The Moon of Jaguada

[Bulthos Dorrir]

When the still-nameless Duros laid out his claim to fame, Bulthos cocked a graying eyebrow. The pirate had been on the lanes since he was a late teenager, almost five decades ago, and he'd never heard of a Duros mercenary being the best in the Outer Rim. Of course, reputation was something of a fickle thing; for all he'd done, Bulthos himself didn't have much in the way of sticking power either, considering not a one of the louts on board seemed to recognize his name.

That would come in handy, considering what the plan had just become.

Bulthos would've protested, but as it stood, the Duros and his mates had all the cards but one, minus whatever it was the similarly-egotistical rifle girl had up her green jumpsuit sleeve. His ship. His guns. His crew. And - and this was the big ticket item - his ego. So far as the Duros was concerned, he was running the operation, despite his job description amounting to "glorified getaway driver". If he was really running the show, why not contact the pirate or the onesie-wearing princess directly? Whoever was actually in charge of setting this up likely wouldn't be all that happy to hear that he wasn't getting a single cut of it. Bulthos himself was absolutely livid; 10% for himself and Cazoa meant 80% went to seven individuals, which likely meant the Duros himself got a double share. But what really got under Bulthos's skin was the "you can buy it from us" line. Bulthos wasn't kidding when he said he was trying to keep them all from dying. Sith tombs and the treasures they held were far from mere trinkets. But of course, why take the time to actually learn what one was dealing with when one could just as easily make blind profit?

Of course, not that any of them would catch on to the bile in his throat. Forty-plus years in space had given Bulthos a hell of a sabacc face.

"I'll ask for a weapon when I'm needin' one, Captain."

Bulthos shot a look to the woman beside him, trying to gauge her own reaction to the terms before looking back to the motley assembly.

"Now then, shall we start with the safety lecture, or'd we be goin' abou' this in a ramshackle, get-our-entire-crew-killed fashion?"

 

[KeCholo]

''Ke'Cholo offering someone something free is a rare thing'' Jal said giving [member="Bulthos Dorrir"] a look of disapproval. ''It happens more often than you'd like to admit, Jal'' Ke'Cholo said laughing. He went behind a wall of crates and produced two double barrel weapons with drill bayonets, a crude but devastating weapon. He held one out to Bulthos ''Close quarters combat is an invitation for these puppies, they're modified for 8 gauge shells but I got some that shoot like a rifle. Button below the trigger starts de' drill''


http://starwarsrp.net/topic/19595-viscera-scattergun/?hl=%2Bviscera+%2Bshotgun

 

[Bulthos Dorrir]

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry to offend..." Bulthos started, his attention starting on the Kaleesh before going back to the Duros, "...but did you boys miss the par' where I'm no' bloody interested?"

Bulthos half-slapped, half-shoved the weapon away from him with his left arm, batting it away at the bayonet. The weapon looked like a blind Dug had slapped it together on pain of death with parts scrounged from Raxus Prime's deepest debris pit. He had denied the offer with his left arm - a durasteel contraption that had seen its fair share of wear and tear, but was still more than sturdy enough for Bulthos's needs - and the older pirate still felt worried he'd contract something from it. And a quick glance at the magazine told the pirate that it had been left loaded; a dangerously sloppy move unbecoming of a self-styled dangerous mercenary. Bulthos's opinion of their self-made leader hadn't been especially high to begin with, but it was falling at a dangerously fast rate.

"I'm no' sure if you're graspin' the sheer danger o' what we're like t' find. You can throw as many guns as you like a' it, bu' it will nae make a bi' o' difference if we stir up somethin' tha' Sergeant Deathtitty o'er there," Bulthos said, pointing a metal finger at the Talz crewmate with the massive turret, "cannae bring down. We all stand t' make big money here, bu' the defenses'll be needin' a bit more'n a few guns an' your cocksure sales pitches."

While there was no secret to the venom behind his words, Bulthos hadn't raised his voice much, if at all.

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa felt the tension radiate from Bulthos as the plan for the takings surfaced, according to Ke’Cholo. Of course, everyone here wanted a large pay out, especially considering they were headed into Sith space – not the most plain-sailing area to travel to. Something was waiting for them on the Moon that was for sure.

