin, kicking the thug in the gut, before he could recover.

"You's and me? We's gonna have a good, pleasant little talk." Outside the music and bustle of the races dimmed the noise by a wide, wide margin. But this was gang territory, it wasn't a strange sight to have people rough each other up for one reason or another. This one was simply... more focused in its intention.

 

[Zmej Ren]

Location: Phu
Post 1


“You have an hour left in which to confess everything,” stated Zmej, pacing back and forth, “If you don't, I shall hand you over to the FOSB, who are used to dealing with such elements as yourself — you won't enjoy their methods one bit.”

Badly beaten and bloodied, the bound cultist in front of her remained silent, save for laboured breaths. Admittedly, the young Ren was no skilled interrogator, using only the most brutish of methods when it came to questioning captives. Putting down her lightsaber, the bloodied state of which strongly suggested it has been used as a club again, the blonde Ren’s weapon hand trailed over to her left shoulder. Soft, gentle strokes offered a momentary reprieve, delaying the inevitable and painful itch for a while longer while her yellow eyes aimlessly wandered around the small room. So much for her lust to crush the Galactic Alliance in bloody battles. Fame and glory would have to wait for a while longer. As of right now, she was in no shape or form to rush into slaughter like she used to.

She had gotten arrogant on Mustafar, believing herself invincible until meeting someone stronger, which resulted in severely injured pride and completely devastated left shoulder. That, and one broken suit of armour. Ever since the incident, Zmej wasn’t in her right mind, albeit that could be blamed on painkillers, a mockery of her inability to win. Symoxin was a necessary evil though – Zmej despised the idea of getting a cybernetic replacement, worried the procedure would hinder her power to manipulate the Force. Taking a dose of the powerful anaesthetics every once in a while meant she remained operational, so to say. Not the raging warrior she used to be, but no cripple either.

Smack

Giving her captive an encouraging slap, her sense of impact greatly dampened due to wearing leather gloves, the Ren continued her bonding session. Before this was over, the man would become her best friend, spilling absolute truth. She’d make him confirm his word many times, for the Ren had no use for false information. Only crystal pure truth could satisfy Zmej’s desire for information on his colleagues. He’d hand her the key to unlocking the cartel’s secrets and their precious vault. And then he’d die, put down like a rabid dog.

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Location: Phu
Objective: Run the Phu-Phuii Classic
Allies: First Order [member="Zmej Ren"]
Enemies: Ka Zor Cartel

She managed to take out one more podracer out of play, coming in at 10th by the time she got out of the canyon and into the flats. One long straightaway leading back to the finish line. Maybe, with one well-placed boost she can make it up to top-5 by the time the boost actually ends, further infuriating the bookmakers and the Ka Zor Cartel that organized the Phu-Phuii Classic; with that in mind, the First Order-based podcasters were late, very late to the party, as they have just arrived and the first lap was run to the 3/4. Probably because the Cartel gave them trouble to give them their press credentials. (That even though podracing podcasters usually cover the pre-race and the post-race, and not just begin their jobs in the middle of a race) But was it because they suspected Althea and Karine to be FOSB or Ren? Probably more so FOSB than Ren because the Ren have no use for NFUs of their kind. Once the boost finally ends, she has overtaken several racers, but little did she know was that there was something afoot underneath. She could somehow resolve a clock ticking underneath, but it exploded right after she zoomed past it.

"Another podracer bites the dust: Raido Tremens' pod has just exploded" Althea told on the podcast.

 

[Zmej Ren]

Location: Phu
Post: 2


“Shame.”

For him and her both. The gangster did not know as much as she would have liked. Nowhere near as much, in fact. Aside from a few names and locations, his usefulness neared zero. Turned into an unconscious corpse pommeled beyond recognition, the man peacefully rested in his chair and waited to be seized by the FOSB or death, whichever claimed his soul first. Zmej Ren did not particularly care, albeit she did urge her First Order colleagues to hurry and bring a doctor, spelling fate far worse than death for the freshly captured Ka Zor. After cleaning her hands – and the lightsaber hilt turned cudgel – from sticky red substance, the blonde knight sighed deeply, eyes darting over to the prisoner one last time before she pulled a hood down her face and left. First stop, Abraxo’s speeder service and Abraxo himself, a little fish that often fulfilled the cartel’s special requests regarding vehicles, podracers included.

