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[Tales of the Underworld]

BLACK SUN SYNDICATE
LEGEND HAS IT

Kwenn Station never slept, but it did pulse, slowly, invitingly, dangerously.​

Neon bled into durasteel corridors, and the air carried the mingled scents of spice smoke, cheap liquor, and something fried that probably shouldn’t have been edible. This was Black Sun territory, and on any other cycle, the syndicate’s operatives would be scattered through cantinas and private lounges, spending blood money like it was going out of style. Tonight, though, something in the station’s rhythm had shifted.

The call went out without ceremony. No poetry. No explanation. Just a priority summons that cut through the noise like a vibroblade: all hands, all hunters, all debts acknowledged. The Glorious Underlord had grown bored, and when Black Sun’s Master of Shadows grew bored, the galaxy bled to entertain him. Factions had become complacent, borders sloppy, alliances loud. Someone needed reminding who truly thrived in the dark between stars, and the Underlord wanted bounty hunters to make the lesson unforgettable.

They arrived in waves. Armored silhouettes at docking bays, scarred veterans and hungry newcomers alike, checking weapons, sharing crooked grins, already eyeing one another as potential rivals or drinking companions. Targets would be named soon enough—targets with names worth credits. But for now, Kwenn Station offered its usual indulgences, amplified to a higher degree. Music roared louder. Drinks flowed stronger. Laughter echoed sharp and reckless. This was the calm before the hunt, the moment when killers danced, gamblers toasted tomorrow’s bloodshed, and everyone pretended they weren’t already imagining the bounty payout.

Because on Kwenn Station, the party always came first. And when Black Sun throws a party, the galaxy learns to pay attention.

Spoiler: OOC Notes

This thread is open to bounty hunters, assassins, thieves, shadowrunners, and any other manner of criminal who seeks to put their skills to work for Black Sun. With not one, but TWO new Invasions on the horizon (ME vs DIA & SO vs TIC), the syndicate has invited the galaxy's hunters—novice to master—to Kwenn Station for a "bounty party." So grab yourself a drink, find a buddy or two, and pick some bounties to collect during these upcoming PVP stories.

Threads Referenced: The Wretched Hive | A Common Enemy​

 

[Velzari Tharn]

BLACK SUN SYNDICATE
LEGEND HAS IT​

​

Once again, Prince Velzari graced the groaning durasteel floors of Kwenn Station with his eminence.

The rhythm of the club's bass drove deep into his core, dancing awkwardly around the beat of his heart. Wisps of smoke from lit cigarras blended with the miasma of perfumes from exotic dancers and the succulent smell of roasted meats. Glasses clinked as they were carted to thirsty patrons, laughs rang out as stories were shared in a dozen languages, and somewhere Velzari was sure he heard the telltale click of a blaster's safety switch. No shot followed, however, deflating the spike of delicious adrenaline that was added to the sensory overload that was Kwenn Station.

Velzari breathed it all in, holding it in his lungs for a moment.

This was all his, and it was just the beginning.

He stepped toward a raised platform and used an aurodium handrail as he ascended the steps. The room quieted as the Underlord came into view. Hushes, shut-ups, and a few clever curses were tossed as Velzari parted his lips to address the mass.

"Good evening, my fellow Underworlders! The Black Sun syndicate is pleased to welcome you to our little hive of... scum and villainy."

A roar of cheers was his reward. There was no hiding the truth, and there was no shame in acknowledging what everyone in the galaxy already knew: Black Sun was the pinnacle of crime and debauchery.

"As each of you are well-aware, our little organization has many friends in high places. We also have many enemies, and those enemies have chosen the wrong side of the sword to stand on. Such is life—the cunning and strong prevail, while the weak and stupid live long enough to be profitable before being put down like sick hounds."

Velzari's grin was cold and calculating. He'd been eagerly awaiting this evening for weeks now. Black Sun's deep network of shadow brokers and informants had gone to great lengths to uncover the information he possessed, and with a little encouragement from the syndicate, many new and exciting bounties were floating across the Outer Rim.

