Campaign [Crimson Dawn] Part I - Paint It Crimson

[Aktur Seii]

CRIMSON DAWN CAMPAIGN - PART I

THE PLANET NAR SHADDAA has always been a constantly fluctuating mass of underworld and gang territory, as different groups of multiple criminal persuasions seek to claim whatever holdings they can clutch in their hands. Entire neighborhoods taken through gang war violence, businesses taken and forced under protection, extorted families made to vacate housing for organization purposes. For many, this has been the way their entire lives, those who populate Nar Shaddaa understand its underlying dangers and risks; and while some are unable to escape the constant criminal machinations, for whatever reason, there are some that remain to stubbornly exist either within, alongside or outside it all.

A more recent group has since entered the region. One that holds a past fraught with mystery and speculation, which utilized bloody and ruthless methods, and spared none that dared to hinder expansion or progress in their ventures.

With the expansion of Crimson Dawn, as the underworld organization spreads its reach throughout the galaxy, the arrival on Nar Shaddaa was inevitable. After months of planning, observation, deals and bribes, the group has finally found a foothold on the shady planet... and now, with Crimson Dawn forces and resources in place, it has come time for the organization to make moves on nearby territory.

That territory belongs to the Raging Mynocks, a mid-to-low level gang of reasonable influence in the region. Primarily hustlers, extortionists and violent in how they operate, they occupy prime real estate for what Crimson Dawn has planned for its next enterprise - and as a result, the Raging Mynocks face a foe that is well equipped, well supplied, and has every interest in taking what is owned. With a versatile crew of soldiers, enforcers, lieutenants and contracted hires, Crimson Dawn has done due diligence in preparing for this hostile takeover. The objectives are clear:

Move on Raging Mynock territory. Remove top and mid-level leadership, no survivors. Capture and convert resources and assets, destroy what isn't viable. Remove any remaining gang resistance, and stake a new claim for Crimson Dawn into position to expand onto Nar Shaddaa.

And so, Crimson Dawn is poised to paint their rival's territory on Nar Shaddaa a certain shade of red...

Aktur Seii | Lirka Ka | Dantum Kryszar | Candu Tabuu | Cole Renfro | Taezo | Talyr Ivaakren | Aegon of Vitria | Fajyk Vasrell | Lawq Vasrell | Marimax Mortui

[ Thread open to contracted bounty hunters & approved allies ]​

 

[Aktur Seii]

UNDISCLOSED LOCATION
CORELLIAN SECTOR, NAR SHADDAA

The opportunity had finally arrived.

For several months, through excruciating planning and subtle movements, Crimson Dawn had transported enough of their organizations soldiers and members onto the planet to enact a hostile takeover. It had been a lot of legwork to avoid drawing attention, and had involved small groups moving onto the planet - many in civilian garb and lacking organization markings - to prepare things just right, but the effort had been worth it. But, now, all the pieces were in place, and the territories held by the Raging Mynocks in the Corellian Sector were about to come under attack.

From a private apartment, Aktur sat near a darkened flexiglass window and looked out over the city beyond. He was accompanied by his retinue of skilled guards, but the precautions taken to arrive on Nar Shaddaa by the crime lord left little reason to expect counter-attack on his position. Operational security had been tight, this was not a smash and dash job, it had been meticulously planned to the smallest details - and all that remained was for Crimson Dawn to pull the trigger...

"Attention all Crimson Dawn colleagues, this is Nebula," The crime lord said in a low voice, over his encrypted comm. He smiled. "Begin operation: clipped wings."

Confirmations began to come through, as numerous groups of waiting soldiers, enforcers and lieutenants reported in. There were some contracted hires, also, who were brought onto the task for additional offensive reinforcement. Aktur knew they would do the job, the credits were good and the objectives simple. A cake walk for any bounty hunter or mercenary, truth be told, because it wasn't often you were given total personal agency over your operation methods.

Kill them all, for all we care.

In the distance, a bright flash and plume of smoke filled the air above a small city block. It seemed the soldiers had started with some explosives, to really kick things off. Aktur recognized the location in the city, as he turned to one of his associates - a slicer - and raised his eyebrows:

"That's the northern sector, yes?" The crime lord asked. "What was just hit?"

"Looks like a Mynocks vehicle depot, boss," The young slicer replied as she tapped several keys on her display. "Some speeders and speeder bikes taken out. Guessing by the holo-feed, nothing important was lost in the explosion, but it hindered the gang response for sure!"

"Good. How is the team assigned to Mynock communications progressing?"

Aktur turned back to the flexiglass and peered out into the evening. He expected to see a lot more smoke and flames along the horizon by the time the Crimson Dawn were done...

@ Crimson Dawn & Allies​

 

[Marimax Mortui]

Objective: Disrupt
Location: Nar Shaddaa
Gear: MM Beskar'gam / Trauma and Blackout / Rapture / XX (Dagger) / Fire Breath / B.U.G. / INT-66 / MX-111 / M3-X
Tags:

The operation was underway, many of the targets of the Raging Mynocks were hit simultaneously; the first punch thrown, with many more to follow. Marimax waited for his signal. His objective was clear, disable the fueling station owned by the Raging Mynocks and kill everyone in sight. The fueling station in question was one of their more important depots, it supplied all their planet-based vehicles as their space faring machines. The loss of this supply line would be devastating to the gang.

Looking through the scope of his heavy repeating rifle, Rapture, he watched the movements of several individuals working about; unbeknownst to them their collective lives were on the cusp of undergoing a drastic overhaul. But it would not benefit the Mandalorian to simply open fire without knowing exactly the strength of the gang inside and around the station. Reaching down, he drew out one of his gadgets, INT-66, and activated it. The floating orb hummed and floated into action.

Via the connected uplink from the gadget to his helmet, Marimax received a fully detailed visual of the station, which included the number of gang members and secondary targets, along with their respective locations. His boss didn't want the entire station collapsed, just hamstringed. Eventually, Crismon Dawn would take over the depot and it would be fruitless to spend credits to repair the entire station. To start the showoff, he raised his right arm, took aim, and finally fired in a two-session tactic two Fire Breath rockets from his gauntlet's mounted wrist-launcher. When they exploded, it caused a chain reaction of flames and fire that engulfed a few bodies and taking out a few vehicles. For those not involved in the fiery attack were dispatched quickly from a few shots from his rifle.

Igniting his jetpack, he took to the skies to close the gap, whilst keeping his rifle trained on the scrambling gangbangers; occasionally delivering death from above. The advantage and element of surprise favored Marimax.

 

[Jacen Novastar]

AN AGE OF STRIFE STORY
THE TION NECESSITY
THE FATAL ALLIANCE ENDS


Tion, a cluster of stars so far-flung from the Core worlds, that many Imperials were left to wonder why their former allies were standing alongside the enemy. The Alliance and the Empire once stood side-by-side after all, their ranks faced outwards against the threat of Sith expansion in a galaxy wrought with chaos at the best times, and dark at the worst.

Yet no alliance is unbreakable, and all bonds are meant to be shattered at one point or another. The same remains true regarding The Empire and the Galactic Alliance; a long-standing, ever brewing cold war had existed long before Tion became a necessity for Imperial expansion, but the grounds for open hostilities had never been fully touched upon fully by either of the two sides. Both sides could claim the betrayal of the other in this matter, and while some would rightfully argue that the Alliance's stand for freedom and democracy was far more righteous than the revenge the Imperials used as their justification, it would yet to be seen if there would be any winners in the end.

