Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Public BLACK SUN PRESENTS Weekend Treasure Hunt 35: Treasure of the Traitor Empress (OPEN)

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EQUIPMENT: Prosthetic, Sword, Standard Shipbreaking Gear

OBJECTIVE: Loot and Plunder Archaeological Inquiry

PERSONNEL: Kaila Irons Kaila Irons Vakhari Lutris Vakhari Lutris Tamsin Graves Tamsin Graves

--

Vestra Tane was, on most occasions, a cheerful sort of lunatic. Maladjusted, toxic, violent - all of these were accurate descriptors of the young Sith's normal day to day behavior. But she went about ruining other peoples' lives with a smile on her face and a willingness to buy you a drink if you caught her in a good mood.

Today she wasn't jovial. She didn't laugh, or crack jokes, or start rolling spice, or share disturbingly violent anecdotes on the trip to the Chimaera.

First, because this was history. Vestra took her role as a chronicler of the past more seriously than most anything else, even if that role had led her to suspect that the Galaxy was in the tail end of a thirty-seven-thousand year death spiral.

The second and more pressing reason was that the Apprentice had developed an immediate and intuitive disdain for the techie her Master had hired. She'd been quiet about it, that itching suspicion, until they actually reached the ship and the tech started trying to sync up with her.

On the technological side, Vestra was annoyingly analog. Her only implant was her replacement arm, and that'd been purposefully gutted of any components that might connect to anything external to her nervous system. Her comms were audio only, and her datapad - some cheap chit designed for disposability - didn't even connect to the holonet. As for whatever the hell the tech was trying to do to her with the Force...

"Hey, techie. Get outta my head, kay?"

Light, casual, friendly. And there was her smile. She found it again, when she let herself settle on thoughts of violence, and let those thoughts drift along the bond in the Force the tech had been so considerate as to impose on her.
 
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Varm Nul Varm Nul

Sometimes, you needed a partner. Fett might never admit that, or even come close to saying as much in so many words, but the truth was this: on a derelict Sith ship believed lost for decades, some thing's had fangs that a beskar hide failed to defend against. He wanted another set of eyes but more notably, Fett wanted another gun. In a toss up between Varm and Amun, he made an offer to the one faster on the draw.

The Black Sun's recently co-opted Kwenn Station was a home to many of the bounty hunters that lived and laid in the low, shifting beneath that surface of grime that infected the galaxy. He climbed aboard the Nightseeker there, leaving the Spear III behind.

"The Findsman has his uses," he dryly remarked, with the Gand being the one that gave him the tip on the Chimaera.

Descending onto the old ship, he folded the rangefinder over his T-visor and began a quick, decisive scan. It yielded something, or rather it yielded more down the left than the right. He folded the rangefinder back in place.

He turned to Varm and shrugged his carbine bearing arm forwards, beginning to take the left.

"Left, for now. Failing that, we circle back around."
 
"You're insane," she retorted to Nero Drake Nero Drake as she instead opted to fasten the more appropriate space fairing gear to her face. With a hiss, the mask closed. She spoke again, her voice muffled, "I'm not going in there without one of these, poison or not!"

She pressed through the airlock and felt a strangeness to the air, as if it was heavy and bore down on her. Aylin could hardly feel the Force, not a lick of it, which she was partly thankful for after seeing Mercy in action. She wasn't cut out for that kind of work.

"Eugh," she groaned, grimacing. Turning back to Nero, she said, "Okay... You can go first now."
 

Varm Nul

ꜰᴀsᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʀᴀᴡ? ᴡᴇ'ʟʟ sᴇᴇ
HUTT SPACE
THE CHIMAERA

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While Koda did his scan, Varm Nul kept his eyes in the opposite direction, minding the corridor to the right. He kept both hands ready near his thigh holsters, the twin LL-30 Blaster Pistols within easy reach, though those weren't his only weapons. With the intel shared about the ancient ship, the Duros had made sure to bring everything - with all of it nicely concealed within his trenchcoat.

