Dauntless Cries: Part 1

[Arlan Zy'rosh]

Nar Shaddaa​

Hard-line Cantina​

Nar Shaddaa, no more vile a place could a man find in the entire galactic expanse. An entire world of pirates and smugglers, crooks and cons, and for the cunning one of opportunity. Anyone that dare to walk on the more unscrupulous side of the law has found themselves on Nar Shaddaa at one point or another, even if only very briefly. The moon has, and still dose, serve as a hub for the trade of more illicit items and the brokering of hidden contracts; so for Boss Magog he could think of no better a location to broadcast his welcome for the Galaxy's ne'er-do-wells. For like many on Nar Shaddaa he had a problem, one that could only be rectified through not so legal channels.

"Boss." A Rodian bodyguard entered the backroom of the bar and looked his employer over. "There's a lot of traffic from the lower level docks, a few of those that responded to your request have already docked." He spoke then fell silent. Boss Magog was not one to bother with needless chatter, something one of the Rodian's peers had learned the hard way through means of a slug through the face.

"Good...good." Boss Magog spoke softly, his eyes transfixed upon the view-screen in his hands. The Dauntless had been gone for near three weeks with no signs of it reemerging. It carried, something.....very precious.....to Magog and he had spent tireless hours trying to find it's position. When all else had failed he had sent forth a general broadcast offering anyone that undertakes the task more credits then they would need in a hundred lifetimes. "Boy!" He called out to the Rodian once again. "Make sure they all find their way here with ease." Then with a flick of the wrist he dismissed the bodyguard. "I'll have you back within my grasp soon." The crime lord would whisper and the door closed clicked shut.

---

Nar Shaddaa​

Streets​

Arlan had never liked Nar Shaddaa, in fact he didn't know most the genuinely did. It was a sordid place where you could just as easily be stabbed as waved to on the streets. With that kind of logic it wasn't quite hard to seen why a species like the Hutts liked the place so damn much, but right now Arlan couldn't really argue. Things on Rutan were dire and without proper funding to get The Carrion Company moving in the right direction the planet's natives were likely to oust Arlan and his men. In truth someone with a more silver tongue may well smooth things over with the king, but Arlan was no diplomat. He knew he was more likely to brain the old man instead of debate politics, so here he was. On the worst possible moon in the Galaxy hoping to appeal to the better side of a crime lord for a contract.

"You know I hate this Feeran, when I reformed the company I did so with the intent not to take contracts from criminals." Arlan complained to his companion as the trekked onward towards the Hard-line Cantina.

"You promised the king the company could help with planetary protection in exchange for setting up shop on Rutan." The Rutanian said with little caring or emotion in his voice. "Right now we can barely protect ourselves." A smile then crept across his stoic face.

"Yeah yeah." Arlan was a little agitated at Feeran's jest, but the fact that it was true and the 'our' in there convinced him to let it slide. "Still, if we collect on this contract we could do a lot of good back home." Arlan closed his eyes and nodded. "Hire more men, get some new gear, maybe even a couple new ships." The thought of finally rebuilding The Carrion Company to former glory caused a bit of anxiety to build within Arlan was he nodded a final time.

"We have to complete the job first." Feeran interrupted, shattering the fantasy Arlan had built with unobtained credits. "And that many credits does not come easy." He continued, kicking Arlan's hopes when they were down.

"You're right, but I have faith in our combined abilities." Arlan smirked as he stopped and looked up at the Hard-line Cantina sign glowing in the darkness. "You should trust me more."

Feeran shook his head. "Said the spider to the fly."

Spoiler

[member="Wrrlykam"] [member="Eliza Raxis"] [member="Marius"]

OOC:
Okay, so for this first post I've just sort of introduced my own character and made my way to the Hard-line Cantina. If you want to do some sort of vague entry post, then that's fine, but you can also just begin within the cantina itself if you prefer that. If you do want to do something similar to what I did, then just try to move to the cantina within the first three rounds of Role-Play. I just don't want the thread to stagnate because we are waiting on one person to post in every section of the city as he/she makes their way to the cantina.

I'll be more or less GMing this all the way through. There may be a post or two where I do not narrate anything at some point but during those times we all should have enough information to continue without me Role-Playing anything but my own character.

If you have any questions/suggestions then defer to the No Good Mercenary thread. We can just make that our official OOC thread for this Role-Play instead of creating a new one.

