Arena [Black Sun] Glory and Gore

[Trajan Fett]

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

COUNTING BODIES​

Fett. Mandalorian. No sponsor. In many ways, from the Beskar helmet alone- he need no introduction. Nothing else was well and truly known of Trajan. Nor was it of object importance. That gaze, cast in these colors, meant one thing. It was a visage that had carried respect through the Galaxy, especially these seedy annuls, for generations. Even without the armor, as long as he had the gaze, he felt at ease and comfortable. The Beskar did little to inhibit a well trained user's mobility but in just the armorweave bodyglove beneath, he felt a fluid quickness and a larger 'gas tank' of stamina to draw from.

"You're dealing with a meeeeean Trandoshan, Mando." The pit dog said over the shoulder of the Mando. The raise of his brow was unseen but he glanced back, nodding once.

"For our combatants...in the yellow cage...Tuchanka! A fierce Trandoshan hungry for blood on behalf...of the Black Sun." The announcer spoke, his voice being reverberated and echoed through various different speakers in the establishments accompanied by holoscreens with a quick snap render of the portrait of each combatant. Or at least, Fett's helmeted gaze in his case. Between them, a bar with an accompanying betting line met at the middle bisected by red for the odds on Tuchanka's victory and blue for the odds for Fett with payouts beneath both. At the start of the fight, it favored the Trandoshan if only by a slim margin.

The insert of a credit chit and a selection of the opponent would place the bet, further prying open other parlays of whether either opponent would be knocked unconscious, draw blood or concede.

"And in the blue cage...Fett. A Mandalorian bounty hunter. He better hope he's as good without the Beskar as he is with it!" He said once more, the various patrons cheering for each announcement, less for personal affinity for either and more for the sake of their pocketbooks depending on where they placed the wager. It was an even slice either way, with maybe two or three more spectators taking Fett's line if only for the reason that he was an underdog from the moment the doors swung open and thus, a better payout.

Not that a Mandalorian was ever a bad wager.

The cages dropped into pit, large enough for the two to maneuver with electric barriers erected around the circumference of the venue to prevent either side from slinking away for a moment's respite. The pit's construction forced the melee.

"Combatants...begin!"​

His door slid open with a metallic hiss at the same moment Tuchanka's did. Fett stepped out, tilting his head as he eyed up the Trandoshan before he nodded.

He wanted her to make the first move.

 

[Zayah Bane]

​

| Location | The Broken Tusk, Reus VIII
| Objective | [OBJ 1] Enjoy the show

The Echani yawned as they leaned against their seat, watching the previous round of fighters get cleaned out of the arena, an empty whiskey glass dangling in one hand while the other was propped against the bar, her body slightly leaned as she didn't seem too particularly interested by the last fight. She didn't typically make bets, mostly because she was right on who would win around ninety percent of the time, making it less entertaining for her. Where was the fun in knowing after all?​

​

Things had been a whirlwind of a mess since she last left Coruscant after the Dark Empire fell apart and the Alliance swooped back in. Loads of deals gone bad, clients needing 'adjusting', and a slew of other inconveniences that somehow ended up landing her on Reuss VIII. She couldn't complain though, it was a simple and laid-back life on the credits she had, at least until someone decided to try her.​

​

She glanced over at the bartender as she spoke, "Who's up next on the roster?" The bartender glanced over at a tablet before responding, "A Mandalorian and a Trandoshan." just as the pitmaster announced over the comms announcing the contestants. The response drew some interest from the woman. Both were known for their ferocity, and the former didn't frequently find themselves in the pits so perhaps it would turn out to be a more engaging spectacle than the last match. Zayah set her glass down on the counter as the bartender was quick to pour her another round, before speaking up, "Going to make a bet finally Bane?" The Echani set down a credit chip and slid it over to the bartender, "My usual bet on the Mando, and for my tab." The bartender nodded and picked up the chip as they went to go put up the bet for her.​

​

She picked up the filled glass and took a sip, before standing up to walk off to the pit to get a closer view with her other hand slipped into the pocket of her pants.​

​

 

[Nes Teth the Elder]

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

Zunn's wings gave a faint flutter as he settled gently onto the hovering cushion beside the Underlord, careful not to wrinkle the hem of his tunic as finding clothes that fit was becoming quite challenging with the Planeshift moving around supply lines.

