Dominion The Frontier War: Shrouded Sands | Enclave Dominion of Tatooine (Open to all Underworld Characters)

[Kam Ge'lih Dragr]

A Friendly Face​

She leaned against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. She didn't look like your average contestant in the Boonta Eve, most looked like the rest of the scum that called the Outer Rim their home. Kam on the other hand was decked in her usual Mandalorian garb, Beskar n' all. Kam was here to compete, but not solely to win... granted that would be a very nice touch. She was to serve as a 'Friendly Face' as she was told. She was to be the explanation for why so many Mandalorians would be on Tattoine if the question ever arose.

She wanted to win though, that was for sure.

And to win, she and several other of the best Mandalorian mechanics and engineers came together and with some ingenuity made a pod racer fit to represent Mandalorians in such a grand race: The Wyrmling

Based on the centuries-old design of the Daggerstar, the Wyrmling was about as small of craft as one could get. It was light, agile, and had a thrust-to-weight ratio that would make engineers drool. Its size and stature were very befitting for the small Bothan Mando, and she was more than happy to race.

She only hoped its test runs meant it would behave as well when the race began.

For now, though, she supposed she should mingle with the rest of the racers, mechanics, and whomever to get the word that gasp a Mandalorian was in the race. She spotted what seemed to be one of the Sand People and a smaller creature... what were they called... Nesamy? She wasn't sure... They were talking and were the closest to her, so she walked over. Hearing the Tuskan attempt to speak Basic she would grin a bit. You don't see that every day. "If you need a translator," She would say to the smaller creature her helmet making her voice sound much more intimidating than she wanted to be. "I know enough of their sign language to get by,"

She would remove her helmet, revealing the young features of a Bothan to the pair, and noted the small bit of food dropped on the table. "Well, you can probably guess this one. He's offering you food, hopes it will put you at ease." She would state with a chuckle.

She would turn and sign to the Tusken, <"I didn't know Followers of the Stream could or would speak Basic?"> she would ask, wanting to demonstrate that she could sign at least marginally well. And she did hope that the... whatever they call themselves, accepted the food.

TAGS: A'Shimra Yort | Koushou Hibana

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[Vulcan Krayt]

Objective 2: Hunt Scum and Villainy
Location: Tatooine, Mos Eisley
Equipment: Sword, M.I. Beskar'gam Mk.1 M.I. 'Sunstroke' jetpack M.I. Model 6 hybrid pistol, M.I. Model 12 shatter rifle x2, Thermal Detonators, Magnetic Detonators, Perun's Call
Tag: Gwyneira Vizsla | Kale Onara | Vren Rook | Tawnita Wren | Thonn Rokkal | Open

The message was received loud and clear, he is to head to the main Cantina. So, he headed in that direction, keeping to the main street. This is after all the quickest way there. More people were heading to where the pod racing was being held, good, that'll keep them occupied. It's been 2 hours without a fight, he is slipping, but a random battle is not why he is here, well it is, but not exclusively the reason. The big reason was to seek out and destroy Crime in the area.

Unsurprisingly there was always one individual who wanted to mug whoever they thought was weak, it was just a stone's throw from the Cantina, Vulcan tried the civility route, to get him to back off when the other man refused. Vulcan buried his sword to the hilt into the Human's stomach. So not in the mood for Bantha-Chit today. As the Human fell, his cheeks burned, not with anger but with mild shame, he lashed out after one warning. But he is a warrior, isn't that what they do? He has been getting mixed messages lately.

The Ubese quickly cleaned his blade and hurried away from the dying Human, determined to get there as soon as possible., there it is, the large building up in front, he entered and stood on the threshold, with sand pouring onto the floor from his person. Well, it was just as dull as it had been the last time he went, 2 years previously, that very large bloodstain was almost tattooed into the stone floor. He wondered what happened there.

Looking around, he finally spotted what was most likely Gwyn, he made a beeline towards her, dodging patrons as he went, at least he found a familiar face. He quietly climbed onto a chair/stool opposite her and waited, he didn't want to announce himself too loudly.

 

[Stone Gra'tua]

​

Objective : Rob the Crime Lord

Between the swift and overwhelming assault of Clan Gra'tua, a frontal assault throguh the main entrance, and the fact today was the Boonta Eve and most of the thugs, guards and other scum were dead drunk or well on their way, the defence of Miran Kril's home was less than effective. Teams of Mandalorian supercommandos moved through corridors, waves of shatter gun fire sweeping all before them. A few blaster shots rang out from the guards, but they were swiftly answered.

While further teams fanned out into the complex to mop up, Stone and several squads met up in the crime lord's main audience chamber. Locating the vaults was childs play to battle hardened veterans equipped with state of the art technology. Even as the advance teams made their sweeps to finish off all resistance, Stone began assigning teams to open and clean out the crime lord's valuables. It soon became apparent the speeder that had brought the assault teams wouldn't be near enough to transport it all. Overseeing an inventory of what was stored, provided by Kril himself, Stone looked over the datapad and grinned to himself.