Despite donning fashion popular among smugglers and similar elements, Zmej felt cold shivers run down her spine as she wandered the streets. The Force had a way of telling its children they were being watched. Without ever looking behind her shoulder, the Ren’s figure picked shadows and narrow alleyways as her means of losing the tail. She wasn’t a resident though, unlike her pursuers. Once she made a sharp turn and almost thought to be safe, a burly man appeared right in front of her, almost filling the tight corridor with his body. No conversation followed this silent encounter. Just stares. Only when his friend appeared in Zmej’s back, the big guy slowly stepped aside and let the blonde pass. The message he wished to convey did not need words; they knew about her.

Zmej smoothly returned to her original course. No more departure – her steps carried her straight to Abraxo’s speeder repair shop, although the decrepit and miserable structure was nothing but a tiny garage. Definitely not the kind of place where one can discreetly work on podracers, lacking in both space and necessary tools. It was still open when the Ren approached. Spare parts and a partially taken apart speeder bike filled the place, among them a burly Devaronian missing one horn. He regarded her with suspicion in his eyes, most definitely branding her an easy target who presented zero threat. For a second, his gaze trailed past her, noting the pursuing duo.

“Need something, missy?”

“Abraxo?”

He nodded.

“I heard you’re a guy who knows a lot about podracing.” Zmej nonchalantly remarked, hoping he’d catch on.

Realization flashed through his eyes and he offered another nod, large hand motioning for Zmej to follow him in the back. She did, feeling the pair of stalkers from earlier entered the small garage as well, their piercing gazes stabbing her in the back as she walked behind the Devaronian. Without armour, the deadly agent felt like a little girl, desperately lacking the intimidating aspect only a menacing suit of metal could provide. It worked in her favour this time - they did not know their prey was, in fact, a hunter.

Soon enough, the garage’s odour of sweat and oil gained a new ally. An invasive stench of death, originating from within a container stashed in the garage’s very back. The blonde had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen next as Abraxo opened the lid and revealed a decomposing corpse within. Alerted, but maintaining her calm composure, Zmej’s head sharply turned towards the mechanic, heart pounding in her chest, adrenaline rushing to flood her veins. The two cartel goons now stood even closer and she had no doubt they desired what passed for a fair fight in these parts, three against one.

“Another fool who snooped around.”

Abraxo went for his blaster.

 

[Armand Temi]

Objective: Crush the Ka Zor
Location: Phu
Allies: [member="Samka Derith"] [member="Jacques"] [member="Mishel Zanteres"] [member="Kyrel Ren"] [member="Preliat Mantis"]
Post: 2

The dry, arid exterior of Phu was a welcome change from Varas's birth planet of Kamino with its torrential rain, high winds and lack of sun. And unlike Kyrel Ren, his young daughter thought that watching and betting on a podrace might actually be fun. But she was with him now; no longer with the Kaminoans who had “raised” her during the last two weeks. And at his side she would stay.

The change was abrupt, but she clung to memory flashes which helped her to acclimate to space travel, hyperspace, even foreign food, though eating the Phu Pho noodle soup had proved a much larger challenge than the jolt of traveling FTL.

Of course as a clone, Varas’s memories, were jumbled, the triumphs and tragedies of both prime clones rolling and colliding and settling, only to be tossed around again in a cranial stew in her head. The strong matriarchal leaning of her wealthy mother and the hard-bitten childhood of her father - these disparate backgrounds boiled inside of her, either a deadly mixture or a path straight to disaster.

Father’s pain. Mother’s pride.

Sometimes it was better not to think at all.

