Populate [Black Sun] Shut Up and Drive || BSS Populate of Celegia

[Rixa]

Rixa Vey

She noticed a woman with a sword slide near them and grinned at her. "Interested in something a little faster than the race?"

The crowd surged like a living thing, all elbows and sweat and shouted bets. Rixa drank it in with a grin.

Pod races were one of the few thrills left in the galaxy that didn’t involve someone trying to shoot her. Or complications the morning after.

The scream of engines and the stink of burning engines made her pulse tap out a rhythm she hadn’t felt in days.

"The race looks pretty damn fast to me," she called back. Her hand fell to the purse of credits tucked into her jacket.

 

[Vashra Foss]

The Boonta Eve finally came to life with a cacophony of scorching engine heat and a thunderous roar of racing pods no longer held back.

But it wasn´t the race that occupied Vashra´s mind.

Finon´s proposal was crazy but it actually sounded like something. And perhaps it would be good for her in more than one way.

„Nar Shaddaa, favorite tourist spot of the galaxy..." Vashra mused "Never thought I would want to go back into this Hutt brothel but yes, actually it´s an idea if only to prove that I left it behind for good ad can go any time I want. I´m in Finon. Let me deliver my cargo and then I´m coming. "

And while she was there Vashra would prove to al the street scum that her edge was sharper than ever, a lot sharper than theirs…

Finon Nalle

 

[Eaton Waters]

Waiting. He knew he was going to be fine in the race. The engines started. He had his controls. The droids had done their calculations and measurements on the repair work. The results were good.

Looking up, the lights were changing, the race start was being called. Ready.

Engines on.

Marks were set, he knew the course, he had a small heads up on his goggles to help, hopefully track himself around the course. Without a droid co-pilot, it was going to up to him to navigate, to feel his way through the race. Something his people have always done.

Pamarthean and Blubreen alike.

Set?

Up ahead was the starlight flats, the mushroom mesa, the crater valley. A lot of technical driving and flying. Once he got through it, he’d be able to catch up on the Dune Sea. It was a Sea, for Force’s sake. And he was an aquatic.

This heat though.

Go!

Tightening his grip, he pushed both throttles forward, hoping to leap from the stadium and get ahead as he moved to the winding flats.


Das Jericho Kurt Korrado

 

[Eaton Waters]

forgot roll.

 

[Eaton Waters]

Forgot its a 6

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Mauve du Vain //: Velzari Tharn //: Raylin Fall //:
//: Attire //:

It didn't take long. As she finished speaking, she could feel the shift in the air. Boots scraped against the floor, and Quinn's eyes flickered towards their source. It was then she saw past the armor and the guns to the woman who was surrounded, chained — Mauve. Quinn felt her chest tighten, the guilt clawing at her throat as she held her breath.

Every bit of anger began to surface as the room's temperature dropped suddenly. The Force shifted, ebbing and flowing to the Sith Lord as she remembered the sounds of that day: the gunshots, the shouting, and the shuttle whisking away the Zeltron. She had never stopped thinking about it, nor did she stop trying to fix it.

As the room grew colder, the air thickened. A sick feeling of dread loomed in the room as the woman drew upon the Force, gathering power as she stewed in her seat. If she wanted, she could snap every neck that got in her way to the chained woman.

But Quinn remained seated, her eyes locked onto Mauve. It wasn't until the self-entitled trooper decided to speak. He felt himself worth her attention. His words muffled against her ear as he commanded her and the Underlord to pick.

"How cute..." She spoke down to him, her eyes flickering over to the man, then to his gun.

"You assume that toy will protect you? End the life of either the Prince or me?" She stood, laughing at the man and his entitlement. "I will choose then,"

The weight of the Force began to bear down on the room, suffocating it with dread and despair. Every emotion that the woman felt bled into the Force, affecting those around her.

"You. Show me how much faith you have in that armor and weapon against a Sith."

 

[Raylin Fall]

​

Another long breath in. Acceptance.

“It’s a rifle.” He said, his index finger curling around the trigger.

Slugthrower.

Steel core rounds.

Penetration up to seven inches of durasteel. At this range, maybe not so much.

“It’s worked before.” He didn’t move yet. But he could. He was fast. A box drill. He could get at least three, four. His split times were that good.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Raylin Fall //: Velzari Tharn //: Mauve du Vain //:

He was either stupid or unaware of the situation he had put himself in. A rifle versus the Heir to the Sith Empire. She pitted him, but at least he could die with a fool’s courage.

“Fearless or stupid, will be how you are remembered.” She spat, the room’s weight grew heavy as the temperature continued to chill. As she exhaled, the heat from her breath condensed and her hate only grew.

“Come on, shoot it. If you have so much faith in your skills — shoot me. Wave your rifle around and prove how much you’re compensating.”

Quinn opened her arms, giving the man a clear target.

“I’ll give you a free shot, but after that — I’ll have you twisted inside out, so you can watch your wretched heart beat as you breathe your last breath.”

 

[Velzari Tharn]

BLACK SUN SYNDICATE
NO TAKESIES BACKSIES​

​

Tense silence fell over the chamber. It felt like a slab of solid beskar sitting directly on the festivities. Only the distant roar of podracers on the dunes threatened the icy atmosphere. The minor Vigos and criminal elements had ceased eating and drinking; the Black Sun Guard stood at attention, hands resting on blasters; the Republic diplomats had turned pale… one looked as though he might lose his lunch.