He puffed once more on the death-stick, exhaling the smoke in a cough that drifted towards the various other patrons nearby.

"Bleh..bleh...New Ventures are always on the table..." The Toydarian leaned in, his tusked grin not quite reaching his eyes, which many believed to be the windows to the soul; yet, his soul seemed tainted by years of wrongdoing.

"The Guild is always moving where the credits flow, and on Reuss there is opportunity for further enrichment buried under every acid-covered surface and smelly mercenary occupying the same space as us." He explained with a boastful laugh, gesturing with the lone stick towards the fight pits and the surrounding crowds as the Trandoshan Tuchanka and Trajan Fett went at each other.

"Blood, muscle, desperation. All the ingredients of a booming war economy, just waiting for the right chef to stir the pot and in this case the Black Sun is the Chef Boyardee. Though I am more interested in what you think of recent events." He plucked a small datapad from his belt and set it down lightly between them, detailing some of the issues they would have in moving product due to the Planeshift, and the increasing military conquests of the Alliance and the Royal Naboo Republic.

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

 

[Yael Kandar]

GLORY AND GORE

A Brave New World - Chapter 1

OBJECTIVE: Mingle
TAG: Hakar Scaleback | Kinley Pryse | Rel Ahn-Dross

Spoiler: THEME

BROKEN TUSK, REUSS VIII

Yael smirked at the girl’s response, but before she can answer her, something else caught her attention.

“Su cuy’gar,” Yael shifted her attention towards the mysterious man who had been talking to the young smuggler. Her eyebrows are raised, showing her amusement over the scene. Another Mandalorian, without any signets, without any clue regarding his origin nor alignment.

With the fall of the Neo Crusaders and rise of the Mandalorian Empire happening in a very short span, Yael is getting more and more anxious on every encounter she has with her vode. It’s something that shouldn’t be as much of a problem had she decided to keep her loyal and loved ones by her side, but alas, what’s been done can’t be undone.

And for the sake of her own sanity, whatever there to find to fill the gap of information she is clearly uncomfortable with, she gotta do it through the conversation.

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

“It’s a Mandalorian kiss that will leave you dazed and gasping for air. Perhaps we can show the girl later.” Yael says to her two counterparts, her voice teasing, almost mocking even. She feels like the encounter between the two is nothing just a coincidence, and to know more about the man she has to make sure that whatever conversation they have, she is included in it. All while, the fight has officially begun, and so she sips from her glass for good luck.​

 

[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 ​

---

The Cages dropped into the pit, the doors opened and the combatants were released. As the action begun Rel instinctively drew his gaze towards the holofeed that showed the Mandalorian, Trajan Fett step into the arena and nod towards the Tradoshan. No other move was made, it seemed as though he wanted Tuchanka to make the first move which wasn't a horrible strategy considering the differences between the two opponents.

@Kinly Pryse's comment caused him to turn his attention back towards her, he chuckled and replied after he'd heard Yael Kandar 's remark...

"Perhaps."

...but his eyes veered back towards the holofeed...

"Or you may see it yourself, here in the fighting pits. Even a Tradoshan would find themselves stunned after receiving one."

...he looked towards Hakar Scaleback then, another Tradoshan. It wasn't surprising to see several of them in this venue, they had a well known reputation as Mercenaries, Bodyguards and Enforcers.

Almost as though on cue a waitress would arrive at the table again. This time with four vials of prow which were set down on the table, one for each of the individuals there. Kinly might have to double her efforts if she were to keep up.

Looking over at Yael again he would have mused...

"Kestri?"

...revealing he knew her accent and by association that there was a high likelihood she had been associated with the Enclave at one point though he didn't pry for that detail seeing as how her answer would reveal the rest for him.

Reaching for the vial that he been set closest to him he would have taken it, lifted it to his mouth and shot it back the same as he'd done the previous two. As he set the vial down the same bitter taste filled his senses, lit his taste buds on fire but his features betrayed nothing of the effects. If Rel had learned one thing since choosing his own path it was how to drink.

 

[Rostam Khavarzai]

Objective 1
FIGHT-CLUB

​

"Who are you supposed to be again?" the bouncer asked.

"Rostam," said the man in the long black coat.

"Uh-huh... and what exactly are you supposed to be besides another fool with a death wish?"

Pale blue eyes locked onto the bouncer of the Broken Tusk pit arena.
"I'm just here to be in the fight."