She knew that they were all being paid a fair amount of credits for their search and rescue, and as far as she knew, Pali was far more concerned for his crew. It had been a ship full of his most skilled men, and he feared that it was a rival band of pirates that had ambushed them. Cazoa wasn’t so sure. But if it turned out that way – he would be sure to start a war with whoever responsible. So that left the Sith relics to be divided between the Mercs, fairly. In order to negotiate, she needed to know what kind of artifacts were waiting for them.

She felt Bulthos’ eyes on her, trying to catch a glimpse of her reaction to Ke’Cholo’s divvy of the cut. Cazoa remained nonchalant, as if nothing had been said. She neither disagreed, or agreed, so as not to seal the deal. These things needed to be shaken on. Cazoa would catch Bulthos alone later, and rack his brains to better judge the kind of loot they would come across. Luckily, Ke’Cholo hadn’t dwelled on the subject. He disappeared behind a crate, and reappeared with two weapons. They looked like they would deal some serious damage.

‘I’d say we need to be geared up for sure,’ Cazoa said, eyeing up the shotguns. ‘Pali’s afraid a rival gang is responsible for his crew’s disappearance. Though considering the stories I’ve heard involving Sith planets, I’d wager it might be something more than just a few pirates. Pali’s guys are seriously well trained. We’ll want to be prepared.’

‘I’m quite happy with my pistols, but I’ll take any melee weapons you can spare – preferably knives,’ she glanced at Qaeth’s swords still dripping with Rodian blood. She turned to Ke’Cholo.

‘You have the coordinates of where the ship landed yes? The crew were headed for temples built on the Moon’s surface. These ancient buildings were turned into communications outposts during the Clone Wars. I’d suggest landing somewhere away from both the ship and temples so as not to draw attention to us, and if your ship has stealth capabilities, that would be even better – a few sweeps before we land couldn’t hurt. I’m happy to scout the immediate area once we touch down.’

She addressed Bulthos now, 'what do you think? These shotguns not gonna cut it?'

[member="KeCholo"]
[member="Bulthos Dorrir"]

 

[Bulthos Dorrir]

"I'd reckon no', lass. I'd reckon no'."

Bulthos didn't voice his opinion out loud. He didn't say that Cazoa would best be served by her own weapons. He didn't say that he wouldn't put it past their so-called captain to have some kind of booby trap on the weapons in case of betrayal. He didn't say that he would be surprised if the weapons fired at all, let alone act to their glowing description. With that much muscle and that much firepower in the room, one of whom seemed particularly loyal to his captain, voicing opinions could be dangerous. In truth, Bulthos was genuinely afraid he'd overstepped some line in dressing down the Duros, and that he'd find himself thrown out of an airlock for daring speak to the Outer Rim's best mercenary with a tone shy of reverence and awe at his splendor and graciousness.

But most importantly, he didn't voice his unbridled ire at having been roped into a rescue mission. His contact, whoever they were, was going to have some explaining to do if and when they made it off Jaguada. Cazoa had known this from the start, and she should have been up front with them. Bulthos was sure the Duros didn't know about the plan; if he had, then there was absolutely no way in the Nine Hells he'd have made the offer he did. The survivors of this new mystery expedition wouldn't take the deal, and if their weapons still worked then there was sure to be a firefight, something Bulthos was certain neither the Duros or "Pali" - whoever that was - wanted when there was treasure to be had.

"Now then," the pirate said, growing weary of the exposition, "can we carry on t' the ma'er a' hand, or are you hidin' a Krayt dragon on this thing?"

 

[GreenEve]

'Go ahead,' Cazoa said, gesturing for Bulthos to take the floor.

She lifted herself up effortlessly to sit on the crate of ammunition she had been leaning against. She sensed Bulthos liked to feel in charge, the internal frustration he felt gave it away. Since they had arrived on Ke'Cholo's ship he had been radiating thick bursts of discontent, it was easy for Cazoa to pick up on. She admired him for not losing his cool when he felt like he did. Over the years Cazoa's events in life had taught her to gain control of her feelings, reign them in, push them away, or turn them into another emotion. She feared being alone - without the emotional noise from someone else, and left with her own feelings to deal with. And those generally weren't very pleasant. She guessed right now that she felt happy, happy to be doing something other than wallowing by herself, it felt like the old days with her father and the crew.

