Faction The Spice Must Flow | NJO

[Mrurh'en'lase | Hel]

Equipment: Robes | Lightsaber

Coruscant. Also known as "the Queen of the Core."

A fitting name, even if the world had never really held much splendor in the glaring eyes of the woman idling over it. Everything happened here, for better or for worse. Nothing that she truly enjoyed though, for the most part as she spent most of her time in the temple practicing and studying over and over and over again to painfully perfect her combat and knowledge. It was agonizing yet did little to remove her trait of impatience and haste, despite its other beneficial results.

Sitting atop a windy spire in some unmarked district of the city - one close to CoCo Town at the very least - dressed in her black robes with a leather pack resting next to her dejected, the hybrid Padawan sighed and cracked her knuckles, emphasizing her restlessness with dulled pops. No one had showed up yet that she could see which saddened her somewhat. She had hoped that they would show up just as quickly as she did.

And so, until she was ready to go forth with her plan, she was subjected to a lonely and painful examination of the city before her. Her tinted red stare wandered from the skyscraper in the distance to the other skyscraper in the distance, and then another and another, taking in each detail and each tower and each bloc and district visible to the eye. And in those few remaining minutes of silent - on her part - examination of the crown jewel of the Galactic Alliance, it dawned on her: nothing was different between all of those things. Perhaps this was why it never held much splendor to the Padawan. It was bustling and glittering, of course, but all the same. Aside from a few landmarks here and there, it was all the same metal and glass and lights and speeders and ships and people.

People.

Another factor in her tepid opinion on the world and the subject of her plan this day. Far too many people to monitor all at once and far too many control in mass no matter the power of the ones in charge.

The young Padawan had lived on enough "crown jewels" under various overlords and in countless star systems of contrasting laws and regulations to know that even with the Jedi at the helm, the world was still and would forever be a home for scum and villainy. She could not change that. The Jedi could not change that. Nothing would ever change that. There would always be a knife in the alleyway, a dancer taken into slavery by a greasy Hutt, a debt paid in blaster bolts. Crime was as much a cog in the machines of society as peace was. Without crime, was it really even a society? Of course, it had to be checked every now and again so as to avoid it evolving into the main gears in the machine and overtake even the basest of sensibilities of sentient life. That was, perhaps, the best role the Jedi could fill when playing peacekeepers. They could, at the very least, attempt to whittle it down to a negligible level and make it so buried that it only affected the dregs. An unfortunate fate for the dregs, but an acceptable one to the hybrid.

That was her goal, put simply: to traverse the winding grids of Coruscant's Undercity and do her part to whittle away that scum and villainy. Incapable of removing it completely, but capable of burying it under enough dirt for a lasting peace. To that end, she reached into the pack laying next to her and pulled out a datapad, flicking it on with a light push and a swipe. Inside its whirring systems, it held a collection of notes taken on a particularly troublesome, but still moderately hidden Spice ring that had taken over Level 3765. Having discovered the ring via the death of an old acquaintance forced to live in squalor below the city's highest levels - reasons for such enforcement being still hidden to her - the young woman decided to take matters into her own hands and do what she could. She even did her fellow Padawan's a favor by hinting at the ring's existence and her desire to put a stop to it. Perhaps they would join if they truly wanted to do good. Perhaps they would even be rewarded for it.

Finalized with the notes and with her goals set in stone in her mind, Mrurh'en'lase placed her datapad back into her pack, rose to her feet and slung it over her shoulder, and leaped off the spire into a swan dive. The wind felt sharp against her skin and the ends of her robes flapped like wings as the speeder lanes below drew closer and closer in her freefall. Milliseconds before she would collide with one of the blurred vehicles, however, she shifted her weight and flipped forward, landing feet first on the hood of a droid-driven taxi. Taking a seat next to the mechanical driver, the young woman would then forcibly direct it towards the only known portal to the Undercity in this unmarked district, which was closer to CoCo Town than she was sure many knew.

Into this portal she hoped her fellow Padawans would follow her and join in her quest against this spice gang, but they would have to catch up first. Thus did she force the Droid taxi to descend, lower and lower into the shadowy, smog filled dwellings of the Undercity. All the way down until she was uncertain of how long she had been descending and only slightly knowing how far she had gone by the occasional markings on the battered rusted walls.

Level 5102. Level 5031. Level 4287. Level 3911.

Level 3765.

​

Spoiler: OOC

This is just a small faction thread to introduce some new characters, build up some new enemies, get some Coruscant exploration in, and bring in some explorative bible posts. I am not expecting a huge turn out for this, but I hope that those of you who do participate enjoy it! This is my first major post outside of Sith stuff so apologies if it's rough around the edges, I feel like I'm starting over with this character.