There were billions of credits worth here, from art to jewels, and he saw, a menagerie. One item there caught the Alor's eye, and he went off to investigate. On one of the lower floors, he came to a cage, and entered alone. Inside, a three meter serpent hissed at the intruder. "Hello there, mate. You want to get out of this dump?" The Mandalorian didn't know whether the snake could understand him, but he took the fact it didn't attack him as a good sign. "Come on then, mate." The Alor said, and led the way out of the palace, squad and serpentine friend now in tow.

Blasterfire and shattergun fire continued to ring out throughout Miran Kril's home, but it was a one-sided affair in terms of combat. Stone's raiding parties ignored the survivors in lieu of getting their hands on the loot. Advance teams amused themselves running down Pykes in the hallways, mostly utilizing blades where they could. Some of the Gra'tua fighters left death cards as they moved through, Stone had given orders, he wanted the scum to know who it was who had beaten and robbed them.

Kale Onara | A'Shimra Yort | Nyx N1X3 | Kranak Vizsla | Koushou Hibana | Eliz Krayt | Ardasz Verd | Xyoz Maji | Shai Maji | Vulcan Krayt | Kam Ge'lih Dragr

 

[Tawnita Wren]

TAG: Vren Rook Kale Onara Vulcan Krayt

Dust. Sand and dust. Everywhere. Always. Everywhere.

It got into her armour. It got in between her toes. It got into her ears. It invaded every part of her being, like some biological weapon from the underworld, living and coasting on the air, ready to infect everybody it touched. Needless to say, she hated it. Nearly as much as she hated the cold.

She shook her head. In essence, she was happiest in a not-too-warm, not-too-cold air-conditioned controlled environment. Like her ship. She liked her ship. She did not like sand.

Tatooine. Sand.

Sigh

Vren was talking. She looked up from packing her blasters into their holsters, one each side on her hips.

"Up close and personal with scum? Sounds like an evening with Siv Dragr ."

They had made their way from the bustle of the teeming spaceport, the hostile environment somewhat lessened by the capable and highly effective environment controls of the armour she wore. They were on the hunt, yet again. Vren, the rogue cowboy that exuded confidence and a little too much swagger for his own good. Tee, the shy, quiet wallflower who would sit patiently and watch for anybody...at least, that is how she thought of them.

In reality, they were two very cranky Mandos in need of liquor, more credits and a spot to sit out of the suns.

"I just love a beach holiday. It's just a shame there's no actual sea. Or water. Or anything remotely endearing or relaxing about this dumpster-fire of a backward plot." She stopped for a second.

"You hate me, don't you? Bringing me all the way out here. You must really hate me. 'Just a quick job', you said. 'Nice locale', you said. 'Visit some old haunts', you said. Haunts is the right word as Tatooine is the place people, things and dreams come to die. In the heat. The very hotness of the heat."

She stopped walking, not getting the rise out of Vren that she wanted. She was teasing him mercilessly with sarcasm, well-cultivated and mature.

Deep down, however, she meant it. She glared at the back of his head.

"You hate me. I get it."

She followed on, sulking petulantly. She muttered under her breath.

"Don't make me shoot you."

 

[Gwyneira Vizsla]

Equipment:
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Spoiler

• Beskar'gam.
• Borealis Pistol.
• Ra'ntisr Pistol.
• The Distant Chill Rifle.
• Two M.I. Model 6 Pistols.
• Igradi Light Repeating Blaster.
• Lightsaber.
• Shoto.
• 12 Detonators.
• 12 Remote Detonators.
• 12 Magnetic Thermal Detonators.
• Combat Knife.

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Tags: Thonn Rokkal Vulcan Krayt Vren Rook Kale Onara Tawnita Wren @open

​

Gwyneira looked up to a fellow vod sitting across from her with a drink. She immediately noticed his rotary blaster cannon, one that was of her own design. She smiled, appreciating that her gifts to the Enclave were in good use. Her headache finally subdued. She offered the Mandalorian a friendly nod, "Hello, vod-..."

She paused, sensing a familiar presence next to her. She scoffed, chuckling, "Hey, Vulcan."

She looked over to the younger Krayt, trying to be sneaky next to her. She scoffed and lifted a hand, patting his own helmet. "Ready to fight some scum?"

It was obvious in her tone of voice that she was itching for action. With her last headache gone, she would be able to focus on her mission. Decimate. Even then, with Vulcan around she would also have to keep an eye on him. He was pretty much her younger brother, after all.

She looked back to the other Mando and tapped her small, repeating blaster, "How about you? You ready?" She smirked under her visor, "Nice rotary blaster cannon, by the way."

 

[Koushou Hibana]

{ A'Shimra Yort | Kam Ge'lih Dragr }

'...iiiiittt…' ​

It continued to loom over her prone form like a spectre of death. Arms moving erratically, weaving a spell and transfixing her further in place. Soft brown eyes tracing the movements the way, well, the mouse she resembled would have watched a snake. A terrified and terrible fascination. At least her temporarily fear induced paralysis had worn off enough that she was able to flinch at the more animated portions.

