Private Duplication of the Council | Lirka Ka

[Congen Rintenne]

Neon holograms bled across the endless vertical sprawl of Nar Shaddaa, the Smuggler's Moon alive with the roar of speeders, blaring advertisements, and the constant pulse of a city that never slept. Mythem stood on a rain-slicked observation balcony high above the lower districts, red hair damp and clinging to her neck beneath its green band, golden eyes narrowed against the chaotic glow.

The air reeked of ozone, cheap stims, and desperation, perfect camouflage for the rot they had come to excise.

Rumors of an identity slicer circulated rapidly among the elite of the Sith Order, suggesting that there was an individual capable of crafting nearly flawless replicas of the Dark Council members. The consequences would be dire if the remnants of the Jedi Order or the High Republic managed to obtain these duplicates, as they could potentially be employed for deceptive operations and infiltrating confidential databases.

Beside her stood Dark Councilor Lirka Ka , a figure exuding a chilling authority thanks to her significant dark side presence. Mythem maintained a respectful posture, yet her body was tense with readiness, the dark side bubbling just under her skin to shield her from the relentless winds streaming through the gaps of the nearby skyscrapers and the overhead passage of Hutt pleasure barges.

"Councilor," she said, voice steady and edged with lethal promise. "The slicer's work goes far beyond simple forgery. These duplicates are convincing enough to walk among us undetected. My sources point to this sector, Black Sun mixed with independent shadow runners operating out of the mid-level hab-blocks. Whoever this slicer is, they're bold enough to play with the faces of the Council."

Mythem turned her golden gaze toward Lirka Ka, hunger and cold caution mixing in her expression.

"Shall we begin by squeezing the information brokers in the lower districts, or do you already have a specific den of vipers you wish to tear open first? I live to serve in this cleansing." Rain hissed against the railing as speeder traffic streaked past in neon blurs. Somewhere in the glittering decay below, the slicer's trail waited. Mythem's lips curved into a thin smile at the prospect of silencing this rumored threat once and for all.

 

[Lirka Ka]

TAGS: Mythem Yittreas

Lirka had rather missed the wretched hovel of Nar Shadda. The Galaxy behind the Blackwall certainly did not have any great lack of muck and mire for the Once-Sephi to trudge through for her fanatical fascinations with the impoverished nothings who populated the Galaxy in the hope to herald them to murderous evolution.

But Nar Shadda? Well, it had a certain rustic charm to it, it was the original. And in her more miserable days of this life and the last, Lirka had spent plenty of time upon the moon when she did the less glamorous work of a blade-for-hire. It was like a wonderfully murderous trip down memory-lane, except for the fact she was here for work.

A high-quality identity slicer was a grim prospect indeed. If they were as good as the rumors said, any of the scuttling creatures of the Galaxy could use it to lay low the carefully crafted mirage that shielded Sith space. Of course - Lirka pounced on the potential danger immediately. Partially for her own ceaseless paranoia, and partially for reasons that certainly would be obvious to anyone who knew the Once-Sephi.

It also meant Lirka got to investigate into a new face. Mythem Yittreas was a face unfamiliar to the Councillor, and that meant the Warrior was an unknown variable. Lirka did not much trust unknown variables. Lirka kept an emotionless demeanor for now: glowing slit lenses looking out upon the overstimulating hellscape that was Nar Shadda with clawed hands clasped behind her back. She allowed the sheer wrongness of her aura to speak for itself for now - the political clout of a councilor, the whispering void of a force-dead abomination, and the festering of Carnifex's black blood merged with her that rippled with dark power.

When the woman spoke, with a whirr of mechanisms the marred helm of the monster turned to gaze at her compatriot wordlessly. The gusting winds of Nar Shadda seemed to faze the armored goliath little.

"Bold enough, foolish enough."

While there was certainly a flatness to her words, there remained an edge of curiosity to it all too. Was the monstrous metal thing interested in the prospect of what their foe represented, or her new compatriot?

"As I am to understand the information provided to me, you are our resident expert in the matters of this rancid little moon?"