Essentially, the Story is as follows: A Spice Ring has taken over Level 3765 and my character is going to investigate and put a stop to it. She has "subtly" invited her fellow Padawans to join her and do their part for the NJO. Whether or not they are successful, caught, etc. will be decided later on.

 

[Tiadu]

Mrurh'en'lase | Hel

If one had the privilege to be born or have the wealth required to live above on the Upper City of Coruscant, most likely a common piece of advice was said to them.

Avoid the Underworld.

It was known for where the filth and scum of people reside. The further you go down, the more the chaos becomes more and more clear. The crimes, the violence, the hatred, continues to grow the deeper one goes. To the citizens who weren't as lucky to live up top, however, they are burdened to live among it. Is it fair? No, life never is. As hard as one may try they can never make life fair. But one can take steps to make life better. It is the closest thing to it.

Tiadu had only seen the bottomless-looking pit once before, on the day of his arrival to Coruscant. It was only a passing glance, not enough to get a true scope of what life was like down there. But sure enough, the villainy that lurks below could still be seen, heard. Felt. Tiadu felt it, deep down. And now he stared right at it. The transport that he had summoned to take him down to the lower levels had started its descent. Tiadu stared out of the window taking in the scenery. Shuttles and other transports made their way across the large gap in the planet. Landing platforms line up along the ventilation shaft walls and all types of different life working about. The combination of the different smells that makes up the musk of the Undercity would make anyone want to throw up. Tiadu definitely felt wanted to.

The onboard HUD displaying the current level he was at finally reached the level that was listed in the assignment notice. Level 3765. The influence of crime had hit this level the same as any others. It was vile, nasty, and infested with suspicious characters who had different purposes than just living out their lives. It was dark, the only lights illuminating the area were the ones around the landing pad for the transport. The padawan nodded at the droid driver, signaling it was okay for him to leave. The droid took his request without haste. The shuttle was gone and off the landing pad as quickly as it got there. He did not blame the droid, staying in this area was asking for a kill or be killed situation to occur.

The objectives listed on the notice were to take down a Spice ring hidden somewhere along the level. A task that sounds moderately difficult to complete yet can go very wrong very quickly. The objective now, however, was to find his fellow padawans and make sure he doesn't get robbed.

 

[Myk Venture]

"So much for an easy case. Tracking a spice operation offworld is probably enough to get the CorSec brass off my back. Most badges in my shoes would just hand it off to CSF. What can I say? I'm known for my personal touch. Besides one or two of Galactic City's finest still owe me a few favors..."​

Detective Mykas Venture Memlogs, 864 ABY
​

"I don't care about any travel advisories! Take me lower."

His aircab's droid pilot whistled plaintively. A panel lit up in front of him. With a scowl Myk shoved in his credit chit until he heard a chime. He slammed the passenger door on indignant hoots indicating the pilot had processed his lousy tip. Intermittent neon lights informed him he was on Level 3985, the lowest point where civilian traffic was currently authorized by Coruscant's authorities. Still over two hundred levels above his destination.

Venture could handle himself on New Coronet's meanest streets but Galactic City was another beast entirely. He checked the charge on his service weapon before tucking it back inside his concealed underarm holster. Far worse things than gangs lurked within Coruscant's underworld. He suddenly felt under dressed for the occasion. Too late to back out now. He moseyed very casually over to the portal's edge. It certainly looked like a bottomless pit from up here.

There was a flash of gold in his eyes. His logic matrix analyzed trajectories. Myk took a short hop into oblivion.

Cracks formed along the duracrete hangar pad on impact. Servomotors in the detective's legs strained to compensate. He grunted more in effort than in pain. It would take worse than a long drop to rattle Myk Venture. Pad registry placed him on Level 3792 but his immediate surroundings had obviously been abandoned for some time. Good thing that. It was best to avoid any awkward conversations. Only a few more levels to go and he was back on the ring's trail.

Mrurh'en'lase | Hel Tiadu​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

Dagon never got used to it. It being the subsiding noise of life with each level lower. It was a gradual decline, almost perfect. From the bustling streets of the higher levels with endless chatter to the downtrodden, eerie lower levels of the Galactic Capital. Through all his adventures with Master Zoryu in the gutters of Coruscant, he never coped with how the Jedi could be able to protect the galaxy when they never could protect Coruscant - the heart of the galaxy.