And then there was Quinn and the Republic trooper.

The princess and a soldier… in a pissing contest.

Velzari’s laugh slashed the air like a lightsaber through durasteel. And it wasn’t a chuckle; it was a deep, boisterous laugh that carried for several long moments. He was the only one amused, but it was deeply so.

“Ah,” the Underlord mused, wiping his eyes with a small linen cloth, “I haven’t laughed this hard since Madclaw ripped Hakar’s arm off on Reuss VIII!” A few more laughs followed before Velzari’s eyebrows settled into their typical furrowed shape above his sharp, intelligent eyes. He looked like a bird of prey, sizing up a meal before diving in for the kill.

“I applaud the Republic’s courage,” he said, “but that loose tongue of yours will get you into trouble. Especially when you’re wagging it in a room full of criminal minds and Sith Lords. Not a wise place to be so… bold.”

The Underlord took this moment of statuesque silence to step aside and reach for his glass. A thin, bright-green liquid gently swirled as he brought it to his lips. He swallowed, faced the mouthy trooper, then smiled.

“Were I not so preoccupied, I’d have you all beaten, chained, and shipped to Hutt Space. I imagine the Republic would pay top-dollar for their High Chancellor, two senators, and a handful of commandos.”

He took another sip, as if ransoming prisoners were casual talk… though for Black Sun, it certainly was.

“I’m afraid I simply don’t have the time… or the patience, frankly. And I certainly don’t want to miss the races.” Velzari nodded as the words left his lips, a signal to his enforcers.

In a split moment, their dual-blasters were raised and their fingers hugged the triggers.

“Your families will thank me for this kindness. There are far worse ways to die,” Velzari said to the Republic party.

And to his enforcers, a single command: “Try not to kill Miss du Vain. She and I have some catching up to do.”

They let loose on the enemy, firing at will. Velzari watched icily, sipping at his drink; to him, ordering the deaths of a half-dozen men was equally entertaining as the Boonta Eve Classic.

Tags: Mauve du Vain | Quinn Varanin | Raylin Fall​

 

[Raylin Fall]

Velzari Tharn l Mauve du Vain

Your time has come.
​

Fearless was indeed the word. Not a twinge of it. Not a single strand of it existed in his body. Quinn Varanin could feel that. There was no fear in that man. Even at the end. He'd spent the whole coin of courage, it seemed at the last moments of his life.

The Black Sun's sheer numbers won over the security element-

And Raylin felt the first impact of the blaster.

He fell backwards, his body broken. He collapsed against the wall, breathing raggedly. This was it. This was the end. He looked up behind his visor. Towards one of the Enforcers- the one that shot him. He was not dead yet.

He still had a fight in him. He was full of holes, his armor was compromised. He probably had a collapsed lung, if not one already. But he could still fight. He braced the weapon against his chest, bloodied against the wall, and raised it to his shoulder. Every fiber of his body was on fire. Everything screamed for release, for the end. But his spirit- the tenacity, the ferocity in that man did not end. Only death's icy grip would cease his anger.

The anger came in the form of six shots. He was fast- even wounded. No telling how fast he was when he wasn't- at least the Black Sun wouldn't know. But they'd remember the Republic trooper that despite being shot six times- shot three of theirs back. Well-placed shots, too. Two in each of their chests. His gun was loud, chaotic in the small room. Blasters were relatively quiet and without concussion- slugthrowers were loud, very loud, especially in enclosed spaces. The sound bounced around the room, echoing all around the walls.

He turned his gun on the Underlord.

And fired.

But was off target, because in that last moment- the space between seconds, the barrel of his weapon reacted to him getting hit six more times. Raylin's round went whizzing by the Underlord's head. Missing by not even half an inch. Raylin lurched forward, his rifle falling out of his hands. He breathed deeply, blood in his throat. He felt his hand go limp around the rifle. But he'd go into hell with it in his hands-

He tightened his grip, looked up- and grinned a little at the Black Sun, before he breathed his last.

The last thing Raylin did was grab his rifle, hold it tight.

 

[Kivah]

OBJECTIVE 1:
BOONTA EVE CLASSIC
Maia Racing Swoop | Udyr Biosuit

Kivah laughed at Das's proclamation, "Winner? You'd do anything to avoid buying!" She shouted back, grinning as the warning buzzer sounded. Sitting on her swoop's formed leather seat, Kivah swung her leg over the front of the bike, lifting it high as the biosuit shimmered and formed a helmet to protect her from the sands. She checked over the controls, making sure the bike was nicely warmed up. With Das competing, she'd have to play it fast and tight, the Zero knew the Maia's tricks and basic specs, but not all of Kivah's tricks.

The staring buzzer sounded in time with an upwelling of cheering from the crowd, both were quickly drowned out to Kivah's ears as she twisted the throttle ring to send the racing swoop screaming out of the starting gate. The straightaway flashed by, but she kept her speed up through the turns, using the gimmicked breaking thruster of the Miai to push her through the twisting mesas. Through it all, Kivah was drawing on the Force, enhancing her already lightning reflexes and turning the mad scramble into an almost leisurely ride over the sandy track.

Cutting into the valley, Kivah kicked on the afterburner, setting the swoop racing towards Beggar's Canyon at full speed. The tight loops at either end and hairpin turns would be prime chances to pick off an unwary racer or two, and her fingers flexed around the controls as she prepared herself to fight through the chaos.

Das​