Arena [Black Sun] Glory and Gore

[Velzari Tharn]

G L O R Y - A N D - G O R E
A - B L A C K - S U N - S T O R Y

The raucous crowd at the Broken Tusk only grew louder as the Gamorrean brute known as Sledge threw a strong right hook, connecting with his human competitor's temple. A meaty thwack! echoed throughout the chamber, eliciting a monstrous roar of cheers and hollers from the onlookers. Most were local Reussi, but among them were members of a growing force of darkness that was slowly worming its way through the very fabrics of the Underworld: Black Sun.

A retaliatory punch was thrown by the battered human, but he lacked the strength behind it to do much more than make the Gamorrean chuckle. Sledge snorted through his porcine snout, shaking the large bronzium septum ring that dangled from his nose. The crowd called for blood, and after pumping both muscled arms in the air to rile them up, Sledge stepped back to his opponent and delivered a final, devastating haymaker. It was an instant knockout, followed by another wave of chanting. Credits were exchanged in the stands, finished drinks were topped off by scantily-clad waitresses, and the human's blood spatter was half-assedly cleaned from the wall that he'd fallen against.

There would be a short intermission before the next match began, and that was only in this arena; the Broken Tusk housed a half dozen more, each of which would soon be delivering fresh blood and violent entertainment for the crowds.

O B J E C T I V E - 1
F I G H T - C L U B​

"And that's another win for our local champion here in Pit No. Five: SLEDGE!" roared the announcer, a fiery Troig with a gravelly voice. "Up next are a pair of newcomers here to Broken Tusk, ready to draw blood and take home the win - but only ONE of them will rake in those sweet Underworld Credits! Who'll it be? Take your bets now!" The two-headed alien gestured to a flashing neon sign that read "BETTING OPEN" in a sloppy Reussi dialect of Aurebesh, just barely legible for off-worlders but not terribly difficult to decipher following the booming PA system echoing the announcer's words.

Broken Tusk's fight clubs follow three simple rules: no blasters, no killing, no whining.

If you have what it takes, throw your hat in the ring and step up to duke it out in 1v1 or 2v2 matches. Test your mettle against other newcomers (PVP), or try your luck against one of Broken Tusk's local celebrities (PVE). Whoever you fight, make sure Black Sun doesn't have to send you back home in a body bag when the K.O. bell rings.

O B J E C T I V E - 2
D I N N E R - A N D - A - S H O W​

In a private lounge overlooking the fight pits, a cadre of Black Sun VIPs and their associates mingle with local crime lords. Reuss' "government" has a long-standing history of being a revolving door of ruthless Underworld hotshots controlling the surrounding Portmoak sector from the acidic factory world, but few have managed to hold onto power long enough to make a lasting impression before a vibroblade to the spine ended their careers.

Where Imperial warlords and small-time gangs see little more than Reuss' acid rains and volatile power structure, Black Sun sees opportunities galore. All it takes is a little grease on the proper wheels.

A pair of large, open-air aquarium tanks bubble just loudly enough over the muffled thump of an exotic beat that permeates the lounge's atmosphere. Within them, beautiful and mysterious Melodies swim in hypnotic rhythms, whispering an astonishing blend of trade secrets and costly lies with no way of telling which is which. Twi'lek bargirls carry platters of colorful drinks throughout the room, offering them to syndicate members and Reussi gangsters as they pass. At the bar, a grizzled Houk veteran from the old Rimward Trade League days recounts tales of serving in the Ranger Service, but only after a good tip lands in his jar.

This is where elbows rub and schemes are born.

 

[Kinley Pryse]

You've been hit by... you've been struck by...

The galaxy's a mess. I just learned how to profit from it
Objective: II Dinner-And-A-Show
Tags: Open​

---

The Broken Tusk cantina was alive with its usual symphony of offbeat percussion, low murmurs, and the occasional burst of laughter—or a blaster being unholstered just a second too early. Near the back, where the neon signage flickered just enough to mess with your eyes but not enough to get fixed, sat Kinley Pryse.


