Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Holojournals: Voyage to Firefist (open to OPA)

Born standin' up and takin' back.
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He slowly pulled himself off the ground, clothes covered in dirt and blood, a trembling hand wiped the blood from his split lip mouth as dry as Tatoonie sands. The man lay dead on the ground with several pistol wounds to the chest, Jek standing over him and fired once more. Right in the head.

“He’s dead Jek”.

Eldin’s mentor said nothing, his thumb pulled back the hammer ready to fire again, but he hesitated. Whether it was because he heard Eldin, or another thought went through his mind, Eldin will never know. He just kept looking at the scum on the ground that had killed his family, his wife and children all gone because of retribution.

The barrel of the gun lowered, Eldin felt the relief that this was all over and allowed himself to sit settled on the dirt. His man had been his teacher, in more ways than training as a gunslinger, he gave Eldin the skills to survive not just on Nar Shaddaa, but anywhere.

Hours they had spent, “Do it again kid”, round after round had would make Eldin practice until the night fell. He had always been a good shot, but Jek made him a gunslinger. “Never let them decide, you must always make the decision for them. And when you do. Kill them”. Jek had always been the decider.

Without warning, Jek raised his gun and pulled the trigger, his body fell backwards, blood spilling to the dirt. He was dead.

Eldin sat in shock, disbelieving what he had just witnessed just for a second before his entire body moved crawling as fast as he could, fingers digging into the dirt to get to his friend. His eyes filled with tears blurring his vision, his chest heaved with the pain of sorrow, as he pulled the lifeless body of Jek and cradled him.



~oOo~

The memory of the specter gunslinger still haunts him.​
 
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Gluk, Stock, and Two Smoking Lasers
Eldin Daine Eldin Daine Cotan Sar'andor Cotan Sar'andor Amea Virou Amea Virou Griet van Vliet Griet van Vliet Atlas Drake Atlas Drake

It's rough out here, isolating. Too much time to think. Wish I could spend more time with Captain Silane but our ships don't fly well linked up. Morale's kinda suffering; Quekko misses grass under his claws and keeps complaining about the bugs we brought not being a challenge. He hasn't whined this much since that Hego Hill guy tried to hide an ion charge and tracking beacon in his cabin. Bless. Anyways, behold an Apokka with cabin fever.

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Here's something that broke up the tedium pretty good, though: an exotic subspace current. I got this shot of the Jasmin's Wake leaving an actual wake as it surfed the anomaly. Silane's a maniac.

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Image Debit: The transfer pricing department in a basement room
From the very beginning, some mentioned projects that relate to mining, while others talked about manufacturing. Possible planets mentioned by the Firefist folk were the Silken and Vergesso Asteroids, as well as D'Qar, Dagobah, the Ison Corridor and the Metharian Nebula, while Dagobah's capital was essentially built around its university. Sparsely populated, with light (if any) regulations. This made advanced pricing arrangements, or APAs, much easier to get with the planets where industrial-scale external commerce virtually required the use of such, because then only one part actually has requirements over transfer pricing. Either way, they may well be asking for loans to get transportation infrastructure built, even if it meant registering subsidiaries in these areas prior to taking out the loans. Griet hoped that some refugees from, say, Atrisia or Kuat, would work in these locations upon completion, in a resource capacity or in a manufacturing environment. But, in Wild Space, banking wasn't as tightly regulated, so she'd rather wait for the lenders' response before trying to negotiate assurance services with them.
 
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Most recent image I could find of blondie.​
I thought that having a ‘bad trip’ was just a metaphor, but now I am not so damn sure anymore. Okay, so having a bad experience on drugs is obviously a bad trip, but this entire journey has been something else entirely. I can’t eat the food, I can’t drink the booze without it going straight to my head, and my nose hasn’t stopped running since our last stop. Everything in this forsaken galaxy has it out for me and I am so done with it.

I swear I even caught myself drooling over the thought of stealing Jerec’s “hidden” supply of sweets. Talked a bit to some weird Jedi to calm down, but he didn’t strike me as the most sociable fellow. Not that he’s bad or anything, just a bit too averse to social situations for me to reasonably hold a conversation with him. Then again, that’s not too unfamiliar of a concept, I guess, but I was never that bad.