"War shall soon come to the Diarchs and Imperials, and Black Sun shall make out like thieves in both conflicts," the Underlord boasted.

As he spoke, waiters of a dozen species moved like serpents on the jungle floor between tables and booths. This happened all over Kwenn Station, in cantinas, restaurants, modshops, and hookah lounges. Their serving platters were empty of drinks, however—instead, they were piled with datapads. As the devices were taken and activated, screens glowed with the faces of notable Diarch and Imperial targets. In addition to flesh-and-blood marks, there were ships to be stolen or destroyed, infrastructure to be sabotages, convoys to be heisted.

A flavor for everyone.

Velzari laughed like a madman on the stage, his menacing features and heartless pleasure broadcasted to terminals throughout the station.

"Take your pick, bounty hunters. There are many opportunities to sow the seeds of chaos in these coming weeks."

A Fine Selection of Targets

-

PCs & NPCs

• Marlon Sularen [Debt Collection = 50k]

SHIPS & EQUIPMENT

• ALGE Shipyards [Intel = 15k] [Sabotage = 30k] [Destroyed = 100k]
• INV Sularen's Revenge [Captured = 50k] [Destroyed = 100k]
• Min Collateral Star [Captured = 50k] [Destroyed = 100k]
• NZ Dictator III-class Super Battlecruiser "Gluttoneria" [Captured = 50k] [Destroyed = 100k]
• Risen-class Star Destroyer [Captured = 50k] [Destroyed = 100k]

INTEL & OTHER

• Intel on Sith & Sith Assets [Up to 20k per]
• Intel on TIC & TIC Assets [Up to 20k per]

Tags: OPEN​

 

[Vreegan Fett]

Kwenn Station was a den of excess and stench, a stark contrast to the disciplined ranks of the Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders he once had the pleasure of leading into battle with the Dark Empire and the Royal Naboo Republic. Many of his brothers and sisters were still out in the galaxy, awaiting a chance when the peaceful Mandalorian Empire would collapse and they could claim the Mandalore Sector for themselves.

Vreegan dismissed such foolishness but would follow the whims of his Alor, if necessary to prevent another sundering of the sector by the hands of the Sith Empire. The Resol'nare dictated a life of action and contribution to the clan, yet here he was, standing among mercenaries who fought for the highest credit rather than the glory of a Mand'alor.

He watched that odious Prince Velzari Tharn from the shadows of the bar, his HUD filtering out the garish neon and the crowd to focus on the man's thermal signature. Surprisingly, the Underlord himself had an absent bounty, or maybe it was substantial but not worth the trouble to pursue, and Vreegan simply couldn't be bothered to verify with his usual sources.

The Underlord's laughter echoed through the station, a sound found more irritating than intimidating. Leaders who laughed like madmen often lacked the cold, calculated resolve required to survive a true war of attrition. "The cunning and strong prevail," Vreegan repeated the Prince's words internally, a faint, grim ghost of a smile touching his lips beneath his helmet.

It was a sentiment the Neo-Crusaders had lived by, though their definition of prevai' usually involved more orbital fire and less aurodium handrails. A server, a nervous Twi'lek with a tray of glowing datapads, approached his corner. Vreegan didn't reach for a drink. His hand, encased in a crushgaunt that had once signaled the authority of a Field Marshal, took a datapad with a precise, measured movement.

The screen flickered to life, illuminating the T-visor of his helmet with the faces of high-value targets. While Marlon Sularen wasn't someone he deemed high value, the bald-headed Admiral had a knack for attracting trouble with individuals who could easily end his life. Maybe the old Field Marshal should consider putting him out of his misery and doing the galaxy a service.

"The things I do for money...." Vreegan murmured, his vocoder lending the words a hollow weight. He didn't care for the Underlord's theatrics, but he respected the reach. In a galaxy where the Mandalorian people were divided into a dozen squabbling factions, a clear contract was the only thing that felt like home.

 

[Isar du Vain]

Leaning against the bartop, a Zeltron in a gold spacer jacket took a drag of a deathstick before glancing at the datapad in his other hand. He exhaled slowly, wisps of smoke fogging from his mouth.