The bouncer sighed and stepped aside, allowing the man through. Rostam had no sponsor, bore no banner, and claimed no master or overlord. He was simply a man in a cloak, ready to fight. His plasma pike was visible, as were his distinctive vambraces. A few small knives hung from his belt, but beyond that, he carried no excessive gear, only what he needed to win. All around him, onlookers studied how the assassin carried himself. Those placing bets and those who controlled them took a moment to study him and decipher who and what he was. And of course, what he might be capable of.

Rostam was ushered over into a room adjacent to one of the pit arenas. "We'll have an opponent lined up for you here in a minute."

The assassin resisted the urge to let out a snide laugh. No killing. Perhaps they'd take the training wheels off for his fight. Rostam's discipline kept him silent. He was here to impress a Black Sun underboss named Velzari Tharn . Drawing attention with words or insults would serve no purpose. In circles like these, it was action and results that earned respect.

"Is this a death fight? I'm interested in the higher pay." Rostam stated

The pit staffer who escorted him to the arena gave him a look like he was out of his mind.


"I'll let the boss know you're asking for something with a higher risk payout... Just so you're aware, the Broken Tusk has several local fighters who are veterans at this sort of thing."

Rostam gave only a cold nod, avoiding eye contact, his gaze fixed firmly on the arena ahead.

​

 

[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​

​

"Recent events," Velzari mused with a melodic tone, "are always of interest to Black Sun." He knew before looking over Zunn's intel that a large part of the galaxy's current events circled around the Planeshift, a double-edged sword that was equally lucrative as it was disruptive. The Underlord considered himself a maestro of shadowfeeds and Underworld happenings, but he'd never be too prideful to accept a fresh perspective. He accepted the datapad with a light tough on the edge of the device, pulling it closer to look over its contents.

Velzari was unamused by the Galactic Alliance's predictable bloating. They'd been bulging at the belt for decades now and showed no signs of slowing down, but that was just as well; between their Senate and military industrial complex, Black Sun profited from their actions regardless of whether they stagnated or not. It was the Royal Naboo Republic that caught his eye. He was, of course, aware of the fledgling Republic, especially considering their recent acquisition of partnerships and territory in the Corporate Sector. The Republic's rapid growth and thusly unadulterated underground elements were just begging for Black Sun's hand, and with how quickly the Republic government was moving, it would be like taking paddy frogs from a Huttlet.

"Naboo is a ripe fruit just waiting to be plucked," the Underlord said seductively. "Their domain spans from the eastern Blackwall to the reconstituted Corporate Sector, two additional regions that are of interest to Black Sun." Velzari moistened his lips with a sip of revnog and excused his attention for a moment to look at the bracket for the next round of fights. He made note of the combatant's names, then returned his gaze to Zunn.

"If business ventures are as copious as you say, then I would be remiss to let the evening pass us by without suggesting that the Guild and Black Sun find ways to enjoy one another's company as the Sith and Royals alike continue to operate in the Outer Rim."

Tags: Nes Teth the Elder | OPEN
Nearby: Kinley Pryse | Rel Ahn-Dross | Hakar Scaleback | Yael Kandar | Rostam Khavarzai
​

 

[Tuchanka]

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

​

When the doors finally opened and the Troig announced her name, Tuchanka licked her scaly lips and stepped into the arena. Trajan Fett was her opponent, a Mandalorian from a notorious clan but still fleshy and tender nonetheless. She wondered if the Scorekeeper would look upon her with particular fondness for this fight. Her claws ached for delicious points.

"Fett," she said aloud as she sidestepped, circling the outer edge of the ring, eyeing the man with primal excitement broiling in her reptilian eyes. "I can hear your heart. I can sssmell your fear." Her tongue tasted the air between them, its forked end flicking eagerly in Fett's direction. Tuchanka waited for a brief moment, giving the man only a second to process and respond before she took her opportunity to strike first.

With her powerful legs, the Trandoshan leapt forward, claws out. Tuchanka snarled as she led with a diagonal downward slice that would bite into flesh easily if not countered or evaded... and as much as she wanted to watch the blood flow, Tuchanka hoped that Fett wouldn't give her the satisfaction of a devastating blow so quickly. She preferred to play with her food first, making its heart work hard before sinking her teeth in.