Lirka gladly would've ripped a bloody path through the moon till they found their quarry, but she understood the need for a careful hand just as well. A probing gesture just the same - knowledge of the scum and the villainy was far from a useless skill.

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[Congen Rintenne]

Mythem's expression changed from a smile to a serious frown upon hearing Lirka Ka 's statement. Exiled to Nar Shaddaa from Kuat by her own mother during the coup led by Julius Loghain, calling her an expert was an understatement. She had experienced the grime of the Smuggler's moon firsthand, scavenging for scraps and bartering her very soul for any semblance of meaningful work that didn't involve shooting someone.

Mythem drew a slow breath, letting the familiar smells fill her lungs like an unwelcoming embrace. She kept her golden eyes fixed on the councilor's helm for one measured heartbeat longer, then let her eyes drift downward to the glittering tangle of catwalks and speeder lanes that spiraled toward the distant glow of the central spires.

"Expert is… one word for it," she said, voice edged with the memory of old scars. "I was dumped here with nothing but the clothes on my back and a mother's curse ringing in my ears. Fifteen years of learning every back-alley cantina, every Black Sun drop point, every maintenance shaft that still smells like blood and cheap spice."

Her gloved hand rose, fingers tracing a deliberate line through the rain-slick air as if drawing an invisible map only she could see. "If you are looking to sell something on this moon of such high quality as replicas, the first place we should investigate is the Promenade. A gaudy commercial area controlled by the Hutt Clan after the collapse of the Black Sun Syndicate." Mythem was very familiar with that area, especially the local bazaar where a wide range of items, from arms shipments to unique anti-force weaponry, were available for purchase along the promenade.

Reaching the location wouldn't pose any issues since there were numerous droid-taxi services available. Mythem's lips formed a tight line, her frown intensifying as the neon holograms beneath cast vibrant colors over her rain-soaked hair.

She took a purposeful step toward the spiraling catwalk that descended into the mid-level warrens, the reinforced plating echoing under her boot as she reached for the nearby terminal to call a taxi. The droid arrived a few moments later in the sleek vehicle, allowing them both to enter which she did without hesitation.

 

[Lirka Ka]

That frown would likely bring more pleasure to Lirka’s cold dead hearts than anything they uncovered today. Always prodding and probing, a monster coveting the information the decipher her fellows into the endless calculus of her existence, and a simple bully all the same. Yet Lirka Ka was like a die endlessly flipping between its many faces.

She understood humans well enough to know that Mythem Yittreas would not look upon exile to Nar Shadda with the same sort of fondness that Lirka did. For she was a creature of dark faith, and it was the muck and mire of nothingness that presented holy sites.

For a time, silence. Broken by one of Lirka’s endless mantras.

“Opulence is a disease. It is when you have nothing, that the path presents itself.”

Cheery as ever.

“And in nothingness, we find wisdom. It has been some time since I stalked the alleys of this world. I shall trust you to be our way finder.”

Of course Lirka didn’t actually trust anyone further than she could stab them in the back. This underworld Sithling was still a new face, and out here so far outside the Wall, the protections offered within were but a distant whisper. A vast moon with endless nooks and crannies to hide a corpse.

“Then to the Promenade we shall go. Perhaps we will leave the scum with a quaint mess.”

Certainly, bloodshed seemed all but assured. Allowing the warrior to lead the way, Lirka had the heavy metal thump of her boots upon Nar Shadda’s infrastructure follow their every move. She was all but always an odd one out, and the powersuit certainly didn’t help that fact, but here in the vastness of Nar Shadda: odd sites were to be expected.

With the arrival of the Taxi, Lirka looked the thing over a handful of times. A gauge for weight and space before carefully making her way inside with the whirr of mechanized systems accenting her every movement. Pleasantly the Once-Sephi was surprised to see the thing not give out or fall under the weight of the battlesuit, and for now remained content to let them fly to their destination. Quicker than how she’d have done it, all the climbing and stalking between those places where only the light of holo-ads pierced.