Hat tipped low, casting a lazy shadow over her eyes, she was all ease and rhythm—one hand draped casually on the table, the other offering up a subtle vial of glittery spice to a twitchy Rodian across from her. The exchange was smooth, practiced. She hardly glanced at the credits before slipping them into her jacket with a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes.


A frothy, glowing drink fizzed in front of her—some synthetic mix that reeked of both luxury and bad decisions. She took a sip, swaying slightly to the beat of the music piped through the dusty speakers overhead. It was a scene: a woman at home in chaos, the kind of person who knew how to make a cantina into a kingdom.


But the smile, bright and careless, was too perfect. Her laugh, tossed out now and then like loose change, was just a beat too loud. And her eyes, when they weren't hidden beneath the brim of that worn-out hat, scanned the crowd—not for threats, but for angles.


Kinley Pryse wasn't here for fun. She was working. And if she didn't move enough product tonight, her boss wasn't going to be happy. Which meant someone else was going to end up a whole lot more miserable.


And yet, to anyone watching, she looked like she didn't have a care in the world.

A SMOOTH CRIMINAL

​

 

[Tuchanka]

O B J E C T I V E - 1
F I G H T - P I T​

​

"Name?" the strange alien asked in a rather unimpressed tone. Tuchanka's reptilian tongue slipped between her teeth, brushing over their razor-sharp edges to taste the air between them. She was equally unamused by his demeanor, but she wasn't willing to get into a fight outside the arena... she'd checked her blasters in at the door, after all. Not that she couldn't get the job done without. Her claws were sharp as a vibroknife.

"Tuchanka," she hissed in a half-whisper. The alien tapped it into his datapad, likely butchering the spelling. She didn't care.

"Any sponsors?" the man asked. Tuchanka nodded carefully, blinking to moisten her eyes. "Black Sssun," she replied. This time, the man paused. He looked to the Trandoshan through his eyebrows, curiosity piqued but cautious not to offend her.

"Problem?" she asked. He shook his head.

"Not at all. Please send my regards to your... bosses," he said.

He stepped aside, piddling away with his datapad without so much as another glance at the imposing enforcer as she passed him by. Tuchanka found it a pity; she very much liked poking at the warm-bloods. Luckily for her, there would be plenty of it to spill in the fight pit. Already, she could hear the muffled calls of the crowd. It filled her chest with an excitement that reminded her of the hunt. Her tongue flicked at the air, tasting the iron of old blood and the salt of sweat as she stepped through the narrow corridor that led to the fighters' chambers.

Tuchanka passed them by, not slowing her pace. The locker rooms were dingy and awful-smelling, not sweet like the scent of the arena.

Soon, the Trandoshan arrived in a tiny cell that held the fighters before they were released into the pit. Only a small bulkhead separated her from her quarry, which she was careful to remember she could not kill... only maim.

Tags: OPEN
​

 

[Rel Ahn-Dross]

O B J E C T I V E - 2
D I N N E R - A N D - A - S H O W​

---

Voices permeated the atmosphere, patrons carousing with one another. Some socialized, others talked business.

The Din of music mixed with the sound of voices, drowning out what was said. Cheers, uproarious, threatened to drown out everything else as gamblers called out to the fighting pits. A local Champion had just won another victory.

At a table a figure sat, large and broad shouldered. Looking out across the cantina with one arm rest across the table face. A Sultry Waitress delivered him a drink, Prow.

Once the waitress had gone he took the tall vial the drink was served in, admiring the blue color while inhaling the bitter scent that wafted from the beverage and placed it to his mouth. Lifting quickly he shot it back. Empty the vial was set back on the table and looking beyond, towards the bar he nodded to indicate he needed another.

He wore a dour expression.

Gazing across the cantina he saw a woman, Kinley Pryse . A Rodian was had come close to her and was just leaving. Spice, he recognized the transaction. It made one wonder how many dealers were working tonight. There was something about her he liked though, the hat; it gave her an air of mystery, a touch of mystique and Rel had always appreciated that.

Almost as soon as he'd ordered his next drink another waitress delivered a new vial of prow then she left.

The Holofeed of the Fighting Pits illuminated his table, his eyes flickered towards it waiting to see the next match.