Other than that let's have fun! I'm glad all of you are participating!

 

[Wrrlykam]

"AUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAUAA!" A Wookiee's cry filled the Cantina with rage, followed by the soft sound of two bones breaking with an audible 'Crack' from the strength of two arms pressing them together. Tears and blood slowly dripped onto the table where the game of hand wrestle turned into 'break the human's arms' after the human cheated. The Wookiee growled again, then pulled the arms forward, and with it the head of her victim, slamming it into the table as it came close enough.

A single snort of hot air later, a small pile of credits slid into a bag, and that bag connected onto a small pouch. The towering beast stumbled out of her chair and over to the bar, placing down a hundred credit piece for the mess. It was the least a person could do for filling nearly a whole booth in blood drippings.

Her legs carried her to a small booth in the opposite side of the room, away from the scene she just made. It smelled bad there anyways. At least here, her own sent could be hidden in the thick of the smokey after-drugs floating about in the dark. A tiny grumble emitted from the corner, then fell silent as the Wookiee finally took up on the offer her LE droid was begging her for on her small portable comlink. Only a press of the button did the job.

She was now risking her ship in a gamble, a gamble for a friend who was in trouble. If all went wrong, the most that would happen is her friend is tortured forever and she loses her ship. The worst. Eyes shutting, Wrrlykam drifted off into the intoxication of the smoke.

 

[RC 212]

[member="Wrrlykam"] [member="Arlan Zy'rosh"]

Ellie was travelling about the galaxy when the call came through. It was a lucky shot, because she was close to Nar Shaada anyways, running another deilvery job. The product in question? A package to one Boss Magog. Who the hell he was she had no idea, but in her backpack was a sealed manilla envelope with old school carbon based paper in it.

A seal was affixed in wax, a failsafe old school way of protecting it. Eyes only, it read.

Closing her holonet account out she wheel;ed back to the controls. She estimated a total ten minutes until she broke the surface. The coordinates of the drop point were already set up, a small shadowport in the upper levels of the moons many docking shafts. They called it the Dark elevator, a single shaft that went thousands of miles through the crust, lined with recessed docking bays.

Time to get this over with, She thought, punching the last headings into the system.

The clock counted down, ticking away and her brown eyes stared listless at the stars as the blurry white lines streaked by. Space gave her pause, made her thoughtful.

Thoughtful about credit vs danger ratios....

 

[Marius]

Marius had been only once before to Nar Shadaa for just a brief time and the whole place looked the same. An ecumenopolis was the term used for such heavily urbanized places, that's one of the many things he had learned from his fellow Mandalorians. Additionally, what he knew about this moon was that it was a hive of scoundrels and criminals. Not really the type of people that Marius favoured. But he had personal goals to chase. An information trader was offering him a piece of knowledge regarding his Teresman ancestry. It costed a fortune and this contract would cover that price and leave him with enough money possibly for a month. He had done a few mercenary works before but nothing with the same reward. Not even close.

He carefully followed the navigation his helmet gave to him. It was leading towards where the establishment of the so-called Boss Magog. A cantina named Hard-line Cantina. His Mandalorian armor was having the same effect it had the last time Marius was here - all eyes on him. Furthermore, people were evading him. He knew well that Mandalorians' reputation was well known.
Another corner, another few blocks down and the Mandalorian appeared face to face with the Hard-line cantina.

With a confident step Marius entered the establishment.

[member="Eliza Raxis"] [member="Wrrlykam"] [member="Arlan Zy'rosh"]

 

[Arlan Zy'rosh]

Nar Shaddaa​

Hard-line Cantina​

A hefty whiff of sweat and liquor drifted into Arlan's nose as he stepped in through the doors of the cantina, a slight sigh escaping his lips as he did so. At another time in his life Arlan would have welcomed the scent, but now he could naught but be disgusted by it. The smell itself wasn't what put him off, nothing so small was due to faze him, but the brand of ilk associated with this particular air was one he sought to distance himself from. A quick glance around the bar would bring a few faces to bear, but mostly the place was filled with the common riff-raff that called The Smuggler's Moon home. A few more steps led Arlan to the bar, Feeran on his heels, where he sat promptly and wondered where to take it from here. The instructions he had received simply said to make his way to the cantina, but Arlan couldn't make out Boss Magog anywhere in the crowd at the moment. Being uncertain this early on was a bad start to any job, and if not for the credits Arlan may well have shot out of the den of thieves that moment. However; people often prize monetary gain over physical well being. That would be doubly true for Arlan.