That was something, right?

Her nose wrinkled and then flared at a familiar scent as the man deposited something by the huddled furry mass she so aptly resembled at that frightening moment in time. Was that a… a peanut? Was that to be the entree before the main course? Nezumi satay? She supposed there were worse pairings and, as such, worse ways to conceivably go. Nezumi flambe or Nezumi sashimi certainly sprang to mind - perhaps a little too readily for present comfort.

She attempted to clear her throat, to lodge a formal protest, but the noise escaping her was currently hitting registers few sentient beings were equipped to process, let alone understand or begin to respond to. Fortunately, another voice cut across before the perceived silence got any more awkward.

A what? An offering?

Simple surprise melted the tension faster than hoth snow below a set of Tatooine suns. Her body seemed to curl in on itself all of a sudden, her movement an awkward flurry that caught even her off guard as it seemed the last few seconds held all her attempts in a delayed pattern.

"Oh!" Hibana exclaimed loudly, followed by another as her brain caught up as well. "Oh!"

Then a third, final one at a much more reasonable level.

"Oh." This one was coloured by a myriad of emotions. Embarrassment. Shame. Regret. She was lucky that the Bigs were terrible at reading such things without the accompanying flushes of skin. Primitive really. No wonder they couldn't work out basic business transactions. "Um, thank you?"

A paw scratched the side of her cheek sheepishly. Tail flicking as she rose to a half-seated position. Even she wasn't sure if the apology was to directed the Tusken Raider - a male, apparently? - for the food, or the armoured Bothan that had intervened before the impending coronary.

"Well, this, um... This is all kinds of, ah, awkward."

 

[A'Shimra Yort]

Koushou Hibana Kam Ge'lih Dragr

He was immediately on edge with the new addition.

A step backwards, one hand on his staff, but no overt movements to commit hostile actions otherwise. It was instinct. Training of generations drilled into their skull from the moment they could crawl. They have no respect for our ways. It began. They take and take and take. It continued. All they understand is the threat of violence, so they will leave us alone.

But Yort was alone. Utterly. And tired to boot. When was the last time he caught his breath? He did not remember.

Then Kam surprised him again, but this time in a positive fashion. The hand gestures were quickly interpreted. Not too bad for a foreigner and Yurt removed his hand from his staff. Instead keeping it curled into his belt for quick access, if things turned dune-shaped.

<< Some. Little. >> Yort responded with a hand gesture. << I had a translator. >>

And from one of the folds of his robes Yort revealed a rusty spherical droid. The little thrusters suggested it was supposed to fly, but right now it did very little of anything.

<< Broken in the Dunes. >> Then, again more instinct than sense, he attempted to speak once more. "I need this repaired." He barked the twisted Basic words. But it sounded more like- Ined disss rpaaaared. The dune-man knew how it sounded and sighed with a disgusted grunt. << Your language is exhausting and tiresome. >>

Hand gesture once more.

<< Has your kind come to claim my world? >> Pointed question towards Kam.

If it had been awkward before according to Hibana... well... now it was double so.

 

[Kale Onara]

As Kale finished his drink, he grinned at hearing Vren's voice informing them where everyone was going to meet up:

<Any Karjrs or Vode on the hunt, this is Vren Rook. Rendezvous at the main Cantina down the road directly North-West of the Arena.>

Kale keyed his comm and spoke, "Vren, Kale here. Message received I'll be along shortly." He replied as he put a few creds on the table for the drink and a small tip. As he slung his rifle over his back, his smile faded when he heard blaster fire and Siv's voice, "About that rendezvous, I may not make it in time. Ran into a few friends from my bounty hunting days. Well, my old bounty hunting days. Gotta go." Given the blaster fire he heard, Kale decided to take a roundabout route to meet up with the rest of his vode. He left the cantina he was in and ducked into an alleyway where he used his jet pack just long enough to get to the roof of a nearby building. He wasn't here to make a big spectacle of himself and Siv probably wouldn't appreciate Kale riding to his rescue like he, Siv was incapable of taking care of himself. Nevertheless, even the most inept foe could get lucky once in a lifetime. Kale hopped from rooftop to rooftop until he got to where he heard blaster fire. Kale found a good place to get into position that offered height and concealment as well as a good view of the firefight between Siv and his opponents. He watched the fight through the scope of his rifle and settled in. He wouldn't interfere with Siv's fight unless Siv's life was going to be lost or unless Siv called for help.

Kale grinned at the idea of Siv calling for help. He knew that the man had his pride and would probably rather eat a raw Hutt's tail than suffer the shame of calling for help. Especially against the rabble that were pursuing him. Right now this fight was proving to be a good bit of entertainment and Kale made sure to record the entire encounter for later just in case.