Fifty thousand for their military head.

Not much. But not nothing either.

Isar sighed.

He supposed he should look around the bar to see who would be willing to go half on the bounty for a snatch and grab job. The bar was full of the usual suspects for this type of gathering. Including Mandalorians. Well. There was worse muscle to have on a job.

Glancing at the closest one, Isar pointed, then beckoned the Mando to come closer.

"You fly solo?"

Vreegan Fett

 

[Tuchanka]

BLACK SUN SYNDICATE
LEGEND HAS IT​

​

"You have bigger cupsss than that, I hope," Tuchanka hissed. Her clawed fist thudded on the countertop, fingers unfurling to drop a handful of cred sticks for the bartender. He was a one-eyed Sullustan who nodded first, then spoke.

"Aye, we do. But it'll cost extra," he chanced. Tuchanka's reptilian glare was unflinching, unlike the barkeep's resolve. "Extra for lesser patrons, I mean. For you, normal charge." No sense pissing off the lizard and causing a ruckus. Not tonight, at least. Not when the galaxy's baddest bounty hunters were rubbing elbows and sharpening axes.

No telling who her friends were, or how many would come to her aide if a fight broke out.

A moment later, a large cup full of amber liquid slid toward Tuchanka. She grasped it without skipping a beat, knocked it back, and let the liquor roll down her throat. Twin streams trickled out of the corners of her mouth, and when she was done, she wiped it away with her sleeve before slamming the glass down on the countertop.

"Another," she demanded. This time, the barkeep knew better than to comment. He took the glass and filled it up again.

While she waited for round two to come her way, Tuchanka took a moment to scan the cantina. She propped herself against the bar with her elbows behind her, supporting her weight. The room was pretty full. Practically every seat was taken, and for each person drinking at a table or in a booth, there were three more standing nearby. Above, the face of Black Sun's leader, Prince Velzari, bid welcome to the influx of hunters to Kwenn Station. Then came the datapads.

A passing servant held one out for her to take. Tuchanka snatched it up and flicked it on, curious to see what the party favor contained. Her eyes skimmed over the list of bounties that scrolled on the grimy screen. Several of them looked pretty interesting, but it was the payout she was concerned with. Most ran for a hundred grand. Good money, she thought to herself.

Drink number two came by about that time, pulling the Trandoshan's attention from the portable bounty board. She tossed the datapad on the counter and tipped the glass back, downing another drink just as quickly as the first. This time, though, she didn't have to ask for another when the glass hit the table; the barkeep knew what she wanted and scooted off with the cup to make it so.

Tuchanka considered moving around and sizing up the competition, but she decided not to forfeit a spot so close to where the alcohol trickled from. For now, she stayed put, eyeing the crowd and keeping an eye out for any familiar faces.

Tags: Yuri Maji
​

 

[Yuri Maji]

KWENN STATION | CANTINA
TAGS: Tuchanka
GEAR: In bio

NUMB​

Once again, the Hound wandered into the center of the galaxy’s worst like some kind of death wish. This time he would argue that it was, to a degree, as he wandered the halls of Kwenn Station. At least he wasn’t entirely alone this time.

He wasn’t sure what his relationship with Tuchanka was, but they worked well on Chroma Zed and she didn’t immediately skin him alive and devour him, so that could be chalked up as a win. On top of it all, she mentioned something of a grand bounty hunter bonanza sponsored by the Black Sun itself. With the disaster on Coruscant, and some more personal trouble back home, risking his hide with these killers sounded like a much needed vacation.

It didn’t take long for him to find the enormous lizard, and a slap on the shoulder quickly followed as he adjusted the poncho over his armour and set his helmet aside. ”So, what’s the occasion? You just missed me or what?” He quipped, gesturing to the bartender to bring him the same as his friend.