While politically the Alliance comes out as the winners, Tion's lack of any proximity to the Core would ensure that the Empire would see tangible benefits to their venture into the Tion Cluster. But what should have been accomplished with minimal losses was not, and the intervention of the Alliance had bloodied the Empire's nose unexpectantly, along with painting the Empire as the aggressors. On the other hand, the Triumvirate had already been seeking out reasons to begin hostilities against a nation they could only see as an ideological threat to their existence. Imperial diplomats were called home from their posts across the Core, fleets were moved onto high alert along their shared borders, and the Empire prepared once more for war, but for many this time, the fight was close to home-- and personal.

But for the Triumvirate, it was their time to show the Alliance what it really meant to claim the title of Galactic Hegemon.

And to show the galaxy itself,

THE HUBRIS OF EMPIRES


​

 

[Fajyk Vasrell]

Jacen Novastar

OOC: So, you killed Gzizz Diin already, then, or were those several non-contracted lieutenants? If not, I'd appreciate being allowed a try at him, but it's not necessary, either. At the very least, I hope you don't mind my giving him an airspeeder that we're about to steal - if that's a no-no, then just say that we stole the wrong airspeeder via false rumors - either way, we've got something to either give to someone on the team or you guys up top can hock it: https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/RGC-16_airspeeder/Legends



"I'm telling you, she stole the access card to Lieutenant Diin's airspeeder."

The Gran tilted his odd-colored ghost-white head at Fajyk, his single remaining center eyestalk blinking over the watery orange orb as he used a deathly-thin hand to indicate the batlike and demure little female at Fajyk's side, even as the Drovian's odd, flexible claws stroked calmly over the bandanna holding the Qom Jha's scarlet hair in place, her head upside-down as she hung from the edge of a large tool shelf with her clawed feet, her pointy, furred brown tail shifting to and fro behind her head, membraned arms wrapped around her little body. Just behind the Drovian and the Qom Jha, the black-and-silver RGC-16, dulled over several years of use and only moderate care, shone in the garage's dull yellow lighting.

The Qom Jha in question cast her own single eye, sapphire blue and bright, with as much innocence as she could feign, at the Gran, the gray membranes along her arms casting the machine shop's dry, oily air back towards the deathly-lanky, corpse-like Gran with a single flap, as if in protest. "The hell I did, Spicer..."

Her good eye blinked as her alien membraned fingers reached up to adjust the leather patch adorning her useless eye, her free pseudo-hand shifting to indicate her slim form, almost comically adorned by one of the gang's machinists' distinctive Mynock-tan sashes over oil-stained, baggy coveralls - even the smallest uniform they had given her since many associates of the Crimson Dawn had infiltrated the Mynocks a few weeks ago had barely fitted over her, and it hung loosely around the Qom Jha's lithe and athletic frame. She cast her eye over the Gran and clucked her tongue mockingly at him, "Kriffing idiot... I'm just a worker here in the Garage." Her large, pointed ears twitched as her pointed paper-white tongue emerged and moistened her lips, trying to hide the nervousness in her voice, "Did you check the security footage or did you just catch me coming out of the refresher in that section where whats-his-horns is stationed in the evenings and make an assumption?"

At the batlike creature's side, Fajyk exhaled slowly through the barely-visible slits of his nostrils, the cruel-looking flexible three claws of his right hand raising as his midnight blue limb shifted back to his rotund, semi-viscous girth, his blue, thick, exposed stomach visible to all. Clad in naught but a black leather vest baring the symbol of the Raging Mynocks on its back and dark green breeches that barely encompassed the girth of his thick, trunk-like legs, straining against the leather belt that Lawq had insisted he wear so that his "disgusting, gargantuan buttcrack" didn't result in them getting thrown out of the gang too early before the coming large-scale infiltration and subsequent attack over the coming weeks. The blue-skinned Drovian could barely contain his amusement that Lawq's carelessness, in the end, was the factor that was bringing them under suspicion. However, the call had just come in naught but a minute age from the Boss. Any minute now... Tonight was the night this charade would all come to a satisfying, violent end.

The trunk-like legs of the Drovian shifted, carrying him forward as the creature used one clawed hand to scratch the exposed flesh just next to his short, red mohawk, silver eyes conveying as much friendliness as he could convey - the Gran had been stuffy, critical, a supposed "expert" slicer, a spice addict and Zabrak whoremonger - overall, the sort who was used to giving orders rather then carrying them out - over the few weeks Fajyk had been getting to know him. The frowning, sunken mouth of the Drovian extended into an approximation of a smile as he addressed the one-eyed Gran with as much forced respect as he could manage, "Look, Aera, I'm sure-"

An explosion shook the section of the Machinists' Garage as the Crimson Dawn agents had activated their charges at last. A rush of broken duracrete, transparisteel, durasteel and the pained scream of some poor soul in the wrong place shattered the vehicle entrance in the next room. Behind Fajyk, Lawq lost her footing, her membraned hands grasping, childlike, around his thick wrist for support as she yelped, lithe body shaking against his side. A klaxon had already begun to blare around the three aliens as Aera fell onto his side, but he was quick to recover, though his movement was nonetheless shaky as he got to his feet. Lawq howled in terror, her baggy coveralls rustling as the explosion died away, flinging her athletic little body with practiced ease, though her legs were left scrambling and her rump and tail hung uselessly over the side of the airspeeder, hands scrabbling for purchase over the leather of the airspeeder's dirty seat; a credit stick fell out of one of the Qom Jha's leggings as she finally managed to pull herself into the speeder, bounding over the passenger seat to the driver's...

Aera had begun to reach for the long blaster rifle strapped across his back - the fool had been on his way outside for something-or-other, and hadn't bothered to bring a pistol; this would prove to be his final mistake - he had just removed the rifle when Fajyk's thick, three claws, propelled by his meaty, powerful arm, punched into the flesh of the rifle-encumbered Gran's throat. The wraith-like, pale skin gave way and the distinct brown ichor of a spice addict's blood spurted in a syrupy fountain over Fajyk's thick forearm, a guttural snarl tearing the Drovian's sunken mouth into a hideous smile that raised the surrounding rolls of fatty flesh on his cheeks upwards. Aera slumped to one side, wriggling and gurgling uselessly through his ruined throat against the tool shelf. A hydrospanner and a wrench fell, one striking his shoulder, and the other his pale head, as his movements finally ceased, his torso, thick leather armor and gang colors coated in spice-browned blood.

With a grunt of satisfaction and wiping his claws of the ichor on them on the Gran's forearm to clean them, the Drovian turned his attention back to Lawq and her rash act of attempting so many thefts right before the planned attack, his mouth shrinking into a small frown as he picked up the fallen credit stick. "Really? We're about to launch a raid... Is this even necessary? You're lucky you weren't caught sooner." He growled his disapproval at the Qom Jha, his blood-dripping hand retrieving the fallen DC-15A from the Gran's side and hefting the weapon in both arms, before removing a bloodstained bandolier from the fallen Gran, his thick arm surprisingly dexterous as it slung the ammo belt over one shoulder.

Lawq merely blinked at the Drovian and grunted, "That ugly Iktotchi hasn't stopped staring at my ass since we first arrived, so... Yeah, it's personal." The Qom Jha's pointed, ghost-white tongue moistened her lips as she caught the credit stick Fajyk tossed to her with ease, despite only having one good eye, and she slipped the stolen item down the front of her shirt, "What's your point? I succeeded, even if I did have to bribe that fat Weequay who caught me with fifty credits and a shirt lift..." She rolled her eyes and huffed through her fox-like muzzle, "...He wanted more tonight, but... that won't happen."