 

[Ian Mullhound]

BYOO: Transport assets offworld to stash house
Tags: Open!
​

The small alien looked out in disgust.

Mandalorians were crawling throughout the streets. There were entire into buildings, searching for something, anything that would lead them to the Pyke. Miran was foolish to not notice the movements made North by the Enclave. And now, he was going to pay.

Closing the blinds to the dusty window, the crime boss hopped down from the stool he stood upon. Behind him stood two Devaronians, both awaiting his orders.

“Have all of the assets been loaded onto the transports?”

“Yes boss. The Wookiees were a bit of a hassle, but they all got onboard in the end.”

Letting out an exhausted sigh the alien pointed angrily at the duo.

“If any of them were injured and I lose credits because of it, it’ll be on your heads. Understood?”

Nervously they shook their heads before quickly shuffling out of the room. Once they exited the man did one final check of his office, making sure everything valuable and important was removed. Confirming there was nothing left, the alien walked out of the room, heading for the transports.

Docking Bay 94 would be the location for his last ship to leave, getting all of the slaves offworld and to the stash house where they would await being sold.

 

[Kranak Vizsla]

Quick and Easy
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Location: Tatooine
Local Time: 12:33
Date: -DATA CORRUPTED-
Primary Objective: Eliminate Miran Kril and his Generals
Secondary Objective: N/A
Equipment: Loadout 2 (Minus the Backpack and Primary. Integrated SD Belt.) + Goran’s Stand
Tags: Shai Maji | Faison Kelborn | Nyx N1X3
Engaging: Xyoz Maji (Soon)

​

Just as he was about to move deeper into the compound with Aubin, the giant would come to an abrupt halt and snap to the rear with his battle rifle raised to the fore in a reactive manner upon his helmet’s high definition audio sensors picking up the loud whine of an ionic jetpack. Realizing the jetpack’s distinctive signature sound and knowing who it belonged to, having heard it before many times in the past, the giant would lower his rifle as the Wardog chimed into his ear over the secured comlink net.

:: This is Wardog, coming up on the back entrance. ::

<”The kark..?”> He muttered to himself in utter disbelief. This was supposed to be done stealthily in order to not alert the sentries and spook the HVT’s they were tasked to eliminate today. He didn’t hear the all too familiar howls of blasters opening up on her, nor had he heard the sharp, ear piercing blare of security alarms going off to alert the gangsters to their presence. Maybe he overestimated the gangsters’ competency.

But his mood soured slightly upon realizing he could’ve just descended upon the sentries outside with the rocket boots of his own if these street trash were this incompetent, instead of disguising himself like a senile, hunchback old man and getting past the security detail with trickery and stealth as the Wardog picked up a pebble from the ground and tossed at his helmet visor. Seeing the stone thrown at him coming, the giant dodged it with ease as he slightly leaned to his left.

:: Hey, maybe next time remember to tell the rest of us when you’re breaching. ::

<”Maybe next time, pay attention to the mission briefing and time table so I don’t look like I’m working with a bunch of unbloodied Foundlings, hmm?”> The giant quipped in return without skipping a beat over the comlink as she caught up with them. Turning around and walking side by side together into the compound, he nudged the Wardog on her right bicep with his elbow with a soft chuckle. The Alor’ad[1] would then pick up his pace and take the lead, keeping some spacing between his squadmate with his rifle held at the low ready. The ursod followed him close by as they moved.

:: Faison’s joinin’ us on this one as well. Told him we’re movin’ out. We were laying low at a different part of town. Not gonna lie, I’m half tempted to leave this guy alone and kick back to watch the- :: She cut herself off abruptly.

:: The kriff… ::​

Hearing her footfalls cease abruptly, the giant halted at the same time in sync, and held security. He quickly glanced at her over the command pauldron on his left shoulder with a quizzical look behind his helmet faceplate, and shifted his gaze back at his sector. The giant’s audio sensors would pick up a very faint roar as they listened in silence. He looked down to his left to check up on Aubin and see if he had heard anything. He was tensed up, growling in a low tone. The giant couldn’t make anything out of the faint roar yet at the time, as another familiar voice chimed in over the squad net.

<”I’m in position. Try not to cave in any cantinas while you’re making your entrance, yeah?”>

The giant chuckled heartily in response. His banter would not go unanswered. <”No promises. I’m starting to share the old girl’s crave for collateral damage.”> He joked casually. Instead of quipping back at the giant at the moment, the Wardog continued to ponder about the faint roar out loud over the comlink channel.

:: Did you guys hear that? :: She asked as she looked around. :: I could swear I just heard a Rancor roar for a moment. :: She muttered as she tapped the side of her helmet. :: Either my hearing’s starting to go or my helmet’s actin’ up. They don’t got animal pens in the pavilions, right?:: She asked.