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[Congen Rintenne]

The droid taxi descended with a soft hydraulic hiss onto the landing pad at the fringe of the Upper Promenade, its repulsors stirring up a cloud of dust and old exhaust fumes. Neon signs buzzed above in multiple languages, promoting everything from spice dens to budget cybernetics. The atmosphere here was denser, infused with the scent of fried street food, inexpensive perfume, and the subtle smell of ozone from overloaded power lines.

Mythem was the first to step out, her boots echoing on the shiny duracrete as she slid the credit chip into the droid's chest to settle the fare for their transport. Without moving her head, she surveyed the crowd, identifying Hutt Clan Enforcers positioned at each significant intersection, primarily made up of hefty Nikto and Gamorreans clad in mismatched armor, their carbines hanging low yet poised for action.

The Promenade appeared pristine at first glance, spacious pathways, sparkling storefronts, and the enormous golden statue of Karagga towering over the central square like a bloated idol, but everyone present understood the unspoken laws. A single misstep and the Hutts would send you to the recyclers before your credit chips even touched the floor.

She jerked her chin toward the broad archway ahead. "Bareesh's Mercantile Exchange. Right through there. Run by the Bareesh Kajidic. If anyone on this moon moves high-end replicas without the Black Sun stamp, it's them. Or someone who owes them." She explained to the Dark Councilor Lirka Ka as she followed her to the establishment, all the while keeping her fingers close to her lightsaber in case the Hutt inside deemed them more trouble than they were worth.

The Exchange itself sat at the far end of the upper level: a wide, open-fronted hall lined with stalls and private booths. Holographic price boards scrolled overhead in glowing green and red, listing everything from Republic surplus blasters to authenticated Jedi relics that were almost certainly fakes.

 

[Lirka Ka]

There was a certain aura of meaninglessness that surrounded Nar Shadda that a proper Rhandite might have found holy in its own odd way. So many mewling lives, taking a look outside the Taxi’s window Lirka made quick estimations about how many souls each flashing light of the city might have represented. And took of how utterly uninteresting their existence was, and how most certainly a mere fraction of a percentage could’ve been turned worthy.

Maybe that is why she found herself rather fond of this place’s muck and mire. The Galaxy outside the Wall was certainly a different place, and even in these notions of dangerous identity-slicers she couldn’t help but feel her paranoia ease ever so slightly.

It might have dissipated fully if not for the Sithly form of Mythem Yittreas at her side. The Empire was ever so far, and yet close enough to touch.

Stepping from the car and looking out to the promenade, Lirka couldn’t help but feel a writhing shiver of disgust at the opulence of it. She did not much care for the Hutts. And in her normal dry humor, spoke through the metallic tinge of her helm.

“Hm, I didn’t know the yokels were allowed something as fancy as this.”

Taking her classic position of clawed hands clasped behind her back, Lirka began to advance towards where the Sith had motioned too. She walked with an almost exaggerated swagger and menacing purpose - these creatures respected simple things: power and wealth, so she would emanate both.

“Certainly a noisy place, would you not agree? Easy to slip away and hide in the shadows. How would you hunt our quarry within this rancorous rabble, my Nar-Shadda-in compatriot?”

Another test. She was probing at this new face, for Lirka Ka coveted knowledge to feed into her chaotic algorithms of what possessed a threat and what possessed an opportunity. She intended to find out what she could make of this newcomer once they returned to the suffocating darkness of their empire. A foe? A hunter? The possibilities were endless.

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[Congen Rintenne]

Mythem scanned her surroundings as she walked alongside Lirka Ka through the bustling Upper Promenade.

The noise of shouting merchants, booming music from nearby cantinas, and the low murmur of enforcers trying to maintain order created a constant backdrop of irritation. Keeping her head slightly lowered, she positioned herself strategically behind the Councilor, using her armored form as a protective barrier against any potential threats lurking in the crowd.

“Hm, I didn’t know the yokels were allowed something as fancy as this.”

She took in the comment, lowering her voice to keep from attracting attention. "It may appear elegant, but beneath the polished surface lies a treacherous underbelly where even the mightiest Dark Lords can find themselves dead in a gutter by a Gank Killer." She gestured toward the expansive entrance of Bareesh's Mercantile Exchange as they neared it.