Varas had never glimpsed her father without his mask and quite honestly his face was difficult to get used to. She found it better to lose herself in people and alien watching as she disappeared within the shadows of the darkest part of the cantina. She also did not feel very social. Not yet at least. So similar to the Ren who’d conceived her, the Disciple sat quietly, trying not to linger upon the thought that she had been created to carry on the dark legacy of her parents, especially her Father. And right this second she felt very far from capable of even holding her own in a game of sabacc, much less a firefight.

 

[Mishel Kryze]

Phu
Post 3

​

​

Mishel was tired of waiting but she knew she had to stay put. She licked her lips that had begun to dry and waved the bartender over, "send this to the girl over there." The teenager dispatched a drink to [member="Samka Derith"] underneath it was a napkin with Mishel's scratch on it. Got a lead, see you at the races. The Tygaran eased down from the bar stool and flicked the holocard in her hand. Once again she would be left to her own devices. Stay put, was something she could not do not in the entire time she'd been around. At least this time she gave notice of where she was going so she considered that an improvement as she tugged at her jacket and headed out of the cantina. Podracing was a dangerous, and gambling on the races even more so and part of Mishel was excited as her feet carried her across the exterior of the planet. The brunette waved to the natives as her boots kicked up the dirt beneath their treads. The track wouldn't be hard to find, the ever growing crowd was a dead give away but finding a place to make this call? Harder.

She found a holo call booth but it was broken and it forced her to head deeper into the city and curve around the narrow streets and narrower places of business. Garages were the first thing she noted, with offices and apartments stacked on one another. Grimey alleys and backways with air so thick and dirty that it pricked at her skin. Mishel was a little more than disgusted, wishing for the clean and fresh that was the Bastion or at least Avalonia where this would not have been tolerated at all. And then she felt something in the force, a very, very familiar presence that she had not felt since just before Mustafar. "Sister Zmej?" She asked no one and of herself with a raised brow. The young woman looked up and around her as if trying to focus her gaze and attention on the feeling.

"While in the merry church of Ashira, now from'er home I started. Left the girls of Santaissa were nearly all broken-hearted as I saluted me dear dad, kissed me darlin' mum and drank a pint of ale, me grief and tears to smother." Mishel began to sing a tune she had picked up in the taverns of Fallan'Au on Kaeshana as she climbed up on top of the garages, ambled up and over the balconies and roof tops. She whistled and hummed her way as her feet mashed down upon the shanty roofs. "Then off to reap the callow and leave were I was berth, cut out a lager and another pint of ale to the black thorns. To banish Illryia's ghouls and spooks a brand new pair of sarixs to rattle o'er de swamp and frighten all ta dogs on the rocky road to Tygara."

Her accent was terrible, but she did not care it kept her focused on what and who she needed to be focused on. She focused on Zmej's signature within the force and on the way she felt the pressure to get there as fast as possible. Mishel was excited to see Zmej again she had been one of the first people that the girl laid eyes on after she emerged from the tank. And as she began to narrow in on the signature she was faced with a few garages all some distance apart speeder repair shops all of them, a dime a dozen in a town like this. And then she heard a blaster shot, from a garage just off to her right - battle on Mustafar, Skor and Bespin had taught the young Disciple the sound of a blaster. Without hesitation, Mishel turned her emotions into a fiery rage as she barrelled through the other side of the garage and straight into someone who was not Zmej.

All one could truly see was a ball of fire that had seemingly engulfed a teenager who ran into Abraxo's speeder repair shop.

Inside the garage, someone got a face full of fire and perhaps had caught on fire as well.

So much for stealth.

[member="Zmej Ren"]

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Post: 2
Location: Phu
Objective: Crush the Ka Zor
Allies: [member="Varas Kyrel"] [member="Mishel Zanteres"] [member="Zmej Ren"] [member="Jacques"] [member="Kayla Wylen"] [member="Preliat Mantis"]

Kyrel was lost to his thoughts as he sipped the drink. The burning liquid coursing through his throat, or what was left of it that is. He had never been much of a drinker, in his old life as a TIE Pilot he did frequent the Bars on Star Destroyers, but after his brutal transformation he had lost such tastes for even the most wonderful delicacy. Only drinking or eating when he had to, but as he had learned from personal experience and his teachings in the Force, the Dark Side gave him all he needed. Pain turned to Anger, and Anger turned to Hatred, in the end, it all became Power. That power became what he needed to not only inflict upon the enemies of both the First Order and the Supreme Leader, but it was what kept him alive through every encounter he had gone through, and kept him alive for the most part.

