Campaign Into Darkness I: The Descent

[Tulan Kor]

SILVER REST
RANGER'S COMPOUND
ARMORY

​

You look so much like your mom, kid. Must've gotten the looks from her. Only can kinda tell you're his son.
Why are you out there all alone?
Why all that hate?
Ain't you got someone to love you?

Tulan mulled over the situation, before looking up as they all trickled in, one by one, or together. The only other person in the room besides him was Hitter, and Thirdas Heavenshield .

They all volunteered, the Jedi, at least. The Rangers, he gave them the option. Only the hard-hitting ones stayed, and the ones that Tulan approved of. Except of course, the newly-promoted Thirdas. But the mission was bold enough that not even he, upon first hearing it, swayed Tulan from coming up with the plan- or the idea of one. From then, it was calling in favors and Holonet messages from way back when for Tulan.

Tulan walked up from the edge of the room, the gathered Jedi and Rangers huddled in a dimly-lit armory room, huddled around a table with a varying degree of gear and equipment on it.

In the past, it was a mission prep room. But rarely did the Rangers deploy directly from Silver Rest- so the room, for a long time, had remained usually open for training scenarios, or not used at all. Which is why it was ideal for this case. Tulan looked over at Thirdas, getting a nod to begin the briefing.aa

"For the next hour and a half every camera between here and the flight deck will be malfunctioning due to operator error. That is our out. Once you step on the ship, there is no going back until this is done."

Tulan reached below the table, covered in weaponry, pulling up and oddity among Silver Rest, save for old texts... paper documents. He walked over to a board, while one of the Rangers in the room, a quiet man affectionately called Hitter, pulled out a decently sized crate. The other Rangers in the room- each going by selected given names, rather than their ranks and names. Hitter was the first, and joining the team later when it was opportune was Boneman, Horse, and Stacks at the spaceport. They elected to prep first, and get the mission briefing en-route. The others gathered...

Well they would get the details, as much as Tulan wanted to give, up front.

"This is Thal Mantis . Son of one Preliat Mantis."He laid a picture of Thal, from when he first entered Silver Rest as a recently freed slave, pulled from the Shadowlands after a failed attempt at massacring slavers. His face was bloody, but there was a killer look in his piercing blue eyes- pale blue, like ice near a pole. Eyes of a killer.

"He was recently studying and learning here at Silver Rest to become a Jedi, after freeing himself from captivity- by choking to death the Slavers that bought him, mind you. You might know him as The Deathless, if you ever were at the Red Tower. He was known for his capability for violence, and the fact that he never seemed to die. We now know, that he is because a stinkin' Jedi with all the force shit that comes with it." He paused, after setting a printed picture of Thal out on the table, strewn between bodies of other Gladiators, beaten and bloodied, but alive.

"After an attack at a sister Jedi temple, Thal snapped and went on a personal vendetta- and for the past year and some change..." Tulan laid picture after picture of crime scenes and murdered bodies, some left where they stood- some arranged as a warning. Some with credits taped to their faces, others with credits stuffed into their mouths, and most contained neatly-stacked datapads and hard drives. "He's been going after Slavers, killing them."

Tulan paused for a moment to let the reality of what they were seeing sink in. Thal's violence was incredible, brutal, and made a point.

"Well, apparently you can get people who normally are at odds with each other to like each other if they're faced with being murdered. Thal has disrupted years of slave networks work, and is now a prime target. They're setting a trap for him- and are going to rescue him. He may not be acting like it, but he's one of ours."

Tulan leaned forward, setting his knuckles on the table.

"I only know this because I know people that would make most of you in this room sick. From a previous few lives." He rapped his fingers on the table. Hitter set the crate on the table, along with two others. Tulan looked sternly around at them all, before speaking again.

"Everything that identifies you as a Jedi, or calls back here, goes in this box. We go out, we don't go out as Silver Jedi or Rangers. There is no law in Wild Space. There is no government, no unifying language, even. We'll source translation droids and devices when we can, if we need them. These people don't trust outsiders. Take only what you need. None of the Rangers will have any of our standard equipment... but we will be armed, and we'll source you weapons. After a little bit of debate, I will encourage you to bring your lightsabers but leave them behind on the ship until we need them. Jedi are just as disliked out there as the plague. Even worse, they're feared."

Tulan stopped.

"If you walk out now, I won't blame you and so will nobody in this room, or that's coming. But you put what makes you a Jedi, or identifies you as one, besides your lightsaber, in that box... you're with us. That means survival. And that means maybe your code bends. But don't break out there. We come back, we come back whole. And it will not be pretty. Prove me wrong about Jedi. That you can stomach the ugly side of it all. Hitter, Sir, I'll be on the ship, getting ready to prep for takeoff. If you need a change of clothes, there's flightsuits and fatigues that the Rangers will help you get. I'd advise ditching the Jedi attire. You all stick out like sore thumbs."