Her membraned fingers reached across the speeder as the Drovian approached, and his claws and her wing met, briefly squeezing their hands together as affection alighted in their respective eyes. Though he was angry at her foolishness that put her in a great deal of danger, Fajyk gestured towards the door as he took a lumbering step towards the garage wall, a bloody claw pressing the panel and raising the thick durasteel door with a harsh roar, the Drovian huffing angrily through his slitted nostrils. "We'll discuss this later, you idiot... Fly safe."

"Got nine credit sticks we can slice and drain later, in addition to the speeder, so it was worth it, Brother... Get out of this alive with the Iktotchi's head, okay?"

The airspeeder roared to life, lifting after a second's hesitation, it's sleek black, silver-trimmed frame raising, the repulsors flaring purple as it shot away into the night, narrowly avoiding a tossed thermal detonator that bounced off the hull before finally lifting up and easily disappearing past the confused yelling, even as a second explosion sounded off somewhere to the west amidst the growing sounds of blaster fire.

A screeching, damaged R7 unit, it's front shell embedded with a thick chunk of duracrete, yowled as it attempted to wheel towards the Drovian. The bright blue glow of the DC-15A's blaster fire shattered the droid's head a second later, the droid's body still standing upright as acrid black smoke billowed from the melted metal shell. Adjusting his claws over the long rifle, the immense alien rolled his shoulders and tensed his limbs, trunk-like legs easily carrying him into the hall, his three footclaws lightly scraping over the floor as he rushed towards the turbolifts at a speed most would not have believed possible for such a large creature...



(WHEW - probably my longest post to date, and I hope it reads well enough... The next ones will be shorter, I promise, and I hope everyone has fun with this...)

Just for fun: Random suggested battle music for anyone to use while imagining fight scenes -

 

[Evain]

"Always."

A measured tone spoke out, but nobody save Jacen had ears to hear it. It was followed quickly by a soft but incessant hum, like a small beetle attempting to take flight. It took a few seconds for the blurry outline of a human form to begin taking shape. At first, it was little more than an indistinguishable blob, and it took longer than average for the shape to finally become something vaguely recognisable.

Thin, horizontal lines travelled up and down the newly formed body in rapid waves, making it shimmer and twitch with each passing second. The holographic face finally focused enough for features to appear. Evain's lips curled up to flash a warm smile at Jacen. "I'll add it to the tally. Two more and I s-S-sSss-..." She paused as the ordinarily cool and calm voice stuttered excessively. Pressing her lips together tightly until they were a reflection of the lines that danced over her skin, she waited. The signal was always a little unreliable the further they travelled from home. It was hard to draw power from Jacen's brain the same way she could from the ship. It made her curious to know how most humans even managed to get up in the morning.

The frustration had passed, so Evain began again. "Two more and I suspect you'll have broken a galactic record of some sort." The computer-generated face was illuminated with something akin to pride, but that one was a little difficult to replicate on the hollow features she possessed.

It was then that Eva seemed to finally take notice of the trouble Jacen had managed to get himself into. Thick layers of dust and blaster smoke clouded the room, the occasional shot illuminating a fighter foggy form. Bullets streamed left, right, and centre. Zipping so quickly that it was a wonder the table Jacen hid behind had managed to hold up at all. There were so many that every so often one would whizz its way through Evain's projection, scattering particles of light across the dim cantina.

Like some weary flight attendant sick of repeating the same tired old rant, Eva raised her hands and moved them through the air. To Jacen, it would appear as though she was playing some strange game of charades, but the truth was far from it. In front of Evain's eyes blueprints, maps, and designs flew effortlessly through the air. Her holographic eyes twitched back and forth, absorbing every slither of information available on the cantina. "There's a smuggler's t-t-t-..." The virtual lifeform jolted aggressively, splitting into several pieces that scattered themselves through the air before forming again quickly. "...tunnel behind the bar." Eva continued. "It would have been the perfect place to make a stand, but I'm p-p-ppp-picking up life signatures moving rapidly toward the opposite entrance from o-o-O-one mile west."

Her hands suddenly moved a little faster, darting left and right as they continued on their never-ending hunt for valuable information. "The next option is..." Pausing again for another moment of silence, drowned out by the sound of gunfire, it could hardly be considered a true silence, but it was just enough for Evain to catch her thoughts. "That wall right there." Her holographic finger flickered again as she slowly raised it up toward a wall that separated the main cantina from the VIP section. "That wall is solid steel. It'll last far longer than that table..." her eyes switched quickly from the wall to Jacen and back again. "That's actually your only choice. Go now."

Jacen Novastar

 

[Alessandra Io]

Location: Approaching Fueling Station, Corellian Sector - Nar Shaddaa
Objective: Sever the Head of the Mynock
Theme: Real Groove
Tags: Marimax Mortui

Discretion was overrated.

Alessandra waited patiently on the roof of the office building a half-kilometer outside the fueling station. It was one of the many locations slated for neutralization by the boss, the objective being to cripple the Mynock’s logistics, so that a rapid response to the Crimson Dawn’s offensive was rendered impossible. While the fueling station wasn’t a direct objective for her, the chaos and destruction wrought by Marimax Mortui had pulled the HRD towards it, as she slowly tracked down her target, a lieutenant of the Raging Mynocks. The commotion and alarm raised by the Lone Wolf’s attack had drawn the lieutenant towards the fueling station, accompanied by a heavily-armed contingent of reinforcements on speeder bikes and buses.

After stalking the retinue across the Corellian Sector for a little over three hours, Alessandra saw no wisdom in waiting any longer.

Soaring from one roof to another, upon reaching the fueling station, the HRD abandoned all pretext of subtlety, her electricity-generating organs charged with energy as she flew overhead, carried by the repulsor organs in her organic chassis. Diving into the midst of the Mynock gangsters, the pink blade of her energy sword hissed to life, bathing the enforcer just beneath her in a glow of pink light that preceded his end. Before her quarry could look up, the HRD landed on the man’s shoulders and plunged the blade through the top of his skull. Then, moving with blinding speed, the HRD launched herself off of her quarry’s collapsing body, her blade a whip of motion as it slashed through the neck of the next enforcer, separating head from shoulders in a surgical strike that left the man still standing even after his head landed on the ground with a dense, sickening thud. Finally, spinning around to face the remaining four gangsters in her immediate vicinity, the clean, chlorine-like smell of burning ozone filled the HRD’s olfactory receptors as she unleashed a cackling discharge of electricity from the organs in her arms, seizing the Mynocks in a galvanic storm as the electrical energy jumped from one enforcer to another, boiling each man from the inside out and setting them alight.

Leaving the twitching, howling gangsters in her wake, the HRD floated over the gates around the fueling station and set off to find her prey.

Spoiler: Loadout

• Eversor Bodysuit
  
  • Energy Shield
    
    • Phase III “Force Avenger” Energy Shield
• Eversor Rings
• House Io Citizen Energy Sword

 

[Taezo]

Location: Corellian Sector Hanger, Nar Shaddaa
Objective: Secure Exit


The Crimson Dawn had decided it was time to act. Specifically, time to create a presence on Nar Shaddaa. While markets left opportunity for growth, presence was another matter. There was only so much space on the smuggler's moon. For a party to rise another must fall.