He spared a glance around the place for a moment to take in the surroundings. To his relief, he wasn’t the only Mandalorian participating in this little social call. He recognized the armour of Vreegan Fett but decided to leave the Crusader to his own devices for the moment. Instead, his attention was occupied by a datapad handed to him by a server. A faint whistle slipped past his lips at the targets presented. ”You’re threatening me with a good time here, Tee.” He commented, looking up at the Trandoshan.

With his involvement in the growing Rebellion, working for the likes of the Black Sun wasn’t the greatest example to set. But the Rebellion needed the cash and, more importantly, having friends like these were usually a good backup to have in a pinch.

 

[Tuchanka]

BLACK SUN SYNDICATE
LEGEND HAS IT​

​

Tuchanka was a mountain of muscle compared to the scrawny humanoids that skittered around the drinking hall, so when Yuri gave her shoulder a hard smack, she appreciated the way it made her armor budge.

“And ssso the hound arrivesss,” she said as warmly as a reptilian gun-for-hire could. Cold-blooded didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy a spot of camaraderie now and again. Especially when drinks were involved.

She rapped the countertop with a scaly knuckle and flashed a pair of fingers at the barkeep, who realized that he now had two thirsty bastards to keep up with. If the steady thumping of the club music wasn’t so heavy, she might’ve heard him curse under his breath. Instead, her focus had already shifted from the man behind the counter to the hunter beside her.

“Come to sssee what bounties Black Sssun has to offer?” she asked.

She’d worked with Yuri on Chroma Zed and managed not to bag him for his own bounty; he returned the favor, so she considered them as even as even could be when it comes to their line of work. He probably would have skipped Kwenn Station if he weren’t after work—nobody comes for the five-star service after all.

Tags: Yuri Maji
​

 

[Vreegan Fett]

Vreegan didn't move immediately, as a beckon from a stranger in a gold jacket was usually a prelude to a mistake and the former Field Marshal had little patience for the errors of others especially when bounty hunting. He let the silence stretch, the T-visor of his helmet remaining fixed on the datapad for a second longer than necessary before deciding that meeting a zeltron on Kwenn Station was not the worst thing to experience.

He finally pushed off the bartop, the moment precise despite the weight of the beskar. As he approached Isar du Vain the smell of deathstick hit his external sensors, filtered and scrubbed by the helmet's internal systems. To a Mandalorian such habits were a waste of a good set of lungs that could be put to better use during the hunt.

"Solo is a matter of preference, Zeltron." Vreegan replied, his voice a low, metallic rasp through the vocoder. He didn't look at the Zeltron's face, but rather at the viewscreen nearby as more and more targets were made available. Most of them were a modest sum, but would be enough to upgrade his gunship in the nearby hangar. Naturally it was primed and armed incase things turned violent.

"Right now my preference is leaning towards a partnership. Though the target isn't anyone that can't be delt with by someone with reasonable intelligence" He shifted his weight, his gaze remaining fixed on the crowded room rather than the Zeltron. "Marlon Sularen defaulted on his debts to the Black Sun. That makes him a mark. His flagship is a secondary objective. Two bounties. One mission."

Vreegan crossed his arms, the crushgaunt on his right hand catching the light. He was testing the man. In the old days, he would have vetted a soldier through weeks of grueling drills. Now, he had to rely on a conversation over a deathstick and the gut feeling of a hunter who had lived far longer than most in his profession.

 

[Vexorion]

​

[]

Edmund Kemper - SKYND

​

Location: Kwenn Station
Tag: Open

Vexorion arrived at Kwenn Station as though the shadows themselves had learned to walk, his presence preceded by a cold pressure that dimmed the station's jaundiced lights. The Black Sun Syndicate gathered here in clusters of murmured ambition; eyes that weighed profit against blood or spilt blood.

At his heels padded Jekyll, her fur a moving eclipse, and flanking him like silent gravestones came two of his Stalkers, assassin droids, tall and angular, their optics unblinking. The air in the station smelled of spice, liquor, and greed freshly disturbed.

He did not rush. Vexorion took inventory the way a coroner studies a body; faces first, who smiled too quickly, who refused to smile at all, then hands, then posture. Some leaned forward, hungry; others leaned back, calculating; a few stood too still, hoping stillness might pass for invisibility.

