Freedom in the Outer Rim [ORC Dominion of Karazak Hex]

[Kyle Farnes]

High Orbit, Karazak System, Outer Rim​

Ships, numerous in nature, and ‘kitchen sink’ in assembly have reverted to real space come from the direction of D’Qar and Demonsgate. Fighter began launching, more raag tag from the vessels as such, but newer versions of X-Wings and other Alliance fighters from the ships that were clearly belonging to the exiled government. The fighters were moving into attack formations. A group of fighters moved ahead, two Alliance X-Wings and Coalition Cutlass-10s turned onto an intercept course with an escaping transport.

“Transport, shut down your engines and prepare to be boarded.” Came the call from the lead fighter, by the voice and demeanor, a Duros from the Alliance.

“We are aware that your vessel has slaves aboard.” Came the call from a human in the lead Cutlass, followed by a blast of lasers across the bridge.

This caused the vessel to juke and push her engines harder. Starting to put the fighters to the wind. Coming around, the four fighters moved to attack speed, and blasters began firing at the shields before an ion missile was ejected from the second X-Wing and hit the ship square in the engines.

“This is Judge Rhodes, of the Outer Rim Coalition. Allied forces, you have your targets, Killjoys, make your move. Fighters, don’t let anything through.” The orders came out. The Coalition had many allies, and with the forces gathered, had set even more in the field. “All Cooperative assets are ordered to surrender, or be considered forfeit.”

Surface, Karazak System, Outer Rim​

​

Teams had been landing on the planet, using smuggler vessels, with several tasks before them. Smugglers were welcome to use their skills, gather slaves, and get them off world on a safe ship, others were brought down to collect Cooperative assets, or remove them from the world. But still, more were brought to help ferry refugees to safety.

Hover tanks were being unloaded from one of the larger Gallofree transports. Land speeders and armored personnel craft were moving forward. “Baskets, you have your orders. Get to the population centers. We will break the walls of the slaver camps until you can come in.” Came the order from the Mandalorian known as Kyle Farnes. His armor, light Beskar in a golden scheme of the Alliance was gleaming in the sun as he climbed into the lead hovertank.

They were heading up the trail, into the mountains, the lighter vehicles in the lead. He hopped into the trooper cabin with his rifle. Checking the power cell charge. He was full. It was good. Time to get into combat.

Objectives
The Transporter - You have been hired to smuggle cargo out of Karazak, during the loading of said cargo you find out it is slaves bound for The Sith Empire. What do you do?

Military Action - The Karazak Slavers Cooperative has been a loud tol exist for far to long. By order of the free states of the coalition this must not continue so close to our borders. Any Army or Navy assets on the area are ordered to assist in the removal of any and all cooperative forces. Main point of interest, Joyous reach, wealthy citadel of Karazak.

Search and Rescue - While taking out the cooperative the innocents must be protected, infiltrate and make your way to the slave pens throughout the underground cave system of planet. Liberate the enslaved and bring them to safety.

BYOO

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

Among the dozens who'd sneaked downwell onto Karazak in one guise or another, most had wound up in and around the slave camps or the citadel of Joyous Reach. Jend-Ro Quill, Jedi Master, had hitched a ride in the least official way possible. See, he'd opposed this plan on the grounds that it might get an awful lot of slaves killed. The Karazak Slavers' Cooperative, as a whole Cooperative or as individual slavers, weren't exactly known for their scruples. Sentient shields, hostages -- this could go sideways very, very easily.

To that end, even though he didn't agree with a full-on attack, he'd come along to help however he could. Mind tricks saved lives, more often than not.

Outside a cantina in Joyous Reach, one frequented by a particularly noxious slaver crew, a beggar lobbed a coma gas grenade through a window and drew a lightsaber.

 

[Sortz]

[member="Dash Kessler"]

The ship was a junker. Sortz didn't mind. When Dash had dropped her a line, letting her know he had a job he could use a hand on, she'd been happy to help. Sometimes it was just nice to get back out of the regular routine, you know?

Oh, Sortz actually really liked her routine. With Daro and Samson, there was a family, and she liked that. She worked on electronics and spent her free time around people she cared about. Things had been mostly quiet for months though..... she'd long since hit a dead end in her search for who she was, or where she'd come from. Trail was colder than cold. All of the information was somewhere in the guts of the implant in her head but she and Daro had fried enough rigs to stop trying at this point and..... why? Why keep it up? She was happy, right? She really and truly was.

But she always wondered.

"Uh, Dash, where do you want this stuff?"