"Don't be so tense Arlan." Feeran managed to break the silence, placing his hand upon Arlan's shoulder. "Most men like Magog think themselves far more than they are. No doubt he will wait until everyone arrives before making a grand entrance."

"That much I know, but it does nothing to steel my nerves." Arlan spoke calmly, raising his hand towards the bartender for a drink. "How many of them do you think are here for the same reason as us?" He spoke, motioning his head back to the barroom.

Feeran's eyes were sharp, sharper than Arlan's, and his intuition was rarely wrong. Those were the main reasons he had become such a core part of the new Carrion Company, well that and his gift with a long-rifle. The Rutanian turned his back towards the bar, leaning on it ever so lightly and then letting his eyes scan the crowd of people huddled in the various booths and around the many tables in the cantina. "There's a few, but not many heavy hitters. The Wookiee may be hard to get around if things come to blows over the contract, but the Mando is probably the most dangerous of the lot."

"Mandolorians, never did like working with them." Arlan chuckled as he threw back his drink. "To much honor and glory for proper mercenary work."

"Maybe so, but they tend to be rather zealous in terms of getting the job done. Sometimes that's the most valuable trait a man can have." Feeran nodded towards his friend and chuckled.

"Everything you say has to contradict me doesn't it?" Shaking his head Arlan turned and face the crowd the same as Feeran. "Though i guess you're right. I see a lot of that in myself."

Feeran simply nodded and crossed his arms. The two of them had been through a lot of trials together, so there was a trust there. Arlan counted on his Rutanian companion to serve as his voice of reason when things got too dicey, that fact was probably the root of Feeran mentioning the Mando's zealous nature in the first place. So far Feeran hadn't actually said taking this job was a bad idea, so Arlan took that as a go ahead to continue with it. So now they waited, eyes ever fixed upon the others in the bar and wondering when their employer would make himself known to the lot of them. If Feeran's assertions had been correct then quite a few people would all be go after the same prize as themselves, it would take a good bit of doing to beat the lot of them out for the reward.

---

Nar Shaddaa​

Hard-line Cantina|Backroom​

Time was nearing. Most of those that had responded to the request had already gathered in the cantina, now only waiting on his word. In truth Magog had little faith that many of them would be any more successful than his men had been, but there are always a few diamonds in the rough. At least that was what he was counting on as he looked into the bar through his view-screen and the varied faces dotting the place. Many weeks of planning and getting things ready had led up to this, and now the fearsome crime lord was playing the last card he had to play. A deft hand fell to his side and flicked off the view-screen, then found it's way to the armrest of his chair to help push it's massive body up. The bodyguards in the room snapped to attention as Magog stood, slowly making his way to the desk at the far end of the room.

"Tell them the first ten to the door get the job." Magog grunted softly as his pursed his lips. "Anyone after that, shoot."

A short series of nods were exchanged between his men as they shuffled out into the main room of the cantina. Perhaps his methods were a tad sordid, but Magog didn't plan of sending a hundred useless bums after his prize, only those that showed they truly wanted it. His hand then fell to the large chair behind the desk, spinning it round so that he could plop down with ease. Magog would then cross his hands and rest his forehead upon his massive knuckles. He was tired now, but soon it would all be over.

---

​

Nar Shaddaa​

Hard-line Cantina​

A door in the far back of the cantina, near opposite of the entrance, burst open and a series of men filed into the barroom. They wore similar garb and it wasn't hard to tell that these were Magog's personal guard. Most of which seemed, at the very least, to have some basic grasp of military training. That alone set them apart from most of the scoundrels in the bar, but not all. A short Rodian, the apparent leader of the troupe, stepped forward after his men fanned out on either side of the door they entered from. A moment of silence passed, the Rodian looking back to his men to ensure they had done correctly in forming up, and then his voice rang out within the barroom.

"Boss Magog bids you all welcome." The typical guttural noise Rodian's seemed to make mixed in with Galactic Basic seemed a bit comical, but no one laughed. "Unfortunately only ten of you will be hired today, the first ten to pass through the door behind me in fact." It was hard to tell, but the Rodian was smirking at this point. "If you aren't here for the contract, I suggest you leave." Then he stepped aside and the second that followed seemed like an hour, it always does when all hell breaks loose. As soon as the Rodian moved from in front of the door a blaster rang out within the cantina, and pierced the liquor rack behind the bar.