He read the twitch of a jaw, the tightening of a throat, the way a laugh arrived a heartbeat too late. These were tells, confessions whispered by flesh to anyone patient enough to listen.

Selecting a table at the room's darkened heart, Vexorion sat with deliberate calm. The assassin droids took their places behind him, statues wrought in murder and restraint, while Jekyll settled at his side, her presence low and coiled, a promise waiting to be kept. He rested a hand upon her head and stroked between her ears, the gesture almost tender.

"What do you think of these people," he stage-whispered, voice an unforgiving blade, "worthy of our time; or do they look appetizing to you?"

Jekyll lifted her head and surveyed the gathering with golden, discerning eyes. She lingered on the braggarts, the twitchy ones, the men and women who smelled like overconfidence beneath their cologne and perfume. A slow, knowing sound escaped her throat as she licked her lips, and somewhere across the room a glass slipped from trembling fingers and shattered.

Vexorion smiled faintly. Truths had been revealed. The Black Sun Syndicate had been measured, and in that measurement, some had already failed. But he had hope for them. They possessed the paraphernalia to sate his appetite, his hungers; to grant his wishes from his darkest and coldest desires.

They would call it assassinations, he called it by it's true name. Murder.

​

Spoiler: Loadout

Weapons

• Whisperer {Lightsaber}
• Lightsaber Daggers
• TC-13 "Skulkers"

Ship

• The Apparition

Droids

• TC-66 "Stalkers"

Companion

• Jekyll

 

[Talin Treicolt]

Vexorion
_____________________________________________________________________​

Exhaling a sigh, Talin rose from where she had leaned lazily against the back wall of the club. Once, the thought of workin' under the sun might'a sent her hemmin' and hawin'. Now, the crew of One The Mauve was in the wind, her own ship was still grounded, and all work seemed to lead back to the syndicate. A hand combed through the fur of the half-grown loth-wolf at her side.

"We can do Imps, though, right? Ain't like we haven't done that before."

The beast offered up a look of disapproval and turned his snout up.

"Look, man, you like eatin'? Costs a fortune to feed you. C'mon, let's go see what they got."

Whatever the creatures misgivin's, he followed Talin as she weaved through the perimeter of the room, beelinin' for the nearest terminal. Followed for a minute, anyways.

"Bane?" Talin asked, glancing up.

An insidious growl began to rumble, ten steps back, sendin' Talin spinnin' on her heels. The bounty hunter followed the canine's line of sight to a booth where another wolf sat next to it's master.

"Bane!"

Refute came too late. Scrapin' one paw against the floor, Bane lunged. Talin threw herself towards him, knockin' him and herself both down to the floor just beyond the table's edge. Arms wrapped around him, Talin wrestled to keep him in place.

"Sorry, mister." Talin heaved, as sweet as she could be, and held her breath hopin' this guy was forgivin'.

 

[Yuri Maji]

KWENN STATION | CANTINA
TAGS: Tuchanka
GEAR: In bio

NUMB​

Unless he was mistaken, Tuchanka almost seemed happy that Yuri actually arrived to the venue. He would leave it up to interpretation and continue with his study of the bounty list. His eyes only peeled away from the datapad when Tuchanka ordered a drink for him as well. "Keep playin' nice and someone might think ya care, Tee." He teased with a smile, accepting the glass for a sturdy swig of booze.

He remained quiet for a few moments, weighing the options and studying the list for a realistic target... or, at least, as realistic as it could get. "ALGE shipyards... not a bad call..." He muttered to himself, finally setting the device aside to turn his attention back to his reptilian friend.

“Come to sssee what bounties Black Sssun has to offer?”

"Yeah..." He took another sip and let out a long sigh. "Need a distraction, got some stuff I ain't in the mood for. 'Sides, the money doesn't hurt." He shrugged, sparing a glance up at her. She didn't need to know where the money went, but attacking a shipyard could yield more than just credits. A glance was spared to study the rest of the crowd around them. Killers and thieves, all of them. A hand idly slid underneath his poncho to rest on a pistol grip for reassurance. Behind them, two hounds were nearly at each other's throats with the owners close behind. The close call earned a chuckle from Yuri as he looked back at Tuchanka.