He had looked around and seen beings of all kind. Some like him stuck out like a sore thumb, others simply in a place like this were just ordinary citizens. Most he had viewed as weak beings with beings like himself who wielded the Force and knew what true power was at the very top, people like him were meant to rule the weaker beings, but as long as it was through the will of the Supreme Leader, for he is wise and has a Grand Vision, a vision for a lawless Galaxy to be united under one banner, one people, one government. The First Order was perhaps the only ones who could bring about peace. But for that, it would take time, and Kyrel would happily take part in such grand designs.

He continued to sip his drink as he gazed over and saw what looked to be a Mandalorian come his way, He did not know of him, and hoped that he would not force the Master of Ren's hand in revealing himself, and unfortunately botching the mission in the process. But in his best interests for right now he chose not to act and pretended to be just another bar patron. He then saw another come here, in the inside of his mind he was groaning to himself as he rather would have liked to not draw any more attention to himself no more than he had to. This time he saw a woman dressed in casual clothing approach him, from what he could tell after feeling her through the Force, she must have been a new Disciple assigned to the mission, and in that sense, he chose not to pay attention to her.

He could see and hear almost everything that went around the vermin filled hole the lot was in. Arguing between a couple of patrons over a game of Sabacc, that even from the sound of it would most likely turn into a full on brawl. He could see several other patrons placing bets on who would win the podraces, each fighting and try to get over one another to place a bet with the bookie. It was all disgusting to see such insects in a place like this and so, for the most part, Kyrel chose to ignore it. He then looked and saw that the Kerrigan girl had left leaving only Master Derith and what looked to be an FOSB agent. It was someone he had forgotten but had remembered during the time of when he led the massacre on the Marzoon Academy. He couldn't recall the name nor did he care for the moment.

As he just sat there silently keeping to himself. He could feel his offspring within the Cantina, known by her given name of Varas Kyrel. For all intents and purposes, she was his child, of course, she did not come from the courtship of a mate, she came as a product Science, she was cloned from both his and his servant Tmoxin Temi on the world of Kamino. It was under the occupation of the traitors who called themselves the Imperial Remnant, but Tmoxin had her own facility free from the so called 'Imperial Jurisdiction' to operate freely. The idea came from a few logs he had found in the old Imperial Archive in the Bastion of Ren, he had learned that Lord Vader had used Kamino for cloning purposes, but it did not say anything else as he could only find maybe a couple of entries.

He took advantage of her facility and was able to clone an offspring, someone to pass on his bloodline in the event he should ever die. In some way he did recognize this as a breach of his vow to the Supreme Leader, but as long as she followed in his footsteps and served the Supreme Leader then it did not matter. This was only a theory of course. She is very strong in the Force, perhaps even more powerful then both of her parents if not just as. After her creation, she was given memory flashes. She had learned the most basic forms of Lightsaber Combat and even the early steps and perhaps beyond in learning through the Force. But even though the Memory flashes had helped greatly, she was forced to relive the painful life of her Dark Father. Often going through his experiences as when his TIE Fighter exploded, when he was placed in the mechanical hell he wore, the effects of being in said hell, his numerous defeats and battles of the First Order Alliance War. His whole life was filled with nothing but pain unlike her mother. Some part of him had wondered if she would go mad over time from the Memory Flashes that constantly plagued her. Time would only tell.