 

[Trajan Fett]

R E T R I B U T O R
BOUNTY HUNTER
PERSONA NON GRATA
Blade
Tuchanka

COUNTING BODIES​

Another delusional Mandalorian dream snuffed out in the miasma of Galactic chaos. No matter. Back to what he knew, what was- for all things considered the family business of the Fett Clan, as much as they might care to carry more honorable aspirations. Once more, Trajan was merely a man trying to make his way in the Galaxy again.

The only means he knew how.

Killing.

Even in his time among the Neo Crusaders, he was hardly at home crying for vengeance atop Basilisk War Droids. No. He belonged here. In the shadows cast by the Galaxy's most vile and treacherous. Here there was no lack for killing, no lack for credits to be made. Whilst Trajan had built a reputation as a credible hunter and killer, his hiatus from the business of snatching the souls of the Galaxy's Most Wanted took much a back seat to the Crusade.

Tossed back into the Underworld, he needed to make a dramatic return to the grimy fittings. Reuss VIII was as good a venue of any. The Broken Tusk offered a fine enough establishment for the crime bosses of the Underworld to meet over potent spice, strong liquor and palletable cuisine with a backdrop of violence that provided a healthy stream for the bookies and gamblers that frequented this joint.

Trajan submitted himself to be added to the night's roster. Here, the eyes of plenty of potential employers would see him in the flesh, in his element. Combat.

He spent a solid two minutes at the establishment's entrance in reluctant compliance to its 'no blasters' rule, something in blanket application included his disruptor carbine, hold out side arm, vambraces and jetpack all of which taking up a sizeable lockbox to be stored away until he was due to take his leave from the place. The sight of Beskar'gam was always quick to draw the gaze of even the most cursory interest as he strode closer to the pit, pulling the attention of one of the bosses. The armor gave him some credibility to thrust him forward in priority of the other fighters eager to spill some blood.

"Mando...you lookin' to get into the pit?" The T-visor hiding his gaze did well in saving him from a snide remark. He nodded once in reply.

"The armor'll have to go. It's uhh- too much of an advantage." He stated to which the Mandalorian glanced down to the Beskar steel chestplate, painted in a black which had been worn down to a steely grey. He undid a quick release, the cuirass and its armorwave padding loosening from his form, he then pulled it over his helmeted head, pressing the back and breast plates together before thrusting it into the man's chest.

<"It goes missing...no one will remember you. I'll make sure of that."> He said, his tone low, emotionless but none the less foreboding.

"A-and the helme-"

<"Stays right where it is. "> The other man nodded, gritting his teeth before he shrugged his shoulders.

"Whatever. Not sure I care. The armor will be here with me." He said to reaffirm the Mando who pressed a gloved hand into his shoulder before he stepped into the cage, a brief glance to the other fighters who'd soon be dropped into the pit, analyzing what he could before he shifted his mailed gaze forward again in anticipation of the slaughter.

 

[Kinley Pryse]

You've been hit by... you've been struck by...

Empire, Rebellion, it's all the same to a good liar with a fast ship
Objective: II Dinner-And-A-Show
Tags: Rel Ahn-Dross + OPEN​

---

​

As her latest customer disappeared into the haze of the cantina, Kinley lifted a steaming mug to her lips. That's when she noticed him, Rel Ahn-Dross three tables down, eyes on her but too careful to linger. Rookie move.


She slid out of her booth, boots silent on the sticky floor as she navigated past scantily clad servers and loud-mouthed gamblers. Kinley didn't wait for men to make the first move. In the Underworld, wallflowers wilted fast. You didn't survive by being polite. You survived by having something to sell.


Stopping at his table, she offered a slow, practiced smile, just enough heat to keep him guessing. The kind of smile that opened wallets, not hearts.


"If you're gonna keep staring," she said, voice like velvet over broken glass, "the first hit will cost double."


Spice wasn't cheap, and neither was she, though if that was where his interests were tonight there was no shortage of flesh for sale in these parts. No, what she was offering was a trip around the stars in a conveniently crushed powder. He could say no—most did. But Kinley had always been a gambling woman so she threw her cards on the table.