---

[member="Wrrlykam"] |[member="Eliza Raxis"] |[member="Marius"]

 

[RC 212]

[member=Wrrlykam] [member="Arlan Zy'rosh"] [member=Marius]

Sometime Later
Hard-line Cantina

The remainder of the trip was short. Ellie had landed in the sublets of a nearby shadow port, paying extra to keep her name and Vessel off the registry. After robbing a former associate of some Phrik it seemed rather prudent so she could avoid the whole Bounty Hunter situation.

It seemed she had arrived just in time too. Locals were charging the door of the cantina, rabid about something or other. Ellie pressed her lips together tight and reached back, drawing one of her twin sawed off shotguns from it's leather sheath. The weapon itself was loaded with heavy scattershot, large tungsten rounds.

In her other hand was the package. A single wax sealed envelope with "Eyes Only," Written across it in a black small font. She kept it close to her body, smashing the package against her side.

Liquor bottles behind the bar exploded as she stepped into the reeking cantina. In the storm Ellie kept her calm, traversing the crowd with quick decisive footwork. She managed to shoulder her way through the throngs of eager job pursuers to the desk, where the bartender was getting crushed by people inquiring.

"I should be first, I've been working here twenty years!"

"Get out the way rexan, I been piloting since you were a pup sucking yur momma!"

Ellie grunted, drawing her elbow back and slamming it into a nearby Captains ribs. He fell as there was a cracking sound, face hitting the bar and then toppling sideways into the crowd. Roars of anger ignited, weapons were drawn, blaster bolts sizzled flesh and scorched armor.

she was quick to duck a few shots, then pop back up and step into the hole at the counter, provided by the elbow manuver.

"Oy you!"

The bartender swivelled his head, drawing his own DL-44 and levelled it at her.

"Keep back girl! You heard the rules of the expedition."

Ellie smirked, swinging the sawed off up into his face. She turned forty five degrees, presenting her side and locking her elbow. The bartenders eyes swivelled tracking the muzzle of the weapon swinging into place just inches from his nose.

"I'm here to see Boss. This ain't about whatever job everyone’s going crazy over slimeball. I have a package, and an appointment."

Ellie held the envelope up, letting him read it....

 

[Marius]

Just by the thick screen of smoke inside the cantina, Marius knew it stenched. He was thankful for his armor's air filtering system which supplied him with clean air. Although the Mandalorian had been used to the stench of sweat, blood and scorched flesh while raiding with his kin - the Teresmen, he never seemed to get used to the smells that cantinas which served mainly criminals. All sorts of scum was drinking and smoking all sorts of poodoo.

The cantina was no different than any other cantina on Nar Shadaa, as far as he could remember his last visit. The Mandalorian noticed the many eyes that observed him. The reputation of his people was quite known on Nar Shadaa, in the end the Mandalorians had a history of being efficient mercenaries and bounty hunters. Unlike most Mandalorians though, the patrons could see that he did not have any weapons (excluding his armor's arsenal // see sig) apart from a hilt of a beskad sheathed on his back. Would that make the patrons more on guard or less, he did not know. Eventually, the Mandalorian would find out.

The Teresman, with years of combat service, found what he perceived as one of the most strategic places in the cantina. A large enough gap between a few tables where he leaned on the wall and could observe everything without fearing an attack on the back. Although that was covered, eitherways, by his 360 degrees vision that his helmet employed. Marius looked around and activated his echograph within his helm, in a matter of a couple of seconds it showed him the blueprints of the establishment. Doors leading to other doors and other places. He gave a glance towards one of the doors on which was written 'STAFF ONLY'.
A moment after, these doors slid open and a Rodian leading a few armed henchmen stepped forward.

"Boss Magog bids you all welcome."

Marius focused on the Rodian that spoke, his senses a bit sharpened by the Force.

"Unfortunately only ten of you will be hired today, the first ten to pass through the door behind me in fact."