… I think. I can’t remember.

Either way I found some sort of chip stowed away around Jerec’s ship. It seemed to be some form of memory device. I tried hooking it up to my holo-device but the most I could seem to decipher from it were blurred or unintelligible images of some over privileged blonde kid’s life. Personally I couldn’t ever imagine what I’d do with that kind of wealth. There would be no obstacles to overcome or struggle against, you’d just have to throw money at the problem until it fixed itself. Sort of like Runi does, I guess. Or would, if KDY would stop getting blown up every other month or so.

Whatever. I don’t mean to turn all introspective on it, but when you are stuck in a place where you have little more than your thoughts and wishful thinking of home you can’t help but fall for your inner demons. And to me that kind of life, it just seems so… Distant and unrealistic. I may not know who it was that placed me in this galaxy — or, I suppose I am not from this particular galaxy — but given who I am and what I do…

I think much like my made up parents, my real parents are most likely dead. I mean, who could raise someone like me? I am a fighter, but I don’t know anymore why I fight these battles. Some sort of sense of morality has clearly been imprinted up there in the brainy parts, but beyond that it’s all haze. No, not even a haze, it’s a blank void that I have to fill out for myself.

I wonder if that kid would ever ask herself these questions. Gods, I hope not. Although, the more I think about it the more I wish I was that kid. Then again, do I really? Could you imagine?

Nothing makes sense in this galaxy. I want to go home already.
 
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I found this jade-and-brass treasure in a bazaar on a tiny trade station a couple of jumps before Firefist. The Force is strong with it, and it's immensely old, but I can't divine its purpose or significance yet. Fascinating piece. I like to mull over it as I sit and watch Firefist through the bow viewports.

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And when I look out the aft viewports, I can see our home galaxy. It seems very small.

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Born standin' up and takin' back.
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He had lost track of the time that had passed since Jek’s death. Having left Tatoonie and returning to Nar Shaddaa, Eldin had buried himself in booze and woman and card tables. Anything to distract his mind from the constant haunting of Jek. Sleepless nights had become normal for him, any sleep that did claim him was filled with the image of Jek standing over him pointing his gun at his face and pulling the trigger. He would always wake up in a cold sweat just as the sound of the blast filled his mind.

Why was he plagued by this? What possible meaning was in the visions where his mentor would want to pull the trigger and kill him?

His head ached as his eyes opened and took in the grimy ceiling about him, his back pressed to a lumpy bed and the events of the night flooded back. Eldin threw his legs over the side and sat with his hands pressed to his forehead. Naked as the day he was born. He reached for the packet of cigars on the side table only to discover it empty and threw the packet to the floor. It was then he noticed his clothes all dirty and, in a heap, however he reached for an article of clothing and held it up. Undergarments of a female discarded. He turned looked over his shoulder, the bed was empty and whoever had been ‘keeping’ his bed warm, gone.

That was a relief at least.

Until he noticed his wallet was equally empty and the credits won at the tables gone as well. He reached for the bottle of booze, everything gone. His purple patch had dried up, it was time to find work. The boss had offered a job, a run to the outer rim, luxury goods to be delivered to Terminus.

~oOo~

Maybe a stay in the outer rim would change his luck.​
 
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Gluk, Stock, and Two Smoking Lasers
Eldin Daine Eldin Daine Cotan Sar'andor Cotan Sar'andor Amea Virou Amea Virou Griet van Vliet Griet van Vliet Atlas Drake Atlas Drake

We've made it to the nearest edge of Firefist. Right where the Nagai Trade Spine slides into the satellite galaxy, there's an inhabited planet called Jaibrek. Most of our ships put down at the main spaceport. A few broke off and pressed on alone. A few others probably won't take off again for a while. Jaibrek is the first real settled, appealing world on the route since we passed Skye.

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The markets have a hundred kinds of local produce none of us ever saw before. I know for a fact that some of us are carrying stasis chambers for things just like this. Maybe poor fething Amea will find something she can eat.