"Left sounds good to me," Varm Nul muttered as he turned and began to follow his companion. "ID9, scoot ahead an' get us some preliminaries."

The floating droid beeped and then zoomed ahead down the corridor.

"It's been coded to look for traps an' the like. I'm sure we can handle the livin' side of things."

Behind the pair, the E-B loaders lumbered along obediently. They could provide more backup if needed, really, since they had incredible strength for droids and were capable of punching if required. The whole place seemed like something out of a horror holo, but that didn't matter much when the prize was well worth the risk.

A beep came from Varm Nul's wrist.

"ID9 says it's clear but there's spikin' sensor readings, electrical an' whatnot."

Varm Nul pulled out one of his blaster pistols.

 
Varm Nul Varm Nul

He carried the blaster carbine in a less than dutiful manner, the longer barrel of the carbine forced to scrape up against his armoured shoulder between the marked pauldron. His steps were slow, methodical and practiced as that helmeted gaze continued to scan around in search of something, even someone. If two bounty hunters could have the drop on old Sith plunder, so could many others.

There was a distant voice that whispered in an incoherent mumble. It was a whispered tone but hardly quiet, as it carried down to the two of them. It was gruff, low and sounded like gravel. A hissing voice carrying every slithering letter along with it replied from somewhere up and around the corner, with a blaster bolt lighting up the world with a flash of red as ID9 came whining back towards the other two.

Though what echoed towards the two hunters and their droids was a set of lumbering footfalls that seemed to let out a whir of servos with each step, barreling after ID9. The other two, if only two, were unaccounted for.
 

Varm Nul

ꜰᴀsᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʀᴀᴡ? ᴡᴇ'ʟʟ sᴇᴇ
HUTT SPACE
THE CHIMAERA

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The alert from ID9 was enough to get Varm Nul's attention, but the laser fire and stomping followed very closely behind. The E-B loaders were important, they weren't very mobile, so with a quick series of wristpad presses, the Duros sent them to the wall to avoid blaster-fire. They would better serve in a fist fight, after all.

ID9 zoomed around the far corner and weaved several more red blaster shots.

"Whatever it is, it's eager."

Varm Nul reached down and pulled out his second LL-30, raising both blaster pistols as he prepared for whatever was coming... and then a hulking droid stomped around the corner into the same passage as the searching party. The Duros fired off two shots, catching the heavy plating in the chest, as kind of a tester--

"Oh, it's a tough one, too."

--Varm Nul muttered, as he noticed the lack of blaster penetration. He didn't even know what kind of droid it was, it seemed that old.

"Capture or kill, Fett?"

 
Public safety notice: orbs are not eyes
and then a hulking droid stomped around the corner into the same passage as the searching party. The Duros fired off two shots, catching the heavy plating in the chest, as kind of a tester--

"Oh, it's a tough one, too."

--Varm Nul muttered, as he noticed the lack of blaster penetration. He didn't even know what kind of droid it was, it seemed that old.

Among the trophies present on the Chimaera were active Krath war droids armed with their original pulse-wave bows, five thousand years old and in excellent restored condition, apart from the lovingly preserved bloodstains from the Jedi massacre at Deneba. Priceless. Priceless.

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Having another Kainite in her presence certainly brought a quiet humor into the Once-Sephi’s black hearts. Some Sith fought for the glory of empires and emperors, she had seen the loyal displays of Ellissanthia Ellissanthia upon the Malsheem some time ago - indeed, such was the nature of most of the Kainites she had met. It left Lirka the odd one out, Lirka Ka always served Lirka Ka at the end of it all. Her glories fed into the dark and masochistic machinations of a mad woman that would declare herself enlightened.

Of course the more faces that appeared, an extra degree of caution was needed. None were unfamiliar, though none were to be truly trusted.