The hall opened up, showcasing a series of stalls and private booths divided by shimmering privacy fields, while holographic boards overhead displayed prices and item listings in vibrant green and red text. She slowed her pace, her gaze flitting from one booth to the next, searching for any hint of a potential informant or a weak-willed individual who might yield valuable information under pressure.

“Certainly a noisy place, would you not agree? Easy to slip away and hide in the shadows. How would you hunt our quarry within this rancorous rabble, my Nar-Shadda-in compatriot?”

"We can't afford to go turning over every stone in our quest for information. Instead, we need to focus on asking the right questions in the right places. The Exchange has a back office managed by a Twi'lek named Vexa, who oversees the high-end forgeries for the Kajidic. If they are dealing in replicas, she would have the details stored in her terminal." Mythem kept her hand close to her lightsaber hilt as they entered the hall, where a pair of Gamorrean guards eyed them but made no move to intervene.

 

[Lirka Ka]

The obnoxious wall of sound that hit them as they entered the promenade sent a surge of rippling nostalgia through Lirka’s twisted form. It was like those days before she returned to the Sith, cast out from Rhand while she hobbled and scraped in the lowly dwellings of the Galaxy. This was not an unfamiliar scene to one like Lirka, for while she may be dubbed Councillor at the core of it she was little better than an underworld rat.

She moved slowly, while the helm was an emotionless thing she put on an impression of nearly gawking at the rabble. A good excuse to hide her amusement as she noted Mythem moving behind her as if Lirka were a durasteel bulkhead. Which admittedly, was fair enough.

Lirka did not respond to the whispered warnings of her companion, she was pleasantly charmed to have a guide. Even if she did understood these hovels well enough - there was no reason for this Sithling to know her colorful history yet. Once they were done and if she proved her mettle, a great many more options would present themselves.

A mechanical noise came from the Once-Sephi’s helm that seemed to be a purr of contemplation. The Sithling was well versed, and Lirka would see that used to their advantage. It would take too long to cut through all of this rabble after all.

“Indeed. Too many bodies, not enough time. Perhaps it is time for Lirka Ka to assist you, for you have been most gracious in offering your expertise. I need but one more question answered - who manages the slavers?”

It was becoming time to put old experience to work.

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[Congen Rintenne]

As Mythem navigated the bustling atmosphere of Bareesh's Mercantile Exchange, she found her eyes lingering on Lirka Ka more than was appropriate, especially considering the circumstances. A growing crowd, primarily made up of beggars and smugglers, weaved between booths, only to be met with the sharp disapproval of merchants determined to safeguard their goods from these unwelcome, often non-paying visitors.

The Dark Councilor seemed unfazed by the perils of Smuggler's Moon, her relaxed demeanor betraying no hint of tension as they walked. Mythem turned her head at the question, her thoughts drifting to the connections she had within the slaving trade. While numerous organizations operated on the moon, the Nar Shaddaa Labor Alliance was notorious for trading the most slaves in the sector.

"Jenson Jargo, a Devaronian, serves as the Labor Alliance's Representative within the Exchange, based on the information I've gathered. He is not particularly fond of unannounced visitors, but I believe you will find a way to persuade him to assist with our investigation." A thoughtful expression crossed her face, aware that the Force provided the Sith with the means to sway reluctant allies. She spotted him across the hall, gesturing towards his booth with her free hand, which was heavily guarded due to the ever present threat of assassination.

Mythem offered a gentle nod as she addressed her companion, "While you manage Mr. Jargo, I will proceed to speak with Vexa in her back office as we discussed." With that, she stepped away from the Dark Councilor, momentarily diverting her focus to the task at hand: tracking down the Twi'lek named Vexa, who was rumored to have valuable information hidden within the exchange's back office.

Although there was a lack of specifics regarding the identity slicer, she remained hopeful that Vexa might possess crucial insights into the distribution of the replicas and the individuals orchestrating their movement. The exchange was a hub of activity, and Mythem knew that even the smallest piece of information could lead her closer to unraveling the mystery surrounding the illicit operations.