If only she were stronger, she might be able to dampen Bulthos's internal power struggle a little, incase Ke'Cholo threw him out an airlock. His knowledge was too valuable for that to happen.

[member="Bulthos Dorrir"]
[member="KeCholo"]

 

[KeCholo]

''I've killed men for less'n what you just said'' Ke'Cholo said, staring at [member="Bulthos Dorrir"] ''I'm the capt'n of the ship and supplier of the weapons on the mission, so if you aren't interested anymore I'd be glad to drop you off at any point, I mus' warn you that the airlock's a one way tick't'' The rest of Ke'Cholo's crew tensed up, keeping their preferred weapons in reach. Even Worwir looked up from his datapad to see what was going on. ''I've got de' powa' here'' Ke'Cholo said ''Only thing you got is 8, maybe 9 other people on this vessel that'd kill you if you made even so much as funny move''

 

[Bulthos Dorrir]

"An' ye' I'm the only thin' standin' 'tween your lot and a horrible fate once we make landfall."

If the Duros wanted him to just whip it out and measure it, Bulthos was all too happy to do it. They threw him out the airlock, they missed out on their payday and likely fell prey to the traps hidden by the Sith Lords entombed within. They tried shooting him on the ship, and the resulting firefight was as likely to kill them all as it was just their target. The old pirate didn't have many cards on the table, but as it stood, he seemed to be holding the important one. The Duros's little pencil-pusher with the datapad might be able to appraise a rough black market value for what they found, but Bulthos knew a few people - Sith fetishists, wealthy people with no thought as to how they spent their money and sought to tamper with forces they hadn't a prayer of understanding - that would pay well above the market price.

That assumed, however, they made it through the Sith strongholds alive. Which, given what he had seen so far, Bulthos was almost certain they would need him for.

"But o' course, it seems only Miss Cazoa seems interested in what's lyin' ahead. Migh' be worth it t' le' tongues cool a tick. Or, be'er ye', I can go an' tell her what we're facin', and then she can go an' relay the crucial bits to you, since it seems you an' I are on the verge o' doin' something truly stupid, aye?"

Bulthos shot a glance over to Cazoa, still perched on her crate, offering a small shrug.

 

[GreenEve]

Ah, the classic age old testosterone battle between the male species. Cazoa had been around it all her life, most of her adoptive father's crew were made up of men; always battling it out to see who was better, stronger, more Alpha. A little grin formed over her pink lips while Balthos spoke, she felt amused. Most men didn't realize that women secretly ran the show behind the scenes, mistresses of seduction, cunning actresses. Despite the tension, she knew it wouldn't come to blows, or shots for that matter - Ke'Cholo still held the shotguns in his hands. The payout was too great to be making silly mistakes this early on. Still feeling amused, Cazoa swung herself down from the crate.

'As much as I'd find it thrilling to watch you both blow each other's heads off,' she said looking between Ke'Cholo and Bulthos, 'I really think we need to stick to discussing a game plan. My contact wouldn't throw us together to just stand around bickering. Ke'Cholo, you do need Bulthos' invaluable information about as much as he needs your expert firepower,' she gestured towards Ke'Cholo's crew.

While she spoke, inside her mind she tried to envision herself emitting calm pulses into the atmosphere, spreading over the company, seeping into their bodies. Though she was sure it wouldn't be enough to effect all of them for long - the ability simply wasn't strong enough - she hoped for the time she spoke, it would make them realize how unnecessary this quarrel was. A few times throughout her life, this little power of hers had got her out of a range of bad situations that would have probably resulted in her death.

'This is Ke'Cholo's ship, and it's his rules for the time we are here,' she continued, turning to Bulthos. 'We would do good to abide by them, you would expect the same from anyone aboard your ship.' She then turned her attention to everyone else. 'However, standing around debating who is the most greatest Mercenary of all the ages, is not going to help us once we land. We're heading into Sith space, to a moon full of ancient Sith temples, arguably one of the most dangerous places to set foot in. Let me draw your attention back to the credits that await us, none of us will see any of it if you two keep bickering over who has the biggest junk in their trousers.'