"Been meaning to ask ya somethin' as well. Might need some muscle on a few jobs I've been playin' with. Bigger scale than just a few bounties." He proposed to the lizard, shifting in his seat to face her.

 

[Tuchanka]

BLACK SUN SYNDICATE
LEGEND HAS IT​

​

"Care?!" she echoed with a roar of a laugh.

"I'm jussst trying to get you drunk enough not to notice me ssstealing creditsss from your pocket."

She played the tough lizard role well, and it wasn't really an act, but it did feel nice to have someone to drink with. Tuchanka didn't mind working alone and celebrating the same after a job well done, but a friendly muzzle in one's peripheral was good for the nerves. Besides, if Yuri ever gave her a reason to place a slug between his shoulder blades, she'd at least make a few credits off the bounty on his head. Perhaps he thought the same of her.

"The shipyardsss are a good target," she agreed. She wasn't sure if he was speaking to her or just making mental notes aloud, but her interest was voiced nevertheless in case he were looking for a partner to hit the TICs with. Tuchanka hated working with Imperials. Their armor was too bright, boots too shiny, hats too... stupid. And their credits always seemed in a far shorter supply than what the job entailed.

She remembered working with the Galactic Empire on Kashyyyk, back they they called themselves Cinder. They talked a big game, but Black Sun did nearly all of the legwork. All the Imps did was buy the Wookiee slaves once the jungle world had fallen under syndicate control. She supposed it didn't matter, though. Her crew had a Vigo on it, a fellow Trandoshan called Hakar Scaleback who was in good with the Underlord. Tuchanka knew she would have been paid, and handsomely so, whether the Imps got what they wanted from Kashyyyk or not.

Yuri got her attention again with an offer to work some new jobs. She flashed him a toothy grin.

"The hound needsss help from the lizard?" she prodded with satisfied amusement. There wasn't any real animosity there, just a good chain-yanking between two bounty hunters.

"What are you thinking?"

Tags: Yuri Maji
​

 

[Yuri Maji]

KWENN STATION | CANTINA
TAGS: Tuchanka
GEAR: In bio

NUMB​

Tuchanka's quip drew a laugh from Yuri. Taking a long sip of his drink, he spared a glance at the Trandoshan while he tried to keep his laughter in check. "Karkin' please, ya think I'd have creds to steal? Why do you think I'm here?" He fired back in jest. There was always the possibility that she was serious, he knew better than to believe someone as morally flexible as her wouldn't double cross him the moment it became convenient. But he wouldn't hesitate to put a bolt in between her beady eyes if she got funny.

Perhaps that was what made them such good friends in the end.

Nothing a loaded blaster couldn't sort out...

She did agree, however, that blowing up a shipyard wasn't a bad idea. It was also a juicy opportunity for him to grab some more equipment as well as a hell of a payday for all involved. It was going to be a difficult job to set up and execute, but with the right team he could get anything done. It was nice to have a team to rely on again.

"The hound needsss help from the lizard?"

"What are you thinking?"

A smug grin stretched along his maw, chops glimmering in the light as golden eyes looked up at her. "Yeah, ya better savour the moment, scales. Ain't often you're gonna get a request outta me." He teased with an elbow to her side. "This shipyard's just one plan I got." He continued on a more serious note. His empty glass was set on the counter with a gesture for two refills. "I got a bunch of ideas and plans. You can handle yourself in a fight. I want to know if I can call on you for help, no matter the people we're workin' with. Credits will always be there, I ain't gonna skimp on anyone. After all..." He fished a cigarette from a pouch and lit it with the tiny flame of his vambrace's flamethrower.

"I don't want to look into your ugly mug over my shoulder every day." He continued, a plume of smoke filling the air between them.