Without a second thought, the beskad was in his right hand unsheathed. Teres' Fury, or as he learned it by the name the galaxy knew it - the Force, began surging through his body enchacing physical strength, perception and anticipation. This was how Marius tapped into the Force unknowingly for so many years before he was told what his blessing was. His unique connection with the Force made it so that only when battle was to happen, that it ran through his veins. Otherwise, he seemed sealed as a nuclear bunker's hatch to it.

"If you aren't here for the contract, I suggest you leave."

The sentence had barely left the Rodian's sleeps when the cantina became a warzone. Swiftly moving towards his first target, a near-human on his right who believed that it would best to eliminating the Mandalorian threat. The opponent was able to strike a few shots on Marius' Eukgar'gam but the Mandalorian steel withstanded. Not a moment after the near-human's third shot struck the armor did his head leave his shoulders.

Having the advantage of closed quarters, the Mandalorian proceeded towards his next two targets. He was shot twice before Marius was able to throw a table infront of him that was able to withstand a few shots before it started leaving holes. The Mandalorian took that time to succesfully move along with the table as a shield, before arriving at the fear stricken partners. With slice through the first man's torso and a brutal thrust through the other man's stomach, their lives ended. A barrage of blaster fire commenced from behind him and Marius felt its impact as it knocked him down. He felt a burning feeling somewhere on his back, the Force did well to numb such lesser pains while in battle but he knew well that there was now a small dent on the back of his armor.

Furiously rolling on the ground and turning towards his attacker who seemed motivated on obliterating the Mandalorian, Marius realized he was too far away and in a wrong position to attempt chopping the man's head off. Thus, the Teresman was thankful once again for the Mandalorian's technology. He raised his free left arm and pointed his fist towards the man, with precise nerve commands and the support of his integrated targeting system within his helmet, the opponent was shredded by a barrage of slugs fired form the wrist slug thrower.

The Mandalorian did not wait for someone else to focus his attacks on him and quickly found another table that he jumped over and crouched behind it as cover until he could find his next opponent. Strategically, he had went for a table closer to the door where the Rodian had come from.

[member="Eliza Raxis"] [member="Arlan Zy'rosh"]

 

[Arlan Zy'rosh]

Glass bit into Arlan's forehead, just a hair above his right eye. There was a damn good chance he would be blind in it had he not instinctively shielded his face with his arms as the blaster bolt struck the liquor rack. A bit of blood trickled down from the small wounds, Arlan smearing it away when he noticed it, then drew his slugthrower. To say the barroom had become a war-zone would be a bit of an understatement as blaster rounds struck the walls and bodies crashed into tables, and with pools of blood already forming upon the floor. Boss Magog was a callous man, to offer this sort of challenge to a pack of ravenous mercenaries all of which more than likely needed to credits desperately. As Arlan turned to take in the carnage a Keshiri rogue charged forward with a vibrosword, a killing intent clear upon his face. Arlan leveled his slugthrower, and sent a round between his red eyes.

Arlan was never a man to believe in unnecessary killing for any reason, because like all men in his line of work he had a code to which he held himself. Unfortunately for the Keshiri, there is nothing in Arlan's code that keeps him from defending himself. Another wild-eyed mercenary sent a volley of blaster bolts his way prompting Arlan to dive towards the floor before firing his slugthrower again and kneecapping the man. Arlan shook the vertigo from his short fall and regained his footing, his eyes scanning the room for Feeran. At the other end of the bar, near the door the Rodian emerged from, Arlan's Rutanian ally was beating back two others with a bar-stool. Arlan took off at a dead run an dove towards the one on right, directly at the end of the bar. A quick elbow to the temple ensured the man he lay on top of wouldn't get back up anytime soon, so Arlan rolled back to his feat and faced Feeran.

"You got down here quick." Arlan said through bated breaths. "Should have waited for me. Things could have turned bad fast."

"And these two would have gone through already." Feeran nudged the other of the two men on the ground with his foot. "You seem to have managed alright at any rate."

"Stop, please. Your overwhelming concern for my health is embarrassing." Arlan jested as he looked back towards the bar. "You were right though. Most of these guys aren't anything special." Arlan then watched the Mandalorian dive behind a table not far from them. "We should move, I don't want to be standing here when he makes his way to the door."

"I'm more concerned about her." Feeran motioned to what appeared to be a girl ducked down behind the bar's counter. "The hidden enemy is often the more ferocious."