Cazoa sighed and resumed her position leaning against the ammunition crate. 'I'd put those shotguns away for now Ke'Cholo, I'm sure deep down Bulthos appreciates your kind gesture,' she said. 'Maybe it would suit us better to talk somewhere a little more comfortable?' She looked around at his crew. 'Perhaps just us three?'

Maybe without the rest of Ke'Cholo's crew, Bulthos would feel a little more at ease. It would be easier to tap into them if they were alone, a little easier to make sure this whole thing went smoothly. Sure she was glad to be off of her ship where she was constantly surrounded by ghostly memories, but boy did male politics tire her sometimes.

[member="KeCholo"]
[member="Bulthos Dorrir"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

There was a storm coming.

Mephirium had spent months gathering allies and loyalists to his cause from Coruscant to Dromund Kass. In the end, the fleet was proving to be quite formidable - enough, perhaps, to give the Dark Lord some pause. It was not large enough to fight a sustained war with the One Sith's loyalits, but it could, if used effectively, gain him control of Coruscant. More importantly, it could provide him with an opportunity to put down the Dark Lord before he could call upon any further.

Once he sat upon the throne, none would question his rule.

This would all come to pass very soon, but for the moment, Darth Mephirium enjoyed his isolation. For so long he had been keeping up appearances; playing games to appease his underlings and swinging his blade to appease the other Sith Lords. In the end, many had pledged themselves to his service. The only problem was that they rarely ever left him alone anymore.

And so, on the eve of the invasion, he had come to plunder the old Sith Temples on Jaguada. Many others had been here before him, and in truth, he did not desire any material things. He only wished to have some time to himself: time to commune with the force and decide what in Corellia's Nine Hells he was going to do with his new apprentice and the Colonel.

He settled within the bowels of an old tomb. The stone was cracked and beginning the slow decline of erosion that would eventually make it collapse. Dust and dead insects dotted the archaic sandstone floors. This was the tomb of Darth Gean, or so he had been told. The Imperial records he been rather sketchy.

Regardless, he could not remain long. His royal guardsmen would be wondering why he had spirited himself away without so much as a word. They would come looking soon enough. Breathing a heavy sigh, Mephirium allowed himself to sink into the depths of the force and find some semblance of peace. It was easier to think when you had a clear head.

[member="CazoaMani"], [member="Bulthos Dorrir"], [member="KeCholo"]

 

[KeCholo]

''I don't need jack poodoo'' Ke'Cholo said pointing at [member="Bulthos Dorrir"] ''Worwir probably knows ten times more dan' dis' scum'' Ke'Cholo stepped back and gripped the crate behind him ''We don't exactly have time to rest, we'll be out of hyperspace in a few minutes, prepare yerselves for landing'' he said this last part pointing at his crew. All the crew was to depart except for Worwir and Ghaacko who would man the ship while the rest of the crew was gone. ''If you do want to come down from yer high bantha yer majesty, then I have plenty of weapons for you'' Ke'Cholo said to Bulthos, walking back to the cockpit. He was beginning to think this expedition was a bad idea, and that it might be easier to kill the two off and take the loot for himself. The crew disbanded from the cargo hold and went their different ways.

 

[Bulthos Dorrir]

As he and Cazoa were left the only two beings in the cargo hold, Bulthos turned to the younger, smaller woman, lips curled into a tight, wry smile. "Well," the pirate began, "likes his crew, commandin' air o' authority an' respect abou' 'im, no' quick to violence, an' patient with those no' up for his games...grows on you, don' he?"

Walking back towards where he'd been seated previously, Bulthos took a seat and kicked back, strapping himself in per his intrepid captain's orders. He kicked his feet up on a nearby table, making himself at home as the raven-haired woman followed him in. Cazoa was growing on him. Bulthos was initially put off by her all-too-calm demeanor following a pitched gunfight, to be sure. But at the same time, she was the only cool head in an increasingly hot room just moments ago. The old pirate knew better than to try and talk down to a room full of armed goons, even if their leader was about as palatable as the sludge from a Hutt's back end. Further, of everyone else in the room, she seemed to be the only one at least somewhat cognizant of the danger ahead. It didn't completely absolve her of the sudden plot twist that turned this outing into a rescue mission, of course, but that wouldn't much matter.