The giant silently shrugged at the inquiry. There wasn't anything hinting at animal pens in the intelligence report. Although a rare occasion, there were a few instances where an unforeseen parameter slipped by unaccounted for during intelligence gathering. He wasn’t exactly sure if this was going to be one such occasion, but things did point towards that possibility. <”Whatever the kark it is, we’ll find a way to deal with it if it ever becomes an obstacle in our way.”> Taking lead, he answered as they began moving deeper into the compound and ascend to the upper levels to neutralize the HVT’s they were after.

Until he heard a synthesized voice, that of a droid, very much foreign to his ears over the comlink. A glowing red eye emerged right in the middle of his heads-up display, blocking his vision as the voice spoke.

Arrogant. Like the Jedi.

Once you cut a few heads off a hydra, do you believe you will have secured an entire planet? How long will you linger on this world to ensure it remains protected? How many resources dumped into this underdeveloped world? The Confederacy once claimed it as their home before they moved to Geonosis and on to Naboo; in time even they put it from their thoughts. How quickly will the Enclave with its limited supply routes?​

The giant would stop in silent response, and raise his left hand to head level, with fingers extended and joined, signaling the Wardog to halt. Lowering his hand to waist level with his palm facing the ground, the giant followed the initial halt gesture with another one, signaling the old girl to take a knee; crouching himself at the same time as he listened to the unnamed voice over the comlink. Following the giant’s gestures, the trained ursod followed his instructions without hesitation, assuming a low stance next to him, ready to sprung into action and execute another given command from the Alor’ad.

He paused for a brief moment, waiting for either Faison or Shai to raise an inquiry about the synthetic voice he just heard over the comlink channel, but none came. Was he the only one that heard the voice and saw the strange insignia in his heads-up display; the only one in the squad that had his comlink frequency compromised? Were their presence revealed to the gangsters? Whoever the voice belonged to, were they affiliated with the scum they were tasked to kill today?

He wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t going to take any chances.

Letting go of the battle rifle slung on his shoulder, he turned towards Shai in his crouched state, and began talking to her in sign language. ~|Comlink compromised, cease all transmissions until further notice.|~

Raising his left forearm, the giant would then relay the same message to Faison using dadita[2] in a few seconds; He tapped on the push-to-talk key for his comlink on his wrist controls with long and short pauses, relaying the message to the Sharpshooter, hoping whoever the voice belonged to was not crafty enough to decipher the message. Whoever that was though, they had the skill and the gear necessary to crack the bio-hexacrypt encoding of his comlink frequency.

Dawdling no longer, the giant threw a knife hand forward twice, beckoning the Wardog and Aubin to continue as he stood up, raised his rifle to the fore and continued onwards at a brisk pace as he spoke to the unnamed voice over the comlink with a neutral, yet stern tone. <”Identify yourself.”> Seeing as he couldn’t get rid of the damned glowing red eye symbol in his heads-up display, the giant turned off his HUD as he rounded the corner, regaining visibility.

Reaching the staircase that lay before him, the giant would begin ascent to the top floor, where their targets were located at. It was the opportune moment to carry out the strike. The race had started a few minutes ago.

The two gangsters standing guard by the closed door leading into Miran Kril’s private balcony dropped to the ground lifeless as the wall behind them was painted red with their blood and gray matter; the two spent cartridge casings softly tingled on the duracrete floor beneath his feet. In silence, he extended his left hand towards the door as he moved closer, beckoning the Wardog to place a small yield breaching charge on it, and took up breaching formations besides the doorway, leaning against the blood covered wall to his left.

As soon as the charge detonated and the door blown open, the giant would chuck a flash grenade into the room before entry.

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Spoiler: Translations

[1] Alor’ad = Captain.
[2] Dadita = Code used by Mandalorians, like morse code.

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[Kandosii Ka'rta]

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Gear: Ramshackle durasteel Mandalorian armor, Beskar buy'ce, "Homesteader" .30-30 Repeater, HF-94 Heavy Blaster Pistols (x2), Mandalorian vambraces, spurs that jingle jangle jingle

Siv Dragr ​

Kandosii was in the middle of scanning a speeder garage when he heard Vren's communication, followed by Siv's response. Flipping his rangefinder up, the Morellian Mando unslung his repeater and starting heading towards the source of Siv's communication. It had been a while since he had been hunting, and while he was used to working alone by now he had come to enjoy Siv's company. Besides, one Mando being a bit late to the rendezvous shouldn't be a problem, especially one who's only got ramshackle armor not even made of beskar.

Kandosii kept his slugthrower raised and ready as he drew closer to Siv's location, wary of alleyway ambushes, but as he got close he heard the blaster fire stop. Knowing Siv, and knowing Tatooine scum, it was more likely they lost him than killed him, a suspicion that was confirmed when he rounded a corner and saw a Weequay sweeping the area, obviously searching for Siv. They probably wouldn't mistake him for Siv, but Kandosii doubted they'd care. He hid behind the wall, hearing the Weequay's steps get closer, and as they came into sight Kandosii lunged, throwing the alien to the sand before covering their mouth and sinking his vambrace's retractable blade through their padded vest and into their heart. With the Weequay dead, he wasted no time pilfering the thug's commlink and tuning into their frequency.