Tulan left, leaving each of the gathered persons to either leave it all behind and join him at the spaceport, or walk away from the mission entirely. It was up to them. The door sliding shut behind Tulan left them to ponder their place, and if they wanted to save a Jedi and face the wrath of the Slavers, or leave the Rangers and the others gathered to do the work for them.

 

[Thirdas Heavenshield]

Thirdas knew no more than those volunteering for this very covert operation. If Tulan Kor 's briefing was anything to go by, neither the SJO or the Rangers as an organisation could be seen conducting the operation or risk political as well as popular backlash. The fact that the one responsible for all these gruesome murders, slavers or no, could be traced back to the Silver Jedi could prove disastrous.

Hence the crates, and the necessity for leaving behind anything that could possibly lead back to the SJO. That kid committing these murders was one of theirs, making it their mess to clean up.

Thirdas' trust for Tulan was marrow-deep. When he first arrived at the Silver Rest a naive, wide-eyed boy with little to no prior knowledge of the ways of the galaxy at large, he'd thought Tulan a ruthless, mean brute who seemed to take pleasure in torturing raw recruits such as himself at the time. But back then, Thirdas had yet to witness the horrors of galactic warfare up close, much less partaken in it. It was an ugly, grim world out there, and it was Gunny's job to prepare them to face it without breaking.

The man had done his job well with Thirdas, forged him into the killing machine he was today. It wasn't something the young man ever took pleasure in doing, but there was no denying he was particularly good at it. If those skills could be used to save a hundred, thousand, maybe even millions of people, Thirdas would be willing to serve. Duty was part of his family words, after all.

The Gunnery Sergeant gave his briefing to those who had shown enough interest to show up for this clandestine meeting, most of whom were military but with some Jedi sprinkled in here and there. It had been particularly surprising, as well as worrying, to see Nida Perl among the volunteers. She'd only just gotten out of hospital after losing an eye on Yurb, and now she was looking to get back into the action?

"Right, you heard Gunny," the recently-promoted lieutenant took over as Tulan went off to get the ship ready for takeoff. "Anything on you that can even remotely be traced back to the Silver Jedi or any organisation under them, goes in one of those crates. That includes rank insignias, campaign badges, company patches... even weapons. There will be no ranks or names used throughout the operation. Each of you will either chose or be assigned a codename and you will stick by them until our return."

Shieldwall. That was his chosen codename. As he stood behind the table, watching people, sometimes tentatively, discard items on their person and place inside the crates, Thirdas himself began stripping himself of anything that made him him. He ripped the patch from his arm which said "Task Force Raider", as well as the one proudly stating with which company he served. And he also carefully removed the silver bar denoting his newly-appointed rank, and placed it inside one of the crates.

By the time Nida appeared, Thirdas looked at her with palpable worry. He slowly reached out across the table to take her hand. He would not chide her for wanting to take part, but rather caution her. "Nida... are you sure?"

Beltran Rarr | Okkeus Dainlei | Belok Karr ​

 

[Okkeus Dainlei]

Okkeus was bouncing his leg too much. Hopefully other people didn’t notice. Still shaken up from the dogfights in Yurb, he thought it would be a good idea to get out of the temple. Boy was he wrong. Being sent on a mission to retrieve a murder-hungry Jedi was not exactly his definition of R and R. But he was a Silver Jedi, and dirty work needed to be done.

He had no patches or items that could be led back to the SJO, well besides his lightsaber. There is no way that he was going to get rid of that.

After the talk about changing clothes he decided to try and find a new look. Seeing a pilot’s jacket and some weathered pants, he thought that they would do. Once those were on he nearly folded his robe and placed it in the box.

A weapons rack was positioned on the far wall. Walking over there he inspected the weapons. He wanted something that wasn’t too obvious, but could get the job done. An A-280 sitting on a rack, battle scars streaming across it. Picking it up he slipped on the strap while ticking the run behind him. An average-sized pistol sat in a pile as well. Grabbing it Okkeus lightly blew off the dust, watching it float in the air. Clicking it to his belt he was finally ready.

As he walked to the door a man stopped him. What now?

“Callsign?”

He thought for a second. Maybe something that was used recently? He decided to go with his callsign in the battle of Yurb, Smoke. But the SJO is at risk if they somehow found out. So he went with something relating his Lightning-powers. That would be hard to find out.

“Bolt.”

“And what are you going to do about that?”

The guard pointed down to his mechanical forearm. His left hand always stayed out, revealing the robotics on it. But he was already prepared for that.

“Watch this.”

Pressing a few buttons a shield appeared over the arm. A cloak made it look like his arm was organic. You couldn’t tell the difference. After the guard gave a nod to him, Okkeus went back to the table. He awaited further orders. Who knows what the mission would bring. It was time to nut up or shut up. No more Padawan missions. He was a knight now.