She was standing there with four crates, one stacked on top of the other, in her arms. One crate would have been a challenge for most people, but she peered around the edge at the smaller human like it was nothing.

"I got the rest of the hold cleared for the shipment you said was coming, but these weren't labeled and I wasn't sure where they should go."

 

[Dash Kessler]

The Errant Lady might not have been the swanky luxury yacht Dash always envisioned he would be riding into an early retirement right by now, but the Corellian was nevertheless convinced she had it where it counted. Sure there was a some rough edges scattered around here and there, a couple worrying looking sections that had all but corroded all the way through, but that surely just added to her character - and a good Corellian ship was nothing without character, right?

Truth was, with his current financial and legal misunderstandings outstanding on Terminus, Lady had been the best Dash could afford at such short notice. The lease alone draining what little reserves he had left in his coffers from his voyage with the first Gossamer expedition, with the added fuel expenses only further putting him in a precarious situation with several outstanding creditors. Creditors that wouldn’t blink twice at dismantling a few choice body parts should he fail to deliver on his promises to repay them with interest.

He ignored the phantom pang his kneecaps gave out in favor of running through the pre-flight checks one last time, double and triple checking his calculations to make sure there wouldn’t be any unforeseen surprises on the journey. Barely even glancing up - and it was up when it came to the amazonian Tro’zet, with his gaze barely even settling on her midriff at the best of times - as a familiar shadow loomed in the entrance of the cockpit.

Sortz.

One of the few people Dash actually trusted to watch his back on a job like this. Saul would’ve tried to weasel him out of the profits, Daro would’ve ridden him over each and every little decision, but Sortz was always on the level. Possessing a rare, almost unfortunate honesty that sometimes made him wonder if she was truly cut out for this line of work, but perhaps that wasn’t necessarily always a bad thing. Especially given his current situation.


“Hm? Oh, right. The dockmaster said there was some junk leftover from the previous owner.” He leaned forward to smack his hand on the side of the console as he spoke, slapping it as hard as he dared to rattle the sputtering readout back into clarity. Another quirky bit of character. Totally fine. It was only the life support gauge. “The guy apparently left in a hurry.”

Again, nothing to worry about. This was the outer rim; people vanished all the time under mysterious circumstances.

“Seriously, did I tell you how much I appreciate you doing this, Manarai?” Dash murmured, turning in the cockpit chair to face.... Well, a massive stack of boxes, but he was fairly certain she was behind there somewhere. “It was kind of a last minute when this job fell in my lap, so you stepping up when you did has really saved my ass. I know you normally work with Daro, but---“

He made a face as his commlink warbled an interruption, his wrist vibrating with three rapid pulses as their client transmitted the pre-arranged signal that he was on his way. Speak of one devil, another arrives. Still, the man might have been sketchy on the exact details of what their job might have entailed, but at least he was punctual if nothing else. Quicker they were off this rock, the quicker they could get paid.

“Guess that’s our cue.” Dash punched in the counter code as he rose to his feet, pausing only to check the charge on the blaster at his hip before shuffle-twisting around the hulking figure. “Just go ahead and toss that stuff in the engine room. We can go through it later. Who knows? Might be something worth pawning if we’re lucky.“

Every little credit helped at this point.

“Let’s go smuggle some poodoo.”

 

[Jin]

​

OBJECTIVE TWO: Smuggling contact​

LOCATION : Subterranean Hanger near the slave pens​

CONTACTS : [member="Dash Kessler"] | [member="Sortz"]​

​

***​

​

Jin was not pleased with what was unfolding to say the least. His contractor must have gotten word of the impending action against the Karazak System, and so had ordered him to move as much "merchandise" as possible. He had sent the word out, contacted every smuggler in the area, offering ridiculous sums of credits for a one time transport with no questions asked. A few had responded, even fewer had arrived before the rag tag fleet had left hyperspace. No it was all hands on deck, every captain had been called to meet him by the pens. The Enforcers had already begun rounding up the sentient cargo, binding them and forming them into lines for transport.

Jin would be standing on a cargo crate, growling out orders and organizing the seem chaos. All captains were expected to to meet with Jin' personally, he would organize their cargo, give them the drop off location and make payment arrangements.

 

[Zef Halo]

LOCATION: Hangar near slave pens
OBJECTIVE: Break smuggling ring, make arrests?
TAGS: @Jin | [member="Dash Kessler"] | [member="Sortz"] | [member="Yula Perl"]

It had been months of work that would culminate at this point. Dagon had been on the track of a smuggler ring operating in Outer Rim Coalition space that smuggled off slaves far off to the other side of the galaxy. The destination most likely suggested the Sith Empire, but the Perl detective couldn't conclude that yet.