Taezo was unconcerned at the cost or probability of successful transfer. The Raging Mynocks we're at best a local phenomenon. Furthermore Taezo was not concerned about the removal of the executives of the gang. The Crimson Dawn had people, or mercenaries, for such things. What Taezo was concerned about was risk mitigation and expectation maximization. How could the Crimson Dawn, and Taezo, grow the quickest at the least threat? Today those objectives coalesced into something simple.

Make sure no one could leave.

This meant no scorned children with prayers of revenge. No two-bit enforcers running away with her old gang's haul. Taezo calculated the best way to achieve this objective was to secure the docks. The droid had arrived with a complement of Aqualish, Baragwins, and battle droids to accomplish this objective. Joni, a Baragwin to his right, fired the first shot. A docking thug went down with a plop. Taezo raised his own rifle and fired , disabling or deleting more opposition.

"This docking pad is now the property of the Crimson Dawn."

 

[Jacen Novastar]

CORELLIAN SECTOR // NAR SHADAA
vibes | Evain | Crimson Dawn & Co ​

---

---

"Hear you loud and clear, pretty lady-"

Jacen chimed back, affirming he was listening to his AI companion despite the deafening thump of blaster bolts pounding the table to his front. He shifted a bit on his knee, letting one of his eyes across his enemies, and the partially unintended third-parties who were entering the fight as well. Chaos was erupting far quicker than he imagined, though it proved much to his benefit from what he could tell. Reinforcements were flooding in from the front, and along with the Mynocks who Eva reported were soon to arrive from the smuggler's tunnel, the infamous duo would soon be outgunned and heavily outnumbered.

Another thump followed the observation, the disruptor being put to good use against a foolish Rodian that attempted to dart to a closer piece of cover to the turncoat with the disruptor. As a result of the foolish attempt, Jacen took half the man's torso off with a single shot, then swiveled his aim across to the man's companions to suppress them where they were crouched.

His weapon continued its thunderous barrage, turning their covered positions into a mixture of slagged tables and splintered shards of wood. He picked up on their agonizing screams a few seconds later, then smirked to the AI who was visible to his side.

"Go time."

He pivoted off his knee, kicking off into a full sprint towards the metal wall that would prove the best defensible position while he was still handling his business. More shots rung near his head along the way, the familiar smell of burnt tibanna wafting across his nostrils from the close vicinity that they were landing. Drunk as they were, he figured the thugs were finally beginning to sober up going off their increasing accuracy, or perhaps the increasing volume of fire.

With his back pressed against the wall, Jacen was finally afforded a solid moment to breath. "Got any ideas, Eva?" He asked, but would answer his own question a few moments later. He pulled a spherical object off his belt, a thumb hovering over the bright red button on the center of the device.

"Tactical explosion mixed with shrapnel? Hmm- Yeah, let's do that."

The hand swung around the side of the wall, his thumb pressing down the button right before he released it in the direction of the remaining Mynocks. He could see it bouncing across the floor, landing snugly between a row of tables that the bulk of them had kicked over for cover. The seconds till activation went by in an instant, and he swung back into place as an emphatic roar deafened the individuals on the opposite side of the wall.

Silence followed the grenade's activation, leading him to peek from behind the wall out of curiosity of the outcome. A mixture of human and alien viscera painted where the Mynocks had been hunkered down, a mixture of the grenade and shrapnel from their improvised positions being the leading cause of their downfall. The rest of the room was...mostly okay, aside from a collateral body over here, and over there. Most of those caught outside the radius were fortunate enough to just be incapacitated, or partially riddled by pieces of shrapnel.

Either way, it got the job done.

He smiled at his handiwork, holstering the disruptor on his hip. "Lightwork, i'd say." He'd say to the AI with just a hint of smugness laden in his voice. Removing a device from his pocket, Jacen would casually take a panaromic shot of the scene in its aftermath, making sure to pan the camera down to what remained of the Mynock officers who happened to be present for his betrayal.

"Relay my location, and provide visual confirmation from my camera to Nebula [ Aktur Seii ] , when you've got a chance. Let 'em know that we've got four lieutenants and two captains terminated; a decent right-hook to their leadership, i'd say."

Meanwhile he'd have pushed off the wall as he spoke, moving off to a far wall of the Cantina to press an ear to the wall, then tap his knuckles across its length.

"I doubt the front will be clear for much long, if it isn't already being surrounded. Thinkin' we might need to blow ourselves a secondary exit?"
​

 

[Fajyk Vasrell]

Fajyk knew that the turbolift in this section of the vehicle depot had seen better days over his last few weeks of using it, but the harsh groans of the lift along the poorly-maintained, rusted shaft had only grown louder and all the more persistent over the past four days. It was tonight, of all nights, that the elevator could take no more; right before the Drovian reached his destination - the roof - the turbolift began to blare its own buzzing klaxon, eliciting a harsh wince and a frown from the rotund alien himself, who had been preoccupied with checking the status of his newly-acquired DC-15A, the flexible claws of his right arm rubbing several spots of carbon buildup along the tip of the barrel, silver eyes etched with concern as the turbolift door swung open before him.

His eyes etched with growing concern, Fajyk ran the claws of his left hand over the base of his mohawk, along the bare scalp to scratch at an itch as he stepped out of the lift. To the alien's far left - and towards the stairs that led to the roof - where the sniper would be during such a raid as this on the complex during his off-hours - a billowing cloud of acrid, roiling black smoke obscured the details of what lay beyond for naught but a moment. The charred, blackened body of a pain-wracked, moaning Aqualish, a muscular brute who had worn a topknot and who had been one of Fajyk's co-conspirators, stumbled forth from the smoke on unsteady legs, his clothes reduced to charred tatters, his hair missing and his flesh trailing ashy chunks as the ruined, blackened stub of a now-fingerless hand reached to steady the alien against the wall; his muscular body smoking and the distinct tang of burnt flesh beginning to assail Fajyk's nostril-slits.

Whether the Aqualish - Fajyk remembered his name as Brugh - had been caught in the outskirts of an explosion or had met with the business end of a flamethrower, the Drovian couldn't exactly tell. The Aqualish's burned, now-pale and blinded eyes were useless, one of his tusks shattered and bleeding profusely as Brugh wailed piteously, in pain and terror. He began to turn in place, only to lose his footing, falling onto his back in the midst of the motion. His fingerless hand reached towards the ceiling, as though in appeal to one of the Aqualish Warrior-Gods for mercy (made that up - not sure if we have anything from Legends which might allude to something like that)... At last, Brugh's broken and useless hand fell back along his cracked, scarred and tatter-bound stomach as his cries fell silent...

With a harsh curse of concern and fear for what had proven to be a friendly and amicable acquaintance, Fajyk's thick legs carried him towards the fallen Quara, slinging his rifle along his back as he did so. The Drovian's gentle clawed fingers tilted Brugh's ruined head to one side, and the gentle touch of his clawtips confirmed the worst - Brugh was no more. Recalling a short old custom from his childhood in dealing with deceased acquaintances, before he had abandoned his parents, Fajyk swiftly pressed his hand over the dead Aqualish's heart for a second, then spoke softly, "Life is fleeting, and evil fated us not to be more." The Drovian paused, silently thanking the Force that Lawq had managed to escape - he would be a very lonely and miserable creature if he ever lost his quirky, foolish best friend, "I shall right that which had been done, and avenge thou."