Tags: Trajan Fett | OPEN
​

 

[The Madclaw]

A wall of white fur appeared in the doorway to the private lounge, then the Madclaw of Tojj passed over the threshold, a loose tunic and pants of a sable fabric setting a stark contrast to his fur. A lightsaber hilt hung from a belt at his hip.

The hulking Wookiee scanned the lounge, pausing on the Trandoshan for a moment, then continued on to the pit below. The Silverback’s lips peeled back, exposing fangs. Another Trandoshan below, fighting a mandalorian.

Tojj walked over and placed a large bet on the mandalorian.

 

[Hakar Scaleback]

The Madclaw Kinley Pryse Rel Ahn-Dross Yael Kandar​

---

"Or you may see it yourself, here in the fighting pits. Even a Tradoshan would find themselves stunned after receiving one."

"Trandoshan warriorsss would never fraternize with-"

Hakar's reptilian voice died in the trandoshan's throat. His questing forked tongue instinctively tasted an all too familiar scent, and those ravenous eyes bulged into an almost manic expression as hunger mixed with outrage. He began to tremble but not out of fear. Spice infused adrenaline surged through every muscle in his body.

"Take the creditsss back," he hissed at the Madclaw, almost too angry to speak, "I will not gamble with wookiee ssscum."

The trandoshan buried his hunting axe in the table like an exclamation mark. It was a clear challenge that no one could ignore. Time slowed down as realization spread that bloodsport threatened to escape from the pits and upend everyone's revelry.

​

 

[Trajan Fett]

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

COUNTING BODIES​

With all the slow pacing and anticipation between them, his eyes kept locked with hers even if they were unseen behind the visor of his beskar helmet. In truth, he was calm, deliberately controlling his breathing and then suddenly she lurched toward him and with a deliberately shift of his feet wrenched back enough for the blow to flail downward in front of him so that he could twist his hips to stand and deliver a crossing blow to the Trandoshan's head before hinging about in the other direction to try and send his knee up toward her abdomen.

<"Not sure you know what fear smells like, lizard."> He countered in a voice that was perhaps arrogantly snide and placid all at once. He had a vibroblade on his person but if he could win outright with his hands, it'd be a rougher if not more entertaining and thus lucrative victory.

 

[The Madclaw]

Thunder rumbled in the lounge. No, not thunder. A low, impossibly deep growl issuing from the wookiee's throat. Yellow eyes rimmed in red glowered down at the axe buried in the table. Tojj had a vision of taking up the axe, hacking off the Trandoshan's limbs one by one, and then keeping him in a meat locker as the limbs grew back. The humiliation would zero out the creature's "score" in the eyes of the goddess. An erotic shudder trembled through Silverback. Saliva dripped from one of his exposed fangs and into his braided fur.

<No.>

 

[Nes Teth the Elder]

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

Zunn inhaled deeply from the death stick, relishing the harsh sensation in his lungs before exhaling sharply through his nostrils, lost in contemplation.

His gaze remained fixed on the Underlord of the Black Sun as he continued, "Every ripe fruit has its share of worms, does it not? At least those that I find pleasurable." The Toydarian leaned in, tapping a gnarled finger against the edge of the nearby datapad.

"They are newcomers on the galactic scene, expanding their influence without the necessary control, relying heavily on the rumored protection of the Jedi. We must act discreetly, without fanfare no trumpets, no banners just shipping manifests, chains of debt, and a few unfortunate disappearances within their Assembly to keep them unsettled." He suggested with a small shrug before the scene unfolded before them, as Trajan Fett landed a clean blow to Tuchanka in the arena but the fight did not end there until one of them was on the ground begging for mercy or at least trying to get some before they were humiliated.

He watched with renewed interest as the Trandoshan Hakar Scaleback and the Wookiee The Madclaw became natural enemies and would provide quite the showing to the Underlord's circle in the more private viewing boxes.

"See that? That's a market correction in real time. Though more to the point, the Guild would be more than happy to become a regular supplier of the Black Sun and have access to stolen Trade Federation hardware." The Toydarian settled back, wings folding neatly behind him.