He knew only little of the Hel, the padawan who had called a few of their ranks into this...case. The murder of Ido Bastra was already racking up space most of the space in his head, and now this. Dagon knew the pink Chiss only by passing, nothing more than a courteous nod in the temple and a few shared lessons. Her ominous call rippled through the Force wrongly. Not only did his inherent curiousity to the case drove him but also that of the fellow padawan.

Level 3675.

Gone was the New Jedi Order embroidered leather jacket, switched for one without its markings and a clip for his lightsaber within it. This far from the usual levels of Coruscant was a dangerous place even for Jedi. As much as he tried giving off the spacer vibes, he could never hide the glitter of purity in his blue eyes.

<"Hel. Where are you?"> Dagon asked through the comms as he finally reached the designated level. He knew she had arrived first but she was not at their rendezvous point.

Unless he was at the wrong place.

At the wrong time.

Mrurh'en'lase | Hel | Tiadu | Myk Venture

 

[Krau Rook]

​

The upper city of Coruscant had always left a coarse, rough taste in Krau’s mouth. A false wine draped over the top layer of a much more rancious drink. He preferred harsher drinks anyways. The underlevels had always called to him, from his earliest days on the planet. Perhaps it was the idea of being away from the regulations for just a moment, not that he didn’t welcome them. They were surly a welcomed change of pace from the life he had lived. Perhaps it was simply for a change of pace, something that wasn’t the cycle of study, research, and training with Master Maynard Treicolt .

The other Jedi of the Order could wonder what they wanted about Krau and his fascination with the lower levels, as the Mandalorian never felt much of a reason to explain his deep walks as he had come to call them. They could wonder as much as they pleased, as Krau knew, and that was enough for him in the end of the day.

Ever since his connection to the Living Force was made manifest, ever since he was brought into the study of it’s workings and shown it’s deepest machinations, he always felt that the polished world shied away from the true Living Force. Here, in the dark depths, was where the Force was truly alive. Not the calm, quiet halls of the temple. Not the patrolled, guarded streets of the Upper City. No, here in the grime and muck was where each emotion drove at him through a million different minds, begging to be tamed like a pack of wild kath hounds. Here was the baser view of the Force and it’s nature.

Here he was given true sight into the planet he had come to love.

People down here were worried for much more… sentient reasons. Taxes, if they would receive a promotion at their work, and family issues. Bills late, due dates, and various other chrono-based frets flooding through the metropolitan undergrowth of the world. There was a heartbeat to the noise, and a sense of warmth letting the Mando know that this is where he belonged. That this was the closest he ever should have to a proper home. Not the planet itself, but the people. The Coruscanti, in it’s most basic form.

Then it came screeching through at the Mando, ringing through his beskar and hurtling itself deep into his chest. A call, a shout of a piper raging into the dark, a presence he had come to know during his time at the Temple. He loved to people watch, not to chat, but just to watch. Never to pry, of course. That was rude, invasive, and not how he wished to use the Force. He simply bathed in the presence of his peers, tasting their colors and weight in the Living Force.

Was that....

Hel? Descending, but for what reason? The only mentionable floors below him would be layers and layers of trading and residential hubs. Much better sightseeing on the surface. What could have brought her….

3765.

<”Hel, tion'jor ibi'tuur?”>* He murmured to himself. Shaking his head. Turning on his heel and starting to make his way to a local speeder hub.

*Hel, why today?

/// Mrurh'en'lase | Hel | Tiadu | Myk Venture | Dagon Kaze \\\​

 

[Mrurh'en'lase | Hel]

Equipment: Robes | Lightsaber

3765. It was not as bad one would normally assume a lower level of Coruscant would be, but it was by no means a good place. It was coated in old sticky rain - acidic and sour - that had been dropping for weeks from the upper levels, forming puddles mixed with the greenish-glop of the pipes and drains. Each unavoidable step through it left a nauseating feeling in the pit of Hel's stomach as she traversed those mostly dark streets, the eyes of nocturnal beggars and disappearing lanterns being her only comforts of light in a city that looked night during the day. One particularly unpleasant looking fellow had lurched toward her from the darkness, gurgling some eldritch curses through swollen lips and yellow teeth before falling to his face, unconscious or dead. She did not know.

What she did know, then, as she walked through those mucky alleyways away from the possible-corpse was that this was the real world, at least for the lessers. The Non-Jedi. It was not some haughty gilded lifestyle full of decadent foods and wines like the politicians enjoyed, but one of grungy sin and desperate desires and fear. Fear that she could feel pressing against the barriers she had built for herself upon the day she had been named Padawan. Fear that she had felt before. Sin and desires she had felt before.

Acted upon before.

