Walking With A Ghost

[Ein Harper]

(Thread is taking place at the Seven Moons Ranch on Bothuwai. Staff has just recently been replaced and there is a lax in security. Enemies of the Confederacy, enemies of [member="Tmoxin Temi"] specifically, and general unsavory types are encouraged to join and cause some small scale chaos.)​

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Jorah found himself staring at the shades of twilight and sanguine that intermingled in the skies of Bothuwai.

For a place of such chaotic history, the home of the Bothans felt oddly peaceful. Were it not for the filters of his helmet restricting the earthy scent of the plains below, Jorah might have taken a bit of trip down to enjoy the scenery. Unfortunately however, there was business to be done. He had not come to the ranch just to see the sights; not that he could have afforded without being called for a contract anyway.

This was where the rich went off to play. Jorah had come to make sure they kept playing, and to assure that their credits were going into the right pockets.

His pockets in particular.

The Seven Moons Ranch was home to one [member="Tmoxin Temi"], a woman whose position within the burgeoning confederacy made her relevant to Jorah's interests. Thoughts about the resurgence of yet another southern junta rising set aside, the hunter had moved avidly to make a new contact: particularly a wealthy one.

The shuttle's landing struts hissed as they were retracted into its carapace. With a dull roar, the vessel arched back and sailed on toward the skies, leaving Jorah alone on the landing pad. With a single lasting glance cast out toward the plains beyond, the hunter hoisted his rifle up over his shoulder and strode toward the ranch's entrance.

It was no secret that the ranch had suffered an assault recently. As far as Jorah knew, an assassin had made its way into the place, slaughtered a number of employees, and caused a general ruckus. The assassination had been halted, but the staff was changed out almost immediately. The ranch was in flux, the signs of which ever apparent as seemingly new employees scuttled unsurely from one task to the next.

"Seem a little shook," Jorah murmured as he walked through the portal that led to the ranch's interior. "Let's find my hostess."

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

Tmoxin did not normally meet with your run-of-the-mill mercenary, but since her ranch had been torn to shreds by a man - still mysterious to the Hapan at this juncture - and to be fair, not just a man but a strong Force user, packed full with an arsenal akin to a Mandalorian's, she had been on the search for a Head of Security. Jorah came recommended to her through some Confederacy pipeline. Whether it was through Black Scorpion, Aedan Miles's band of merry pirates, or through [member="Darth Metus"] himself, she did not know.

Why I cannot get a shred of decent intel I will never know, she thought, her brow crinkling at Jorah’s dossier, and the sheer lack of information upon the man. Here she was on Bothawui where literally one in five of the population was a verified secret agent, and yet there were a couple of cryptic lines in the man’s file like, “Licensed Trauma Surgeon” and “entertaining at birthday parties.” A derisive but still ladylike snort escaped Tmoxin as she tossed the flimsiplast folder into a nearby trash bin. The problem with marching out and demanding better intelligence on the mercenary was that she’d lost all of her regular Bothan staff in the prior Seven Moons attack - one which she liked to refer to as more of a kerfuffle - and she trusted absolutely no one in her current alien crew.

Today the Hapan executive wore an ensemble that was a cross between a riding outfit and armor. Stretchy material had been reinforced with armorweave so that when she was riding her keffis out in the Bothawui foothills, she would have a modicum of protection.

Again, the kerfuffle.

Scaffolding and Bothan workers moving ant-like around the ranch, indicated that the structure was under repair, but for the most part the renovation appeared mostly complete.

The redhaired Dark Jedi watched Jorah from behind a pane of clari-crystalline, eyeing the rifle warily, but not allowing her slim form, nor expression to betray any fear. The ex-officer gave a small, float-parade wave to get his attention, beckoning hiim into the ranch’s interior.

[member="Jorah"]

 

[Ein Harper]

Pretty looking girl.

Jorah met the wave with a slight nod of his head. He didn't bother removing his helm; anonymity was a man's greatest weapon after all. The former surgeon's arms folded behind the small of his back as he strolled up to Miss Temi, his thoughts withheld as he took stock of her.

Not short. Not tall. Angular features that bespoke of a chosen lineage, brown eyes that could be a falsely warm as she might wish, and hair of a rather uncommon shade for standard humans. If he had to guess, Jorah would go with either Hapan or one of the other more delicate human races. Given the background of this reborn Confederacy and its ties with corporatism, such aesthetics would serve a woman looking to secure her position well. Power and appearance often went hand in hand, after all.

I don't like CEOs.

"Miss Temi," he tilted his head down toward her so as to play at looking her in the eye. The scarlet tint of his visor made such a show a vain parody however, but then Jorah was well aware of that. "I'm Jorah. The message stated you were looking for a head of security?"

Not a job I want to be stuck with, but worthy enough as an in between position between true hunts.

Silence from the man followed.