Eitherway, here they were. Him and his rebellious sister - Yula, standing behind some cargo containers observing the action going down. If Dagon's investigation was correct, all these containers were full of slaves. It would've been much easier if the Coalition hadn't intervened with a full military force and rather left this to law enforcement but no. The fact that there would be (once again) more collateral damage reports on his desk rather than arrests annoyed him and he couldn't find anyone to blame but the rashness of the decision makers on top of the Coalition.

"There's a lot of 'em." He pointed out the obvious. Too much hostile targets. His eyes danced around till they a ship caught his attention. The detective winced trying to remember why the ship looked familiar but could not. "That ship, right there? The Corellian one? There's something about it that rubs me familiar."

"Nevermind. Look at that...Togorian?" The feline being looked like one, albeit different. "Looks like some sort of head honcho enforcer." Dagon's thoughts shuffled. While the odds were against the two siblings at the moment, he wondered whether he should even attempt trying to halt this whole human trafficking operation going right here or try and get that Togorian-like arrested.

Reluctantly, he turned to his older sister. The features on his face clearly said he really didn't want to ask what he was about to ask but the words came out of his mouth, nonetheless:

"What do you think we should do?" Dagon asked her, knowing he'd most likely regret it afterwards.

 

[Yula Perl]

LOCATION: Hangar near slave pens
OBJECTIVE: Babysitting lil bro
TAGS: [member="Jin"] | [member="Dash Kessler"] | [member="Sortz"] | [member="Dagon Perl"]

Yula side-eyed the Togorian barking (hissing?) orders to his team. “Huh.” She shrugged. “Could just be having a bad day.” Typically she kept to herself and stayed out of other smuggler’s businesses, but if Dagon was right then, well, Dagon was right. If there were slaves in those cargo containers, then they had to make moves.

That much they agreed on. Yula and Dagon both had a similar sense of justice, there was no denying that—but how they went about dispensing that justice was another matter entirely.

“Too many on the ground here.” She grunted, not liking all of the personnel milling about. With just the two of them, a straight fight was out. It was hard to catch em at the loading dock unless you had a badge, which Dagon had. But Yula had made it clear that she never had much faith in that badge. “Could get messy real quick. Well. Gonna get messy either way, if your sources are good. Come to think of it, I remember hearing something about...ah, nevermind." She shook her head. Dagon never liked to hear about her smuggling side gigs, and as much as she wanted to grate his nerves because it was so easy, they had a job to do.

Yula turned her head toward Dagon, eyes brightening with the prospect of a challenge. “Out best chance might be to commandeer whatever ship they’re going to use as a transport. It’ll minimize what who have to deal with, but also presents a few challenges on its own. Either way, can’t let them get into sith space, that’s for sure.” There was something absolutely wry about that smile she had.

“Don’t worry, baby bro. I’ll protect you.”

 

[Sortz]

Sortz grinned at him from around the crates. It wasn't a particularly comforting smile, what with the tusks and all, but it was genuine.

"Glad to help! Sometimes it's good to get out and do something different, you know?"

She liked Dash. He always just treated her like she was. Well. Normal. Sometimes she didn't always understand him, but that was okay. A friend? Yeah, she thought so. Short list, that one, but one that was slowly growing as she pieced a new life for herself back together. Maybe no one had come looking for the old Sortz, before she lost her memory. But she thought there were people now who might have, if they'd known her then.

"Oh yeah, sec," she said, turning around and heading back to the engine room. She looked around for a moment, then hefted the stack, sliding them all neatly on top of another without really considering the fact that Dash wouldn't be able to get them down if she wasn't there later. She was, after all, in a bit of a hurry. Brushing her hands off on her pants, careful of her claws, she turned and started to jog to catch back up to him before he disembarked.

"So, uh. I never asked. But."

She paused, ducking her head as they stepped out of the ship. The area was busy, honestly surprisingly so. She blinked a little bit at that, reaching up and scratching at the base of her horns.

"What does Manarai mean, anyway?"

She liked it. It had a nice sound to it. It hadn't bothered her at all when he'd started calling her that, but she'd always meant to ask and just never gotten around to it. The first time he'd called her that, she'd thought he'd just been making a mistake. She understood the idea of 'nicknames' now though.