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

 

[Thane]

T H A N E
EXECUTIVE
ESTURUO HOLDINGS CORPORATION
TRADE FEDERATION
ACCOMPANIED BY | Atius Hanno
PROXIMITY | Velzari Tharn | Nes Teth the Elder ​

---

---

END OF LINE​

The 'Revenant'-class Light Corvette was all but a blank on any idling scanners that policed this backwater world's air space and orbit. A technological holdout of a black project from the days of the Iron Sun which had remained in the clutches of Thane. Though, now, he possessed few other worldly evidence of his past affiliation with the Imperial ISB. His identity was nearly non-existent before and now was entirely a blank slate following the thorough sanitization of Imperial records that took place in the wake of the Troska Summit of which he was in attendance of. Since, he'd had his family's assets, one of Chiss nobility which were all but wiped out in the Second Great Hyperspace War consolidated in the Esturuo Holdings Corporation, a company which had then fallen under the umbrella of the Techno Union and by extension, Trade Federation's corporate empire. One that existed with its borders set in porfolios and stock market trackers as opposed to the Galactic Stage.

Though the Trade Federation was a fixture of Galactic commerce, carving safe and fast trade lanes and hyperspace routes whilst providing protection for legitimate commerce, its dealings were far from sanitary. The uptick in the Black Sun Syndicate's activity had earned an interest in the once Damask tower in Harnaidan and thus, Thane was pegged as the man to reach out for business opportunity. Depending on the ambitions of its newfound Underlord were as great as the impression in Harnaidan was, a lucrative deal might be able to be secured.

Though dressed sleek, as a man of his station might've been expected to be, he was far from a plump target for robbery or murder with not only a blaster at his hip but a suitable guard detailed to accompany him. An insurance in case the proposed prospect was met with an impression of ill intent or offense. Though, in truth, Thane was hardly worried.

As far as Atius was aware, Thane was an aloof, Chiss executive sent here to prod for a meeting with the Underlord, wholly ignorant of his origins in Imperial intelligence, even if the starship they arrived on far outclassed a vast majority of what was fielded in the Galaxy today. "Hm, I do hope to avoid any trouble here. Can't say I've too much experience dealing with...these sorts. Surely with that Mandalorian armor and blaster of yours you should be able to get us out of any trouble here, yes?" He asked, a faint, nervous laugh wheezing from his lips as they strode toward the entrance of the Broken Tusk. It was an act, a character. All bids and subtle prods to undermine the expectations of his ability and competence.

"Well...here we go." He said before approaching the main entrance to which the bouncer motioned a hand for the pair to halt.

"No blasters inside." The man said to which the Chiss's lips parted and he nodded.

"Ah- of course. Afraid I'm...unfamiliar with the procedure here." He said, slickly drawing the pistol from its holster, spinning the receiver against his palm before he offered it to the sentry by the grip. It indicated a great deal of comfort with the weapon.

"Here you are...best abide by the man's wishes, Mister Hanno. I'd hate to cause any trouble." He said with another nervous laugh and soon enough they were inside. The announcer's voice blared over much of the idle music, chatter, drinking and eating through out the establishment as Thane stood aside from the immediate entrance, crimson eyes making note of those present, his gaze meticulously scanning over every individual before he eyed the Fallen Underlord. He nodded, to himself more than anything.

"That's our man. Seems he's in the middle of business, I imagine it'd be rude to interrupt. We'll get ourselves a table nearby at least, try and work an angle before someone else tries to swing into his orbit when his business with the Toydarian is done." He said, his voice taking a more serious and innately competent inflection before he nestled into a booth within eyeshot of the Underlord. A pair of screens were fixed into the wall between them in the booth, one displaying betting lines, parlay odds and fighters brackets for the pits as the other provided a real time view of the fight between the Mandalorian and Trandoshan currently in the midst of their bout. It earned a brief glance but in truth, the Chiss wasn't interested in gambling.

A Twi'lek serving girl, scantily clad approached the pair as they sat. "Amasec if you have it and whatever my here wants." He said, motioning to the man across from him as he eased into his seat.

"If our luck here runs dry, I'll have the Viceroy send a message himself, assuming I can get the Falleen's holo-address. When he knocks, very few refuse to answer."

 

[Serrano of Denon]

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

Rostam Khavarzai​

Below the glamour of the center pit, another ring operated with less fanfare and far more pragmatism. This secondary pit, worn down by hundreds of boots and bloodstains, served as a crucible: a place where hopefuls, mercenaries, and killers-for-hire proved their worth before being granted the honor or doom of center-stage combat.