Not in a little while, anyway.

"Righ', so," Bulthos said, turning his full focus on Cazoa, "wha' exactly d' you know abou' Sith temples? Generally speakin'."

[member=KeCholo] [member=Darth Mephirium] [member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa was a little taken aback by Ke’Cholo’s outburst. She thought he would at least have stayed to hear what knowledge Balthos would share about their destination.

"Well," Balthos said, "likes his crew, commandin' air o' authority an' respect abou' 'im, no' quick to violence, an' patient with those no' up for his games...grows on you, don' he?"

Cazoa rolled her eyes. They still didn’t have a game plan for when they landed. Although most of her jobs were usually thoroughly planned out, she wasn’t necessarily worried. If they ran into trouble, Ke’Cholo’s crew could handle themselves. And if they couldn’t, well she would just commandeer their ship and make a hasty escape while they were left for dead on the moon. She was positive Bulthos had an escape plan if things went south, maybe she could trail him if he made a dash for it. She was stealthy enough not to be noticed.

She felt odd as she sat down opposite Bulthos. Cazoa was sure they would run into some kind of trouble – why else would there be radio silence from the missing crew all this time? Whatever had gotten to them, was waiting for Cazoa and company too. The feeling had been festering inside her ever since they took off into hyperspace and it was increasing with intensity as they grew closer and closer to their destination. She felt like the impending danger was not caused by anyone on this ship, but something external, something belonging to Jagauda. It comforted Cazoa a little. Despite their display of dissatisfaction with each other earlier, her gut told her once the mercenaries had set off they would be sure to work together somewhat harmoniously – after all what they were doing was essentially their job, they had to have some sort of professionalism about them. Unlike Cazoa, she felt Bulthos’ forte didn’t include being social with strangers he just met an hour ago, she would mention it to Ke’Cholo before they landed, maybe he could forgive Balthos a little.

"Righ', so," Bulthos said, turning his full focus on Cazoa, "wha' exactly d' you know abou' Sith temples? Generally speakin'."

Balthos’ deep voice bought her back from being immersed in her thoughts. She looked up at him, finally taking stock of his appearance under the bright ship lights. His black hair was pulled back into a ponytail with signs of greying around the side burns. She guessed his years amounted to late forties. His eyes were brown, light and perceptive. He looked a little rough round the edges after years of work. He was perhaps not as agile as he had been in his younger years, and his left arm had been replaced with a prosthetic. Of course there was the blue feather earring dangling from his ear, the first thing that had bought Cazoa's attention to him at the bar on the Smuggler’s Moon. She felt if he wasn’t so hostile, she could sit and talk to him at ease and rack his brain about all the different things he had seen in the Galaxy.

‘To be honest, I don’t know too much,’ she sighed. ‘My father had seen a lot in his years, but he would never take jobs that involved Sith space, nor discuss Sith topics at length. I think he was afraid maybe.’ Cazoa pondered it for a moment, why hadn’t he taken jobs here? They would have been rich. Strange.

‘I’ve heard odd stories shared in cantinas about Sith history, over exaggerated no doubt considering the types I heard them from,’ she continued, ‘I remember one said he fought a terentatek, and encountered magical beings.’

She leaned back in her chair, waiting for Balthos to finally tell her what she could expect on the moon. She would check in with Ke’Cholo after and share all she had learned, and see if he had picked up the missing crew’s ship on the radar.

[member="KeCholo"]
[member="Bulthos Dorrir"]
[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Bulthos Dorrir]

"Trus' me," Bulthos said, half-chuckling, "if he'd actually fough' a terentatek, he'd no' be tellin' you abou' it."

While he could offer up something of a laugh, Bulthos's tone was as grave as Cazoa had ever heard it

"Now," the pirate continued, "if this temple's anythin' li' wha' I've seen before, I cannae imagine it'd be too terribly well stocked. It's been some time, an' I'm sure jus' abou' everythin' worth takin' has been taken by now. An' the defenses, if tha' should turn ou' to be the case, migh' no' be too terribly difficul' to ge' around. Mos' of it'll be simple enough; deep chasms, pressure pads, heavy doors that can only be opened by havin' a mind for puzzles, an' so on."