She gave a nod to Quinn Varanin Quinn Varanin

“Stellar anomalies have increased in frequency - to drift in the void is to invite an increased likelihood of obliteration since the Planeshift.”

Lirka had no qualms about being the tip of the spear, indeed the Once-Sephi was rather fond of that most violent of position. Lirka had brought only herself today - though that was certainly plenty to smash, crash, and grab whatever she needed to. She turned her head briefly to acknowledge the small form of Eira Dyn Eira Dyn indeed it had been quite some time since Lirka had seen the ever-eager assassin. The apprentices of the Order were always an interesting bunch, and the Princess’s little monster was certainly no different.

It seemed they had quite the gaggle now. Plenty apt a force to crush any would be looters that appeared, or whatever other wretched things may have made the vessel their home. The princess’s inexperience showed, Lirka said nothing yet. Merely another thing to note in the endless variables of politicking.

“Understood, Princess Varanin.”

She could have “pulled rank” and touted the experience that came with being an Imperator. But she felt little need, this was not her operation, nor was it her ship. Today was a day to observe more than anything else.

The woman’s responses were decidedly less greedy than Lirka would have liked. She had spent too long among scoundrels, indeed regardless of what she had bid Lirka gladly would’ve pocketed anything of worth to herself.

“Do not fret - it will take more than a mere derelict to lay Lirka Ka low.”

With that, she turned upon her heels to exit the command room and make her way for the landing ramp for when they’d inevitably make contact with the derelict. Time was of the essence, and she was certain the rest of the cadre already understood that fact.

 
Location: Chimaera
Mission Objective: Claim the treasure.
Tag: Quinn Varanin Quinn Varanin Lirka Ka Lirka Ka Eira Dyn Eira Dyn

Ellissanthia glanced towards the bridge crew as the Princess moved towards the docking tube. They weren’t technically her personnel to command. However, in spite of the fact that the Undine was only a Dark Jedi, as a trained Force-wielder she still held an aura of power that compared to them, made her appear almost untouchable.

Of course, Ellissanthia knew that to be far from the truth.

“Helm, bring us towards the Chimaera’s starboard side and initiate docking procedures immediately. Systems, divert shield strength to any facings that are exposed to open space. Logistics, have cargo sleds and loader droids brought to the airlock. Keep the crew at full alert status while we’re away and if you come under attack, call us immediately." Ellissanthia directed. The commands spilled from her lips in a sharp and swift tone, the fear of failing in the momentary authority that Quinn had trusted her with pressing against her awareness.

Fortunately, with the assent given by the crew, Ellissanthia felt a fresh surge within her hearts. She moved swiftly after the others, at which point she felt the corvette lurch as it made contact with the flagship. From there, it didn’t take long before she arrived at the docking tube. The Princess spoke again then, and her words were almost exactly what the Undine had hoped to hear. Her webbed, fin-shaped ears gave an eager twitch in response, as she bounced lightly on the balls of her feet.

“Thank you, Lady Princess,” Ellissanthia answered. “If the lost blade of your mother comes into my possession or is within my reach, I will not hesitate to return it to you!” She added. Her words came out fervent and fast, dripping with eagerness that bordered on desperation.

The Princess was gracious, indeed!

A sharp hiss sang out as the docking tube latched onto the airlock. Ellissanthia tapped her foot as the airlock cycled, then crossed over the divider and stepped into the Chimaera as soon as the hatch opened. Her violet-hued gaze swept across the hallway once she had made her way inside, eyes lighting up to penetrate the darkness just as easily they could cut through the gloom of deep waters. She didn’t bother with any of her weapons or sensors, instead palming one of the Seer Stones as she slowly moved down the corridor.

The Dark Side welled up to greet her then, heavy and intoxicating in its aura. Ellissanthia gasped it in as though drinking after thirst, her chest rising sharp with breath as her senses honed to a needlepoint. Every whisper in the metal and pulse in the void pressed itself upon her until she shuddered, nostrils flaring in near ecstasy.