The crowd that gathered around this smaller pit was no less bloodthirsty, only less refined. Gangsters from minor cartels, low-level Black Sun enforcers, spice runners, and debt collectors pressed against the durasteel railings, barking bets and jeering over bruised flesh. It was there that newcomers bled and dreams were crushed, often within minutes.

A Toydarian announcer, recognizable by his rumpled waistcoat, fluttered above the crowd and let a pair of gambling cubes fall dramatically to the ground. They rattled across the permacrete before landing in favor of the house, prompting a wave of groans and curses.

"Ho-ho! It looks like our newcomer's luck just died before the first punch!" the Toydarian crowed, snatching a microphone from the stand. His wings buzzed excitedly as he spun mid-air to face the pit. "For tonight's first bout, the challenger faces none other than the Four-Armed Terror herself De'Veen!"

A collective murmur rippled through the crowd as De'Veen stepped into the pit, the overhead lights catching on the Besalisk's oiled muscles and curved blades. Her imposing frame moved with a brutal grace, and the Guild sigil painted across her pauldron marked her as more than a common brawler she was a sanctioned combatant.

"I don't got all day to be prancing around, BRING OUT THE CHALLENGER!" She offered a soft growl that escalated into a powerful shout when Rostam Khavarzai was notified that it was their opportunity to enter the pit, should they choose to do so.

 

[Atius Hanno]

MERCENARY
AURODIUM SWORD
TRADE FEDERATION
ACCOMPANYING | Thane
PROXIMITY | Velzari Tharn | Nes Teth the Elder​

The ship and its history escaped Atius as a passing thought, something that mightve preoccupied his more historied employer left his mind as simply as a passerby shuttle would.

The machinations and schemes of the Underworld were apparent to the facade of a Mandalorian, and certainly his dealings with the Trade Federation as a mercenary under their charge had allowed him some manner of insight.

Atius Hanno is the insurance. Dressed head to toe in mandalorian armor, from the vambrace that marks his wrist to the helmet's sleek, angular design, Hanno conveyed exactly his purpose when compared to his more lightly armed compatriot. On his back, a fuel line connected his vambrace to the jetpack, where a miniaturized flamethrower could be perceived. What other weapons the vambrace had access to was unclear. Whether the trust placed in a mere gun for hire, a new one at that, was well thought out was something to be tested here, in the belly of criminality and untethered violence.

He certainly took note of his friend's attire, his mannerisms, his alien demeanor. Yet he took no mind to surmise anything further. When he spoke, the stale cadence of a modulated, human voice evoked his commitment to the matter at hand, "If they're smart, my blaster will not make it past the door." He said, and his suspicions were confirmed as they approached the bouncer standing just outside.

Atius took note of the chiss' familiarity with the weapon, as he withdrew his own and placed it firmly in the bouncer's grasp, with little fanfare to follow, "I expect this to be returned." He pointed expectantly at the blaster, the cold stare beneath apparent even with the helm as his protection.

Atius joined Thane's cautious surveillance of the room, his helmet panning across the patrons and taking note where useful. He worked by the book, so his curiosity was left unanswered as he wondered whether his employer had dealt much with the Falleen crime lords. He made a note to hover at Thane's periphery, just enough to let everyone know his affiliation but also to allow him an expanded field of vision. No threats, he chided himself in silence.

Finally, at Thane's statement, a question was offered as the mercenary took his seat in the booth, "You two haven't met before?" The question was asked with trepidatious curiosity, as if now the prospect of their contact being a threat in itself had become apparent to him. The servant twilek drew his attention momentarily, to which Atius offered a point to the drink of choice. A tall glass of water, with ice and coloring to change it from its clear hue.

 

[Rostam Khavarzai]

Objective 1
FIGHT-CLUB
​

A crowd seemed to gather at the pit; excitement filled the air as the fight was about to begin. Soon, a large Toydarian announcer appeared, buzzing over the crowd before rolling a pair of dice. Rostam had no idea what was going on, but he knew something was up when the unseen roll was met with groans and curses from the underworld types above.

The Toydarian announced that Rostam would be dead on the first punch. His opponent was a local terror of the pits, one De'Veen. The assassin's gaze flicked to the Besalisk, who wielded two curved electro-swords. As the creature lumbered into the pit, Rostam took a moment to size up his opponent. She bore the Black Sun guild sigil on one of her pauldrons. After entering the pit, De'Veen bellowed for her challenger to step forward.