Bulthos took a bit of a pause. It sounded easy enough. And to be fair, it sort of was; while effective, the Sith Lords of old knew that their knowledge and their treasures could help the descendants of their order further down the line, further cementing their own dark legacies. As such, while heavily-defended, their tombs were far from impregnable; if they'd truly wanted to be buried and at peace forever, a simple hole, a cover stone, and dirt would have been more than sufficient. Any worthy student of the dark side should, in theory, be able to navigate the puzzles and traps to find the knowledge and power sealed within, and swear fealty to the long-dead Dark Lord that had left such knowledge behind. Of course, the operative word was worthy, and that meant something very, very different to the average treasure hunter than it did the average Sith disciple.

"Now," the pirate continued, "it doesnae matter much what we end up takin'. There's always some bloody fool tha'll pay top price for a tome that winds up bein' full o' Sith recipes or gardenin' tips. Bu' the real prizes..." Bulthos paused, almost unsure if he should continue, "...well, we'll go an' handle tha' another time. Far as defenses go, I'd no' be surprised to see a few hounds; descendants of the ones originally seeded to the tomb to protect it. Mines'd be ano'er common trap, so watchin' the footin' would be impor'an', too."

Bulthos waited a little while longer, looking the young woman up and down once before asking something seemingly random.

"How old are you, anyway?"

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa sat quietly while Balthos spoke, absentmindedly playing with the end of her long braid. She nodded in acknowledgement when he paused occasionally. So the Sith liked traps? Luckily for her, the abnormal agility she possessed might come in handy. She was light on her feet, silent, and quite a good climber. Maybe they could get into the depths of the temple with her ability, and find the most precious of loot the tombs had to offer? Could they get to places that had never been touched before? Bulthos’ clever mind might prove useful in solving any puzzles they came across, and Ke’Cholo and his crew would kill anything that spawned from the tomb with ease.

After a moment of silence, Bulthos asked her a rather personal question, she felt.

[SIZE=9pt]"How old are you, anyway?"[/SIZE]

Cazoa raised her eyebrows.

‘Don’t you know you’re not supposed to ask a lady her age?’ she chuckled back at him. ‘Why do you ask?’

 

[Bulthos Dorrir]

"Because you've a lo' o life left," Bulthos said, not at all joking, "an' nothin' - nothin' - down there is worth it. Somethin' seems hanky, ou' o' place, or you ge' a bad feelin' abou' anythin', and we're ou' o' there. End o' discussion. That said..."

It was as much of a warning as Bulthos was going to give. Though young, Cazoa was old enough to understand the risks involved, and the ominous tone in which the risks were given voice. And yet she had chosen to come along anyway. Whether it was her sense of honor to Pali's mysterious crew going missing, her lust for untold riches in the bony fingers of a long-dead Sith outweighing her common sense, or something else, Bulthos couldn't tell. But whatever it was, the old pirate got the sense that the young woman wasn't going to be swayed.

"...the big ticket item down there, if it's no' been taken already an' it actually existed, would be the Sith holocron. More often than no', it'd be a four-sided pyramid, abou' the size of your fist. It's the sum o' tha' particular Sith Lord's knowledge, everythin' they've learned, everythin' they've done, any advancements they've made or any secrets they've unlocked, it'll all be in there. Even a fairly empty one'll catch big money with the righ' buyer.

"Only thin' is, we'd likely have to pry it from the mad bastard's hands, righ' where security'd be thickest."

Bulthos opted not to tell Cazoa any more than that. She wasn't going to be dissuaded anyway, so why tell her the whole truth? He hadn't lied to her at all. A holocron was an individually-crafted item that held all the knowledge its crafter possessed and wanted to pass on, but it could only be accessed by someone that could touch the Force; a rare gift that he was sure none in their little troupe had. But more to the point, Sith holocrons were evil. Not their makers, and not their knowledge. The devices themselves were monstrous. Bulthos had half a mind to tell her that if they did find a holocron, it was going to stay right there on whatever pedestal it was and continue to gather dust. There were bigger scores elsewhere. Other ships to plunder. A lifetime of madness wasn't worth the relative pittance.