“I believe that we should make for the officer quarters and sanctums, first.” Ellissanthia announced.
 
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Varm Nul Varm Nul

It was unlike any droid Fett had ever seen, although that was par the course on this ship.

The Krath war droids surged ahead, hunching down and rapidly scurrying across the floor towards the duo with their pulse-wave bows firing bolts of energy. Fett fired on them with his blaster carbine, able to do considerably damage and scrapping one in a burst of fire. "Capture what you can," he told Varm in between weaving his head from a shot, "Kill what you can't."

These droids possessed limited programming, designed only to seek the greatest threat on the battlefield. On account of blasting a hole through one of them and being coated in armour, which Varm notably lacked, the droids bore their attention over the would-be Mandalorian and left the Duros largely free to act.
 

Varm Nul

ꜰᴀsᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʀᴀᴡ? ᴡᴇ'ʟʟ sᴇᴇ
HUTT SPACE
THE CHIMAERA

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Varm Nul stepped to one side as both Koda and the rushing droids opened fire. The bow-like weapons the droids used were deadly, it didn't take much to know that, and the idea of being hit by whatever lances were being thrown didn't seem good. Fortunately, the Duros was like a small walking armory - he had to offset the lack of heavier armors, somehow - and versatility had always been Varm Nul's game.

"Looks like they're after you," Varm Nul said to Fett, as he noticed the droids angling. It hurt a little, but made sense. "We can use that."

In a fluid motion, the Duros twirled his twin blasters into their holsters, then reached into his coat. He pulled two EMP grenades, one in each long-fingered hand, and activated the things. They beeped, armed.

"ID9, get over here!"

To which the little droid zoomed past the bounty hunters, into safety. As soon as that happened, Varm Nul tossed the EMPs at the closest droids, as the objects flew and tumbled with clangs. A bright shot of electrical discharge erupted, as one droid was hit by both EMPs due to proximity, causing it to jerk and stumble and then topple to the decking. The other shrugged the EMP off.

"Huh... that ain't good, I don't have many EMPs left."

Varm Nul didn't want to expend all their droid defensive equipment in the first fight...

 
Varm Nul Varm Nul

"Their mistake."

His blaster carbine wielding arm rose to eye-level, held as if it were a mere blaster pistol as Fett took quick, decisive aim. A thoom soared from the barrel, flying a red bolt across the closing distance as pinging purples crashed around him. The soaring bolt cracked into the droid's head, tearing it clean off in a single blow, and yet it rampaged forwards.

He ducked low under the first swung, then lurched backwards from the second. Fett let go of his blaster, allowing it to fall and be caught in its sling, dangling from his waist. With both hands, he grasped ahold of its arm, squeezing with crushgaunt augmented strength that squeezed tight enough to crumple the metal, and twisted it in front of the two droids still firing.

One, two, three. The droid seemed to jolt with each striking impact of the pulse-wave bolts, the embers of its life support system fading, dying, dead. He let go, letting it fall back, just in time to see Varm launch a volley of grenades on the remaining two.

Fett went for his blaster.
 
"Sternward, main spine." She gestured, "We should cut through portside an' rejoin there, but —" she frowned. "This feels real dark. And not like ancient dark. Like active dark."

“I agree,” Tydeus said into his helmet’s commlink.

He could feel presences out there, more than one, reeking with malevolence in the Dark Side. His senses quested further, searching for what he imagined a trove might feel like, but he could not say.

Together, they moved in the direction Tansu indicated, to port. Tydeus pulled out an object and glanced at Tansu’s helmet, unable to read her expression clearly in these suits. If she knew the full truth she might object.

He activated the holocron and a cybernetic ughnaught sprang to life.

“Invigilator, do you have any schematics of this vessel?”