Something about the scene in front of them was bothering her. But she couldn't quite put her finger on it. A frown started to form, brow furrowing slightly as they headed toward the feline currently seeming to be, rather angrily, running the show.

"Something seem.... uh. Weird to you Dash?" Leaning over. Way, way over, in order to say that quietly to him.

[member="Dash Kessler"] [member="Jin"] [member="Dagon Perl"] [member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Dash Kessler]

OBJECTIVE: The Transporter
LOCATION: Subterranean Hangar
CONTACTS: [Member="Jin"], feat: The Not-So-Dynamic Duo ( [Member="Dagon Perl"] & [Member="Yula Perl"] )

“Manarai?” With his mind focused elsewhere, the question caught Dash completely by surprise, causing his stride to hitch mid-step as they descended the landing ramp. Forcing a stumble that very nearly saw him slip from the edge before he recovered his footing with an embarrassed cough. Suddenly even more glad that [Member="Daro Tarsi"] wasn’t around for this.

“Oh...” Squint. “Uhhhh, it’s a mountain range on Coruscant… And, uh, you know… I call you that on account of how tall you are?”

Not exactly accurate, but he reasoned a half truth was better than a lie.The full answer of ‘Tall, beautiful and no doubt a dangerous climb’ didn’t strike him as like an explanation you wanted to give right before negotiating a deal that could make or (quite literally) break you in every possible sense.

“I’m not sure I even know what counts as weird these days,” the Corellian replied in a hushed tone, letting his gaze shift across the expansive subterranean hangar bay. Pausing for a second on the long shadows cast by the cargo containers over in the far corner, lips pursing to a thin line as his gut tightened before giving a dismissive shake of his head and shifting his attention towards the feline looking gentleman he assumed was acting as the point man for his client. No one earned a build like that from behind a desk. Plain as day, the man was a straight up enforcer. A pound for pound bruiser that was only surpassed in height and stature by Sortz. “Too late to walk now, though. Guy like that isn’t gonna let us skate after seeing his face. Not with this many credits on the line.”

If they were going to back out of the deal, it would have to be during transit. Maybe find a quiet little location to ditch the cargo, skip the lease and lay low until the heat blew over. Somewhere quiet and uninhabited by anything sentient. Dosuun was supposed to be nice around this time of year.

He shifted his stance as they drew to a stop by the top cat, letting his natural Corellian ‘swagger’ drop his hip slightly to allow better access to his blaster should the need arise. Threading the thumb of his opposite hand behind his belt buckle as they squared off. “I’m Kessler, this lovely lady is Manarai. Word around town is you’ve got a job that needs doing. Figure we could see our way to taking it off your hands if the pay is as good as scuttlebutt paints it.”

 

[Cathul Thuku]

Objective: Military action
Allies: ORC
Enemies: Cooperative

Therapy Command spent the last few months patrolling the northern borders of the ORC on the lookout for the Sharukans and, to a lesser extent, the Ssu-ruuvi and the FO remnants. Because it was stretched thin, it couldn't take part in the Elrood campaign without endangering the northern ORC border. Then again, Karazak was along one of those patrol routes, of which Asmeru was a terminus. Here the risk of encountering Sharukans, whose attention have since been turned to the Ssu-ruuvi, was not the same; it was a new enemy that intelligence reports only knew of as the "Cooperative". But repeated skirmishes between Therapy Command, the Ssu-ruuvi and the Sharukans made it so that they didn't fight at full strength. But the Cooperative was on the defensive in low orbit and the objective was to cause it to break off low orbit while keeping collateral damage to a minimum. As usual, if the battle was expected to be fought in short order, Therapy Command had either cluster missiles or heavy bombs loaded onboard the fighters, with the latter being usually used against enemies that made use of large capital ships. However, this doesn't seem to be the case, so cluster missiles were the order of the day.

"Maybe we should consider using freedmen to replenish our crew losses" Carmen commented.

"It's still an all-volunteer force we're running. It would run contrary to draft crewmembers. Battle stations!"

 

[Zef Halo]

LOCATION: Hangar near slave pens
OBJECTIVE: Break smuggling ring, make arrests?
TAGS: [member="Jin"] | [member="Dash Kessler"] | [member="Sortz"] | [member="Yula Perl"]

“Could just be having a bad day.”

He rolled his eyes at her rather bland perception of the Togorian-like enforcer. Why was she so much like their mother? I mean, yes, being her offspring and all, it seems logical. Dagon mentally slapped himself for the stupid thought.

“...come to think of it, I remember hearing something about...ah, nevermind."