Tulan Kor Thirdas Heavenshield Beltran Rarr Belok Karr

 

[Beltran Rarr]

"Uhh boss, are you sure you should be up and moving aroun-"

"Shut it, Reece." Beltran's tone as he addressed Specialist Paxton Reece was uncharacteristically angry.

In the aftermath of Yurb, Beltran had spent some time in the hospital. He'd had to have his left abdominal area more or less completely reconstructed using synthetic flesh since the sword thrust that had nearly ended him had left very little left in its wake. He'd been ordered to bed rest and had, for the most part, complied. As a trained and certified medic, Beltran knew that doing what he was told was the best way to ensure he recovered quickly and properly.

He'd been off bed rest and back on light duties for perhaps a week when word had, quietly, circulated that Gunnery Sergeant Tulan Kor , was looking for volunteers for an off the books mission. The Lorrdian was still quite tender in his midsection, but he'd never met a black op that he didn't want to be apart of, so he'd made sure that he would be in the room when the Gunny gave his briefing.

No, that wasn't why Beltran was angry. Beltran was angry because he'd caught Reece using again. Bloody fething deathsticks. And after Reece had promised that he was done with them. Hell, after they had ruined his life, got him court-martialed and sent to prison.

Beltran understood, to a point, what had driven his man to relapse. During the battle of Yurb, Reece had participated in an ad hoc operation to rescue a group of stranded civilians. A noble goal that Beltran had supported. However, that operation had taken Reece away from Icarus Platoon and the bloody last stand they made with Maul Company defending the Shield Outpost. Nearly the entirety of both units had been wiped out and now Reece felt the guilt of not having been there.

Beltran got it, but too bad.

"I need you functional, I need you at the top of your game." Beltran had explained to the Specialist. "Sooner or later, we're going to go up against the Bryn'adul again. And I intend to bring the pain to them this time and I can't have you high or strung out when we go into battle. So, I'm taking these fething things, and you're coming with me on this op so I can keep an eye on you."

"Bu-"

"Shut it."

The two Rangers had arrived well before Gunny Kor had begun his briefing and each took a seat. Having anticipated some of what was going to be expected, equipment wise, he'd opted to leave his usual armors and most of his weapons behind. The two wore black t-shirts and dark grey fatigue pants with no unit markings of any kind. He did however, carry a small case that held his two swords and his Hand Cannon and the rig he used to wear them.

These were more or less unique weapons that had no ties to the Antarian Rangers or the Silver Jedi and anyone who could have traced these weapons back to him was either a Jedi, a Ranger, or no longer breathing.

Upon taking his seat, he had nodded to the newly minted Lieutenant Thirdas Heavenshield , Nida Perl , Okkeus Dainlei and the other Rangers in attendance. Although he'd heard of the Lieutenant's exploits defending the Shield Generator on Yurb, he hadn't seen them himself-having been otherwise engaged outside the walls. The young woman, Beltran didn't know. But it wasn't his place to question her involvement.

He was somewhat intrigued to see Jedi Dainlei there and nodded to him. "Good to see you, Jedi Dainlei." He said. Beltran had learned some Force skills under the teen aged Jedi and had seen some of what Okkeus could do. He was a talented Force user and a well trained combatant who would definitely be an asset on this mission.

He then settled in to listen to the Gunny's briefing.

A child who'd been turned into a killer, killing those who'd enslaved him? That resonated hard with the Lorrdian, since he too had lived his childhood in a world of brutal violence. And from his conversations with Okkeus, he suspected that the Jedi would also relate to this one as well. Then Tulan Kor was finished, he gave everyone the option of walking away.

Beltran, of course, didn't move. Neither did Reece, even though he fidgeted a little. He just needed to get the junk out of his system and he'd be fine. With the briefing complete, Beltran began to unpack his weapons and affix them to his rig. He would also take a number of grenades from the racks and help himself to a non-descript 10mm rifle and a couple of vibroblades. Reece would take a similar loadout, while also taking a scattergun and a large amount of det-cord and plastique explosives.

Beltran's lightsaber, which he had also brought, would be left on the ship as the Gunny had instructed. The call signs that Beltran had chosen for himself and Reece would be Nightmare and Vagabond respectively.

 

[Lancer Damar]

OUTER RIM
UNDISCLOSED LOCATION
HUTT CARTEL CANTINA
Theme
​

Lancer clocked them as soon as they came in. They were regulars, but not from a business or entity he particularly liked to work with.

They were usually late with payments.

They approached him while he was eating dinner, casually dining on his favorite meals- crappy bar food. It was a small joy in life he took. He stared at the two slavers, and they silently gestured to a pair of seats across from him. He sighed and nodded, wiping his mouth and setting his fork down.

He leaned forward, folding his hands. It was always good business to at least hear clients out, no matter who they were.