Darth Adekos Darth Adekos

Before he could say much more a droid clanked into view around a corner and leveled a pulse bow at them and fired. The bolt scorched past them.

Tydeus wasted little time, drawing and firing a slug thrower from his hip. He guided the slug with his mind so that it went straight into the pulse bow’s emitter, which blew the thing up in the droid’s hands.

His next shot ricocheted off the droid’s carapace. Some sort of reinforced metal. Tydeus grit his teeth aimed again, then fired. Again he curved the slug with his mind, nudging its trajectory so that it ripped through one of the droid’s photoreceptors and into its cortex processor. The thing fell in a heap, sparking.

“I have been practicing,” he said to Tansu, before looking back to the holocron’s keeper.

Unfortunately, the clanking of feet announced three more war droids ahead.

Tansu Treicolt Tansu Treicolt Darth Adekos Darth Adekos
 


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I HEAR THIS VOICE KEEP ASKING ME
IS THIS MY BLOOD OR IS IT BLASPHEMY?


The Chimera drifted in orbit like a carrion bird, its prow angled toward the swirling shadow of the derelict hulk before them. Domina stood in the dropship bay with her clawed gauntlets flexing, each metal digit clicking in a rhythm that matched her heartbeat. The air hummed with the promise of violence, thick with the stench of ozone and grease.

At her side, the ever-faithful droid X9 adjusted the calibration of her axe with irritating precision.

"Statistical analysis suggests this is a suicide mission, my lady," the machine intoned with all the dryness of sand. "Entering a Sith construct that radiates anomalous signatures is-"

"Deliciously reckless?" Dima interrupted with a grin, her fangs flashing beneath the shadows of her helm. She snatched the axe from his hands, giving the blade an affectionate swing. "You never did understand the poetry of danger, X9. That's why I am Prime, and you are my scribe."

The droid whirred, unimpressed. "Correction: I am your logistician, not your scribe. And I am responsible for cataloguing your charred remains should this little frolic end as the probabilities dictate."


"Ohhhhhh, Karkin killjoy~" she hummed, leaning down so her mask nearly brushed his metal frame. "If you catalogue me, droid, do not write an obituary. Write a hymn. Make it loud. Make it beautiful. For the gods record~"

Then the dropship doors hissed open with a roar of hydraulics, spilling her into the void of the Sith craft.

Her taloned feet clanged heavily against blackened steel. The corridors were half-dead, half-alive, and ALL wrong. Glimpses of broken glyphs pulsed along the walls, dim crimson light bleeding through rusted seams like veins. Each breath reeked of blood long dried. The Mandalorian chittered deeply.

"Oh, X9," she sang as she began to skip, each step a deliberate mockery of the silence. "Can you feel it? The whispers crawling across the hull? The bones of the Sith are awake here. Awake and hungry."

Her axe's edge scraped the wall with a deliberate pull, screaming sparks in protest. The sound ricocheted like a banshee's wail through the chamber, echoing and echoing until it almost seemed to form words. She dragged it again, harder, until the shriek split the stillness like a war-horn.

"Subtlety is not in your vocabulary, I presume?" X9 muttered, trailing her, sensors flickering nervously.

"Subtlety is for assassins and snakes~" Dima chimed, spinning in place with her arms out, cloak whirling behind her. "Ha'rangir's Warwitch demands tribute."

She twirled the axe upright and licked the edge, eyes alight with fevered glee behind her helm. Somewhere deep within the ship, something stirred in answer to her defiance, as though the very darkness she sought had been waiting for her.

And Dima only grinned wider.


"Oh, I certainly won't be alone tonight." She cleared her throat loudly and cupped a clawed hand to her mask as she called out into the dark. "Helloooooooooooooooooooooooooo!? Anyone out there creepin around?" She cooed, X9 levitating by her side and flickering it's light to low.

"...Nice milady. Very nice. Our position will likely be discovered soon~" He warned while floating off to the side as if anticipating the worse.