A SMOOTH CRIMINAL

​

 

[Rel Ahn-Dross]

O B J E C T I V E - 2
D I N N E R - A N D - A - S H O W​

---

The Holofeed would reveal a new competitor, Trajan Fett entering the pit.

Mandalorian according to the details that displayed across another screen, the Helm all but confirmed it as a telltale sign of the culture. Of course Rel recognized it.

If it hadn't been for the noise, the screams and music he might have noticed the sound of boots across a sticky floor coming closer. As it was he turned his head back to lock eyes with Kinley Pryse . Now that she was standing closer to him, at his table he could really look at her and take in the features that her hat may have hidden at a distance alongside her physique.

He wasn't disappointed.

He could read body language well enough to know that her smile was practiced, if not genuine and while her voice was pleasant Rel understood that it had to be. Attracting new customers was harder if you didn't make yourself easy to approach----or in this case talk to. Unfortunately Kinley had gambled on a bad hand.

"Spice."

...he said, his tone less pleasant than her own and more straightforward...

"Makes the mind jelly, dulls the will, kills the body."

Just like that it seemed like he was dismissing her. He took the vial of prow that had been waiting for him on the table, lifted it to his mouth and then tipped it back. When the vial was empty he set it back on the table.

Looking at her, gauging her with a trained scan that took into account how she stood, her clothes, all the way to the subtle reaction at the corners of her mouth he eventually said...

"I'll pay for your time. Sit with me. Enjoy a drink. Tell me what you think of the fighting pits."

...he wasn't asking her to leave with him. If that's all he wanted then Rel didn't need to put in effort only credits and credits he had. She could name her price, time was money after all; especially in the Underworld.

Almost as if on cue a waitress returned to his table, this time carrying two vials of prow. One was set down in front of him and the other near her, where it would be within easy reach if she decided to take it. An icebreaker before he asked her something else.

 

[Kinley Pryse]

You've been hit by... you've been struck by...

I don't need luck—just credits and a clear shot
Objective: II Dinner-And-A-Show
Tags: Rel Ahn-Dross + OPEN​

---

“Spice. Makes the mind jelly, dulls the will, kills the body."

He spoke confidently, not the words of a man trying to talk himself out of a craving. His words still made her chuckle though.

“Right and that Prow you are guzzling is some sort of health drink I take it?”

Kinley grinned at him, this one genuine as she was teasing him. She wasn’t the type to pressure others into drugs. If people had enough common sense to stay away from the magic dust who was she to ruin it? Her bright eyes had already started scanning for the next customer when he spoke again, this time asking her to sit.

She considered him for a moment, taking in his demeanor and then took a seat. Her boss didn’t care how she got the credits she owed after-all, and this might be the easiest score of the night, considering all she had to do was run her mouth.

“I think the new Mando looks promising. Last time I watched one of their kind fight the other guy left in a body bag.”

A SMOOTH CRIMINAL

​

 

[Hakar Scaleback]

Kinley Pryse Rel Ahn-Dross​

---

“I think the new Mando looks promising. Last time I watched one of their kind fight the other guy left in a body bag.”

"No real mandalorian would fight without bessskar. Thisss one mussst be an impossster."

Revnog dribbled through the trandoshan's spice stained fangs and onto his wookiee pelt shawl. He picked up a klatooine paddy frog and hungrily chomped while it was still alive and squealing. Vertical slits dilated in pleasure as both eyes reflected an unnerving predatory gleam.

"My creditsss are on the cold blood of Dosh," Hakar's forked tongue danced with arrogant pride, "May the Ssscorekeeper blessss her tally."

Sponsoring Tuchanka in local bloodsport was an act of faith more than good business. She would live or die but either outcome pleased their people's huntress god. Working for Black Sun in these unstable times offered Hakar a chance to increase his own tally and amass a small fortune in blood money.

"If you ever tire of dealing ssspice, I'm alwaysss in need of captainsss willing to transssport live cargo without asssking foolish legal quessstionsss."

Hakar was a broker in the galaxy's exotic species trade. Not as glamorous as drugs or weapons and yet black markets were always desperate for poachers willing to source endangered or hazardous wildlife from strange new worlds.

 

[Rel Ahn-Dross]

O B J E C T I V E - 2
D I N N E R - A N D - A - S H O W​

---

He'd chuckle too. She wasn't wrong but he had a tolerance.