Wasting no more time then he had already, Falyk exhaled through his nostril-slits, his thick, burly arms shifting as he unstrapped and hefted the DC-15A from his back, silently hoping that the carbon-scoring along the barrel's tip wouldn't impact the bolt quality... The smoke burned harshly in his nostrils, his silver eyes squinting as the Drovian shifted his bulk cautiously through the hallway, several fallen duracrete chunks strewn along the broken and dirtied walls as Fajyk made his way carefully along. Towards the end of the hallway, the yelling and distinct cries of blasters echoed, and the Drovian knew that their uprising had struck from every conceivable angle; that their infiltration had affected every level of their poorly-organized gangbanger foes, even as the tinkling of broken transparisteel began to crunch under the thick, bare soles of Fajyk's clawed feet, a soft breeze blowing from the broken window next to him as the harsh cries of blasters on the building's other side and through the night's cold air outside surrounded the hulking alien...

The door to the Drovian's right swung open, and even as Fajyk began to turn, the swift form of a shorter-then-average orange Rodian tackled the larger alien with a harsh, guttural laugh. Fajyk, his rifle falling from his grip and discharging a single blue bolt into the wall, shifted only slightly closer to the window - this idiot had apparently underestimated his own strength. Cursing a moment later, the orange, short creature, bearing two cybernetic slitted, visor-like prosthetics in place of his missing natural eyes, in addition to missing a hand, stabbed the Drovian's shoulder with the clawed hook-replacement of his left hand, even as he cackled from either madness or sadism. Fajyk howled and swore even as the flesh of his thick, broad shoulder parted, revealing several inches of the underlying muscle almost a second later, and causing his thick green blood to warm his shoulder and stain the freshly-torn vest that he was wearing. Fortunately, Fajyk had never liked the gang's vest and symbol, anyway...

The Rodian, however, made the same mistake that he had often warned Lawq about: don't dress in a flashy manner. Some criminals, especially amongst gangbangers, preferred to show a sense of style, and this hook-handed idiot was no better: a thick, oiled, dark brown Duros-crafted jacket hung from the Rodian's lanky frame. That would work just nicely. The Drovian grabbed one side of the shorter, foolhardly creature's worn, if well-kept jacket, and Fajyk's thick, muscular torso shifted sharply, the Rodian's jacket going taut and the orange creature's good hand fumbling for the windowsill when he realized the mistake of his failed hook-fueled intimidation tactic against a man as seasoned as Fajyk was. Hook Hand's first cry was filled with shock, and it devolved into a scream as the force of the Drovian's tug, followed instantly by a forceful shove with all of the Drovian's strength to the smaller alien's chest, sent the wailing, weapon-handed and shrimpy little bastard falling from the open window, his screaming form being intercepted by a stray, scarlet bolt from an unknown source even as he fell, forever silencing him...

Retrieving his fallen rifle and with a satisfied, if frustration-fueled snarl, the Drovian cast his silver eyes and immense stub of a mohawked head to and fro to ensure there would be no further interruptions, and, finding none, he pressed the keypad at the door's side, revealing the stairs to the roof and to his target, if fate was on his side...

 

[Evain]

The holographic head shook itself obviously. Coupled with the smirk that spread across Eva's lips, it wasn't hard to tell she was both amused and exasperated with his attitude. There was good reason, too. Though most would argue differently, situations like this were dangerous for them both.

Most of the galaxy would automatically assume that dying meant you had to have some sort of heartbeat or some form of air rushing through your lungs to begin with, but Eva had quickly learned the truth of it. She could die just as easily as Jacen could. If he lost his life in this tacky cantina surrounded by nothing and nobody, who would have ever guessed that she was there too? Her fate would have been an idle eternity trapped in a cold lump of decaying flesh. There were a few others who were aware of her existence, but would they know to look for her there? To top it off, Eva was sure that the one and only man she was certain would search for her wasn't even aware she was still alive. In truth, death seemed like a better choice than that. At least dead people didn't have a conscious awareness of the fact that they had died.

The very thought of it would have made her shudder but shuddering simply for the look of it seemed ridiculous. Not wishing to resign herself to such a bleak future, it wasn't strange to find Eva working with the same fevered concentration as Jacen had when he was trying to dodge bullets. Those very same bullets posed just as much a risk to Eva as they did to him.

If she had any breath to hold, she would have held it as she watched Jacen make the dangerous dash from the table to safety. However, she was never left in suspense long. The second Jacen's concentration was broken for long enough, her projection disappeared. Leaving behind nothing but a cloud of smoke and dust as the blaster bolts continued to embed themselves into the wall behind her.

She re-materialised again when Jacen had his back safely against the wall.

"C-c-CcC-Copy that." Came the speedy reply.

Throwing up her arms to drag a communications screen into her vision, Eva began to record her message. Soft holographic features would appear moments later, flickering and twitching on Aktur Seii 's screen. "Good a-A-A-afternoon command." She began, the light inflection in her voice gave the sentence a song-bird quality. "Greetings from the chaos and carnage." Where her face had been moments before, a live feed was suddenly tapped in. A beautiful HD display of the small war that was being waged in the far too tiny cantina. "I've sent a v-v-V-visual to you, along with a map of the cantina. A few targets have been eliminated already. I'm sending along their details with everything else. Further life signatures have also been detected and seem to be moving rapidly toward our location. Relaying all available information now and, as usual, rrr-rr-REE-equesting additional support." The signal cut off again, just in time for Eva to catch the tail end of Jacen's question.

It wasn't a question, not really. "T-t-ttTtr-ick question." Eva responded, without taking her eyes off the screen. "You never think." Her eyes took a moment from the screen to flash Jacen another smirk. "I'm surprised you haven't done it already."

Turning back to the blueprints she had used before, Eva scanned again. This time looking for an appropriate place to… as Jacen put it "blow themselves a secondary exit". It was slim pickings. Most of the ideal choices were already covered by people actively trying to kill them. They were ruled out in the time it took to open the map. "You're gonna love this." She threw her hands toward Jacen, which shot a blazing white map into his field of vision. Her finger slipped through the holographic paper, spearing a thick black line that stood out a mile from the rest. "The wall you're sitting on is a support strut for the ceiling. That's why it's solid steel."

"I c-c-CAAAAll-Cuu-… CALCULATED…" She shouted. If only to get the sentence out faster. But it wasn't hard to tell that the lag was starting to irritate her. "…it, and if you set the bomb, you should have enough time to make it back to the smuggler's hole. Then your biggest worry is what's on the other end."

Jacen Novastar ​

 

[Lirka Ka]

Lirka styled herself a pirate these days, a hunter of the void preying upon the weak and their oh so precious valuables. But no matter how much she stuck to spacers and starships the Sephi would always be a crude instrument of destruction at heart. Demeaning as it was to dance among the common rabble rather than standing proud within the fires of galactic war, but those days were long gone now. Her bloodlust would have to be satiated on gangsters and scum this time.

Gang wars were not something Lirka was completely unfamiliar, most of them had been little more than a job: hired for one side or another to reap and sow a bloody tally of foes, but as the Crimson Dawn rose upon Nar Shadda she saw something different in this squabble: opportunity, her reputation was one of locality to distant systems and decades long since passed. She just another dreg now, a dreg with a fancy sword and pretty armor at least. These scum would need to learn quickly just who walked among them, and there was no better way to teach than to leave a trail of broken bodies that towered to the stars themselves.