The detective narrowed his eyes at her. "Yeah, yeah...remind me to ask you later." He paused and gave her an impudent smile. "Scratch that. I am sure I will remember to ask you that, eitherway." Once you spilled a bit of the beans and you know Dagon's going to come back later to find out the rest of it. Nosy. Went with the job, came with the father DNA.

“Out best chance might be to commandeer whatever ship they’re going to use as a transport. It’ll minimize what who have to deal with, but also presents a few challenges on its own. Either way, can’t let them get into sith space, that’s for sure.”

Nevertheless, he listened intently on what his elder sister said and acknowledged it. It was a good idea. Surprisingly. For a moment Dagon thought she'd just want to jump out brandishing that lightsaber and doing all that Force mojo to tackle their problems. It's what Jedi do, right?

“Don’t worry, baby bro. I’ll protect you.”

Of course, she couldn't help it.

"Oh, protect me?" He gave her a sarcastic surprised look. "Sure, I'm sure you're the one that bails me out of the joint for everything stupid I do on a regular basis..."

"...oh wait."

Dagon rolled his eyes before turning his focus back on the important task ahead of them. "Commandeering a ship sounds good, yeah. Oh, and look at that." He nodded his head at the loading ramp opening up to reveal two figures. A Tro'zet, by the looks of it, and a human male. Looked like a stereotypical smuggling duo, didn't they? The gunslingin' folk hero and the brute he'd saved from slavery? Let's not get quick on the conclusions.

"Perfect timing, sis. That junk's a Corellian boat. Looks like a total piece of scrap but it's probably got a dozen of trump cards in its sleeve. Busting a Corellian smuggler down here in the Out Rim's a pretty good deal. That's a dozen points for us and zero points for that high snobiety CorSec is."

"You wanna go ahead and take point. I will cover ya." Dagon switched from stun to blaster mode. The former being useless at this range.

 

[Gray Venasir]

Location: Hangar near slave pens
Objective: The Transporter
Tags: [member="Dagon Perl"] | [member="Dash Kessler"] | [member="Sortz"] | [member="Yula Perl"] | [member="Jin"]

It had all seemed weird from the start. The Message about the high paying job, the planet, tha part about no asking questions. Everything smelled fishy. But Nevertheless, Gray had accepted the job. It was not cheap to live, especially not when you had a ship to take care off, which you needed to get Money. And if nothing else, he would learn why the job was so well paying.

Having docked his ship, The Noble Nightingale, in a hangar Close by, Gray walked to where he would get the cargo he would smuggle off world. He had yet to learn anything else than the fact that he was going to smuggle something, which was not very descriptive. But one thing was sure: He was going to ask questions.

Walking into the hangar where he was to pick up the cargo, he leant against the wall Close to the door he came in to observe the Place and what was going on. There had been a few other smugglers who had also accepted the job it seemed, who were already being told what to take where by a feline creature. Gray couldn't clearly see his species from this far away, but it seemed to hold authorety there.

This world had the rumor of housing slavers, which is why a bigger part of the Coalition was planning on attacking. This made Gray even more suspicious about this job. He hated slavers, and only the thought of helping them deliver their slaves made him sick. That couldn't be what they were going to smuggle, was it? There was only one way of finding out.

He walked up to the cat, who was barking orders. There was two other fellas there, who also seemed to want a take on the job. "Hey, leave some for us too," he said to the human of the due. "Name's Gray, and I could also help in delivering this… Whatever it is? What you want me to take, and where do you want it delivered?" This was directed to the cat. Hopefully these questions were tolerated. As he waited for the response, he looked at the due standing Next to him again. And now that he clearly saw both, he flinched at the sight of the green giant. He didn't want to admit it, but he was antimidated by her.

 

[Jin]

OBJECTIVE TWO: Smuggling contact​

LOCATION : Subterranean Hanger near the slave pens​

CONTACTS : [member="Dash Kessler"] | [member="Sortz"] | [member="Gray Venasir"]​

Opposition: [member="Yula Perl"] | [member="Dagon Perl"]​

The battle cat looked up over at the first group of ship captains that walked over to him. First to arrive was a normal looking human, the type of smuggler scum he was used to working with. His muscle however looked formidable, a mountain of a woman with green skin and a toothed grin to make a wookie envious.

..“I’m Kessler, this lovely lady is Manarai. Word around town is you’ve got a job that needs doing. Figure we could see our way to taking it off your hands if the pay is as good as scuttlebutt paints it.” ...