Most of the folks on Jaibrek are Nagai. They're a blade culture, so everyone carries knives and there's some great examples for sale or barter. I picked this one up as a gift for the lady in red:

 
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So, I managed to lead the Tof warband away from the path that the convoy was going to take. Wasn't particularly difficult; I ran back to my ship, got off the ground and started to burn sky. They managed to catch up once I broke atmosphere, and just to make sure they gave chase, I had Kiss send a few pot shots their way and ran. Their ships don't compare to this new REC gunboat at all, let me tell you; only took a few jumps to get them entirely lost and out of the way, before I showed off just how much faster I actually was and got back on my route.

Last I remember the main convoy's itinerary, they should be at Jaibrek right around now. Nagai colony world. Meanwhile, I've just touched down somewhere a ways off the path; some mostly uninhabited place, aside from a few small rural communities here and there. Nice and calm. Didn't always seem to be that way, though.

Just two or three kilometers off from where landed is a massive old battleship. Not really sure the make, but it looks more like something from my side of the void, not something native to Firefist. Ancient, too, judging by how much it's sunken down, and the level of erosion around the gouge it made when it came crashing. Still, Kiss and I have been going over there, the droid's helping me find what's salvageable, to try and fix some of the damage we took from those Tof.

It's odd, though; only reason I came so far out here off the route was because I felt pulled to it. Force is trying to tell me something, but it has to be as enigmatic as ever. I imagine whatever it wants me to find—or at least a part of it—is in this ship.


Guess I've got to start looking.
 
JAIBREK - NAGAI COLONY WORLD
GATEWAY TO FIREFIST

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A merchant at the bazaar recognized me as a Jedi and mentioned a place that might interest me. It's an alien temple, all stonework, from long before the Nagai settled this world. The Force is strong here. A sect of Force-sensitive Nagai warriors use it as a training site and redoubt. They were dubious about me but I shared a meal with them and we learned from each other.

They have a remarkable philosophy of self-improvement. Many Jedi Masters, myself included, could benefit from not resting on our laurels. I spoke with very old Nagai warrior sages whose drive to improve is humbling.

After my sin on Kintan, this experience resonates with me. It's healthy.



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Gluk, Stock, and Two Smoking Lasers
Silane and I took another walk through the spaceport market.

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I got so enthralled in wild bargains that I wound up buying a cargo droid just to haul everything. I needed a cargo droid anyway. Silane got a good laugh from that and needled me all the way back. Wish I'd got a shot of the way the bazaar lights lit up her carapace.

Her species doesn't kiss - too many fangs. Note to self.
 

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Blessed are the coffeemakers, for they shall gain my wealth.,​
There is a hole where my wallet was,
My heart cries for coffee and tea,
Luxuries of a world so far away,
Yet here it is, in Firefist, with me.

Blessed are the smugglers and traders,
I thank them for this meal and this drink..
It has been so long without the things I love,
The longing was greater than I’d think.

This poem was written out of necessity,
A thank you to those that I’ve come to like.
I love you, oh blessed drink of hubris,
For this so-

[Last draft saved: 14h ago.]

EDIT, 2h ago:

Gods, that drink went straight to my head. But in a good way for once, I guess. My system must have jumped at the chance to absorb something that wasn’t a gel-like substance. Live and learn, morale is back up for now. Only thing I’ve come to dread at this point is the trip back home. More of the same, or?
 
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Image Debit: The transfer pricing team hard at work
  • Image Credit: PGN
For the Firefist would-be clients, the concept of assurance in accounting work included assurance that the proper transfer pricing methods were applied, which was often an area thought of overlapping with taxation, but when they started talking about who would use the financial statements, it became clear to them that it would warrant, at most, a review, unless the loans requested were so large that an audit was required. (Or they attempted to enter the capital markets by IPO means, but that was not usually something newcomers would do immediately since would-be investors would not necessarily trust unproven newcomers on the capital markets). Yet, some warning was de rigueur here: they shouldn't be too heavily debt-financed or else the cost of capital would be too high. That, even though interest was tax-deductible and dividends usually weren't and, for this reason, debt was usually cheaper than equity. Of interest to them was Telcoplus, which manufactured what looked like HoloNet relays, and they wanted to build a new manufacturing facility on D'Qar so that they can get communications infrastructure between Wild Space and Firefist.
 