As explosions rocked and the words of Aktur Seii hummed through her helmet, Lirka knew the time had come and her mission remained clear: massacre, without pity nor exception. For there was nothing of value in these worms in her eyes, little more than practice for her blade. As the conflict began to spread throughout the city, Lirka wasted no time entering into the thickest battles of the skirmish she could find in the streets. an eerie beacon of calm within the rising maelstrom, there was nothing to fear here, they were all already dead. Blasters shots rung out around her, a sweet nostalgia filling her cold dead soul: a reminder of the early battles of the Sith-Imperial conflict, in those battlefields that felt oh so long ago now. The first Mynock gangster she saw barely had time to know what killed him, that aura of calm disappeared in an instant and Lirka burst to life: the roar of her blade coming to life echoing out, burning plasma filament hissing through the air as the monstrous enforcer bounded forward and looped off the Gangster's head in one quick swing.

Finally, she could dance the Dance of Death once more: and with the sound of more Mynock defenders rushing forward in her ears, Lirka afforded herself a vile, toothy, grin beneath the cold face of her helmet.

Tags: N/A, open to interaction

 

[Fajyk Vasrell]

The yellow Abyssin who served as Diin's assistant had proved to be a sadistic, silent, lurking and overall creepy example of the species during the few weeks of Fajyk and Lawq's infiltrating the Mynocks on behalf of their Underworld contact. A typical gangly example of her obscure kind (Fajyk thought her name was Var'ih, if memory served), and like Lawq, the light armorweave and unadorned pauldrons on her lithe and athletic body barely fitted over her frame, and served to somewhat obscure her femininity, and her bald, almost conical head certainly added to the illusion of her being a male, save for the occasional glimpse of her curves beneath her clothes whenever she moved, and certainly whenever she walked.

Fajyk recalled her laughter and the cruel light in her single narrowed, giant gray eye as she had aided in the torturing of a rival Givin spice dealer a few days prior, having fed the hapless alien before himself and Lawq, as well as a mindless and jeering crowd, to a starved pair of Gundarks in a makeshift pit in the machine shop's basement... The snapping of the man's external skeleton had terrified Lawq, and Fajyk recalled stroking her fiery hair as, unseen, she had wept into the side of the Drovian's vest as Var'ih's mad, energetic and sadistic laughter had only accentuated the roaring of the Gundarks, the jeering mockery of the crowd and the bawling agony of the poor Givin... Truly, thieving was only justified against the most vile and remorseless forms of galactic evil, and Var'ih was just such a monster, Fajyk had concluded.

Indeed, for the Drovian and Qom Jha, their resolve to bring down this gang had only grown, as had their righteous indignation and disgust over such wretchedness.

Certainly, it made the swift death of Var'ih even mildly pleasurable to Fajyk, though, looking back on it, he regarded his joy over that as something to be ashamed of.

His three thick claws had clasped easily over the Abyssin's thin mouth as his other arm wrapped around her lanky torso, and a swift tug of the Drovian's trunk-like arms shifted her athletic, shocked and trembling form into the shadows at the top of the stairwell. A sharp growl and a brief twist, even against Var'ih's now-tensed neck and in spite her hands now scrabbling for purchase over his pudgy wrists, ended her wretched, sadistic life in an instant, her corpse slumping to the base of the final handful of steps at the top next to the roof entrance she had been guarding. A quick search of his latest victim gave the Drovian fifteen-hundred new credits for personal use, and the Drovian's sunken, pudgy mouth turned up in a satisfied smile as he looked down on an honorless wretch that would never again strike fear into any citizen's heart, the Drovian briefly setting his rifle aside as, there in the shadows, he removed and tossed the useless and ugly gangbanger vest into the darkness, to fall to the stairs at the top of the lower floors - somewhere to be forever forgotten.

Working quickly, the blue-skinned alien tore a length of fabric from the sleeve of the dead Abyssin at his gargantuan clawed feet with a moment of exertion, the uniform in better shape then it's owner, who had also been a repulsive, unwashed creature that had constantly smelled of death sticks in life. Unraveling three-quarters of the sleeve of her fallen right arm, the shirtless Drovian took a few moments, swiftly working to tie the thick strip of cloth around the fat girth of his injured shoulder, tying the knot successfully after a moment of struggle, his bone-white claws, while somewhat flexible, were not suited to such delicate tasks, though Fajyk did succeed nonetheless. Taking a moment to scratch his thick gut and heft his rifle at-the-ready before him, the silver-eyed, honor-bound warrior emerged into the cloudy Nar Shadda night air, his eyes alert as he scanned the darkness for the smallest signs of movement. His encountering Var'ih was most definitely a good sign - if that sadistic, chain-smoking, hairless, honorless monster was here, then it was a good bet that her paranoid and equally polyamorous on-and-off boyfriend would be here, with his sniper rifle in hand to pick off Fajyk's fellow co-conspirators from these very rooftops above where his airspeeder had been repaired...

With his narrowed pupiless silver eyes scanning to and fro as the Drovian's trunk-like arms swiveled his rifle slowly in front of him, every step purposeful and methodical as he inched his way quietly over the roof, Fajyk's breathing itself began to slow as he looked carefully before him... He was beginning to turn to the west when, above, the rumble of Nar Shadda's clouds, accompanied to the flash of silver lightning, echoed above the din of explosions, blaster fire and screaming that echoed faintly from the underlying floors and the acrid ground below.

BSHEWM!

Fajyk gasped as he turned to one side, the muffled noise of a sniper rifle sounding just off to his left, eliciting the gentle stamp of a foot as he wheeled to the eastern side of the building, towards the edge. A shadowed, hunched figure lay on his stomach, his gangly legs in the process of noisily shuffling against the roof's surface as well - Fajyk and the night-obscured, black-clothed figure of the Iktotchi hadn't even noticed each other - the Drovian had very nearly walked right past his target. Dousing, warm droplets of grimy, oily rain began to fall atop the two startled adversaries, the deluge enough to cause Fajyk's scarlet mohawk to plaster and the hair to mat itself to one side of the rotund, hulking alien's head as the scrawny alien rose to his booted feet, the light of a passing airspeeder revealing the angered purple-fleshed, emaciated-looking and repulsive Iktotchi as he produced a worn SE-14 blaster pistol from the cracked, faded holster at his side, leaving his sniper rifle on the ground in his enraged, surprised state. Tilting his single-horned head and narrowing his sickly bronze eyes, Gzizz Diin's shaky hand moved with the swift movements of a pistoleer as he fired two shots at the Drovian in rapid succession, his quick footfalls swift and rage-fueled as his other rapid hand produced a serrated vibrodagger from a black scabbard at his bony hip, his disgusting, lipless, brown-toothed mouth parting in a harsh, feral snarl as the Iktotchi, with a few striding steps, leapt upon Fajyk's muscular form with blade and pistol alike, harsh blue lightning striking through the sky above the combatants...

(To be edited for mistakes later on, also, I recently added a small amount to Diin's description in this last paragraph after a few appearance-based considerations before we continue our fight in the next one - gotta make even the minor, one-shot villains have cool looks, I've always believed... Also, Lirka Ka , that's a cool intro!)

 

[Alessandra Io]

Location: Fueling Station, Corellian Sector - Nar Shaddaa
Objective: Sever the Head of the Mynock
Tags: Marimax Mortui │ Open

The walls were painted crimson in her wake.

