Mission Big Trouble In Little Nimban [THR]

[Antellon Dandorran]

ɴɪᴍʙᴀɴ, sᴛʀᴏɴɢʜᴏʟᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪᴍʙᴀɴᴇʟ ᴄʟᴀɴs, ɪs ᴛʜɪᴄᴋ ᴡɪᴛʜ sᴘɪᴄᴇ ʀᴇꜰɪɴᴇʀɪᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ sᴜɴ ᴄᴀʀᴛᴇʟs. ᴀ sʜɪᴘᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴡᴇᴀᴘᴏɴs ɪɴᴛᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ɪᴍᴘᴇʀɪᴀʟ ᴀʟʟɪᴇs ɪs sᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ.

ᴏʙᴊᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ: sᴀʙᴏᴛᴀɢᴇ ᴛʜᴇ sʜɪᴘᴍᴇɴᴛ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ɪᴛ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇs ɴɪᴍʙᴀɴ’s sᴘᴀᴄᴇᴘᴏʀᴛ.
ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ sᴜɴ ᴍᴇʀᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʟᴀɴ ᴇɴꜰᴏʀᴄᴇʀs ɢᴜᴀʀᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴄᴋs, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ sʜɪᴘᴍᴇɴᴛ ɪꜱ ʜɪᴅᴅᴇɴ ᴀᴍᴏɴɢ ᴄɪᴠɪʟɪᴀɴ ᴄᴀʀɢᴏ.
ᴅɪꜰꜰɪᴄᴜʟᴛʏ ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ: ᴀᴠᴇʀᴀɢᴇ
ᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ʟᴇᴀᴅᴇʀsʜɪᴘ: ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇᴅ ᴘᴀᴅᴀᴡᴀɴ ᴏʀ ᴀʙᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴀʏ ʟᴇᴀᴅ, ɪɴᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇᴅ ᴘᴀᴅᴀᴡᴀɴ ᴍᴀʏ ᴀᴄᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴʏ

Nimban.

A planet of mystery, located deep within a part of space known as The Slice. It had a reputation with the Hutts, vile creatures that were equal parts greedy and grotesque, and Antellon knew he had little love lost for the large slugs. Yet, the planet was home to the species known as Nimbanels, and they were rumored to be ingenius. The mission had been straight forward, it involved sabotage of a weapons shipment, the cargo containers mixed within civilian cargo - a deceptive ruse, one that had proven quite a task to overcome.

In fact, the two Jedi assigned to the mission - Antellon Dandorran and Vizion Trozky - had yet to crack that particular crinkle in the plan. Or the other hurdle the pair faced, which was the dozen or so thugs that currently pursued them--

"Quickly, this way!" Antellon called, as he rounded a large stack of containers in the docks. He slid to a stop, his cloak billowing, as he looked back to his companion. "Where did they come from? Don't they understand how complicated they made this?!"

The mission had been going well, the two had managed to land on the planet as tourists, and had even sneaked into the storage area. But, snooping through storage containers had been 'suspicious', apparently. Who knew?

"Do we fight or lose them?" Antellon asked, his unignited lightsaber handle held in his right hand. "I am willing to charge our foe head-on, valiantly at your side, if you so choose, Vizion!"

With a broad grin, Antellon shook his long hair back from his face and nodded.

"Just say the word."

Vizion Trozky​

 

[Vizion Trozky]

NIMBAN
THE DOCKS

​

The Black Sun was a headache that hadn’t been on his bingo card at the start of the year. Mind, what happened at the start of the year wasn’t either — the future ever being in motion was one hell of an understatement — but had he been handling this mission alone, it’d either be going on for much longer than he intended, or they’d never have known he was here... but it was harder to compensate for another person. Particularly a padawan.

They were squarely in the realm of the former. Vizion's back pressed up against the container, and Antellon unfurled his surprise by way of a question that needed no answer: this place was crawling with criminal filth from the outset.

"Do we fight or lose them?" Antellon asked, his unignited lightsaber handle held in his right hand. "I am willing to charge our foe head-on, valiantly at your side, if you so choose, Vizion!"

"Both," Vizion replied quietly, ignoring the theatrics of the padawan's words, "let the hunters become the hunted: we keep evading, and deal with our pursuers as needed until we've done what we came here to do." He eyed the blond sidelong, half a thin grin working its way onto his face, "The only complication here is that cloak, by the way."

He was a little convinced that thing had tipped off the local trouble in the first place. Vizion put a finger to his lips, an ear to the footsteps that were attempting to stalk them (and none too quietly) before Antellon could get another word in, edgewise. He focused briefly, to get a sense of how many thugs and where.

"They've spread out." That could be a good thing. "There's one coming up your side, now."

Antellon Dandorran​