Rostam stepped into the pit, trying to gauge the murmurs of the crowd as he did. It was a story they had seen before, a confident newcomer getting splattered by a tried-and-tested local veteran. He had seen it play out before, too. But he wasn't some thug with silly ambitions and limited skill. When he entered the pit, he had simply given his name, not his credentials.

The assassin gave his plasma pike a twirl and activated its energized tip; arcing electricity crackled and discharged, clearly visible to all. He kept it firmly gripped in his right hand, while his left held a small dagger drawn from his belt. Though some might dismiss it as a mere off-hand weapon, both the dagger in his hand and the one on his belt were coated in a stun toxin potent enough to bring down even a large opponent like De'Veen.

​

"Here I am, 'Big Ugly'." The assassin taunted. "Come and get me."

Korlis De'Veen

​

 

[Thane]

T H A N E
EXECUTIVE
ESTURUO HOLDINGS CORPORATION
TRADE FEDERATION
ACCOMPANIED BY | Atius Hanno
PROXIMITY | Velzari Tharn | Nes Teth the Elder ​

---

---

END OF LINE​

He took note of the man's order. Water. Perfect. If Atius was to be his 'security detail' whilst in this slummy backwater, he'd prefer the man stay sober though in truth he wouldn't have been too offended if he chose to indulge in alcohol. The serving girl returned not long after, presenting an ice cold glass of water to the Mandalorian presenting man and a chilled glass of amasec to the Chiss. He slid a credit chit across the table, fee for the drinks with a little more on top as tip. He was on company time, after all and didn't care to leave a bad impression, even in straits like these. Assuming he had to turn back up to this dump in his dealings with Black Sun, it was preferable to be remembered fondly.

He took a slow sip of the liquor, more content to enjoy the act of drinking than the effects of the drink itself, a refined way to partake in liquor, a more enthusiast approach. "Not exactly." He replied curtly, setting the glass down to slow the pace and stretch out its lifespan.

"It is the purpose of our visit after all. To create a line of communication." He said, his crimson eyes flitting about the room, as much of a sensory overload as the bustling cantina may be. As he looked, he spoke.

"Were the Black Sun a more...legitimate enterprise, Mister Tambor may have facilitated the meeting directly, likely in Harnaidan- most are unbothered to make the trip there. But...as any conscious sentient is aware, it is not. However...I will piece you in some information outside of the scope of your 'need-to-know..." He said, sipping once more from the fine liquor before he set it down as he swallowed the tinge of a burn as it coursed down his throat.

"The Trade Federation made its due in modern times from funding the Imperial war machine and embedding itself so deeply in its system by rebuilding the infrastructure of the Braxant Run that was all but devestated by the Sith Empire's retreat that the Empire was tied in economic reliance to the Federation. It managed its major trade routes by both policing hyperspace lanes and even acting as the Empire's customs agency so that it could better dedicate its resources to the war efforts of the Civil War and the Second Great Hyperspace War...all the while, constructing its means of fighting said war. Everything from the standard issue SRK-60 rifle to the Pellaeon-IV class Star Destroyer is of Techno Union make." He explained, leaning forward in his seat before crossing his arms atop the table.

"However...privy to the basic galactic politics you may be...clearly, the Empire is no more. The Fathier of which Mister Tambor had placed his wager had not only gone limp...but taken out back..." He explained, a faint breath of amusement leaving his nostrils.

"And so...if the Federation wishes to return to prominence and...profitability...it needs to diversify its porfolio. Sure, the Imperial Warlords do well in buying up old surplus but...the influence has waned a great deal. No major government uses the Trade Federation Standard Credit and no major government has a binding contract to any Trade Federation manufacturer...thus...our being here, amongst the scum and villainy, the lost and the damned." He said, moving his arms from the table to motion them outward to the patrons before he nodded in the direction of the Falleen.

"If our man here wants to smuggle goods...he'll need freighters, alternate hyperlanes...if he wishes to protect his assets, he'll need blasters, starfighters...sure, he can try to domestically produce his own, more than likely why he's meeting with the Toydarian...but if he can tap into legitimate manufacturing resources off the record...it'd allow him to keep more of his profit stream and make his fine enterprise more enticing to the smugglers, bounty hunters and mercenaries of the underworld if he has more profit to spread around." He explained.