The HRD slipped inside the building after breaking through the security system with the multi-slice tool on her belt, the door sliding open in a hiss of machinery after the lock breaker hijacked its software. All the while, the tracking fob she had linked to her neck piece began to give a soft, mildly insistent beep, indicating her proximity to the target. Silencing it, Alessandra took stock of her surroundings inside the room, her sensors and aural receptors picking up the rhythmic thump of boot-clad feet approaching her position. Immediately, the HRD slipped into cover behind a nearby console, doing so only moments before the door opposite from the entrance slid open, a group of enforcers pouring inside.

“Sssearch the room.” One of the lead gangsters hissed, a tall Trandoshan not unlike the one she worked with on Eadu, albeit considerably more intelligent and of lesser physical stature. Immediately deciding that he would be the one she took first, the HRD let her electricity-generating organs charge with energy, before unleashing a galvanic discharge into the lights, bathing the room in darkness as circuits were cooked and overloaded. Without delay, Alessandra disappeared under its cover, blaster fire raining down on her previous position as the gangsters attempted to pin down the unknown assailant in their midst.

“Did we get-” A horrific-sounding, implosive splat sounded out, covering the enforcer in a mixture of green blood and viscera as the Trandoshan was violently rended apart and squeezed by an invisible, gravitic fist. An errant voice cried out in a mix of surprise and fear, though was suddenly silenced in the same brutal fashion, coating the walls in crimson as his body was imploded by gravity itself. Then, emerging from the shadows, the HRD activated her energy sword and plunged the weapon into the heart of a Mynock, suddenly drawing fire as the remaining gangsters leveled their blasters towards her position. While the Mynock’s body provided a degree of cover, a pair of blaster bolts managed to get past through the impromptu defense, clipping the HRD in the side and forcing her to dive back behind cover, before more could strike.

“Close in and surround the target, now! Finish her off!”

As if on cue, the gravity in the room began to warp and squeeze, trapping the remaining gangsters in an inhibition field that rendered them sluggish or immobilized entirely. All the while, the HRD’s dovin basal heart beat with increasing intensity as it strained to generate the gravity-altering field. Nevertheless, one of the stronger gangsters managed to get a shot off in her direction, but it didn’t stop her from slashing three of his comrades in half, as he strained to level his wrist towards the Chaplain.

Just as she cut through the third, a wrist-mounted blaster whined out and struck the HRD in the chest.

Spoiler: Loadout

• Eversor Bodysuit
  
  • Energy Shield
    
    • Phase III “Force Avenger” Energy Shield
• Eversor Rings
• House Io Citizen Energy Sword

 

[Marimax Mortui]

Objective: Disrupt
Location: Fueling Station (Nar Shaddaa)
Gear: MM Beskar'gam / Trauma and Blackout / Rapture / XX (Dagger) / Fire Breath / B.U.G. / INT-66 / MX-111 / M3-X
Tags: Alessandra Io

The quick, surprise attack threw the entire fuel station in commotion. Besides The Lone Wolf's attack, somewhere else in the station the rival gang was being hit hard. The Mandalorian landed, quickly tossing his rifle around his back, then proceeded to grab two M3-X Grenades, and finally hurling them toward a group on hunkered down Mynocks. Whilst the two little gifts guided through the air, he unholstered his two pistols, Trauma and Blackout, and drew down on the enemy. The grenades exploded, and in seconds, they were dropping. He moved through the fuel station, eliminating any threats, focusing on reaching the station's main control center. From inside that center, he could set-up a link to the Crimson Dawn's main database, allowing them to cipher all the data; before destroying the control room's computer system.

Reaching the station was easier than expected, especially the fuel depot was under attack on two fronts. Marimax made a mental note to thank his unknown ally. With a hard shoulder thrust, he smashed through the door, entering the area, dropping two more Mynock gang members. Working quickly, he connected the two systems together. This was the hardest part of this particular objective, waiting for the entire uplink to be completed. This was going to take more than just a few minutes, and Marimax preparing a defense in the event the enemy caught on, began knocking over metal-based tables, crouching down behind one. Keeping both his pistols aimed at the only way in or out of the station, he waited.

 

[Alessandra Io]

Location: Fueling Station, Corellian Sector - Nar Shaddaa
Objective: Sever the Head of the Mynock
Target: Kar’teth Jor
Tags: Marimax Mortui │ Open

One bolt, then a second and a third in its wake connected with the HRD’s chest, staggering her briefly as a quasi-sensation of pain surged through her digital-biological neural systems. However, the sensation was not pain in the traditional, primitive sense that organics felt, which often debilitated them in its intensity. It was instead an insistent warning, alerting her to the danger of persisting on her current course of action, lest she suffer irreparable damage to her organic chassis. Fortunately, her bodysuit, with its miniaturized energy shield projectors woven into the armorweave, mitigated much of the damage, to the level of bruising and mild burns which would regenerate on their own. Nevertheless, the gangster, thinking he had bashed down the HRD’s defenses enough to finish her off, moved to aim his disruptor pistol at her head.

He was sorely mistaken.

Grunting, Alessandra unleashed a raging blast of electrical energy from the organs in her arms, boiling the man inside out, until his body erupted in flames, a terrible scream ripped from his lips in the process. The three remaining gangsters found themselves caught in the galvanic storm as well, bodies set alight only moments later, before their twitching, charred forms collapsed unceremoniously to the ground.

Stepping over their corpses, Alessandra took a single glance out the window, her photoreceptors narrowing in focus as she searched for her target. Seeing a large group of Mynock enforcers and gangsters heading towards the main control center, Alessandra immediately knew that her mysterious ally was inflicting a havoc of their own. Nevertheless, the HRD quickly spotted the distinct, furred form of her target among the group of gangsters, surrounded by a cadre of guards as she shouted orders towards her subordinates.

Unsheathing the chakrams from her back, Alessandra moved into the next room, set on a beeline towards her target. All the while, the low rumble of a speeder bus filled the courtyard of the fuel station as a group of enforcers clad in assault armors disembarked from the vehicle, before advancing on the control center with the Togorian in tow.

Spoiler: Loadout

• Eversor Bodysuit
  
  • Energy Shield
    
    • Phase III “Force Avenger” Energy Shield
• Eversor Rings
• House Io Citizen Energy Sword

 

[Fajyk Vasrell]

The acrid, oily droplets of the rain that had swiftly begun to pour in a deluge around the lithe purple Iktotchi and the muscular and fat blue Drovian hissed as the emerald (gotta love alternate blaster bolt colors), angry blaster bolts extended forth, an extension of the lipless, one-horned Iktotchi's wrath as his exposed, vile, chipped teeth parted in an inhuman snarl, revealing a further odd trait of the sniper only having half of a disgusting brown tongue. The oily raindrops hissed, vaporized by the blaster shots and briefly steaming between the two adversaries. The first of the Iktotchi's shots struck the right side of Fajyk's thick, exposed stomach, cauterizing the wound even as the smooth, cepholopod-derived skin along his stomach burned away and the underlying fat and muscle blackened instantly. The Drovian stumbled slightly forward, that initial grunt of pain from the wound forcing his silver eyes into a harsh squint, while the second green bolt burned into the fabric over his left thigh. A small section of the clothing burned away in a microsecond, while the blue flesh beneath was also singed, though somewhat less intensely as the wound on his stomach due to the thick fabric...