"Two hundred credits a head and as many as you can hold..."

Jin didn't have a chance to finish before the second captain spoke up.

..."Hey, leave some for us too," ... "Name's Gray, and I could also help in delivering this… Whatever it is? What you want me to take, and where do you want it delivered?"...

"As I was saying, two hundred credits a head. Pack them in like cord wood, condition doesn't matter as long as they arrive to the Darth alive he will pay." The mighty targen said before pointing over to the slave pens.

"Hunter, Mace, line up the cargo, we got two captains ready to load up." Jin said to the two nearest enforcers.

"Ok gentlemen, how many you need and which ship will they be delivered too." Jin looked over at the two captains, data pad in hand ready to update the cargo delivery info.

 

[Kyle Farnes]

Objective: HOVER TANK

As one of the Mandalorians who helped support the Coalition, Kyle felt he had a bit of a cause to get behind. He had people to support, and as a result, he had people to rescue. Loading up into the front hover tank, he got the signal from the rest that the team was assembled. Dropped into the weapons control seat, he nodded to the Rodian pilot and the tank was starting to move. He wasn’t 100% certainabout this method, but when you were given the option to bring heavy armor?

You brought heavy armor.

Checking the readings, he nodded as he prepped the beam laser to be ready to hit anything at range. The two vehicles behind would be able to launch the EMP blasts, but it was up to the speedier tank to take the fight to something faster. Finding the headset and putting it on, it was providing a more haptic feedback loop. He could move the cannons how he wanted and sight in by widening his eyes or tightening his gaze. It was a… mostly useful tool.

Making their way from the city, though, he was seeing the location in question on the maps. A bit over an hour to get there. He’d be giving the haptic tool a run during that, he felt.

 

[Yula Perl]

LOCATION: Hangar near slave pens
OBJECTIVE: Babysitting lil bro
TAGS: [member="Jin"] | [member="Dash Kessler"] | [member="Sortz"] | [member="Dagon Perl"] | [member="Gray Venasir"]

“And I’ll be sure to ignore all of your messages.” She planned to be halfway across the galaxy by then. As much as she loved spending time with her brother, Yula didn’t think she’d have the patience to divert his never-ending questions after this.

The infrared sensors of her Iris lit up like a Sithmas tree when her gaze passed over the cargo containers. “Then stop bailing me out and make me learn my lesson for once. Oh wait—then I wouldn’t be around to save your ass from pirates, now would I?” As much as either of them probably didn’t like to admit it, Dagon was the brains and Yula was the proverbial muscle. What she lacked in analytics he made up for, and what he lacked in combat ability she made up for. “The least you could do is—oh, yep. There are definitely people in those containers. Looks like your hot tip was right this time.”

Yula nearly snorted—actually, she did snort—while her brother Dagonsplained crappy ships and their finer points to her. “Hey, careful what you call Corellian junk—our grandpa is Corellian junk.” But another ship had docked, with another interested smuggler appearing to take up the job. This complicated things, especially when Yula had her doubts that she and Dagon could take on the big green lady between the two of them. Splitting up just wasn’t an option, but now the cargo would be on two different boats.

“Okay, new plan.” Yula whispered loudly to her brother while loading up her dart gun. “Too many players on the field, we can let the cargo leave.” Switching her Iris to rangefinder mode, she raised the gun and leveled it on the Togorian. “We’re gonna have to move fast, so you might wanna take that stick out of your ass first.”

She squeezed the trigger, sending a dart with a mild nerve blocking agent towards the bad kitty.

 

[Sortz]

Oh. That made sense. Normally when people commented on her height it had a different feel to it. This was.... complimentary. The word itself even sounded nice. The smile she gave him at that explanation was broad- it tugged at her tusks.

"I like that, it's a good nickname, thank you."

But the smile faded a bit as he continued. It was a familiar song from working with [member="Daro Tarsi"]. Some stuff you couldn't just bail on because of the people.

"Does it count as seeing his face if it's covered in fur?"

Yeah, apparently it did.

As they walked up, Sortz cracked her knuckles. She'd worked for Daro for too long, more often playing the roll of hired muscle even if it wasn't her preference- she knew what was needed from her in these situations and it wasn't a soft, polite word or her familiarity with electronics.

Dash did the talking, and she was reminded, not for the first time, that it wasn't the same as the way most other people did. Strange, but not unpleasant. Like water rolling off of smooth stones. The slang coming easily and natural as if they were in truth his mother tongue. She wondered, sort of absently for a moment, if that was a skill someone could practice or just natural talent. It wasn't forced to too emphatic.