Then they slid a bag across the table- and from the shapes pushing against the cloth, credits by the handful. He opened it up, only to confirm his suspicions. He pushed the bag back, not immediately taking it. Never a good habit to accept payment without knowing the job.

Then they slid a picture across- several. Thal Mantis, one of them written on. He knew the father. Everyone knew the name. Didn't know he had a kid. Kid was too light-skinned to be related to his sister, the has-been Queen of Mandalore that lead her people to be crushed under a Sith boot. Lancer pulled his plate back, motioning for them to keep going with the offer.

He ate his food, and listened.

After they talked- Lancer pulled the bag of credits, and simply nodded.

He'd do it.

 

[Nida Perl]

Recovery missions weren’t generally in her wheelhouse, but this one was different. Nida had been one of the healers tending to Thal Mantis when he’d first arrived at the Halls of Healing. There, they’d shared a brief conversation about living in slavery, despite their circumstances being so different. Nida had been rescued early in her life and adopted into a loving home, while Thal had continually suffered. While contemplating whether or not to accept a role in the operation to retrieve Thal, Nida wondered how her life would be if she hadn’t been saved herself. Would she have been able to understand Thal’s uncontrollable anger better?

It was after she’d accepted that she learned that Thirdas Heavenshield would be involved as well, a surprise to them both. They didn’t often run missions together, and even if they did, they’d almost always been separated by the circumstance of their work. Yurb wasn’t even a memory yet, the patch over her right eye serving as a reminder of the Bryn’adul’s assault there. She’d been managing fine since then, learning to hone Force sight in order to compensate for the difference.

After selecting a few pieces of clothing from the box provided, Nida left the room for a short while to change out of the robes that would decidedly mark her as a Jedi. She returned looking more the part of a smuggler or even a pirate given her recent injury, casual but durable clothes reinforced with light knee and elbow plates. Her healer’s robes were deposited into another box and she chose a pistol from the weapons provided, not exactly comfortable with carrying arms but trained to use them when necessary. A stun baton would replace the lightsaber hilt typically tucked away at her waist.

Smoke was to be her designation for this mission.

Settling at the table, Nida could feel Thirdas’ worry before she’d even focused on his face. She couldn’t blame him, and he respected her decision all the same. “I am sure.” Giving him a somber smile, she wrapped her fingers around his much larger hand. “I cared for Thal when he first came to the Halls of Healing. He needs our help, and I cannot turn my back on him.” Sitting back in the chair, Nida’s eyes wandered around her to take in her new teammates. Thirdas and Tulan Kor she knew personally. Lieutenant Beltran Rarr was a new face, though she’d heard of through Thirdas. Knight Okkeus Dainlei was another new face, though his name did ring a bell given that they were both part of the Silver Jedi. Perhaps they’d passed each other by in the temple once or twice.

A thought struck her, and she turned to Thirdas. “Are we permitted to use the Force, or would that be too indicative of being a Jedi?” Though many uses of the Force were esoteric and subtle, things like barriers and moving heavy objects could be easily noticed as very not normal. “There are other groups of Jedi and trained Force users scattered across the galaxy, so perhaps it will not make a difference.”

 

[Tulan Kor]

Tulan lead the group down to the spaceport, where the Ranger team had gathered, prepped the ship, and had secured launch permissions. Tulan had taken the ship's path down in the flight logs as heading to the Inner Rim for a goodwill mission, but they'd divert once they left Silver Jedi space. Tulan lead the team aboard, ignoring anyone else's questions for the time being.

Hitter approached Tulan as he began to close the ramp door.

"What's gonna happen when we get back?"

Tulan blinked, turning to the younger Ranger.

"Focus on getting back."

Tulan watched the ramp close, and the ship was pitch-black for a moment, before a red-artificial light took over. He gave a thumbs up to the pilot, Horse, who nodded and began to take off. Within a few minutes, the ship had launched, and was entering into hyperspace. Tulan sat down in the cargo bay, where most of the team was gathered. He confirmed it with Thirdas Heavenshield first, before nodding, speaking to the group.

"Within two hours or so, we'll be landing at a place called Lyran IV. Our cover will be smugglers. I will make contact with our man- we'll be swapping ships. This one will go to the Hutts, who will use it for smuggling operations in Silver Jedi space, and we will get a clean ship with cloaking technology, and pretty much every code and authorization needed to get around in Wild Space, and in Hutt Space. From there, we'll try and see if the Smugglers Union contact will be able to help us find Thal, and the Slavers. They owe me one, so I'm calling in my last few favors for this mission."

Two hours later...

Tulan was fast asleep, appreciating the moments when he could, when Boneman woke him up, informing him they were arriving soon. Tulan nodded, going around the ship, waking others up as well. The small ship was easy to keep track of everyone, and mostly everyone was either asleep, or lost in their own heads, or speaking to another.