 

[Stone Gra'tua]

​

Objective : Rob the Crime Lord

Stone led his squad out of the front entrance of Miran Kril's headquarters, to where his Clan's insertion speeder had been left. As it turned out, the first Mando raiding parties had begun loading up the assault speeder, but had then returned inside for more without leaving guards on the bounty. What could best be described as a pack of Jawas surrounded the speeder, making off with everything including parts of the speeder itself.

"Get out of there you little thugs!" The Alor roared, coming down the stairs behind his sidearm which had found his hand. He blasted three of the fleeing Jawas, picking up none of their language beyond a 'Hou-Teen-Iee' and some other bits that sounded like swear words. The pint-sized criminals fled with their gains, leaving the rags of the fallen behind them. The rest of the squad followed behind their Alor, looking at the situation and Tank stated the bloody obvious. "We're not getting all the loot out on that." The speeder might still move, but it wasn't near big enough. Vansen had the answer, as per usual. "Freighter?" Stone nodded. He still held the datapad with the palace's inventory on it, and another thought crossed his mind. "Freighter."

Stone turned to Vansen. "Can I borrow a lock slicer?" The look she gave her friend and commander was not a friendly one. After a long pause, she produced the requested item, a thin black cylindrical device, very non-standard tech. "Do I get it back, Sir?" Stone took the lock slicer and nodded. "Trust me." Vansen shook her head. "It's very hard to trust someone who wants to borrow a lock slicer. Sir."

Angry had a good long Wookiee laugh at that one, and the Alor went off to do his business, while the three remaining members of the squad kept watch for more Jawas. The freighter would set down nearby, and the Mandalorians of Clan Gra'tua could load it full of valuables. The palace vaults would provide for an entire generation of foundlings, and more besides. Stone had spotted a unique and rare piece of artwork he wanted to personally ensure didn't go to waste. Once he had secured the art utilizing Vansen's lock slicer, and a few other niceties, he would move back to rejoin his squad. Today had been an excellent opportunity to both enrich the aliit, and to train up the newer members of the Mando'ade. So far, everything was going fine, but he knew there were always ways for the galaxy to kick you in the shebs if you let your guard down.


Kale Onara | A'Shimra Yort | Nyx N1X3 | Kranak Vizsla | Koushou Hibana | Eliz Krayt | Ardasz Verd | Xyoz Maji | Shai Maji | Vulcan Krayt | Kam Ge'lih Dragr

 

[Safira Haran]

The ship jolted dangerously as it touched down onto the dust-covered landing strip, causing the pilot inside to curse softly at no one in particular.

It was new.

The ship.

Bought only a few weeks ago, cash, and it had been worth the price so far. The problem wasn't with the ship, but with the pilot. Safira Haran was not a pilot, not in any sense of the word. She was still learning, and it was evident from the messy parking that she wasn't enjoying the process.

"God damn stupid lump of-…" Grumbling to herself, she kicked back from the console and stretched up toward the ceiling to shake the ache from her muscles. It had been a long journey from Tatooine. She'd had too much time to think, and if she hadn't known any better, Safi would have said she was a little space crazy. Despite the planet itself being nothing but a dusty, sandy nightmare she was more than eager to get off this ship. Anything was better than these four walls.

In truth, if she'd had the choice, Safira would have picked somewhere far nicer than Tatooine to travel to. She recalled a beach she had visited once. For a holiday, of all things. If she tried hard enough, she could recall the way the sun felt on her skin, the freshening sea breeze, and the warm sand against her feet. That sand wasn't like this sand. It was pure white and so fine that it felt as though you were slipping through it with every step. This sand was coarse, and an acrid shade of yellow that hurt Safira to look at with her bare eyes.

"Oi!" Shouted a gruff voice, which carried even over the buzz and hum of the busy transportation hub. Safira had no earthly reason to believe that it was shouting at her, but she turned to see who it belonged to anyway. As it happened, it was shouting at her, and it belonged to a stumpy little human who looked like a cheap cut of rawhide. Safira tilted her helmeted head at him to acknowledge and then spoke.

"What?" The loading ramp behind her withdrew as she stepped out, swinging a duffle bag over her shoulder.

The goblin looked back at her with an incredulous look. Most people were thrown off by the voice behind the helmet, but Safira was used to it by now. "You the one who contacted Daz?" She nodded but said nothing in reply. It probably wasn't a wise idea to be speaking out in the open like this. The little man seemed to understand and coaxed her to follow him with thick, clubbed fingers.

As they walked, the duffle bag on her shoulder seemed to grow heavier. It wasn't just the weight of her haul that made it feel as though it was made of lead, but the story behind it too. She wasn't willing to go into it with others, but in the privacy of her own mind, she mourned the loss of a friend. What they had managed to gather had been a mixed bag. Some of it was valuable, and she had managed to sell it immediately. Part of that had paid for the ship.