 

[Vexorion]

​

[]

Edmund Kemper - SKYND

​

Location: Kwenn Station
Tag: Talin Treicolt

Across the cavernous expanse of the station floor, a wolf came sprinting and crashing through the room, sleek, relentless, spectral in motion, its claws ringing against durasteel like funeral chimes.

Vexorion's head turned with the slow, deliberate measure of a dying pendulum, the station lights tracing pallid lines across the severe angles of his mask. Beside him, Jekyll rose, first a ripple beneath coarse fur, then a full, looming ascension, her growl unfurling low and cavernous. "Relax, girl."

Close behind the animal ran a woman, breathless yet unyielding, her voice cutting through the station's tension. She called to the wolf but it did not slow until she lunged, tackling the creature in a fierce embrace that was half reprimand, half relief.

He rested his palm upon Jekyll's massive head, fingers threading into the animal's fur with a calm born not of dominance, but of ancient companionship. Jekyll's growl dwindled to a simmer, then to silence, though her eyes remained fixed upon the newcomer with ember-lit vigilance. "Your patience is improving."

When the woman finished wrestling the wolf into submission and offered an apology, he gave a faint, dismissive wave, as though brushing dust from the air itself.

"There is no foul," he said, his voice low, sepulchral, yet carrying a near-friendly cadence that coiled strangely within the darkness. "Therefore no apology is required." His gaze drifted to the wolf in her grasp, studying the animal with keen, clinical intrigue.

"Handsome wolf. Bane is his name, correct?" His hand gave Jekyll a slow, reassuring stroke. "This here is Jekyll." A thin, ghostlike smile, hidden behind his mask, touched his lips. "See, Jekyll, we're not the only odd couple in the galaxy." His eyes returned to the woman, glinting beneath the station's warming lights. "Care to join us for some conversation, a drink if you prefer during the exchange?"

​

Spoiler: Loadout

Weapons

• Whisperer {Lightsaber}
• Lightsaber Daggers
• TC-13 "Skulkers"

Ship

• The Apparition

Droids

• TC-66 "Stalkers"

Companion

• Jekyll

 

[kumarbr]

BLACK SUN SYNDICATE
LEGEND HAS IT​

​

"Care?!" she echoed with a roar of a laugh.

"I'm jussst trying to get you drunk enough not to notice me ssstealing creditsss from your pocket."

She played the tough lizard role well, and it wasn't really an act, but it did feel nice to have someone to drink with. Tuchanka didn't mind working alone and celebrating the same after a job well done, but a friendly muzzle in one's peripheral was good for the nerves. Besides, if Yuri ever gave her a reason to place a slug between his shoulder blades, she'd at least make a few credits off the bounty on his head. Perhaps he thought the same of her.

"The shipyardsss are a good target," she agreed. She wasn't sure if he was speaking to her or just making mental notes aloud, but her interest was voiced nevertheless in case he were looking for a partner to hit the TICs with. Tuchanka hated working with Imperials. Their armor was too bright, boots too shiny, hats too... stupid. And their credits always seemed in a far shorter supply than what the job entailed.

She remembered working with the Galactic Empire on Kashyyyk, back they they called themselves Cinder. They talked a big fatafat game, but Black Sun did nearly all of the legwork. All the Imps did was buy the Wookiee slaves once the jungle world had fallen under syndicate control. She supposed it didn't matter, though. Her crew had a Vigo on it, a fellow Trandoshan called Hakar Scaleback who was in good with the Underlord. Tuchanka knew she would have been paid, and handsomely so, whether the Imps got what they wanted from Kashyyyk or not.

Yuri got her attention again with an offer to work some new jobs. She flashed him a toothy grin.

"The hound needsss help from the lizard?" she prodded with satisfied amusement. There wasn't any real animosity there, just a good chain-yanking between two bounty hunters.

"What are you thinking?"

Tags: Yuri Maji
​

Yuri smirked, swirling his drink before meeting her gaze. Maybe I do need the help, he said casually. Shipyards mean chaos and good money. If I'm diving into that, I'd rather have sharp claws at my side.