The usually vibrant red of her eyes had grown incredibly dark as she turned corner after corner, wandering towards the - hopefully correct - designated rendezvous point she had listed for any followers to meet her at. There, she would wait for ten minutes before moving to the last-known location of the Spice ring. A barely spoken of cantina some ways near the center of 3765's Eastern District, where undesirables and more swollen fellows would likely be frequenting. There, she and whoever was with her would question the bartender and search for any possible clues that could have been left behind.

And then, as she finally stepped into a portion of the street lit by a dim light fixture from a possibly inhabited tenement, she was set upon by two black-cloaked individuals, brandishing what looked to be vibroknives and screaming in some alien language that she could not make out in the frantic seconds of the ambush.

They ambushed me?

The young Padawan gave off her own scream, partly out of fear and partly out of frustration for not sensing their presence beforehand. How long had they been following her? How long had she even been walking? Had she missed her own rendezvous point?

She could not answer before the first knife nearly made contact with her left arm, causing her to reflexively shunt her unassailed arm forwards with a violent blast of the Force, sending the first cloaked ambusher backward into the darkness. A loud crack signified either death or incapacitation, neither of which she cared about.

The next assailant managed to make contact immediately, slicing open the now extended arm, the blade carving through the Padawan's robes and skin with ease. Another scream escaped her throat at the pain which led her to send her other arm forward into a rapid uppercut to the chin of the assailant. Empowered by the Force, the strike snapped the man's head back completely, dropping him to the wet floor gurgling, leaving the Padawan alone and furious.

A final scream of frustration shook her bones before she set off once more after reaffirming that the rendezvous point was only a few more blocks away. She reached towards it through the Force, to re-path her way through the shadows and nearly choked on her spit upon finding that someone was there already. A presence it the Force. Someone had beaten her to it despite her having the head start. Blood ran from her open wound that she took almost no interest in dealing with, the embarrassment at being late for her own mission almost blinding as she marched closer and closer, passing increasingly more inhabited buildings. Passing more unseen figures that began to follow her.

And when she finally came upon the rendezvous point, she only grunted - quite angrily, her tone laced with the pain shooting from her wound - to the man she saw waiting for her: "Dagon. You're...early.....is anyone else coming or are you it?"

Dagon Kaze | Krau Rook | Myk Venture | Tiadu

 

[Tris]

Coruscant would never change. It didn't matter who held it at what time in the middle of any crisis it would remain the same. Still, it always felt strange for her to return to the place where she was raised for more than half of her adolescent life. As the Coub descended the levels of the city-planet she remembered why it felt strange. The pull of the Force, as if telling her she was on the wrong path, attempted to always bring her back to the temple. It was all she could do to just keep easing the ship down and down and down. Eventually, she would get so far down that the pull was merely a nagging sensation in the back of her mind.

She hated it here.

But the money on this job was too good to pass up. Spice smuggling was easy, a lot easier than most folks thought. The gang that held level 3765 made it even easier. She'd heard they had connections to big people upstairs in the Senate and even back to Corellia that made it easy to operate in the shadows and sometimes, in the open. They were waiting for her, the presumed leader waving his four arms frantically, a big grin saddled on his simian face.

"GeeGee, make sure we land clean. I'm gonna start getting the spice and manifest ready." The astromech beeped softly and plugged into the ship's computer with its scomp link. The old ship shuddered for a moment but quickly regained its balance and heading, landing with a soft squelch. There was really only one room in the Coub and it was pretty much her everything room. From cooking to lounging, exercise, and storage, it was all here. She sighed as he pulled a latch on the floor, right next to where the boarding ramp was, and lifted with a grunt of effort. There it was...A small haul, but even a small haul of glitterstim was worth it, especially with the GA's new bounty on smugglers and their clamping down of illicit activities in their space. With a hum the person-sized blocks slid out on their repulsors, the first block holding the manifest magnetically attached to its case. She checked the cases to make sure they hadn't been damaged, they'd still pay for it but it would be much less, and when she was satisfied she opened the ramp. Its hydrolics hissed and struggled to open, she badly needed to see to repairs on the old girl.

"There she is!" Said the low-ranking lieutenant. He was short, an Ardennian, and he was dressed like her. Spacer leathers, vest, jacket and a pair of goggles. His compatriots were a little more threatening, a Gamorean and a basilisk, both openly armed with the basilisk holding heavy repeaters in both pairs of hands. Arionna swallowed hard and walked the blocks down onto the platform.

"You have any trouble gettin' thru?" The simian asked. Ariona shook her head, her read tentacles bouncing this way and that.