They were joined momentarily by small, blonde haired human. When he looked at her and flinched?

She kinda felt bad.

Had she over done it with the knuckle cracking? Knowing she was supposed to look intimidating and actually wanting to intimidate people were two very different things.

"A head?," she leaned over to Dash slightly. "Like cabbage? Man that Sith must really like sauerkraut- wait. WAIT."

It wasn't that Sortz was stupid. But there were just some things she didn't immediately go to. Slavery was one of them.

"Hey, hey Dash, we can't-"

Which was about where things got weird.

The sound of something whistling in the air. A soft thwip. Sortz was moving before she was really thinking about it. Something came tumbling down (The cat-man? Maybe. Honestly she wasn't paying that much attention other than BIG SHADOW FALLING HIND BRAIN MOVE) and she wrapped an arm around Dash's waist and stepped back, yoinking him out of the way to safety.

She looked down at him in her arms, rather nonplussed.
"Dash they're slavers."

Like he hadn't already probably figured it out.

[member="Dash Kessler"] [member=Jin] [member="Yula Perl"] [member="Dagon Perl"] [member="Gray Venasir"]

 

[Dash Kessler]

OBJECTIVE: The Transporter Welp, so much for that.
LOCATION: Subterranean Hangar
CO-PILOT: [member="Sortz"]
CONTACTS: [Member="Jin"], [member="Gray Venasir"] feat: The Not-So-Dynamic Duo ( [Member="Dagon Perl"] & [Member="Yula Perl"] )

The cocksure smile wavered.

In the ever expanding criminal record of Dashiell Kessler, slavery and sentient trafficking were not an entries he had ever considered adding to this repertoire. Theft, extortion, maybe a little cheating at the card table. That one count of public exposure on Zeltros. At his core, he was a petty criminal at best. Slavery on the other hand sounded like a hop, skip and a jump into the major leagues - using sentient creatures as stepping stones along the way. The fact the end destination involved someone that used the first name of Darth, well...

He would be the first one to admit he was a peedunky, but he wasn’t 100% a sleemo.

“Gotta admit, as welcoming introduction pitches into the fast pace world of slavery go, that wasn’t half bad.” Dash replied, chewing the inside of his cheek and glancing at the newcomer as he spoke, trying to gauge the man’s interest in the deal offered and if he would throw his lot in with Cat-Man-Don’t over there. Between the enforcer and his men, the odds of them walking out of here alive in the next few seconds already stacked against them without adding further guns into the mix. "You put some real effort into the delivery."

Kark.

Nothing for it, the man would have to be taken out first.

“But if I could be so bold to offer you a note or two?” He half-turned, pushing that grin back into full swing across his features as he snapped a wink at Sortz, trying to put a brave face on the fact they were about to throw the proverbial osik at the fan. A flicker of guilt worming its way into his gut at having got her caught up in all this. She deserved better than getting iced over a piece of gou shi job, regardless of the credits. Not to mention that, even if they managed to survive, Daro was going kill him for this one. Screw it, damned if he did, damned if he didn’t.

Double frickin’ kark with a side order of feth.

Dash’s note was already clearing his holster as Sortz began to object, barely even registering the faint whizz-whoosh! as a dart narrowly missed his ear by a matter of inches. His finger tightening on the trigger the moment it was leveled on Gray. A bolt of blue energy racing down the length as a blast of concussive ionic energy went….

…. Scattering off into the face of a nearby mook as Dash was abruptly ripped backwards by Sortz attempt to drag him from the fray, the impromptu bridal hold causing his shot to go wild. Missing Gray entirely and instead dropping a guy to the Pseudo-Togruta’s left in a crumpled, twitching and sizzling heap of unconsciousness.

“Uh, yeah, Manarai.” From his current position, cradled in her arms, he had to admit that the nickname was one of his finer moments. She really did live up to in every sense. It was a shame they were about to get themselves killed, but there were honestly worst places to meet your maker than the one he found himself in right now. “I kinda had an inkling about that, too.”

 

[Cyran Vaas]

Objective: Search and Rescue
Location: Underground cave network
Tags: N/A

Under the guise of a Mandalorian slave owner, certainly not one from the Mandalorian Empire as do to the outlawing of slaves. Essentially just an illicit buyer looking for illicit goods. Thanks to Cyran's less then lawful way of going about things he was able to catch word of the planet being a hub for the trafficking of sentient species. But he wasn't just going in to free a bunch of slaves and be nice. Nope, he was on the hunt for bounties of kidnapped persons. With it came a small list of individuals he was looking for specifically. The rest of them were gonna need to wait their turn for all he cared.