Arlan nodded, and then the pair of them turned and quickly made their way into the back room. Whatever Boss Magog had in store for the lot of them was still unknown, but he had certainly started things out with a bang.

[member="Eliza Raxis"] | [member="Marius"]

 

[RC 212]

[member="Marius"] [member="Arlan Zy'rosh"]

The bartender nodded, and Ellie kept her aim right between his eyes. Fire was burning behind her brown orbs, these people were crazy. all about a job and some randomness or other. What the hell was going on in here anyway's?

"Come this way, he'll be back here."

Ellie nodded, smushing the package against her side and moving with a quick clip through the crowd. The sawed off was kept muzzle over her shoulder, as she jammed and prodded through the throngs, leaping tables and dodging random rounds that spattered across the scene.

I got to stop coming to shitholes like this. Gotta get a real job soon.

"Ey there girl! Think you're going before me!" A huge Human roared. He charged her, swinging his vibro-ax at her head with abandon. All his sinewy two hundred pounds of muscle was behind that strike, and when that happened she ducked and rolled. It was textbook combat roll, allowing her to traverse under the strike, right into the doorway.

Flabbergasted he tried to retract the velocity on his swing, and pivot, but Ellie was a spacer. She was born and bred on Chazwa, but she;d grown up around scum and villainy her whole adult life since leaving Chazwa shipping.

One boot pivoted on the heel and then the toes made contact, allowing her other foot to swivel into contact with ground behind her. Ellie crouched, letting her body sink slightly and leaned forwards swinging the sawed off into position from her shoulder towards the brutes chest. Her finger slipped into the trigger guard, applying smooth equal pressure until the sawed off fired.

BOOM! BOOM!

Twin barrels exploded, the human went down, solid tungsten slugs boring double holes in his chest and exploding from his back in a splash of spine and gore. Some pink mist traversed the distance from the high velocity impact, splattering Ellie in the face.

She pressed her lips thin, blinking twice before ducking back behind the door and into the room...

Where she was greeted by the sight of Boss, a Rodian, a Mandalorian and what appeared to another Spacer.

I must look so savage and ugly right now, she thought.

Her face flushed red with a slight tinge of anger, mixed with embarrassment about her appearance.

"Sorry bout that folks. Where's Boss? I have his package."

Ellie held up the envelope, also dotted with crimson flecks that contrasted against the manilla color.

 

[Marius]

Seven? Maybe eight? ​

Marius had lost count of those who had already entered the back door. He cursed his negligence and noticed that many people were simply dashing towards the door, perhaps his counting was right. Or maybe there was only one more spot left and those that were careless or too needy of the job were being shot brutally by others in their backs. Apparently a few had gone with the notion that killing everyone would be a guarantee for entering the door. Not a bad idea but many were able to enter already. The Mandalorian already despised his possible future employer. That Boss Magog would eventually pay.

Utilizing his helmet's target system, he jumped out of the table and ran sideways towards the back door while using his other wrist armament - a blaster to cover his exit. It seemed that all hell broke loose when he was just a few steps before crossing the threshold. Feeling the knocks of a heavy repeating blaster, Marius was lucky enough to have crossed the threshold and instinctively slammed the door's button, closing it. For good or for bad, the Mandalorian fired his wrist blaster at the controls. Marius was not really caring whether they were ten with him or less. He was told that the reputation of Mandalorians was strong enough to make even the toughest crime lords think twice of deciding a Mandalorian's fate. Hopefully, that would be useful if Boss Magog turned to any fatal actions cocerning the Mandalorian.

With a few steps he reached a room which was wide open and revealed mostly those who were able to go through the back door for the job. Considering the numerous men in the cantina, this ten would be safe to say the strongest. Or the smartest. Or both. Amongst those there was a pair of an alien and a human, who the Mandalorian was able to notice that both worked together. Very interesting, either they cooperated before entering the cantina or during the showdown. Whatever the case, they looked as the only pair amongst them.
His focus fell on a young girl with an envelope. She was young, armed and with ragged clothes. The Mandalorians had not noticed her in the cantina but looking at her now, she indeed looked like just coming from the whole massacre that took place in the establishment. Quite intriguing, Marius never underestimated a person by their gender as in Teresman culture and in Mandalorian as well, women were regarded as equals and proved capable warriors in both cultures. It was intriguing because she was neither Mandalorian, and definitely not a Tereswoman.

