Public A Day At The Wheel

[Henriwatta Wabbo]

THE WHEEL - BESH GORGON SYSTEM​

The Wheel is a glittering ring of opportunity spinning lazily in the black of the Besh Gorgon system. And right now, it's under my watch. Name's Henriwatta, Guildmaster of the Armourer's Guild and Lady of the Ferra Sector.

Yeah, that's right the one who keeps half the galaxy's mercenaries, warlords, and two-bit smugglers in business. If it shoots, slices, or stops a lightsaber, my people make it, modify it, and move it. And we do it better than anyone else.

So listen up, darlings. I'm sending this little invitation across the galactic comms to anyone with ambition and, more importantly, credits.

Whether you're a bounty hunter looking for top-shelf gear, a syndicate boss needing reliable suppliers, a lone operative in need of quality protection, or just a smart entrepreneur who knows a good deal when they see one.

the Wheel is your destination.

 

[Koda Fett]

See what the ol' girl had in store for him, in more than one manner.

Striding in with all his graceless grace, Fett saddled up with the stink of death clinging to him like a rot. Maybe it was, but who's was harder to say. Especially around these parts, where everyone seemed to carry someone's. He could recognise some faces, their scars and snarls - the latter of which a consequence of his creation of the former. So be it, that was the business.

And so was this.

"I'm here for Henriwatta," he said to the brass Houk, with a flash of the invitation.

Henriwatta Wabbo

 

[Henriwatta Wabbo]

THE WHEEL - BESH GORGON SYSTEM​

The heavy blast doors of the storehouse slid open with a metallic hiss, parting a thick, fragrant curtain of imported death stick smoke. Henriwatta floated out of the backroom, her wings beating a rapid, agitated rhythm that perfectly matched her mood. She took a long drag from her gold-banded smoke, her sharp eyes scanning the dim warehouse floor.

A few minutes ago, one of her jittery Aqualish guards had sprinted into her private office, sweating through his leather vest, stammering about a dangerous, heavily armed man with an invitation she had signed. Henriwatta had been expecting a contact from the Zeltron smuggling rings, specifically, a certain magenta-skinned, smooth-talking associate she'd been looking forward to dealing with all rotation.

Instead her eyes fell upon the outline of Mandalorian Armor, and not just any Mandalorian. Koda Fett was a lowlife, but he was her kind of lowlife, given that he was regarded as the finest bounty hunter in the galaxy. Still, that didn't alter her sense of disappointment.

Henriwatta let out a deep sigh, sending a plume of grey smoke swirling toward the ceiling. She rolled her eyes, the heavy gold rings adorning her webbed fingers glinting under the harsh overhead utility lights as she waved her hand dismissively.

"Ugh. Look at you," She rasped, her voice thick as a giant cloud of smoke puffed out of her mouth. She hovered forward, descending just enough to bring herself eye-to-eye with the T-visored helmet of Koda Fett. "You're not pink, you're not pretty, and you definitely don't look like you know how to sweet-talk a lady out of her profit margins. What a disappointment. I was expecting a very different kind of dangerous tonight, sweetheart."

She took a moment to examine the scuffs on his armor, carefully assessing the weapons they had equipped in order to determine what her prospective customer might desire from her inventory. It was essential to categorize clients effectively; there was no point in offering disruptors to an Ewok who wouldn't have a clue on how to operate one.

"But I suppose you'll have to do," she muttered, a sharp, cynical grin tugging at her snout.

"At least Mandalorians actually carry real credits. The Zeltrons are good for the eyes, but they always try to pay me in promises and cheap spice. You, on the other hand..." She brushed a stray speck of ash from her thumb, her demeanor transforming immediately from an annoyed matron to a shrewd arms dealer. The finest in the industry, if she were to boast, as she glided toward the secured inner vault of the warehouse and motioned for him to follow with her cigarette holder.

 

[Makar Clyne]

Whenever Tethys, Makar's flagship cruiser, docked at a station, there was always a small uproar. Space pirates were rowdy folk, too long in the cramped corridors of a spacefaring vessel would do that. Once they were off the ship though, all bets were off! Makar wouldn't be indulging with them tonight. His thoughts were on the oversights of being a captain, much to his disappointment.

Heavy footsteps filled the wheel's maintenance areas as Makar made his way towards Henriwatta's storehouse. The Wheel was a glorified gambling den and resort, but criminal enterprises had ways of worming their ways deep into places they shouldn't be. Places that were supposed to be safe...

The storehouse was hidden behind many meters of crisscrossing maintenance shafts and steam-filled chambers. No one was going to stumble upon this place by accident, he was struggling to do so on purpose! Were it not for a small schematic of the station he had, he'd never have found it. The schematic itself was part of a message given to a merchant who Makar had come across. One who was no longer among the living.

Enclosed within the message was also details on what he had found. He had been in correspondence with Henriwatta, planned out a deal moving illicit blaster parts onto a planet in the core. It was a risky job, but the idea had merit.