Then she was leftover with all the weird, strange things that Hutts collected over the years. The lightsaber crystals, the holocrons, the niche little trinkets that the general public had no interested in. Safira had to look far and wide to find a buyer who knew what the objects even were, never mind paying for them, but here she was. About to meet up with a smuggler in an unknown area, on her own, with only the blaster at her hip and her own two fists.

Hastaal would have killed her.

Her ugly guide finally stopped at a thick metal door and rapped his knuckles against it firmly. When it hissed open, he hurried Safira inside.

Hopefully, this wouldn't take long.

Hiron Vizsla ​

 

[Hiron Vizsla]

Safira Haran

As a rule Hiron had no outstanding issues with smugglers... or criminals of any sort, really.

He had been an assassin for years, before being forced back into the Clan and forced to pick sides. That kind of experience leaves you a bit nonplussed towards the usual moral tightness most folks applied. It was different when they decided to steal from him though. They were small little buggers that much they could be given.

Stealing into their transitional camp on Rishi in the dead of night.

Slip in, take what they could, get out and off-world before anyone was awake.

Karking shame they took a crate of beskar with them. Hiron could let a lot go. Could handle stung pride and anger from his clan. Beskar however... no, that was a bridge too far.

It wasn't difficult at all to track them. Even with all the chaos in the Confederacy's fall, Rishi wasn't what it used to be. Still criminal elements, still pirate paradise, but if you greased the right palms at the starport? Well, they could let you know which ship hasted off into space at the cover of night, which would have been unheard of just a decade ago.

Tracked them down to Tatooine, he did, and alone at that.

Even managed to track them down to the exact warehouse. Not a lot of guards, but some automated systems that were easily enough disrupted for the following hour or so.

When you couldn't pick your battlefield you sure as feth had to bend it to your will.

Several minutes passed as Safira was led into the building and towards her agreed point of contact. The moment she came face-to-face with said person however? The lights were suddenly killed. "What the kark?" One of the thugs asked to another one. "What are ya looking at me for? I am standing 'ere right next to ya-"

Then the gunshots started.

 

[Aela Wren]

S P A R K P L U G
MOS ESPA | TATOOINE
TAG: Kam Ge'lih Dragr | Koushou Hibana | A'Shimra Yort | Eliz Krayt | Hilal Vizsla | Open

DRIVE BY​

She had to get away from it.

The craziness of the past few years on Scarif had started to constrict around the once-smuggler-turned-casino owner. Pravus Cruento had to seize control of the resort-planet when the rest of the Confederacy erupted into chaos. Even the Happy Mando had fallen quiet for a while as uncertainty reigned in the sector.

So Aela took off on a vacation.

And what better place to get away from all the poshness than her old smuggler-hub, Tatooine?

Botch, the barman at the cantina and an old friend and fence of Aela, had nagged at her to take part in the Eve - even took bets for it even before the ace-pilot had even agreed to the race.

So, after a few drinks and a gamble for courage, here she was, seated in the old pod she used to race with that Botch had kept in a hangar all these years while the man yammered at her where the pods were lined up for the start of the race.
"You shouldn't have taken bets, smartass. I'm not paying you back if you lose." she told him, a smirk curling on her mouth.
"Oh come on, Wren, we both know you ain't that bad."
"I haven't competed in years, Butterbrain. I'm gonna get my ass handed to me - either by this bunch or some Sandies. You caught me at a shit time."
"Just don't lose, Shortie." he laughed at her before tapping the side of the pod and taking off.

Some Arcona gave the go ahead to gun up engines. The roar of the line of engines drowned out the crowd in the main pavilion. Some faces, Aela recognised from years ago, but most were unknown to her, including a kid who didn't seem to know what was going on.

"Countdown starting at 10...9...8..." the Arcona's voice boomed.

Shit.

What the hell was she thinking? She was no longer some starry eyed young smuggler screwing around in the underworld. Now she fenced her own contractors. What the hell?

Aela took a deep breath and settled into the seat. Just like riding a bike, Aela.

When the horn sounded, Aela's pod leapt from the line like a Fathier out the gates, her initial positioning not too shabby for someone severely out of practice.

Not too shabby indeed.

 

[Eliz Krayt]

Aela Wren | Kam Ge'lih Dragr | Koushou Hibana | A'Shimra Yort | Hilal Vizsla
​

The countdown started. Eliz gripped the controls of his podracer, a grin on his lips. Yeah, he could do this. This was going to be great. Awesome even! He'd seen podraces before. Right? .. Actually, what was a podracer? The question lingered in his head as the light turned green and every other racer took off, speeding ahead. He blinked, staring for a moment. Then pushed forward on his controls.

Well, now he needed to play catch up. Oops.