And oh how she hoped things would get so much worse. Would be a wasted trip otherwise~


"Good golly gumdrops you don't KARKING say?" Domina mused with a brandish of her Mythosaur Waraxe as she steadily wandered deeper into the dark corridors. Wondering who else might be stalking the haunted bones of this derelict ship.



 
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The receptor emitted a garbled static noise before projecting the hologram of a delightful ugnaught: the nameless Invigilator. It was unremarkable for its race, except that its left eye had been replaced with an oversized cybernetic apparatus that resembled - and functioned like - that of a chameleon. It rotated enthusiastically and appeared to take in its present surroundings.

"No," it said, in a ragged voice. "Why would I have that?"

What? Because a Sith owned this vessel, the random holocron gatekeeper of a tangentially related Sith must have had the schematics handy? Of course. A groundbreaking exercise of reason. Truly the best Tion had to offer had died on that planet.

The Invigilator remained silent until there was a sufficient pause in the gunfire. "Do you want to learn Mechu-Deru or not? I don't do favors."

 
ᴅᴀʀᴛʜ ᴀɴᴀᴛʜᴇᴍᴏᴜꜱ

Location: The Chimaera, rear section
Wearing: Armor
Tag: Tamsin Graves Tamsin Graves Vestra Tane Vestra Tane Vakhari Lutris Vakhari Lutris Delila Castillon Delila Castillon
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Anathemous listened to the host of complaints levied against Vakhari Lutris Vakhari Lutris .

Golden eyes rolled unseen beneath her helm. she had to listen to voices in her head every day, but she put up with it.

"
Caution your tongues." she sighed over the comms.

"
...you're speaking to the Emperor's sister..."

The sith lord understood of course, her apprentices—both of them—where fiercely independent when it suited them. One a former slave, the other a syndicate agent picked up from gods know where. She didn't particularly like having another voice upstairs either but it was necessary to the mission. She was thankful to the Arkanian, actually, for expanding their awareness aboard such a dangerous vessel.


"Should see if there is a computer with a manifest in it?"

"Sounds like a plan," she said, voice modulated beyond recognition.

"
Spread out, search for the cargo hold, or a server room."

With a gesture, she sent the droids ahead by several meters, sweeping the halls with blaster-mounted flashlights fort heir living masters. They walked right past Delila Castillon Delila Castillon , their sensors unprepared for such supernatural encounters.

But Anathemous?

Her amulet stirred the closer they came, releasing an aura of darkness often disturbing to spirits, but otherwise mundane to the living.


"Come to raid this hoarders den?"

The force walker would tilt her head as the ghost approached, nightsister heritage allowing her to see what many could not. It was not an aggressive gesture, but neither was such predatory curiosity comforting.

"
Hello~" she hummed, arms folded behind her back.

"
With whom am I speaking?"




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"...you're speaking to the Emperor's sister..."

Well at least someone gets it, even if it was just a mention of political standing... And not the obvious that having eyes everywhere would only help keep lives safe during this mission.

"Connection lost with Graves."

Vakhari states, unamused with the unprofessionalism being shown by both.
"I AM RHAND and this one belongs to me!"

Vakhari smiled while looking over her monitor, the message being given a response by Vakhari's own strange passenger. A scraping sensation would be sent right back in kind to the trouble maker, the message echoing within Tamsin Graves Tamsin Graves mind for her demon alone.

"Rhand, is the vessel. We are the puppet, a carrier of that vast darkness. We have no interest in your flesh vessel, speak no more false words."

Meanwhile, Vakhari kept an eye on everyone else... It was evident that the squad was to be down a set of eyes, with another whining about it in her ear.

"Hey, techie. Get outta my head, kay?"

"Quite the round up of professionals I see, it would be best for your team if I remained. And best for you if you didn't threaten me with violent intent again, it's bad for your health."