Tulan joined Horse in the cockpit as the landing pad approached, and sure enough, a Duros- the rep from the Hutts was there to meet them. Tulan checked the disruptor pistol on his hip, covering it with his jacket.

Horse touched the ship down, and Tulan stood at the ramp door, as it lowered. The Duros joined him, speaking in their native tongue. To some people's surprise, Tulan spoke back fluently. The Duros nodded, and appreciatively gestured to another ship on the adjacent landing pad. Tulan nudged his head.

"Horse and I will start moving the equipment on the ship to that one. Thirdas, take the team. The Smugglers Union will make contact with us in a few hours- maybe you can find them earlier. I'll be here with the ship."

The order was given, and the tasks were going to be completed- question was- what would the team find on the Smuggler's planet? Anything useful? Or maybe more trouble.


Beltran Rarr l Nida Perl l Okkeus Dainlei l Thirdas Heavenshield

 

[Chronicler]

LYRAN IV

SMUGGLER'S PARADISE
​

Lyran IV was a scumbag's scummy spot- it had all the things that would make a scumbag happy. Girls, booze, and stolen ship parts. Slavery was not welcome here- mostly due to the security threat- such as a bunch of Off Worlders coming asking a lot of questions about it. But Lyran IV was also home to agents of several Smuggler's Unions, which the team would meet later... Or earlier, if they found them.


CANTINA ROW

Cantina Row is one of the hottest spots for drinking and girls, whorehouses and taphouses lined side-by-side. Passing pilots and smugglers drink and have a good time here. The girls are especially knowledgeable- after all, nobody sweet-talks more than they do with pillow talk.

MARKETS

One of the biggest draws of Lyran IV is the markets, where a commodity of goods of all shapes and sizes comes to meet perspective buyers in stalls on stalls. Markets were a hotbed of another commodity- information. Secrets were as valuable as gold here, and maybe moreso. Secrets were just as powerful as guns.

APARTMENTS

Run-down apartments lined the western edge of the city, most short-term, and some even nightly rentals for passing ships and crews. There's two large complexes hosting non-residents, several floors each. With the passing crews here... someone knows something.

​

 

[Thirdas Heavenshield]

"If it's subtle," he replied to Nida Perl 's question regard the use of the Force. "Mind manipulation, stealth, whatever tricks you guys have got up your sleeve. Just... don't go around levitating rocks left and right and we'll be fine," he added with a soft smirk her way.

By the time everyone who'd chosen to remain had finished kitting themselves out for the black op and discarded anything leading back to the Order, Tulan Kor returned to take them to the vessel which they would then swap for another unaffiliated ship capable of cloaking itself. There was a slight look of worry on his face when the Gunnery Sergeant explained the SJO vessel they'd trade away would be used for criminal means, but Thirdas didn't speak against it.

He knew compromises would have to be made in order to secure the success of their mission.

The two hours spent on the SJO vessel largely went by in silence. A few hushed conversations here and there, barely audible over the steady hum of the ship's engines. Thirdas of course stayed close to Nida most of the time, trying not to fuss over her injuries. Briefly the couple were able to sit down together to catch a nap, reminiscent of their trips to Midvinter they would mostly spend in the comfort of each other's arms.

​

They'd reached Lyran IV -- a true smuggler's paradise, from what he'd been told.

There they would commence the swapping of ships before continuing on with their mission. Tulan would stay behind and do just that, allowing the others to roam freely until this Smugglers Union would contact them for the details. "Alright everyone, let's not get carried away in this place. Do not lose track of why we're here. Try not to stray too far from the landing pad, we don't want to get separated."

About to head into the chaos that was the marketplace, Thirdas turned to Nida and made sure to hold her firmly by the hand. She'd told him about her time as a child slave in a past life. He would not let anyone get their hands on her, and he wanted to let her know that too. Nodding to her, they proceeded to step into a world vastly different from what he'd ever known until now.

Everywhere one turned there was illegal gambling, shouting, drinking, dancing girls with barely any clothes on, and loud music blaring from every cantina and night club. There were exotic animals being traded to even more exotic-looking people, some of which the simple Midvinter native could scarcely believe were real just looking at them.

The worst aspect about it was the constantly crowded areas, forcing them to squeeze by everyone they came across. It didn't take long until they'd already lost track of where the others had disappeared to.

"Hi there, handsome," a Twi'lek girl wearing literally nothing above her waist appeared before him, hugging his right arm. "Ooh, so hard and strong," she remarked, seemingly not realising that underneath the leather of his jacket was a metal prosthesis rather than flesh and blood. "You come looking for a good time, sugar?"

"Uhh, no thank you," was all he could muster as a reply, trying to stay as respectful as possible. He tried to pull the girl off his arm without using too much force, but she proved more stubborn and clingy than he'd expected.