[member="Tmoxin Temi"]

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

Was Tmoxin fond of the fact that Jorah did not immediately remove his helm? No, and in fact her eyes narrowed a millimeter with each step he took towards her. If he were going to work for her, he would need to pass a full background check, including fingerprints and maybe even endure a microchip implant if the Morpho executive was so inclined. Furthermore, it rose her Hapan hackles that he did not take off the visor out of deference to her esteemed position.

Sighing, she recalled her time with the One Sith and rubbing elbows with Sith Lord who remained masked either out of disfigurement or to hide their identities.

For now it was a minor transgression that could be corrected later.

“Yes, Mr. Jorah. Your dossier was bereft of pertinent information on your achievements. However I will try and look at that as a good sign that you keep a low profile. I’ll give you a tour of the ranch as you tell me a little about your skills and background.”

A double door hissed open permitting them access to the exterior of the ranch. Tmoxin had not set but one booted foot out the door, when a short Bothan scrambled up to them waving his arms and shouting, “Miss Temi, there’s something out here you have to see!” He scuttled off immediately in the direction of the keffi stables.

“Lead the way, Mr. Jorah.” Inside she had a sinking feeling about what the two might find.

[member="Jorah"]

 

[Ein Harper]

"I'm more of a minimalist. Don't like bragging, but I can get whatever's needed done." Jorah answered simply, his voice somewhat distorted by his helmet's vocalizer. He knew he wasn't giving Miss Temi much to work with here, but then even the smallest kernel of information could prove to be problematic. She'd just have to make her judgement based off of his actions rather than his words.

"I used to be a trauma surgeon. Did that for a few years: lost a lot of my enthusiasm as I came to terms with mortality," he answered, "Took up hunting afterword. Figured if I was going to die I might as well have an exciting life to leave behind. It's a helluva lot less depressing than stitching up kids anyway." The hunter just shrugged. He'd seemed ready to speak further when the Bothan servant came running up to the duo. Having only seen the creatures from a distance before, Jorah found himself recoiling from the alien's appearance. Its shrill inhuman voice only added to his revulsion, though such feelings were not reflected in his body language. To the outside viewer, he was anything if not calm.

"Ugly fether," he murmured.

It's either one of her pets giving birth or someone setting a bomb. Too routine to be anything normal.

Jorah turned to look at Tmoxin as he moved to follow after the Bothan. "If there's anything else you wanna know, just ask."

A pause, "This whole place yours?"

[member="Tmoxin Temi"]

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

The chestnut-gaze displayed apprehension and perhaps a little distress as they followed the Bothan, still casually walking a picturesque path to what appeared to be a long, state-of-the-art stable which looked to hold at least fifty animals if not more.

“One of my companies is a research lab and medical firm. My brother is a surgeon. Health and well being is a passion of mine.” The redhead did appear youthful, perhaps supplements and anti-aging treatments had helped with that.

“And yes I own this ranch and riding school. No board to run things by. No business partner to share the profits with. After a stay upon Annaxes as an officer of the Sith, I fell in love with their graceful mounts. Seven Moons keeps me extremely sane and grounded though in recent months I’ve had to increase the security.”

Finally reaching the stables, Tmoxin gave the most crestfallen look ahead when she saw what had happened?

“Another stallion slaughtered?” The Hapan broke into a sprint and crouched besides the mutilated keffi. The ranch-wide alarm abruptly went off, the Bothan who called them over pulling out a blaster and aiming it at Tmoxin’s temple.

“If either of you moves a muscle, or I feel that witch digging into my mind, I pull this trigger so fast you’ll be able to watch her brains splatter all over these walls as I die an honorable death. Not like this schutta!"

[member="Jorah"]

 

[Ein Harper]

"Sounds like you were one of the smarter ones," a hint of amusement found its way into the mercenary's modulated voice. His attentions shifted from Tmoxin, to the Bothan, to the greater facility as a whole as they walker onward. She seemed to be about his age, though looks could be deceiving. Still, if his thoughts proved to be true, then she'd been a hell of a lot more successful than he'd been in the same amount of time. Then again, she'd likely not burned all her bridges on a semi-regular basis as he had.

"You don't seem like the type for the Sith," he paused, "I take that back. This place is pretty orderly." Not that he'd ever actually interacted with Sith in any capacity other than shooting them. Tmoxin didn't need to know that though.

The hunter's brow furrowed as they came upon the murdered beast. A pang of sympathy rang through his heart; he'd always held a soft spot for creatures that lacked sentience. They rarely had the time to understand what was being done to them before they were fully exploited.

Then the Bothan made his move. Jorah didn't bother raising his rifle.

"I don't care," he answered with a voice that was almost monotone. "You kill her and then I kill you. I have armor and shielding - you're naked. I'll kill your friends too, and then I'm sure her friends within the CIS will pay me to hunt down the rest of your family after that."

Jorah just nodded at the Bothan. "You can drop that and live, or you can use it and die. Your call."