He knew that she was also perhaps disgusted with his actual physical appearance, he admitted he wasn't pretty on the eyes as he used to be, and he felt naked and exposed without his armor, but when it came to the power he had earned it was worth it in the end. He had meant to see Tmoxin about restoring his flesh, but training Varas and observing her on Kamino came first, he reminded himself to do that next time he should meet with her, another thought crossed his mind as he looked over his shoulder to see his daughter go deeper into the shadowy parts of the Cantina. What would the other Ren specifically Master Derith think of her? Would they accept her, or would they view her as a breach of Kyrel's Oath to the Supreme Leader. He did not know, but if he could clearly sense her, then Derith could too, and if it came down to it if she attempted to take his spawn's life he would intervene. Some would consider this attachment, but he considered it Necessity as he needed her to live as a part of his legacy. Attachment and emotions like Love were unnecessary for her, and in time she would learn that or be cast aside and be left to the carnivorous wolves that roamed the Galaxy.

He resumed his casually drinking, as he waited for what would happen next and for the mission to finally begin. He was eager for it but for now, patience was an absolute must, and so he sat biding his time and waited.

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Location: Phu
Objective: Run the Phu-Phuii Classic
Allies: First Order [member="Zmej Ren"]
Enemies: Ka Zor Cartel

The first lap was over: while the bomb was intended to hit Dunames, it was nearly impossible for the bookmakers to hide their anger at the Polydroxol that threw several wrenches in their plan, coming in fifth after one lap. That said, the Devlikk whose pod just hit the bomb was not in a very good position among the Ka Zor Cartel either. But at the end of the straightaway, she had to stop boosting since the engines were soon going to overheat. As a result of her braking being somewhat subpar, she had to take the turn from the outside, and let herself be overtaken while the cooling system was active and taking off the excess heat from boosting. For now it's clear to Dunames that she has only two opportunities to boost in a turn and then make it count. There might have been a few podrace fans from First Order-land present in the stands, a few hundred perhaps, closely watching Dunames as she ran the race: she was able to regain composure and attempt to overtake the podracers with control numbers 1, 2 and 4 by taking them in the inside.

 

[Zmej Ren]

Location: Phu
Objective: Interrogate the suspect
Allies: [member="Mishel Zanteres"]
Post: 3

​

Abraxo’s fingers curled around his favourite blaster’s grip. Right after being unholstered, the weapon somehow slipped out of its owner’s hand, as if yanked away by invisible force, and landed right in the knight’s palm. So much for presenting no threat – aiming at the smallest man, she squeezed the trigger and that was that. His larger colleague froze mid-motion, so shocked and surprised he did not even see the infernal ball of an individual that stormed into the garage and set him on fire. Another shot and his body settled on the ground as well, motionless and burning peacefully. That left Abraxo to be dealt with. Much like a reek, he charged at the blonde Ren. Only thanks to the Force and rigid training did Zmej manage to swing her hand in time, hitting the aggressive opponent into face and breaking his nose. Right after the Devaronian kissed the ground, she knelt on his back, barrel of the blaster pressed into the back of his head.

Sulphur yellow eyes found one Mishel Ren, a familiar sight which cast a grin on the blonde’s face. It seemed the brunette had grown in power, a strong incentive to nudge the fair-haired agent in direction of additional training. After all, recovering from Mustafar’s painful scars took its toll on Zmej’s abilities. If she were to serve the Supreme Leader, she needed to be one hundred-per-cent. Sieger Ren had no use for cripples and weaklings. That, and someone needed to set the rest of the Ren straight. Set an example, so to speak.

“Mishel, it’s good to have you here,” Zmej delivered quickly, “Your intervention wasn’t necessary, but do stay around.”

Her head turned back to the newest captive. How things went for his well-being truly depended on nobody else than him, but knowing gangsters often feared their boss more than their interrogator, the chance of getting him to speak were rather low. Well, she’d break him anyway. Literally and figuratively. Standing up and delivering a painful kick into his side, the Ren ensured momentary cooperation before abusing her telekinetic grip to haul the mountain of a man across the garage. Scrap and tools flew in all directions as he heavily landed on his back, breathless. Swift and decisive strides brought Zmej close and before Abraxo spat out the first curse, he was tied to the garage’s support beam and pacified.

“Do you know any mind-reading techniques?” Zmej glanced back as she questioned her colleague.

 

[Samka Derith]

[member="Jacques"]​

​

​

Samka glanced at the information passed to her by the pale man. She didn't recognise the place in question but all else her contract spoke was known of. The Ren took a quiet sip of tea, it wasn't too bad for such a shoddy establishment, not quite enough sugar but that was personal taste.