Finally, after far too many twists and turns, Makar saw the light a massive blast door standing wide open. He must not have been the first man here. Inside of the storehouse was a Mandalorian, a bounty hunter of great repute at that. Koda stood there wholly unimpressed by everything around him, bored even.

"Seems I am not as punctual as I'd normally like," Makar said with his normal grandiose flair. "Regardless, I do enjoy a good soirée. What I am most intrigued by is what brings an esteemed hunter to this place?"​

Tags: Koda Fett , Henriwatta Wabbo

 

[Koda Fett]

"I'm no Mauve," he rasped, a soft tilt to his helmet. "But all the same, I have the credits."

Being the greatest came with its share of rewards - some called it to be infamous, but that was still fame of another coat and fame brought it all. Chief among them, the credits. In this business, you needed them. Those that profited most, it seemed, were the arms dealers. Henriwatta, no doubt, knew this best.

He followed after the Toydarian, the soft clink of his spurs sounding off with each step. His gaze narrowed, or it seemed to with the subtle movement of his T-visored eyes, onto the vault ahead. Something special in there.

Fett gave a cursory glance to the pirate joining them, saying indifferently, "Takes scant wisdom to know why I might visit an arms dealer."

Henriwatta Wabbo Makar Clyne

 

[Henriwatta Wabbo]

THE WHEEL - BESH GORGON SYSTEM​

Henriwatta stopped dead in the air, her wings buzzing with a irritated hum as Makar's voice echoed through the vaulted storehouse. She slowly pivoted around, taking a slow, long drag of her cigarra before exhaling a thick, suffocating cloud of grey smoke. Her eyes narrowed into cold, unimpressed slits as they landed on the pirate captain.

"Makar Clyne," she rasped, her voice dripping with world-weary disdain. "The lowest of the low. I should have known that scent of cheap grog and desperation drifting down the maintenance shaft belonged to you. And what happened to the merchant I was actually corresponding with? Let me guess, a tragic accident involving an airlock and your total lack of ethics?"

She rolled her eyes, but she didn't call her guards to throw him out. Makar Clyne was a vulture, a bottom-feeding pirate who brought entirely too much heat wherever he sailed his flagship, but as the Toydarian's eyes darted to the heavy pouch at his hip, her tone softened. He had credits and in her business a pirate's money spent just as well as a prince's.

"You're lucky you brought your wallet, Clyne, because your charm certainly wouldn't have kept you in this room," she said with a smokers laugh, turning her attention back to Koda Fett as the Mandalorian offered his indifferent remark. At the mention of the name Mauve, Henriwatta's snout twitched with genuine disgust.

"Don't even utter that name in here, Fett," Henriwatta exclaimed, a plume of smoke escaping her nostrils. "Mauve is a menace. A dangerous, flashy Zeltron narcissist who thinks the galaxy is her personal runway. All that high-profile, theatrical nonsense she pulls does nothing but bring the Republic and the authorities sniffing around our trade routes."

With a flick of her webbed wrist, Henriwatta zipped upward into the shadows of the warehouse ceiling, hovering near the very top shelves where the truly restricted inventory was kept. She grabbed a heavy, oxidized iron lever jutting from the bulkhead and threw her weight against it.

The massive, reinforced warehouse wall groaned as hydraulic pistons engaged. In a smooth, terrifying display of hidden engineering, the entire structural wall flipped inward, transforming the space into a massive, multi-tiered weapons rack that stretched all the way to the vaulted ceiling. Thousands of black-market blasters, heavy repeaters, and sleek imperial-grade sniper rifles gleamed under the newly activated red security lights.

Her hands grabbed a few examples on a tray, hovering back down to the floor. She unceremoniously dropped them on a nearby examination table and struggled to pull up a black case from the floor but managed. She rested a gold-ringed hand on top of the case, leaning forward in the air as she looked between the legendary bounty hunter and the pirate captain.

"To my right you will find an infamous example of rumored pre-gulag technology in the form of a Service Special, a compact weapon only half the size of most blasters but possessed six times the power comparable to a quad cannon." She made a grand gesture as a way to showcase its power.

"Next to it is something for our lovely friend here, Mr. Fett in the form of a Needler, small pistol designed to penetrate personal energy shields by firing a sharp, tiny dart. The dart can be filled with poison or modified to be explosive." the Toydarian purred, her money-loving grin returning to her face.

 

[Koda Fett]

Grudges came and went, often based on need regardless of their origin. Most, one knew where it stemmed from at a glance. With Mauve, it could always be either professional or personal. Fett chose to remain out of that business, for it never concerned him much, despite the slight tinge of amusement. Though, something in him stirred doubt that Henriwatta was of the spurned lover variety, all on account of... well.

"I understand," said with a solemn nod.