Beltran Rarr | Okkeus Dainlei ​

 

[Okkeus Dainlei]

Once they were told to leave the landing bay as we ship-swapped, Okkeus had tried to stay as close to the others as possible. Almost immediately he had lost sight of Beltran. Who knows where he went. Sticking near Thirdas and Nida he was taking in the scenery. Shady black-market deals, gross smelling aliens, fizzy and bubbly drinks, a drunk man slumped over on the ground. This place was a mess.

Looking up he realized that he lost the two. Blast. The market area was packed, so he guessed they got lost in the crowds. They know where to meet back up. He continued to walk the streets, taking it all in. Might as well see what is for sale.

Thankfully the swelling around his eye was healed. Nobody wanted a customer that looked like they got out of a drunken fist fight. Weaving in and out of booths nothing seems to catch his eye. In case anyone wanted to cause trouble he kept his lightsaber at the ready, tucked within his jacket. Finally a seller count his eye. Laid out across his tables were some knifes and blades. There were some quite nice knifes here. Nothing in the mission briefing said anything about not buying stuff, so what the heck. After picking up and examining a really nice butterfly knife, he decided to talk to the merchant.

"Hey, how much for this?"

He lifted the blade upward around his chest, showing it to the merchant.

"Eh, I'll do thirty credits."

Fare enough. Digging into his pocket he handed over the credits. Nodding to each other in acknowledgement they both went on with their lives. Still holding the knife he decided to messing around with it. Slowly he began rolling it between his fingers. Smiling, he continued for a while. After about a minute or so he put it in his pocket and walked down the street. Time to return to the landing pad.

A hand lightly grabbed his right shoulder. Before he even had a chance to react a figure spun around in front of him. A green female Twi'lek wearing barely anything stood there, her fingers now dragging across his neck moving towards his left shoulder. Her hands were cold and soft, but this wasn't her first time doing this.

"Hey there cute guy, want to come with me?"

Her other hand lifted up, a finger waving him to go with her. He stood there speechless. Not because a practically-naked Twi'lek was wanting him to get a room with her. No, it was because she had a striking resemblance to his old Sith Master. He stood there, eyes wide, not breathing. She now was fully in front of him as they stood in the busy marketplace. Her left hand went to the side of his head, bringing it closer to her mouth. She slowly moved her mouth toward his ear, softly breathing.

"Don't worry, I don't bite."

Now he was breathing. Way to fast, actually. He grabbed the girl's arm and took it off of his head. She backed away, frightened. His heavy breathing continued as he looked around.

"Do you have a problem or something?"

People were now starting to stare. Before he drew too much attention to himself he ducked away into the stands. Quickly making his way through the people and tables he found an alleyway. Walking into there he leaned against the wall, his hand on his knees, hunched over. He felt like he was going to throw up.

Thirdas Heavenshield Nida Perl Beltran Rarr Tulan Kor

 

[Beltran Rarr]

Beltran and Reece had drifted to the back of the group, following Thirdas Heavenshield , Okkeus Dainlei and the others as they walked along the strip. The booming music, smells of spice and sex mixed with liquor and fear, these reminded both men of their homes. Beltran had grown up on the streets of New Shallos on Lorrd, and Reece was from Nar Shadda.

So none of this was particularly shocking to them.

As a couple of twi'leks approached Thirdas Heavenshield and Okkeus Dainlei , respectively, Beltran got the sense that they were being tested. Hardened space-rats, like they were supposed to be, wouldn't be as awkward and uncomfortable as the young Ranger and the even younger Jedi were immediately becoming.

"Reece," Beltran said, nudging the other man and nodded toward Heavenshield. "Help him out, would you? I'll go for the kid."

Paxton Reece just nodded and sauntered up to where Thirdas was trying to extricate himself from the woman's grasp. "Hey baby," He said with a practiced swarthiness. "Don't mind him, he just doesn't like girls. How's about we head to the bar and I'll buy you a drink or four?"

The female Twi'lek looked up at him, and seeming to buy his explanation for Thirdas' discomfort, nodded and allowed herself to be led to the bar. Reece would play his part, drinking with her with ease until nobody was looking at either him or Thirdas any longer.

Beltran's job would be a little more difficult, as Okkeus had barged out of the cantina and into the alleyway, leaving his would-be companion standing there with her jaw slightly agape. "Sorry," He would say to her, flipping her a credit chit worth more than she probably made in a week. "He's new and young, I don't think he's ever been with a woman before. You probably overwhelmed him, being so beautiful and all. Have a good night on me, yeah?"

She beamed at him and asked if he wanted to grab a room, to which Beltran chuckled. "Gotta go check on the kid first, maybe after."

She seemed to accept his explanation and moved on to find another mark for the evening. Beltran would move easily through the crowd and slip out the same way Okkeus had into the alley.

"Hey," He said to the teen aged Jedi. "You okay?"