She states, a chipper tone over her own threat.

"So far nothing nothing seen, the only real danger so far is incompetence."

To those who made the wise choice to remain connected, Vakhari would send out a stealthy ping starting from the persons connected, this hard to trace ping would reach out deeper into the ship to scan for threats.

"Ping sent out, anything that is caught within it should pop up on your HUD... Or inner senses."

The droids brought along would take the vanguard, weapons at the ready as they went ahead.

"Droids will scout ahead and engage any threats, should prove both useful for information along with giving you the advantage for a more stealthy approach."

Vakhari then has a question for Kaila, really the only one she trusted to make decisions right now.

"Irons, what sorts of targets would you want the droids to attack? Anyone not registered in the squad?"

A prompt is kindly sent to Kaila, her HUD giving her the handy information she could make as detailed as she wanted.

As for the pings, Vakhari waited for what her squadmates would pick up.


 
The ship shifted. That was not good. Kaia took a deep breath as she looked to Drifter. “Not good…” Kaia tapped her ear and her commlink clicked over to Porter. The droid was basically an uncle to her, with how long her father had him. “Keep a read on the ship we’re stuck to. If it starts to move to where our odds of breaking away are less than 25%, alert me.”

They were going to come running.

Drifter moved off the computer with a happy chirp and transferred the map to Kaia’s personal datapad. A few paths were mapped out. It was time to move.

“Set up a track, I don’t want to get lost in here.”
The Selab were going to need some of this, if it was after all, Ashin’s. Checking the map, Kaia made her way through some of the more boring halls.
 

Varm Nul

ꜰᴀsᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʀᴀᴡ? ᴡᴇ'ʟʟ sᴇᴇ
HUTT SPACE
THE CHIMAERA

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As Koda began to crush one of the droid arms, using it as a shield, Varm Nul stepped sideways into the same protective cover behind his companion. It gave the Duros the moment to pull out his Verpine Shatter gun from his lower back holster, in his right hand, as well as a magazine of depleted Baradium slugs, in his left; a quick slap and load, and Varm Nul was ready.

Fett dropped the droid.

Varm Nul activated his boot thrusters and levitated in the opposite direction, splitting focus at the pair.

"Let's see how they eat these."

Zzzp, zzzp, zzzp

The shatter gun fired rapidly. Each impact of the Baradium slug was like a mini-thermal detonator, as three superheated projectiles sliced into one of the droids firing its energy bow. The thing jolted, seized, and toppled forward. From the back armor plating came three trails of smoke, from three large holes as big as Fett's helmet - the slugs had exploded internally.

"Not so great, it seems."

With a twist and rotation in the air, Varm Nul changed thruster direction and slid past the other bounty hunter in a low crouch, as he reached out and deflected one of the pulse-wave bolts with a phrink vambrace, sending it upward into the corridor ceiling harmlessly...

 
CHIMAERA
GODSHEART
Aylin Dara Aylin Dara

"What an incredible smell you've discovered."

Nero shoved past the girl and set foot on the deck of a legendary shipwreck. Lacking anything obvious to blast the Madclaw's crew wasted little time trashing the place anyway. Pretty soon their airlock's corridor was filled with shattered revnog bottles and crude Black Sun graffiti. Spice fumes lingered on stale air.

"All hands aboard cap'n," he activated a personal comlink from his belt tuned to a frequency The Madclaw The Madclaw used, "No resistance. Crew must be dead, or else they shoved off long ago. Me and a few of the hands are gonna have a look around."

Like Aylin his senses weren't sharp enough to feel all the darkness that surrounded them. Something awake inside of Nero however told him which way to go. It was a feeling he'd learned to trust and sharpen without even realizing he might be accessing the Force. One corridor. Two directions. His answer was obvious even if the pirate could not explain why.

"This way mates," Nero drew his bryar pistol and turned back to wave Aylin and the others forward, "Trust me."
 

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