"Not at all. They say they're looking for smugglers but I got in with the guy you said easier than a Zeltron on Life Day." The Ardennian laughed at that and the Gamorean thought it was okay to laugh to but after a ribbing from the more serious Basilisk he stopped snorting. "Anyway, here's the manifest. Should be all there, I'll be waiting in the ship for you to confirm. Don't make me come back out." She turned to walk back up the ramp.

"Oooooh Dolly's a little scary, eh boys?" The Nautolan paused and shot a glare back at the small four-armed man and gave him a little mental push with the Force. The laughter quieted and she could feel his fear slowly starting to seep in. "Should be ehhh twenty minutes." Ariona nodded.

Mrurh'en'lase | Hel Dagon Kaze Tiadu Krau Rook

 

[Myk Venture]

"If you're not careful a world like Coruscant can swallow you whole. Down here in the undercity being careful isn't always enough. These streets are sick. Infested. With vice, corruption and a lot worse besides..."​

Detective Mykas Venture Memlogs, 864 ABY​

Acrid rain triggered a sense memory. Thoughts came unbidden. Defective wetware simulated peculiar sensations of déjà vu.

Myk sparked a cigarra with practiced ease. Navigating down to Level 3765 without running across any trouble had been something of a minor miracle. Security presence below 3985 was virtually nonexistent but life still went on throughout the 3700s in its own dismal way. He was an outsider here and that made him particularly vulnerable. He could not afford to linger anywhere for long.

Violent screams penetrated the city ambiance. Detective Venture took a long drag and pursed his lips. Damsel in distress was the oldest street con in the book, but the security officer had a keen ear for deception and these cries sounded genuine. One day his bleeding heart was going to get him killed. By the time he reached a run down tenement the fight was over. Two fresh bodies in the street. No sign of anyone else.

"You alright, pal?"

He reached down to help one up. Myk caught the flash of a vibro knife in time to grab the confused assailant's wrist and bend with overwhelming force. Once clobbered back into the gutter he noticed the same gang tattoos he'd been tracking from Corellia. Seems like this was the right place after all. It was too dangerous to hang around for some answers and he wasn't about to haul a couple street thugs two hundred levels up to the nearest CSF precinct for booking so he left them be.

This was all starting to feel above his pay grade.

 

[Tiadu]

Mrurh'en'lase | Hel Dagon Kaze Krau Rook Tris Myk Venture

The lights among the walkway were very helpful in finding his way around. Barely any light from the surface ever touched down to the lower levels. Drenches them in a sea of darkness. Without the light in this darkness, no one could possibly think about living in the surrounding filth. Almost a perfect representation of the task he and the others were sent to do. He was to be the light that guided others, that allows people to live freely and without fear. That was the objective, the real mission at hand.

The rendezvous point was indicated on the datapad with a bright red dot on the datapad screen. Tiadu's position was placed not too far away from the designated zone. A quick walk and he would be in range of the others soon enough. That's all he needed to know. He took a couple more seconds to analyze the route to get the area and then stuffed the datapad back into his cargo pocket.

Instead of wearing the usual garb of the Jedi, Tiadu wore something different to try to take the attention off of him. A common smuggler's jacket and some pants that made him look like every other high profile cargo transporter. The goal was to look like a local as if he's been here a thousand times and plans to come back soon. Although the outfit wasn't original, it would keep the watchful eyes of the Underworld off of him for just a little while longer.

As a brisk jog turned back into a steady walk, Tiadu arrived at the rendezvous area. He looked across at Dagon Kaze , a face that he had not seen before but felt a good connection with. He was to be trusted, for sure. And to his right Mrurh'en'lase | Hel , who didn't look as tidy and clean as the rest of them. Her wounds were visible from where he stood. It wasn't a good look, from the outside perspective it makes her a possible target for a robbery or kidnapping. For the possible assailants, he felt bad for.

Tiadu walked closer to the two and nodded his head, not saying a word. He understood the situation, it was better to them do all the talking then get in the way and say something that wasn't useful.

 

[Dagon Kaze]

"Dagon. You're...early.....is anyone else coming or are you it?"

"Tiadu's comin--" he began but halted as he noticed Hel's bleeding arm. "What. Happened?" a slight alarm in his usually composed tone.

The Jedi didn't really wait for an answer, he reached for the hybrid's arm and called on the Force. He was no trained healer but what little he knew he applied it. Slow the bleeding, at least.

"You went head first to recon?" he asked, assuming she'd gone straight in the Spicer Ring's territories to scout out without waiting on the rest.

She looked that stubborn.

Mrurh'en'lase | Hel | Tiadu | Myk Venture | Tris