[member="Tmoxin Temi"]

 

[TheNewUpgrade]

Location: Hidden Among a large portion of growth in a snipers nest not to far from the ranch.
Objective: Assassinate Prime target.


Blitz had received a call from his most frequent contractor early in the morning putting blitz in a bad mood the one thing blitz actually liked was sleep but he held his act together to listen to his boss.His mission was simple,it wasn't blow up a spice mine,or spy on some crime lords,or even kill a star cruiser filled with pirates no all this was gonna take is one well placed shot.

He was dropped off around 2 Kilometers away from the ranch and had to march an entire day before today to get to the pre-set snipers nest he took place in there waiting for him was his currently loaned out Tac-HUD Heavy Sniper Rifle.

'Now shes a beaut~' He thought to himself

His other armor and usual weapons were on him as well. {-Here-}

His armor and location itself would be fairly hidden from and force user seeing as his armor was laced in void stone one of the few materials the force doesn't effect.

Now to wait...

And Blitz did wait and wait and wait....and wait....

But to "Blitz's" luck he soon saw his target walking to the stables,she wasn't alone though for what Blitz could see there was someone there with her he looked like a bounty hunter of sorts maybe a Merc he wasn't sure.

He would track her with his cross hair and allowed her to walk into the Stables.

He watched the farm hand pull out a pistol and press it to [member="Tmoxin Temi"]'s temple

'Oi whats this bloody idiot doin,that's my kill! my pay-check!'
He thought quickly before he re-angled himself.

Sadly he didn't have an angle on Temi but he did have a shot on the farm hand and Damn him for trying to rob Blitz of his kill

With no remorse and with the eye of a hawk blitz lined up the shot and pulled the trigger letting a heavy blaster bolt fly straight at the skull of the Bothan,from the distance he was at the round should hit the bothan before any sound would be noticeable in the distance.

Blitz quickly re-adjusted his aim and waited for any sign of movement.


[member="Tmoxin Temi"] / [member="Jorah"]

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

Tmoxin did not know who warranted her fury more - her lax security, the cretin who dared to kill her property, or the Bothan who cocked a gun at her head. By the Emperor's black heart, she could smell his noxious alien odor from where she crouched, worse than a wet wookiee.

The Bothan watched Jorah out of the corner of his eye, which gave the Dark Jedi just the right amount of distraction to begin to Force Drain his life where he stood. The mercenary would see a reddish mist snake into his gaping nostrils, grab hold of his soul and begin to yank it out, pulling the very essence from him. As joint by joint, he began to bend over, knees hitting the ground, hands flattening to brace his fall, Tmoxin rose up slowly…

The Bothan’s head snapped to the side, a sniper’s bullet swifty killing him before she was able to. Her mouth formed a small “o” of surprise as the alien slumped over. CRACK!

There was no time to brush the hay off of her clothing. “Get down!” she shouted, nestling herself nearly under the dead keffi, using the animal for cover. There was no use looking for the sniper right now as he or she was likely well hidden. But her sharp eyes assessed Jorah for signs that he may have been in on the attack somehow. “So help me Queen Mother, if you are not who you say you are I will have your brain boiling in your skull in three, two, one..”

[member="Jorah"] [member="Ex-Major Blitz"]

 

[Ein Harper]

This was the kind of tune that made him want to dance.

It wasn't often that that a day went from a job interview, to a hostage situation, supernatural osik, and then back around again in a span of three minutes. It was the kind of day that got his blood pumping; the kind of day that broke him from his usual stupor, if only for a few moments.

He moved on instinct; shields snapping to life as he settled down behind an overturned barrel. His crimson visage shifted between the gutted Keffi and the similarly mutilated remains of the Bothan. A wry smile found its way onto his lips.

"Now's not the time to be flirting with me Miss Temi," the mercenary rumbled with excited laughter. The sniper may have been nowhere to be found, and the woman he was quite possibly being paid to protect might have been some kind of sorcerous witch, but it beat another day of sitting on his ass.

"I dunno who the Bothan was working with," he slammed a fresh magazine into his rifle, "Not sure who shot him either, but I do know what bathrobe brigade magic looks like." A thought teased at the back of his mind.

The Bothan's fresh corpse had fallen in such a position as to be unseen from the outside. Judging by the manner in which the sniper had taken the shot, either he was part of Temi's security force, or his rifle was a bolt-action. That or there was a third party involved, but that was the most unlikely of the three options.

Thus it was the Jorah hefted up the ruined Bothan and hoisted him up over the barrels in a cadaver's imitation of natural movement. If the sniper held, he either had no intentions of shooting Temi, or he was being overly cautious. If he did fire, and Jorah certainly hoped he did, the Bothan's corpse would be a little less uglier and they would know the fellow's intentions.

"How many friends do you think this guy had?" Jorah asked as he lifted the body to imitate a natural standing position, "Five? Ten?"

[member="Tmoxin Temi"], [member="Ex-Major Blitz"]