"Clears the sinuses."

His words had been somber but a small smile that formed at the corners of mouth would indicate he was joking.

She'd taken his invitation, sitting opposite him at his table. He was about to reply to her comment regarding the Mandalorian when the Tradoshan, Hakar Scaleback interjected prompting him to remark...

"No, that one is real."

....this time his somber tone took on an air of knowing, he might not wear the armor but he could recognize the culture. He didn't explain further.

He looked back towards Kinley Pryse , listening to the Tradoshan offer her a job. Live cargo, that could be anything. It didn't seem to bother Rel though.

A Hand slid back, off the table and into the coat that he wore producing a stick of credits which he'd set down and slide over to Kinley. Paying for her time, just as he'd said and there was more to come. At this point, glancing back at the holofeed he'd have said...

"My father used to tell me stories, said the underworld rose up and created a region of prosperity for themselves where they could do business unimpeded by the laws of the Republic, Imperials, Mandalorians."

...he smirked...

"To bad it didn't work out. They say only the Hutts have the clout to create an empire that the other governments will respect."

 

[Velzari Tharn]

O B J E C T I V E - 2
D I N N E R - A N D - A - S H O W​

​

From his seat in the epicenter of the gentle storm that was Broken Tusk’s VIP lounge, Prince Velzari could see each of the half-dozen fight pits with but a swivel of his armchair. An effortless motion made him privy to as much bloodshed and carnage as he pleased, and yet he sat, calm and refined with a fluted glass full of glowing aquamarine liquid.

Velzari’s manicured nails, more akin to talons, really, wrapped around the stem, holding it like a sacred chalice as he observed the beginnings of the next match. His own Tuchanka would soon be stepping toe to toe with a Mandalorian in the arena. The thought made the corner of Velzari’s lips curl devilishly. Whether she bloodied the Mandalorian or came back scarred by defeat, the Underlord would surely be pleased by her performance.

Victory would surely be preferable, but watching a Trandoshan dial back their bloodlust for the hunt to merely maim instead of kill was impressive in its own right.

Velzari raised his glass to his lips and sipped, imbibing the chilled liquid. Revnog wasn’t his favorite drink, but the Reussi were very particular about their spirits and Velzari was not one to pass up a local delicacy… even if it paled in comparison to fine Miruvar wine. He let the revnog soothe his parched throat, then gave the lounge a cursory glance.

He was perfectly content with enjoying the fights alone, but would welcome the company of any who chose to test the waters. Until then, he remained seated with one leg folded over the other, waiting patiently for blood to be spilling in the pits below.

Tags: OPEN
Nearby: Kinley Pryse | Rel Ahn-Dross | Hakar Scaleback
​

 

[Tuchanka]

O B J E C T I V E - 1
F I G H T - P I T​

​

Tuchanka eyed the rusty bulkhead with cold conviction. Her attention to it was unwavering, even as one of the pit dogs approached from her flank and asked if she were ready. Thin membranes glossed over her eyes, but they didn’t shift.

“I am ready,” she told the dog. “Who isss my opponent?”

The dog looked at a small slate in his palm, struggling to read the weathered screen in the dim light of the chamber. “Uhhh,” he droned. “Fett. Mandalorian. Wouldn’t, uh, doff the helmet.”

Tuchanka grinned, sharp teeth interlocked in a deadly triangular tessellation.

“Deliciousss,” she remarked.

She may not be able to claw his eyes out, but there were still his tender ribs. Tuchanka adored the soft pop that a chest cavity makes when she gets her talons into a fleshy thing. A strand of saliva rolled down her scaly chin at the thought, but she wiped it (and her expectations) away with the back of her hand.

No killing, she reminded herself. Broken Tusk cleaned blood, not corpses. Corpses couldn’t come back to fight the next evening.

Tags: Trajan Fett
​

 

[Trenn Untas]

Objective 2
Nearby Tags: Velzari Tharn Rel Ahn-Dross Kinley Pryse Hakar Scaleback
Indirect tags: Tuchanka Trajan Fett
​

The lounge was buzzing. Laughter, the clinking of glasses, the low thump of a beat that never quite settled—like something was always about to happen. The lights were low, but everything glittered. Credits were flowing. So were lies.