 

[GreenEve]

[SIZE=9pt]"...the big ticket item down there, if it's no' been taken already an' it actually existed, would be the Sith holocron. More often than no', it'd be a four-sided pyramid, abou' the size of your fist. It's the sum o' tha' particular Sith Lord's knowledge, everythin' they've learned, everythin' they've done, any advancements they've made or any secrets they've unlocked, it'll all be in there. Even a fairly empty one'll catch big money with the righ' buyer.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]"Only thin' is, we'd likely have to pry it from the mad bastard's hands, righ' where security'd be thickest."[/SIZE]

Cazoa’s interest turned to this holocron Balthos spoke of, mostly because of the weariness she sensed from him when he bought it up. It was like he desired such an item for its price tag, but felt genuine unease when it crossed his mind. Secrets and knowledge, she liked these. Maybe the knowledge inside would lead her to another big score. She pondered this development for a moment, sitting quietly, staring into space. When she was sure that nobody was listening with neither their ears, or a craftily placed device, she spoke.

‘Something like that,’ her voice almost a whisper, ‘would probably already be looted. But, if not and we happen to come across one of these holocruns, maybe we should keep it between you and I, hey? That way, we can take Ke’Cholo’s ten percent, he’ll be happy, and we’ll have a little something extra to split, and get a ride home on this vessel. Something to think about.’

Cazoa would more than likely be taking the missing crews ship back to Pali if it were still in working order, along with any of it’s crew…if they found any survivors that is. As far as she was aware, Bulthos would need a ride back to wherever he needed to go; it would benefit them if Ke’Cholo were content with the cut of the loot. If there happened to be no more holocruns in the tombs, then she would definitely negotiate on the ten percent offered to her, it seemed like a petty amount considering the types of danger Bulthos had mentioned they may encounter.

Cazoa's senses could feel the ship slowing – they must be approaching the Moon of Jaguada.

‘Give me a moment with Ke’Cholo,’ she said, standing from her chair. ‘And then come to the cockpit?’

She turned to leave the room, but hesitated.

‘As circumstances would have it,’ she recalled Bulthos’ earlier statement. ‘I don’t have much left in my life to make it worth living. Whatever my destiny holds down there, I will face it with valour.’

She smiled softly and wondered why she had felt the need to share something marginally more personal than her age. It was true though, to some extent she hadn't been the luckiest girl alive. She had been an ill treated orphan, then had been sold into slavery which really wasn't half as bad as it could have been. There she had developed her first meaningful friendship with her master, but then it had all been ripped away from her when she had been kidnapped, all because she had flung a blaster across the room with her mind. Her kidnappers had turned out to be pretty decent as far as pillaging pirates go, and soon their leader had become a father figure to Cazoa...though the only time he had ever hinted that they had been a 'family', was when he had died in her arms and called her his daughter. The Galaxy obviously didn't want her to be loved in any way shape or form.

‘But I won’t surrender without a fight! Destiny will have to take me pistol’s blazing!’ she called out as she walked into the corridor. She hoped this would redeem her moment of weakness.

And she hoped Ke’Cholo would be in a better mood when she arrived in the cockpit.

[member="Bulthos Dorrir"]
[member="KeCholo"]
[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Bulthos Dorrir]

Bulthos waved off her suggestion to go to the cockpit. When he was on his own ship, the cockpit was reserved solely for the captain, the helmsman, the co-pilot, and anybody that absolutely had to be there. Nobody else. He suspected that their Duros host would have felt much the same way, especially considering their growing antagonism. Whether either of them liked it or not, Bulthos was a guest on the vessel, and guests had no business being in one of the most sensitive areas of their host's ship.

When Cazoa did leave, however, Bulthos couldn't help but tightly shake his head. He was all for her offer to keep their dealings a secret, but facing what awaited her with valor and courage? Had she listened to a single word he'd said? No score, no matter how big or how rare, was worth one's life. And she was going to go trotting down there and resolving to face whatever it was with aplomb.

Had she tried to impress him? Bulthos couldn't know. But with that attitude, she'd only get herself killed.