Instead of just walking into the mix of caves and auction houses for the less wealthy customers, asking for the specific individuals he was looking for he was trying to be more subtle. Otherwise he'd give himself away pretty quickly. Since he has tried this act before with one of his buddies and were outed as either bounty hunters looking for the slaves or rivals looking to ransom their slaves. So from learning from his mistake he was being a little more passive to the horrific deeds being done around him.

"You must be quite unpopular where you're from Mandolorian...Considering the Mandolorians don't like slaves." Cyran's guide spoke as he led him through the cave network.They were an elderly gentlemen, with a bit of a hunch and had the voice that sounding like he smoked a good 1000 too many death sticks. "Coming here and looking for some a blue twi'lek dancer heh?" He said licking his lips some. Cyran said that he was looking for that specifically but didn't mind window shopping along the way. "I'm surprise you don't want a purple one to match that raggity armor of yours, heheheh..." As the two of them passed he noticed one of the individuals on his list to rescue. But choosing not to stop and ask questions about purchasing them he simply took a mental not of where they were and followed the old man, who's chain of keys rattled with each step.

"What can I say, a smooth skin, blue twi'lek women reminds me of oceans. Something I'm quite fond of." Cyran lied, he didn't even know how to swim.

"Oh, well aren't you quite the poet..." The two of them continued.

 

[Zark San Tekka]

Slave Pens​

Search and Rescue​

[member="Cyran Vaas"]​

This wasn't the first time Mynock had been in chains.

He hadn't seen sunlight for weeks, packed away among others like chattel. Every day brought only further degradation, but he had survived this long. It was hard to believe that he had actually volunteered for this. But the scrawny swoop biker had brought down a Sharukan regent while a prisoner, he knew that he was one of very few Underground agents with the willpower to see this through to its end. These past few days, he was beginning to question even that. Perhaps it had been hubris to believe he had seen the very worst sentient kind had to offer.

"Oi Dark Star, check out the Mando!"

There was no hiding his gang affiliations in here, the dark star tattoo etched across his back marked him as a hellion. It was difficult to maneuver, his cage was packed so full, but Dubrillion shoved his way between flesh. Most of his cell mates were eager enough to get out of his way, the hellions had a dangerous reputation throughout the outer rim. Swoops, drugs, piracy. If they only knew he was here on purpose, here to save them all. The Mandalorian was a problem. Cyran's sudden arrival was something Mynock hadn't accounted for, and he hated unknown variables.

Worse, he was wanted in at least seven systems. There was a not unreasonable chance that the bounty hunter was here for him.

"Come on, come on..." he muttered to himself. Mynock had set up the signal transmitter, more of the Underground would be here soon. But soon enough?

Getting out on his own was possible, but he'd have to play it right or else he might put the other slaves at risk. Slipping the anti-security blade he had stashed somewhere deeply secure when he was captured out of the lining of his pants, Dubrillion prepared to make his move.

 

[Jin]

OBJECTIVE TWO: Smuggling contact​

LOCATION : Subterranean Hanger near the slave pens​

CONTACTS : [member="Dash Kessler"] | [member="Sortz"] | [member="Gray Venasir"]​

Opposition: [member="Yula Perl"] | [member="Dagon Perl"]​

​

Things began to happen quickly as time moved slowly around Jin, the dart found its' mark just above his left thigh, in his butt cheek. He barely registered the pain, a slight prick before the dart sent the narcotics flying though his blood stream. If he had been of normal size, the dart would have surely put him down. But being a being of sizable mass and hearty constitution it had just taken him out at the knees and forced him to the ground.

"Ggggguuuuurrrrraaaaaahhhhhh, we have spies. Teams spread out, hunt them down and bring them to me, dead or alive." Jin roared struggling to maintain his composure.

He quickly picked up his data pad and typed something into to it before he hit send.

"If any of you fethers are thinking you can walk out on the crown think again. I just confirmed with pick up of two hundred and fifty slaves each with the Darth. Failure to deliver will result in a death mark, fifty thousand credits, same price as what you'll be paid for delivery. So what will it be boys payday, or payback?"

Jin was in no mood for a double cross, these scum had come for money, morals were a luxury he could never afford in his line of work. As his enforcers began rushing into the room, fanning out to find his attackers the remaining guards would begin to surround the smugglers forcing them to make a hard choice.