JAIBREK - NAGAI COLONY WORLD
GATEWAY TO FIREFIST

The Nagai saw a shadow in my heart. Once the sages got the story, though, they told me I shouldn't feel so much guilt. But I've sinned enough that I'm afraid to sin more by letting myself off the hook.

They asked me who I sinned against. I didn't have an answer.

On Kintan, I butchered six Children of the New Order - Sith terrorists - in a mostly failed attempt to stop several senseless murders. I used the dark side of the Force. I saved a life. I can't think I paid too high a cost, but I don't know how I'm supposed to feel.

The convoy leaves in the morning. Tonight the Nagai warrior sages will walk me through a ritual to help me see myself clearly. I'm afraid.


 
Gluk, Stock, and Two Smoking Lasers
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Took a fathier out to one of the perimeter markers today. There's so much we still don't know about this world. When's the last time anyone back home could say that? We picked Colonia because it was completely uninhabited but by the time our colony ships arrived it was teeming with local wildlife. What could cause that in only a few years? Just one of the many mysteries this place has to offer us. The colonists are much more concerned with how to keep the dangerous ones out but fortunately the most of the same tricks that work in our galaxy work out here.

Our Saijo guides have saved New Foundation many times over. Apparently the reason this part of Firefist's so quiet is because it exists in a kind of no man's land on the fringes of both Nagai and Tof space. We get a few neutral traders now and then but folk out here are slow to trust. Especially a lone colony that isn't on any of their maps filled with strange aliens who can barely speak their trade language. Maybe once word spreads things will get better...or worse.


NEW FOUNDATION SPACEPORT
COLONIA - OPA OUTPOST WORLD
Atlas Drake Atlas Drake Griet van Vliet Griet van Vliet Amea Virou Amea Virou Wynter Rackham Wynter Rackham

We've reached Colonia. Most of us captains are carrying something for the OPA settlement, paid for back on OPA turf. Vitamin supplements, water purifiers, biomass converters, heavy weapons, scout droids, trade goods, portable translators, new colonists - all sorts.

We've agreed with each other that we'll rest here for a bit, get the lay of the land, and then most of us will press on to see what there is to see.

Note to self, buy Cotan Sar'andor Cotan Sar'andor a drink at the settlement's only cantina if he shows. The guy cleared a lot of trouble off our trail before we got there.
 
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Do I always look so angry?​
Can’t get over how similar this place is to everything else that I’ve ever known. From having spent a seeming lifetime between galaxies, to suddenly feel as if I am where I left off is a very disorienting feeling but at least I am thankful that there are some familiar elements to all of this. A wide array of different races have come with us to settle. I ain’t even close to considering settling down, but hey, if they want to run away and/or live in another galaxy far away from everyone that they had ever known that’s all the more power to them, I guess.

Been going off on my own given our somewhat extended stay. I figure that I would go on a bend with some of the other new arrivals. Will only get the one chance to go here, after all. Or perhaps to be more precise, I only ever want to go here the one time. Transit was enough of a nightmare to make me want to never do it again. The food, the sickness, and the misery of being confined to my room for a week with an unnatural cold. If you ever start feeling a taste in carbo-hydrate and protein packs, that’s when you know that something has gone terribly wrong.

Yet here we are. I am thankful that the last meal wasn’t liquid enough to simply stuff your mouth with and swallow. There was actual chewing, actual taste, actual everything. Should anyone have read this journal they will have understood that I was perhaps a bit ‘refreshed’ on day one for the very same reasons.

Anyway, about the bend. We went a bit beyond the borders of our established outpost to try and see how safe we are. Perhaps I had hoped we were in luck and stumble upon a self-unearthed artifact or something but in reality that was a bit of a stretch. Always is, when you think about it. What we did find was a small area perfect for expansion. Small grove, somewhat fertile land judging by our own standards. Granted, this is an entirely new galaxy and I don’t even remember half of what Jerec told me about it thanks to that blasted cold.