The Nediji stepped in quietly, like he was just another shadow sliding across the floor. His coat hung neatly around his shoulders—simple, dark, unassuming. But there was something in the way he moved that made people glance once, then again. Not flashy. Just… sharp. Like he belonged but didn't want to belong. He worked the room with purpose. His voice, when he used it, was low—almost drowned out by the bubbling tanks and the throb of music. Still, people leaned in. They listened.

"Untas," he would say evenly, nodding once when introductions were made. Every time a hand was offered, he'd return a respectful nod or small bow. He never shook. Not once. And he never broke eye contact. Not for a second. That unsettled some of them. Especially the old Reussi thugs who were used to fake grins and sweaty palms. Others respected it. In a place like this—where everyone wore masks—someone not pretending was its own kind of threat.

Eventually, Trenn made his way to the bar. He ordered a drink. Something amber. He didn't touch it. Not once. It just sat there, catching the light and collecting condensation. A few seats down, two Nikto were talking loudly, going off about the upcoming match in Pit No. Five. "You seen the size of that Trandoshan?" one slurred. "Bet my whole week's cut she rips that Mando's arm clean off."

"You're nuts," the other laughed. "That Mandalorian? Their part of Clan Fett. No way it will be that easy!"

Trenn's head turned slightly, the conversation catching his interest. He didn't interrupt. Just listened. A fight between a Trandoshan and a Mandalorian? That was no casual scuffle. That was personal. That was historic. The kind of matchup that wasn't about money—though plenty of that was changing hands—but about pride. About the kind of hate that got carved into bones.

He slowly stood and drifted toward the edge of the lounge where the pit was visible below through a wide transparisteel viewport. The lights were flickering, the crowd below already roaring with excitement. Trenn stood there, hands behind his back and head stretched forward peering down into the arena like a perched bird of prey. But there was something in his jet black eyes now, just a flicker.

Interest.

 

[Zunn Zenraj]

O B J E C T I V E - 2
D I N N E R - A N D - A - S H O W

The Toydarian glided through the smoky atmosphere of the lounge, his wings humming softly behind a lavish purple tunic adorned with golden details. One tusk jutted out over his upper lip as he casually held a thick death-stick, its potent aroma filling the cramped space.

While he enjoyed a good brawl like any savvy street dweller, Zenraj's true purpose for being here was to advance his interests within the Black Sun Syndicate. His thoughts raced through figures and connections, much like a Kowakian gnawing on wire in order to know where to make the best profit.

He drifted past the bar, where a Houk veteran erupted in a wheezing laugh at his own tale. Zunn discreetly dropped a few credits into the tip jar, not so much for the story but to avoid the piercing stares of Reussi enforcers lurking at the periphery.

"Great Prince Velzari," Zunn said with a devious smile flying closer to the Falleen, who was focused more on the drinks and entertainment than company.

"I hope you do not mind some company from a...how we say born entrepreneur." He said with a laugh.

Tags: Velzari Tharn
Nearby: Kinley Pryse | Rel Ahn-Dross | Hakar Scaleback ​

 

[Kinley Pryse]

You've been hit by... you've been struck by...

I don't dodge trouble. I charge extra for it

O B J E C T I V E - 2
D I N N E R - A N D - A - S H O W​

"If you ever tire of dealing ssspice, I'm alwaysss in need of captainsss willing to transssport live cargo without asssking foolish legal quessstionsss."

Kinley couldn't help but notice the spice stains on the newcomers teeth. Inwardly she blanched at the thought of live cargo, but outwardly she didn't bat an eye. The truth was Kinley had debts to pay off and beggars could not be choosers.

"I only ask questions when things get cheap." Meaning for the right price she'd be willing to work whatever deal needed done. It was part of her life now, and the only way to keep her boss happy. "Say ... I bet a man like you would appreciate a fine twin suns blend from Tatooine." She figured she might as well try the newcomer. Those stains were like sale tags in her eyes.

"Clears the sinuses."