Tulan Kor Nida Perl ​

 

[Nida Perl]

During missions, Nida was used to being regarded as a Jedi—however that helped or hindered her. Here, dressed in spacer’s garb, Nida felt awkward. The Zeltron didn’t have a hefty supply of confidence to begin with, and taking her out of her natural element didn’t help her level of comfort. What did help her, however, was Thirdas simply being there.

The noise and uncouth mannerisms were familiar to her, growing up on Zeltros. Quiet as she was, Nida felt at home in the crowded streets of Pleasure City, where she could blend in to the background and go about her business. Here, things were more unhinged than she was used to—as they walked passed a slave auction shamelessly taking place in the middle of the day, Nida squeezed Thirdas’ hand tighter and looked away—eyes averting right to the naked bosom of a Twi’lek. It wasn’t visible for long as she latched herself onto Thirdas’ free arm, pressing her skin to his jacket.

An unfamiliar feeling burned through Nida at such an alarming rate that she couldn’t do much else besides stare at the Twi’lek beauty. The Padawan had felt a fleeting sense of envy before, at her sister’s for their taller, more filled out physiques, or at other Padawans and Knights who had confidence to spare. She’d felt envious of them all, but without an ounce of spite. Now, she was feeling resentful, It took her a few moments to identify the potent emotion that seemed to be swallowing her whole—jealousy.

The green-eyed monster, as her mother had named it.

Before she could realize what she was doing, her body moved on it’s own. “E-excuse me.” She tried to sound commanding and gruff, but it came out sounding like an awkward squeak. Attempting to wedge herself between Thirdas and the busty Twi’lek, she cleared her throat. “He’s taken.”

As if on cue, one of Lt. Beltran’s men swaggered up to the topless woman in an attempt to disarm the situation.

"Don't mind him, he just doesn't like girls.”

The Twi’lek threw a look at Nida, somewhere between bewildered and annoyed. Thankfully, Reece’s ploy had worked and the woman disengaged herself from the Valkyri to follow more fruitful prospects.

Huffing to herself, Nida looped her arm around Thirdas’, feeling very odd and somewhat embarrassed at what had just happened.

Thirdas Heavenshield | Beltran Rarr | Okkeus Dainlei | Tulan Kor

 

[Okkeus Dainlei]

What seemed like an eternity later Beltran approached me. It was probably only a minute later, but he was still worked up. His mind was running like crazy. She looked exactly like the Sith Master that trained him many years ago. Many awful, awful years ago.

"Hey, you okay?"

Still hunched over he looked up at Beltran. He was a good man. Thankfully he was here on this mission, assisting Okkeus.

"No...not really. That Twi'lek looked like...like my old Sith Master."

It felt like he just stepped foot on Hoth. He shivered intensely. So many bad memories replaying in his head. He tried to think of something else, but it didn't work. They just kept coming. All the training, losing his arm, the dead Jedi...

Still leaning against the wall he stood up. His head softly went backward, hitting the Durasteel wall with a small clang. Beltran was just standing there, listening. The man seemed to be good at relating to other people's problems. At least it seems that way. With a lot of effort he pushed off of the wall, now standing up facing the man.

"Thanks for that back there. I can't see her again, or I might compromise the mission. Let’s just get back to the ship."

Beltran Rarr Thirdas Heavenshield Nida Perl Tulan Kor

 

[Chronicler]

So far, the group had entirely failed at being incognito.

So, as Thirdas Heavenshield and Nida Perl were making their way to the markets, Hitter stalked them, eyes drilling holes in the two behind a pair of shades. He toked on a cigarette, marching forward, before coming between them, acting as if he was trying to sell them deathsticks.

But he spoke quietly, the other Ranger that Tulan brought- Hitter. Hitter was a gruff, mean man. And his knuckles told the story of why he was called that. Hitter stared at the two, speaking quietly- all while maintaining perfect cover. Hitter forgot who was who, and what rank or what either of the two were.

But as Reece led the girl away, Hitter spoke.

"You two knuckleheads better get it together. We get marked out here, we might as well never have come in the first place. Forget who you were, forget what you did. There is nothing to be gained out here by being who you were."

He pointed at the whorehouse down the road.

"We need to get in there."

Hitter lead the duo into the whorehouse, a hodgepodge collection of women, species, bodies, sweat, and alcohol lingering the air. Hitter moved through, shoving the advances of girls away. He tipped a bouncer a credit chit, spoke a few words in Bocce, nodded at the couple, and the Bouncer went stone-faced and cold. He gulped, handing back the credit chit. Hitter insisted- and if Nida and Thirdas were careful to notice, Hitter put a disruptor pistol right up to the large Duros' nuts.

The Duros lead the two, a paler shade of blue due to fear, not from Hitter. Hitter stood at a door, deep in the back part of the whorehouse. The Duros and Hitter exchanged words- and the Duros left, leaving Hitter alone with the two. One girl brought Hitter a wrapped cloth bundle.

Another gun, a clean gun.