Marius sheathed back his bloody beskad on his back and stood straight, his senses tensed for every possible reaction by those around him.

You can never be safe around such a gathering.​

​

​

[member="Eliza Raxis"] [member="Arlan Zy'rosh"]

 

[Arlan Zy'rosh]

Nar Shaddaa​

Hard-line Cantina|Backroom​

So the players had gathered. Magog stared out across the gap between the ten whom entered his chambers and himself, his face still mostly obscured by his knuckles. All his planning, all the wasted credits, had boiled down to this moment. One last chance to re-secure what was rightfully his and ensure his legacy continued. Altogether, the motley band of mercenaries that appeared before him didn't look like much but he knew all to well that appearances could be deceiving. Magog would judge them by their merit and not their looks, after all they had survived his little test and made it to him. So Magog rose, moving out from the darkened end of the room towards the entrance. Far better to look his new employees directly in the eye before dishing out commands, that had always been his style anyway.

Slowly he approached them, his figure shadowed by a lack of proper lighting. His head easily reached eight feet in height, his shoulders broad and imposing. Magog had became the man he was today due to his stature and strength, and his uncompromising brutality. His hand gripped onto the firm metal of the pole dragging beside him as he stepped into the rays of the overhead lights, and revealed himself to the brave souls whom had endured Hell to meet with him. Surely someone in this lot would have the gumption to carry out his request, surely all had not been in vain.

---

Arlan had been focused on the doorway when Feeran nudged him. The Mandalorian had been the last person to secure his position within the room, blasting the controls after his hasty entry. Even now those that had found themselves outside were pounding upon the durasteel hatch, their screams muffled by the barrier between the rooms. Arlan quickly turned to Feeran as if to ask him what called his attention, but as Arlan's eyes met Magog's he no longer needed to ask. He was a colossal man, bigger still than any Human Arlan had ever laid eyes upon, but something was off. There was a stagger in his step as he approached, a weakness. If all became clear when he stepped into the light, and began to speak.

"I....am Boss Magog." The crime lord's voice was deep and raspy. The itch within causing Magog to cough mid-sentence. "You lot made it, for better or worse, you're the people that are going to solve my problem." Magog motioned towards one of the nearby bodyguards that hurrying over and pulled out a chair for the crime lord. Magog quickly sat, balancing himself on thick pole of the medicinal drip running into his body. "Some fearsome sight eh?" Magog smirked as he looked the I.V. and smiled. "But this is the reason all of you are here, I'd have no need to hire any of ya otherwise."

Arlan quirked a brow but said nothing. Magog was a pitiful sight, and in a way it hurt Arlan. All that seemed to remain of the man that had been was his size, all else looked to have been peeled away. His skin was pale and sickle, eyes and cheeks deep and sunken, his skin slightly sagged from rapid muscle loss. Whatever intimidation Magog now carried in his gait was a but a shadow of it's former self. Yet still Arlan remained silent, for the fierceness in Magog's eyes still burned as he looked them over. Arlan looked to Feeran whom returned his glance and nodded, the two of them would still take the job then. After all sick men tend to be desperate, and Arlan was just kind enough to help for the right price.

"I've built a small kingdom in the underworld of the Galaxy. It's taken years, more credits than any of you have seen in your entire lifetimes, and thousands of lives." Magog continued. "Now I sit at the summit of a great power, but not for much longer. You see, I'm dying." Magog looked to them and closed his eyes, and Arlan could see just how tired the man was. "Like any man I want what I've built to be carried onward, I want my legacy to continue. I refuse to die and let my underlings squabble over the scraps left in my wake." The picture was becoming clearer now, much so. "That leads us to the Dauntless, and what it carries on board."

Arlan brought his hand up to his neck, rubbing it for a moment before looking to Feeran and the others within the room. Magog was not short on surprises, the little show within the bar said that much. Still, all this was a little much already and there was still things left to be revealed. Taking a step forward Arlan looked towards Magog and spoke plainly. "And what exactly is it you want us to get off the Dauntless?" Perhaps it was a little direct, but enough time had been wasted already.

Magog nodded towards Arlan, smiling all the while. "Not what boy, but who." He then withdrew a holodisk and flipped the switch, projecting the visage of a young woman into the air. "Now my dear." Magog looked towards Eliza. "You have something for me?"

[member="Eliza Raxis"] | [member="Marius"]