That one made her chuckle and she finally reached for the prow that had been offered and took a sip. The bitterness and the aroma hit her nostrils like a freight, but she plowed on. You needed a healthy buzz to survive this place. She listened as they all started to discuss the fighters, and slipped the credit chip into her pocket from her new conversational partner when it was offered.

As they spoke she glanced around, noticing the prince of crime had just walked in. Those who had the balls to talk to him would do so, but right now she was happy to fly under the radar. Kinley was already in too deep but she knew the only way out was through. It was either work for Black Sun or have them kill her father and that was an easy decision to make.

"I'll tell you one thing it might be hard for a knockout with that helmet on." Of course many in the pits didn't aim to knock out but rather to kill. She wondered if the gore got worse if she'd be able to move more product. Maybe that new Mando would be good for business.

Tags:
Interacting With: Rel Ahn-Dross Harken Bralor
Nearby: (open to interacting with) Trenn Untas + others​

OOC: Looking for comments on my DIV... discord me... not sure if it looks okay...

A Smooth Criminal

 

[Yael Kandar]

GLORY AND GORE

A Brave New World - Chapter 1

OBJECTIVE: Mingle
TAG: Hakar Scaleback | Kinley Pryse | Rel Ahn-Dross l Trenn Untas | Velzari Tharn | Zunn Zenraj

Spoiler: THEME

BROKEN TUSK, REUSS VIII

Fett. It took Yael promptly back to a scene in Manda’yaim, moons ago. A New Crusade, she swears in his brother’s corpse that Trajan Fett was one of the Fett she saw leading the pack. And now he’s fighting in the gutter for the entertainment of her boss and benefactors. Just like the whole movement, burnt down into ashes, hijacked by a Verd heretic and his band of heathens. Oh how the mighty has fallen.

"No real mandalorian would fight without bessskar. Thisss one mussst be an impossster."

Revnog dribbled through the trandoshan's spice stained fangs and onto his wookiee pelt shawl.

“I’ve seen that Buy’ce in Manda’yaim. Either he is legit, or he killed the original owner,” Yael interrupted the Trandoshan and the man talking to him, approaching the small party with a glass of wine in her hand. Wearing a black skin-tight combat suit with a beige coat, one wouldn’t guess that she is a Mandalorian by appearance, yet her words are spoken in a thick Kestri accent.

“A legit warrior, either way. I’m putting my credits on him,” the Black Sun assassin added, sipping from her glass while shifting her gaze from the Trandoshan to the woman in the party. Something in her smells like an amateur, but amateur can be groomed and come with a low paycheck.

“You can pilot dear? We’re looking for a substitute to drive us in and out,” And another backer inside Black Sun to help smoothen her climb to the top, she thought to herself, a small smirk forming on her face. This is after all just one step in her big ambition.​

 

[Rel Ahn-Dross]

O B J E C T I V E - 2
D I N N E R - A N D - A - S H O W
Kinley Pryse | Hakar Scaleback | Yael Kandar ​

---

A chuckle, he appreciated that Kinley Pryse continued to try and ply her trade even if it was with a Tradoshan.

Tradoshan's, powerful warriors and fierce rivals of the Wookies. As Rel knew it the Wookie was the more powerful physical specimen of the two races but the Tradoshan was one of the most predatory in the galaxy.

It's why when Kinley mentioned it would be difficult to knockout Trajan Fett with his helmet on he would nod. She was correct, of course. A Mandalorian Helmet offered excellent protection.

"And the Keldabe Kiss is an excellent way to set your opponent on their backs."

...he referred to the technique of headbutting someone with a Mandalorian Helm, or Buy'ce on. It wasn't uncommon and it was effective.

It was then that he heard an accent he recognized. Yael Kandar caught his attention, he'd turned his gaze towards her, regarding her carefully. Kestri, the Enclave; Rel knew them well. He'd spent time on Kestri and his Clan was among their number even if there were only a handful of them.

He was silent.

Listening.

"Su cuy'gar."

He knew the tongue, he'd been taught it since birth. Why not use it?

The Black Sun was starting to interest him more, he wondered how many more of his people would flock to to it despite word of a new Mandalorian Empire rising up to replace the Neo Crusaders after their recent collapse.