The Drovian only barely had begun to raise a trunk-like arm up, one hand encircling the Iktotchi's blaster arm and the other reinforcing his grip on the alien's blaster hand, Fajyk's claws digging into his opponent's wrists and, with an intense ripple of honed forced through the underlying muscles, only partially wearied thus far, the Drovian encountered resistance, even while the Iktotchi's eyes narrowed mid-daggerstrike, with Fajyk shifting to move his torso away from the sniper's blade. Time seemed to slow down for an instant, the rain oiling their exposed flesh and matting the Drovian's scarlet hair along the one side of the rough, pockmarked blue flesh of his otherwise-bald head. In the brief silence that followed, his muscles flexing beneath his immense arms, the sniper's wrist crackled over the space of two seconds, then harshly snapped, pain following the intense splitting of bone brought on by the Drovian's even as the sniper's dagger buried itself into the flesh of Fajyk's left armpit, eliciting an angered roar of pain from the blue Drovian.

Giin's face contorted in agony as the Drovian's grip loosened in response to his own sustained wound, the serrated black vibrodagger firmly embedded now in the thick flesh beneath Fajyk's arm, causing the larger alien to stumble backwards as the the newly-formed, oily puddle of rainwater that poured over the many combatants above and below alike made Fajyk lose his footing, even despite his natural sturdiness, falling onto his fat backside harshly as one thick, clawed foot wetly slipped along the roof's surface; fortunately for the Drovian, Giin didn't fare much better, his momentum combining with the rainwater and the fallen Drovian's tree-like leg causing the Iktotchi to stumble forward with a few unbalanced, forward-leaning steps, before, painfully, the lipless, one-horned monstrosity fell harshly onto his hands, howling in an odd hissing scream as his landing aggravated the broken flesh and freshly exposed bone jutting from his now-useless blaster hand, the weapon clattering to the Iktotchi's side as he fell to his stomach, rolling to his side and flailing his black-clad legs in agony over the intense pain emanating from his snapped wrist.

Fajyk gritted his alien gray-white, thick teeth, silver eyes narrowing as he quickly reached his good hand beneath his arm, wincing as a fresh burning wave shot through his limb as he swiftly removed and tossed aside the green, bloodstained dagger; he only barely had time to register the heat and rising steam of his burned, self-cauterized blaster wounds, Nar Shadda's greasy rain already cooling and soothing the pain of the shots, though only mildly. The purple sniper was faster to react, even despite his intense agony, his legs pulling back and his snakelike, bony body raising in a rage-fueled leap back onto his feet, his back snapping as a second agonized cry echoed forth from behind his chipped and rotting teeth, one of them dangling loosely from the graying lower left gum due to the Iktotchi's hard landing, his torso bending sharply and quickly as the sniper's good hand retrieved his fallen blaster naught but a moment later. The Drovian got to his feet, arms spreading, and fat-insulted muscles bulging as he craned his stublike head to and fro, flexed his well-kept arms and rolled his shoulders in preparation, his silver eyes scanning his opponent as the Iktotchi parted his lipless maw in a challenging snarl.

At the alien's side and beneath his trailing leather jacket, next to Diin's broken hand... It couldn't be...

The dull, though faintly shining curved hilt of a lightsaber hung beneath the coat's inner lining, the activation button worn and dulled over, the hilt as bronze as Gzizz's eyes were, bearing two upward-L-shaped hilt-guards along the edges, just below the blade's emitter. It was true, after all, the rumors among the gang's lowest spice dealers...

The Drovian hesitated for a faction of a second - there was no way he could recover his fallen DC-15A in time where he had dropped it... It was times like this when, reluctant though he was to ever follow its ways, Fajyk was grateful that he had the ability to call upon the Force, having had (and only rarely used) the unwanted over his lifetime, and usually only to move objects and to aid in the navigation of space. Unfortunately, he couldn't retrieve his fallen rifle and the Drovian was several steps too far way for Fajyk to charge him without Gzizz getting off several shots, of which any of them could end the Drovian's life before he could even aim effectively... Fajyk could either charge blindly, make to grab his rifle and shoot wildly before aiming properly, or...

He had used this tactic before a few times, and now was the time to do it again...

Gzizz had just finished raising his pistol aloft, his bronze eyes narrowed and his ugly maw parted in rage and anger as he pulled the trigger. Despite his pain, Fajyk, for his part, was glad for two things - his many years shipboard had taught him to keep cool even in the most deadly of scenarios, and that the Force's spark was naught but a dull, unpracticed ember in his current opponent. Further calming his already placid mind, the Drovian extended his thick left arm and mimed pushing with his three thick, spread claws, while the trunk-like right arm extended and imitated the reaching forth of a clawed hand in greeting...

As the emerald bolt shot just past the side of the Drovian's head, lightly and uncomfortably burning the exposed, thick cephalopod hide of Fajyk's skull as it whispered past him, the intricate, rune-carved bronze metal of the lightsaber entered the Drovian's hand, shooting forth from the Iktotchi's jacket at nearly the same speed as the blaster bolt...

Gzizz gasped as a large ripple of the Force made him stumble a few steps backwards, his arm flailing and sending a second emerald bolt uselessly skywards before he regained his footing, taking a step forward in defiance as he began to reorient his blaster.

Snap-hiss-hum

The curved hilt birthed a glowing violet blade from the emitter that hummed through the air, steaming with moisture as the rain sizzled against the weapon of light, Fajyk issuing an intimidating roar from his fat-sunken, thick, chin-laced jowls as his immense leg muscles rippled and pumped, driving him closer to his target. In desperation, Diin howled in fear, pain and defiance, his blaster firing off three more shots, the first the whirring blade of the Drovian caught by chance, hissing in an alien manner with a rain-soaked exhalation of steam as the emerald bolt shot uselessly off to one side. The second shot struck the Drovian's cloth-wrapped, green-bloodied shoulder wound, eliciting a harsh grunt even as Fajyk did little to break stride, the third shot, amazingly, missed the Drovian's stocky gut by some bizarre twist of fate.

There was no fourth shot.

The Iktotchi's vile, lipless, wide-eyed visage parted in a scream of agony even as the purple blade descended, Diin's good horn's base glowing orange with heat and beginning to fall as the blade crackled and hummed downwards, easily tearing through Gzizz's one remaning horn, the leather of his thick jacket, with the violet blade still steaming as it then cauterized flesh and bone alike, removing the sniper's blaster arm via the passionless, calm and determined righteousness of the Drovian who attacked him, aided by the Force itself. As quickly as it had descended, the purple blade arced upwards even as the severed, smoking limb and blaster hit the duracrete roof below. The steaming blade then hummed and hissed to the side, cutting the vile, remorseless and sadistic Iktotchi's scream off at last, Gzizz's lipless mouth slack and his bronze eyes wide with shock even as his now-hornless head dropped to one side to the roof, having been severed from the lower jaw upwards, his corpse shuffling a step backwards, the useless, broken tongue dangling from the Iktotchi's lower jaw, as a thick, black leather satchel slowly fell from the shoulder without the underlying arm to support it. The still-trembling body fell from the side of the rooftop's edge, it's cauterized lower jaw trailing smoke as it vanished from Fajyk's sight.

With a pained, though satisfied and determined huff through his slitted nostrils, Fajyk brushed the now-smoking tourniquet that adorned his green-blooded shoulder, the violet blade retracting as the Drovian slipped the hilt into a clasp on his bandolier. Settling down with a grunt, the Drovian reached into the bandolier's lowest pouches, intent on tending to his newly acquired wounds, though not before the Drovian sighed with satisfaction as he looked at Gzizz Diin's severed, lipless and half-mouthed head glowing and smoking just in front of him...

Aktur Seii (Contract claimed, partially. Looking forward to seeing this through.)