Might be a worthwhile endeavour for the outpost at some point. Might not be. My speciality is finding and robbing the long dead and navigating ships. Building a community has never been in my particular set of skills. At least we got some good times out of it. Had a bit of a shake up during the night since most of us were unfamiliar with the wildlife, but it turned out to be nothing. One of the others snapped a picture of me and sent it my way.

Not quite sure what to make of that. Thought I would look… Well, I don’t know. There ain’t a whole lot of time for finding a hair stylist or droid when traveling to another galaxy.
 
Gluk, Stock, and Two Smoking Lasers
Glad Amea Virou Amea Virou is out there making friends. She's had a rough go. Quekko went out to prank her and her buddies at their campsite and almost got himself shot. Again.

I wouldn't even have been there to patch him up if it went sideways. I was out delivering my, uh, real cargo. The one I didn't show aaaanyone but Quek. The one vacuum-sealed and strapped to the underside of a patch of deck plate. Colonia's a brand new colony. It's got needs.


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And you better believe I got my profit. The credits were in my account before we passed Virgillia, plus the contact here-

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-gave me a little something extra to delete that picture.

Here's the something extra.


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It tastes incredible.
 
COLONIA - OPA OUTPOST WORLD
Atlas Drake Atlas Drake Griet van Vliet Griet van Vliet Amea Virou Amea Virou Wynter Rackham Wynter Rackham

I fought this tall gentleman in the wilderness outside New Foundation. I don't know his name or what he was doing here. He pressed the issue and I killed him in self-defense.



I spent a tired afternoon burying him and using Force Light to clean absolutely everything.

Update: It turns out there was a local bounty on his head, so I've earned more OPA Talons than I'm strictly comfortable with. The problem is, there's nobody to donate to and my ship has few needs just now. I suppose I'll save it for a rainy day. Thanks for that, Darth Cruxis. I'm sorry it went down like it did.
 

Since Kintan I've been compelled by a desire to apologize or confess. I've tried a kyberite confessional talisman but I'm stuck on the idea that the cosmic Force isn't something to which you can meaningfully...apologize. Looking to the Force for forgiveness is a long wait for a ship that's not coming.

On the shore of a cold river, I realized the only person I should apologize to is myself, mostly for not being ready. I broke on Kintan. I can heal myself by being ready next time I need to take a life, and there will be a next time. Where that leaves my poor confused conscience is a matter of debate.

Between me and me, because in a deeply real sense I'm the only one to whom I'm accountable.

I feel better than I have in a long time. More whole.
 
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Image Debit: Telcoplus' logo
Some clients expected more from a forensic auditor than from a run-of-the-mill assurance practitioner (assurance being one of the two common entry points in public accounting, while taxation was the other), however, Telcoplus had permanent establishments on Jaibrek and was headquartered on Nagi. They showed a pro-forma plan of how much Telcoplus would be expected to spend, how it would affect their statement of comprehensive income, statement of financial position (called balance sheet virtually everywhere else), and cash flows. Then again, Griet was wary of these forecasts because it showed their revenue (or at the very least, their profits) going on a hockey stick trajectory while their expenses followed a straighter upward line. Not even start-up expenses being included into these forecasts would be sufficient to allay her concerns. Yes, she knew that the variable portion of the cost of goods sold was one of the big methods of transfer pricing, but there was also the question of excess capacity, whether a market actually exists for an intermediate good (if there is, usually the comparable uncontrolled price will be preferred, as it reflects what the outside market will be willing to pay, and is typically considered the upper limit at which an entity will engage in "internal sales"), and excise considerations.

"Do you really expect banks to give out a large loan to expand on D'Qar? Do you really think there would be any profits from which to repay enough of the loan to reduce interest expense in future years? Ramping up production in subsequent years in such a way that a hockey-stick revenue or profit curve could result would be also cause one-time expenses to be incurred"
 

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