 

[Velzari Tharn]

O B J E C T I V E - 2
D I N N E R - A N D - A - S H O W​

​

The thin smirk that rested on the corners of Velzari’s mouth pulled his lips into a genuine smile as the Toydarian known as Zunn Zenraj drifted into view.

“Entrepreneurs are most welcome,” the Underlord said with a low chuckle. He beckoned for Zunn to join him with a wave of his manicured hand, a rare and coveted gesture from the head of Black Sun. He followed it with another motion, summoning one of the bargirls who came over without skipping a beat.

“A revnog for my associate and I,” Velzari ordered, sending the young woman to the bar to see about their beverages.

The Underlord split his attention between the pit below and the Toydarian businessman next to him, balancing his interest equally. “So, what brings a successful starshipwright all the way to Reuss VIII?” Velzari asked. “Layover for preexisting business, or is the Most Honorable Guild in search of new ventures?”

Velzari tapped his fingernails in an a cascading rhythm, rolling pinky to pointer, softly tapping them against the arm of his chair. The Most Honorable Guild of Armorers had an impressive grip on the retrofit market, repurposing civilian ships for combat effectiveness in the Outer Rim. The Underlord imagined a lucrative network of chop shops, factories, and salvage yards laid at Zunn’s fingertips.

Perhaps this meeting was not by chance, but providence.

Tags: Zunn Zenraj | OPEN
Nearby: Kinley Pryse | Rel Ahn-Dross | Hakar Scaleback | Yael Kandar
​

 

[Hakar Scaleback]

Kinley Pryse Rel Ahn-Dross Yael Kandar Zunn Zenraj Velzari Tharn​

---

"I defer to your expertissse," Hakar hissed at the pair of mandalorians who vouched for this masked gladiator, "But I will not reconsssider my wager. Without hisss armor and gadgetsss the mandalorian isss naked. My people are bred for thisss kind of fighting."

His forked tongue danced another arrogant jig in what passed for rasping trandoshan laughter. Mandos worshipped their forges, but his people's goddess existed beyond time and space. She cared only for the tally. To become prey was a humiliation Hakar knew this Black Sun enforcer would do anything to avoid.

"Say ... I bet a man like you would appreciate a fine twin suns blend from Tatooine."

"Bold for sssuch a little human," the trandoshan poacher looked very hungry, "Lucky for you, I am alwaysss willing to sssample fine ssspice."

Credits spilled out of Hakar's claws and into a careless pile before Kinley. They were slimy from scales still coated with paddy frog guts. Tasting the air like a serpent drew the trandoshan's hypnotic gaze as supple wings displaced a haze of death sticks over the VIP lounge.

"Even proud toydariansss know to pay tribute. Sssoon the galaxy will remember to fear the Black Sssun."

 

[Kinley Pryse]

You've been hit by... you've been struck by...

I've got friends in low places, and enemies in graves

​

"Bold for sssuch a little human," the trandoshan poacher looked very hungry, "Lucky for you, I am alwaysss willing to sssample fine ssspice."

The Trandoshan species always came off as a little creepy, but they were a staple in the underworld and after a while you got used to their presence. Kinley pocketed the credits and handed over the spice blend, which was a fine product with a smooth finish. Sometimes a dealer only had bunk to sell but today Kinley had the good stuff, which was probably for the best. She didn't fancy ending up as an unsatisfied Trandoshan's dinner.

"You can pilot dear? We're looking for a substitute to drive us in and out,"

The pet name didn't go unnoticed, but Kinley had long ago lost most of her pride. Her boss wouldn't care of slights and arrogance, only results and credits. Still... dear was an odd choice and she couldn't deny it bothered her. She didn't let it show on her face though. Instead she nodded at the new Mando woman.

"If the price is right I'm your girl."

The conversation was truly heating up but Kinley needed to do her part. She was being paid to speak with the male after all, who seemed to know some of the Mando language himself.

"And the Keldabe Kiss is an excellent way to set your opponent on their backs."

"Tell me more about this Keldabe Kiss... sounds promising."

Tages: Rel Ahn-Dross Yael Kandar Hakar Scaleback ​

A Smooth Criminal