 

[GreenEve]

Ke’Cholo’s sensors had picked up the missing ship. It was fitted with a locator beacon, and was still emitting a frequency, which meant the ship was more than likely still intact. Cazoa’s gut told her the crew were dead. They would have all been equipped with comm-links, ensuring their ability to contact Pali with updates on their expedition, instead – radio silence for two weeks. Ke’Cholo’s scans hadn’t picked up any other vessels within range.

Cazoa stood in the doorway of the cockpit. ‘If the missing crew had been ambushed by pirates, then their ship would have been stolen too,’ she pondered, gazing out at the moon. ‘Yet it’s still here. Could you locate the cluster of temples they were headed to? I expect it would be within three to six miles of their landing zone.’

The orange moon was barely visible against its mother planet Jaguada – a large and extremely barren desert world; so desolate that only one, long forgotten city had been built upon its dry and hot surface. The Moon however had a weather system, and a breathable Type I atmosphere – vital for supporting indigenous fauna. Unlike Jaguada’s bleak sand-desert surface, the Moon’s terrain was made up of canyons, dry river beds, mountains, and small forests of dormant plant life that only came alive for a short while at the end a two-week rainy season. All in all, the place was bleak, foreboding, and teeming with the Dark Side.

‘It looks like there’s a storm brewing,’ Cazoa said to Ke'Cholo, noticing a cluster of dark purple clouds forming to the east of the landing zone.

The storm was one of the last that the moon would see before it was plunged back into scorching heat. Unluckily for the crew, the beasts on the surface would no doubt be revitalised by the invigorating water that they had been deprived of for so long.

‘Doesn’t look like it will hit the landing zone for a good few hours,’ she added. ‘But I’m guessing you’ll want to land sooner rather than later.' She really didn't feel like getting struck by lightning on their way down.

Leaving Ke’Cholo to do his piloting, and with no sign of Bulthos joining them, Cazoa wandered to the cargo hold to gear up for their excursion. She normally wouldn’t require much more than her two pistols, but the steadily growing unease she felt prodded her to add a few more weapons to her arsenal. Glancing through the weapons locker, she opted for an E-11 rifle, which she secured to the back of her belt, and two sharp knives which fitted snug in empty sheaths concealed in each of her boots. Although her one-suit was not the strongest of armour, it would provide enough stretch in the fabric to accommodate her agility – a compromise that she was always willing to make. She had escaped injury many times by a well-timed somersault or a dash up wall to hide on beams – something that she couldn’t do in a heavy piece of armour. Since the Moon would be far too hot, she would leave her cloak on the ship. The last thing she picked up was a light helmet to keep the impending rain from her eyes once they landed.

Satisfied, Cazoa returned to Bulthos. She unfastened the E-11 from her belt and set it on the table where Bulthos’ feet rested, along with the helmet.

‘Are you planning on picking up a weapon?’ she inquired, looking at the pirate as she sat down. ‘Or am I going to have to keep my eye on you in case you get attacked by shyracks?’

Cazoa unravelled her plait, combing through the dark waterfall of curls with her fingers. She braided it again, and twisted it into a bun which she fastened securely at the back of her head. Nothing more painful than having your hair get caught on your way down from a tree - she wouldn’t make that mistake again.

[member="KeCholo"]
[member="Bulthos Dorrir"]
[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[KeCholo]

''I'll drop us all off and Ghaacko and Worwir can stay on the ship and man her.'' Ke'Cholo said to [member="CazoaMani"] ''Strap yerselves in'' Ke'Cholo would broadcast over the ship. He entered the planet's atmosphere and the hull of the ship became almost lava hot while he piloted his vessel to the ground. He eventually landed the ship and opened the hull. He gave specific orders to Ghaacko and Worwir ''If things get bad, radio to me and get the kark outta there. You two are average pilots, but a well skilled fighter could rip this ship apart.'' Whilst saying this, the rest of the crew unloaded and grabbed their preferred weapons, some wielded the acid scatterguns, others weapons that had for many years. Ke'Cholo stared at the temple, only a few decameters away. ''Ready?'' he asked.

[member="Bulthos Dorrir"]