He continued further into the vast warehouse, seeing what the Toydarian would keep on open display. Quite the collection. It would serve most, from the spacers in need of a quick hold-out blaster or the mercenaries on the hunt that would pack that extra bit of firepower. Confidently, Fett could say most stock was unimpressive. Taking on Jedi and Sith alike required more than most could ever hope to offer, and the ever-changing world of a bounty hunter required its share of dirty tricks.

"You got a range, right?" His gaze lingered on the Service Special longer than the Needler, if only out of curiosity. "I don't buy before I try."

Henriwatta Wabbo Makar Clyne

 

[Makar Clyne]

Makar was intrigued by the weapons on offer from Henriwatta's people. Pre-gulag tech was always in short supply, and very deadly. He walked over to the racks ahead of him, inspecting the merchandise of the Toydarian. It was already giving him ideas as to how best to use them...

"The merchant was of no use to me, that should be enough to tell you of his fate," Makar said as he lifted a blaster from the rack. He was impressed by the sleek design and obviously custom made attachments. "The reason I'm here though is because I have an idea. One which could make you many credits, should you indulge."

It probably didn't surprise Henriwatta that Makar was once again speaking of grand ambitious visions. He was a schemer, someone who always spoke of grandiose visions of the galaxy on fire. It wasn't new, people like him always existed. What was unique was the idea's sheer audacity. He had plans to start trouble deep in Republic space. A place many criminals considered far out of reach.

"I have been building contacts in the Mara Corridor, trying to find those who might be willing to turn one of those planets into a new haven for crime within Republic space. Sufficed to say, we're going to need guns..."

Makar strutted around like a peacock, twirling the blaster he held like a toy. It was all part of his unique brand of showmanship. He knew it wouldn't be enough to impress Henriwatta, but it was hard to stop himself at times. Too distracted was he by his own delusions of grandeur.

"I have my sights set on Algara II, it's people crave a change in their leadership. I think it could be a perfect place to start a network of corruption within the borders of The High Republic."

Tags: Henriwatta Wabbo , Koda Fett ​

 

[Henriwatta Wabbo]

THE WHEEL - BESH GORGON SYSTEM​

Henriwatta's wings flared with an angry buzz, and she dropped a few inches in the air, glaring at the Mandalorian through a thick veil of freshly exhaled smoke. "A range? You want a range right now?" she snapped at Fett, her gravelly voice dripping with sarcasm. She waved a gold-ringed hand wildly in the air, nearly dropping her cigarette holder.

"Ugh, look at you, totally ruining my mojo! I was right in the middle of my pitch, sweetheart. You've got zero appreciation for how I do things." Still, she let out a heavy, world-weary sigh and rolled her eyes. Business was business, and a Mandalorian who wanted to test the hardware was a Mandalorian who was actually planning to spend credits.

Hovering down to ground level, she drifted over to the western wall of the storehouse and kicked a rusty, low-mounted hydraulic lever with her webbed foot. With a deafening mechanical screech, a massive segment of the reinforced wall slid aside, revealing a long, dimly lit corridor that stretched deep into the station's underbelly.

Lining the sides of the tunnel were dozens of stationary, heavily armored target droids, their chassis scarred from centuries of high-grade munitions testing. "There's your range, Fett," Henriwatta rasped, gesturing toward the tunnel with a dismissive flick of her wrist.

"Go on. Shoot to your heart's content. If you break 'em, you buy 'em. And if you blind yourself with the Service Special, don't come crying to me." As Fett moved toward the corridor, Makar Clyne voice filled the room again to spin a tale of a great crime network and a haven for criminals within the Republic's borders. Her eyes rolled so far back into her head it almost looked painful.

"Another one of your ambitious visions, Clyne." she scoffed, pivoting her floating body to face the pirate captain. Instantly, her thoughts returned to their previous encounter, during which she was delivering a shipment of Rathars. Her transport had been intercepted, and the cargo was removed from her hold while the charming Captain was engaging her in conversation.

She was fully prepared to laugh him right out of her warehouse, but as Makar continued to pace like a peacock, the words Mara Corridor and Algara II caught in her throat. She went dead silent, the rapid hum of her wings dropping. She racked her brain, her information-broker instincts sifting through decades of galactic trade manifests, smuggling routes, and sector profiles.

"Algara II," she murmured, taking a slow, deeply satisfied drag of her cigarra. "The High Republic thinks it's just a sleepy little agricultural world. But I know what grows in those damp northern valleys. Algarine torve weed." She floated a few inches closer to Makar, her demeanor becoming more friendly at the prospect of profit.

"A powerful mood enhancer. Refine it just a little bit, and you've got a narcotic that the high-society elites in the Core will pay a king's ransom for," she purred, her voice thick with newfound interest. She tapped a gold ring against her chin.

"You're an idiot, but I'd be willing to back this venture for double my usual rate and twenty-percent cut of the torve weed distribution once you get it off the ground." The Toydarian was always willing to diversify her investment and what better than a product that anyone can use in a stressful situation.