"Interesting," she spoke in a tone of mild interest. "I can't say I know the local venues but I assume we'll be paying them a visit soon enough. For the moment, let's focus on the here and now," Sam's eyes flickered deviously, for a moment it seemed a trace of corrupted crimson could be seen in her iris for those who paid close attention.

"Do you see that Twi'lek at the bar? Don't stare," Her tone of voice became even more quiet yet hardened. "He's an informant for the cult. The Bith musicians on stage, they're slavers behind closed doors. The human woman standing by the entrance looking frustrated, local law enforcement on their payroll. Her partner, the Aqualish who just went into the bathroom is also on the payroll but considering murdering her for a greater cut." Samka sipped her tea again in a nonchalant manner, as though what she was saying was typical information which just fell into her lap before continuing. "The Gamorrean bouncer? A murderous cannibal blackmailed into silence. The Gran in the booth opposite? A slicer speaking with that Protocol Droid about joining the cult. There's likely others in here as well."

The Dark Side of the Force suddenly crept forth, something felt as a cold shiver by every sentient being in the cantina, as the doors and windows slammed shut one by one, impossible to open again until the Master of Ren willed it.

"Someone here knows where a certain artefact I desire lays," Samka's voice came not just from her lips to her contract but echoed within the heads of her associates. "Nobody leaves. Not until I know where it is. Do as you please and do try not to leave a mess."

​

[member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Varas Kyrel"] | [member="Kayla Wylen"] | [member="Preliat Mantis"]​

 

[Mishel Kryze]

Phu
Post 4

​

Mishel watched [member="Zmej Ren"] work, the Devaronian became her toy. There was an uptick on her lips, a grin as her eyes burned orange. She took a sidelong glance over her shoulder at the smoldering flesh that had once been alive. She gave a shrug, "necessary, not necessary." Her voice rang empty of emotion, as the young woman walked toward her masterpiece and carefully pried a yet crisp card from his pocket. The garage was otherwise a mess as she pivoted her feet toward the same direction Zmej now walked toward.

"No, wrong sister," answered the Tygaran, she exhaled and approached the now pacified man on the pillar just the same as Zmej had. "But we are not without a way to make him talk, even if he doesn't fear us." There were worse things in this galaxy to fear, death always seemed to be an extreme there were far worse things than death. Of course the question on her mind had been more of, where in the hell had Zmej been? After Mustafar the blonde knight had disappeared she'd have to press her later.

"'Sides what did you say this guy's name was?" She patted herself down and pulled out the holocard. "I might have a friend who can give me what we need on him and his... um." Mishel turned and gestured to the others. It seemed time at the University had done her well, she was near complete with her first year - basic studies. "Hey what's this over here?" Mishel walked across the garage as she spotted something that glistened. "A focus lens?" Speeders would use them surely but this, this was a little more refined, "blaster assembly, my, my, my." Mishel pocketed the focus lens it would be a good thing to slip into a lightsaber.

 

[Preliat Mantis]

Hunting the Cult: The rektoning
I forgot my post number


Preliat moved first- blindingly fast. He could not hear the words that were supposed to touch his mind. A blessing and a curse of his birth. Many Sith tried, but Preliat's mind was unwavering. Something about brain waves or skeletal structure, he'd read somewhere. But, it mattered little in the grand scheme of things. What did matter, however, was when Preliat turned around and shoved the glass through the Twi'leks eye socket. The Twi'lek was killed on impact. Preliat stood, and pulled the knife from up his sleeve. He didn't say anything. The six and a half foot man with the beskar leg said plenty enough. He would let the intimidation and shock factor hopefully give enough of a push for whatever the Ren wanted to know to come spilling forth like a flood.

Otherwise, Preliat and present company were going to turn this place into a modern art exhibit. Complete with refreshments.

[member="Samka Derith"] l [member="Kyrel Ren"] l [member="Varas Kyrel"] l [member="Kayla Wylen"]