 

[Nyx N1X3]

In the time it took the organics to reply, Nyx had already checked in on Stone Gra'tua 's unauthorized reallocation of material wealth, prematurely detonated the explosive some grunt had been charged to plant on the pod racing track, and noticed the cautious movements of a slaver (Halbu Chener) in the area -- Wookies were not discrete slaves. And that was only a few of the things she'd observed with the chit surveillance system in the port. How she missed the endless money the Confederacy allowed her to upgrade such woefully underdeveloped or mismanaged regions.

Being a droid was agony in a galaxy full of organics. Not because they were organic -- she wasn't speciest -- but because they were slow. They were operating at their peak efficiency, but comparatively Nyx could handle more tasks and inputs in the same amount of time. They did, however, had a considerable advantage when it came to emotions. It had taken years of developing subroutines for emotions to even come close to understanding them, and yet reproducing them was still incredibly awkward.

The Reaper. You can cease using hand-signals, Alor'ad. If I meant to ambush you I would have shot you from two miles away using a railgun. I have no interest in your hunt today. Your Enclave is moving in on territory I once oversaw, and I question your motives and your commitment. I only wished to inform you that you are being watched, Vizsla. I hope you do not disappoint.

Nyx brought up the process monitoring the interior of the room where Kranak and his team would be breaching. She watched as the door opened to admit the flash grenade. They were efficient, if a bit too talkative on the approach. Not that unnecessary chatter meant much so long as they quickly and successfully achieved their objective. Socializing was important to their kind. Admittedly, Nyx preferred conversing with others as well... though few seemed to share the same sentiment when all they saw was a 'droid.'

Destination :// Kranak Vizsla / Shai Maji / Faison Kelborn / Xyoz Maji / Broadcast Channel Open

 

[Hilal Vizsla]

Current outfit
Hilal's Podracer

(OOC: 15 https://dice.virtuworld.net/?sides=20)

"Okay," Hilal went over her datapad containing the blueprint of her BT310 Quadra Podracer that she rented a month ago. "Thrusters: Check, Brakes: Check, Plasma energy binders." Hilal pressed the button which activated the energy lasers, they crisscrossed each other forming an "X". With one last look around, Hilal immediately got in her cockpit getting her engines warmed and ready to go. If there was one thing that Hilal wanted to do besides become a Bounty Hunter of course was to try her luck at the Podracing circuit. She needed the money to fund not only her suit, but her flagging store which was short on supplies, and to maybe gain a reputation as Podracer so people could maybe hire Hilal. There were plenty of Bounty Hunters who were part time racers. They were discovered through Podracing so why not Hilal? She had the reflexes that were almost "Jedi like" and she was great at piloting. A few successful test runs with her rented Podracer gave Hilal all the confidence she needed to win this.

"I play to win!" Hilal smiled as she received the signal to take off. With a burst of acceleration, Hilal laughed maniacally rushing from the starting line and catching up with the leaders. It was going to be one hell of a race, that she will win of course.

 

[Thonn Rokkal]

Gwyneira Vizsla Kale Onara Vren Rook Tawnita Wren Vulcan Krayt and any others

---

"Greetings, vod." He responded; well, she looked like she was doing a bit better now. In short time her gaze turned elsewhere, and his followed along with it to spot Vulcan in his approach.

"And Vulcan; hail. Hah, you're quiet." Thonn spoke his introduction with a nod of his own, and a friendly grin as well.

"Oh, you know I'm ready." Thonn replied with a grin and a pat of one of the cannon's six barrels; his hand had already been on it since the word "fight" left Gwyneira's lips. As always, it was fully loaded with extra to feed the beast – his primary choice of weapon whenever he was out in search of one.

He mourned the loss of his old rotary blaster, it had served him well and carried him through many tense firefights; but the update was by far an improvement. It had a much larger magazine than his Z-6 did; by far and away the best place to keep extra ammo. Not having to constantly reload the thing was almost spoiling him. Sure, he was still getting used to aerials with the new MS-01 cannon, but that stuff was admittedly far from an intended use for such a cumbersome weapon. Rotary cannons weren't meant to fly. Unless one got real good at using a jetpack and maintaining balance. Or someone attached a set wings to the thing.

But that couldn't be effective because...well, he couldn't be sure why. It just seemed ludicrous.

"Thanks; I just picked this up, but it's been a kriffing great cannon. All set to mow some scum down." Thonn added with another nod, and he anticipation of doing just that brought further joy.

 

[Griss Tallow]

What's the old line? You can never piss on the same sand dune twice?

Coming back to Tatooine felt nothing like what she'd expected. Felt like not much of anything, frankly. Oh, Mos Espa had its shreds of familiarity — smells for example, right through helmet filters — and yet only shreds. No familiar faces, no friends.

Do the job and get back to Denon, then. Film the Boonta Eve podrace from above and throughout while flying with a Mando jetpack. Her helmet's hands-free camera rig was about to get unique footage sufficient to pay off one of her credit cards.

As the light went green, Griss engaged the jetpack in question and zipped out of the stands in clear violation of custom and law. She accelerated through the racers and vice versa. Hilal Vizsla 's takeoff almost took off Griss's head, armor or no armor.