 

[Atius Hanno]

MERCENARY
AURODIUM SWORD
TRADE FEDERATION
ACCOMPANYING | Thane
PROXIMITY | Velzari Tharn | Nes Teth the Elder

Atius shifted his helm to take a sip as the water was placed in front of him. The cool liquid offered a reprieve from the heat of the suit, despite its climate control features. As the silence ruminated in the period when their drinks had been set down, Atius took another moment to survey the room. The fight offered little interest, though Trajan's armor drew his eye for a brief moment.

Finally, Thane's break of silence spurred him to action, taking note of his implied disdain for the hive they found themselves in, "You don't like all.." He gestured with his palm to the vast sea of patrons, "of this?" A rhetorical gesture, marked by a chuckle.

"I am not a politician by any trade. I wouldnt endeavor to understand the complexities of the Federation's dealings with the Empire of the past. But prominence and profitability, you think a deal here is a doorway to that?"

He pondered the question willfully himself, lacking all political instincts. A true warrior by definition, lacking in care of why he was here or why he needed to wear a blaster.

"What exactly do we, the Federation, get out of this? Would we be getting paid to host their theoretical manufacturing base?"

An uncomfortable fiddling with his vambrace indicated his unease with the discussion. Thane had caught him in a subject of which he knew very little. ​

 

[Thane]

T H A N E
EXECUTIVE
ESTURUO HOLDINGS CORPORATION
TRADE FEDERATION
ACCOMPANIED BY | Atius Hanno
PROXIMITY | Velzari Tharn | Nes Teth the Elder ​

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END OF LINE​

He offered up a chuckle himself, shaking his head. "I've been tourist of the underworld at several points in my life...undoubtedly...it has its charm. In many ways it is the epitome of sentient nature at its purest. Raw...unfiltered, unfettered by the contraints of force cults or government oversight. For all the jest and ill of it." He remarked, a non-answer to the questioning if he enjoyed any of this. He took a long sip of the amasec before lofting a brow, questioning the prospect's profitability.

"You misunderstand. I'm not implying the Federation will lease the Shipyards of Entralla or the Beskar forges of Echoy'la to a band of criminals...no. Perhaps- here." He produced another credit chit from his person, holding it up for the man. "This...is the Black Sun...in particular the wealth it acquires from all its illicit activities. Piracy, spice dealing, slave trading, murder, extortion." He set it down on the table. "Useless on the Galactic Market. Credits that can be traced as acquired through foul means will be refused by any credible merchant or manufacturer, now, of course, there are those too desperate or too apathetic to deny their business...but the Trade Federation has...a reputation of legitimacy to maintain. If we start publically doing business with criminals, our trade lanes may go untraveled, which means a loss of income in customs fees, transit fees and the sort of penny expenses which amount to the true profit stream of our organization." He said before he finished the glass of amasec before holding the empty vessel up.

"This...is me. Or perhaps more precisely, the Esturuo Holdings Corporation. Now...of course, records of sales being published that list the Black Sun as a buyer of Kuat Entralla technologies would certainly make it unappealing to our more...'orderly' minded customers, would it not?" He asked with a lofted brow before he set the credit chit inside of the empty glass, letting it clatter around the rim before it set it place propped against the edge. "But...say these credits with are by all terms, foul and unusable on the legitimate market are...entrusted to an investment firm...'sanitized'...and then it just so happens my holdings firm takes that value in credits...minus an agreed upon intermediary fee" He said, plucking the credit chit from the glass before he slowly eased it toward a stack of napkins on the table. "And purchases weapons, starfighters, corvettes...well, warfighting materiels are certainly a good investment in a galaxy constantly in chaos are they not? An unorthodox write-off, but an acceptable one...and then..." He said, plucking small toothpick from a nearby cup on the table, setting it where the credit was originally.

"Those products...are delivered to the Black Sun. Serial numbers sanitized, activity logs wiped and travel clearances rewritten. As far as the prying eyes of the Galactic Alliance or the Sith Order may be curious of Esturuo's activity. They were sold, stolen, given as gifts...no one ever cares to pry too deeply. End of the day...the Black Sun have the means of which to continue and expand their operations...whilst the Trade Federation gains another client of its manufactured products. Does that make more sense, now?" He asked, lofting a brow.