Hitter looked up at the pair, and swung open the door.

There was a blonde human tied to a chair, a gag in his mouth. The bloodstains on the floor showed that this was not the first time that the room had been used, and the way that Hitter turned on the light immediately... maybe not his first time there, either. The human in the chair woke up, dazed, crying.

Hitter turned to the Jedi and the Ranger, shutting the door behind him.

"Our Smuggler Union friend left this for us... He doesn't speak Basic. But he knows where Thal's been. More importantly, he knows something about slavers. The Smugglers weren't able to get him to talk but.." He looked at the Jedi and the Ranger.

"Maybe you two can. We won't get another chance like this."

He held out the gun, for either of them.

"It's loaded. I'll translate."

----

 

[Lancer Damar]

​

WILD SPACE
REDACTED LOCATION
PENTHOUSE SUITE




The elevator ride up was quiet, long, and uncomfortable.

For everyone else in the elevator with Lancer. Lancer was accompanied by two strongmen, hired guns. Cheap ones, at that. He could smell the cordite and the carbon and burnt plasma as soon as the door opened. He found it ironic, after being on the other side of the law for so many years, that he was playing detective, in a way.

But in reality, Lancer had no access to labs, reconstruction, or databases. He was simply here to get a feel for his enemy, and how to defeat him. Because as of right now, his mark had been two, three steps ahead of his employers. Not Lancer, but Lancer's employers. And that looked just as bad, by proxy. Immediately the first body- at Lancer's request to not have any of it moved, touched, or altered, was displayed. The elevator door at the top had been sliced through- ripped apart with a powerful slice. The penthouse was not designed for any defensive measures, and rarely did people armor the doors to the elevator itself.

The man at the elevator- the Duros... all of them Duros, actually, had been neatly sliced in half. Bisected, then a cut on his neck just to be sure. Thoroughly, but a singular motion or movement. Must've been using two blades, then. The second body was an accompanied Duros. If it was a lightsaber, it made a distinct noise. These men probably never even saw a lightsaber in their lifetime, let alone the use of one. The second Duros was cut neatly across his midsection, right at the lungs. A quick, brutal death.

The third-

Well, he assumed the third was sitting on the couch or stood up. But they found his body on the street, sixty-four stories below.

Or at least, what was left.

Three guards, rapidly.

And then the man of the hour, another Duros- older than the other three. But Lancer knew he was special. After all, you don't get hung from the ceiling by chains after having two lightsaber blades put through your eye sockets. But the guards he was with insisted that the chains weren't from inside the penthouse. Probably taken from somewhere nearby, or even brought.

More importantly, every holopad and datachip in the penthouse was taken as well. The security camera server was not hacked into it, but rather dragged out and stomped. Lancer took it anyway, hoping to save as much data as he could from the fractured hard drive. Lancer frowned, turning to the two guards, but decided against sharing his thoughts with the idiots.

So Thal was dismantling the network, not just the slavers themselves. This man, as he understood and told, was an accountant of sorts. A bookkeeper. Lancer's eyes widened. Thal may have had access to the customers. That was just as bad as his employers. If Lancer couldn't stop him, now that his name was attached to this job... there wasn't a Hutt, goon, or even coffee shop in the galaxy that would hire the man who let their former employer be exposed and burned to the ground.

Lancer made his way back to the elevator, signaling for the two to begin the cleanup.

No bodies, no mess, no story. Just three guards and a snobby accountant dropped off somewhere, forgotten and put in a ditch.

And now, a big problem for Lancer. The race to find Thal was on. No telling where he was now, if he was even on planet. He rubbed his temples, climbing into the elevator. Lancer descended, trying to piece together what Thal was possibly really up to.

 

[Thirdas Heavenshield]

When finally the Twi'lek prostitute let go of his arm, through the combined efforts of both Nida and Reece each giving their reason as to why Thirdas wasn't insterested, the Valkyri remained with Nida while watching Reece lead the pleasure girl away.

"You're cute when you're jealous," he gave the Zeltron a playful nudge of his elbow along with a smirk.

They weren't left alone for long though as one of Tulan Kor 's guys sidled up to the couple, offering some harsh words for their inability to blend in. Thirdas clenched his metal fist, but said nothing.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets so as to hide his prosthetic further, he followed Hitter into the seedy establishment with Nida clinging to his arm. Once inside they were taken to the back rooms thanks to Hitter's diplomatic skills.

The lights came on, and Thirdas felt the need to place himself in front of Nida. Before them was a man tied up in a chair and gagged, whimpering.

"You can't be serious..."

This went against everything his father had taught him growing up. To always act and comport oneself with honour, even when dealing with your enemy. This? This was anything but honourable.

However, he'd also been taught duty should always come before one's personal honour. What drove him even more to accept the loaded pistol was his concern for Nida. He would not have her betray her Jedi teachings so readily. He could afford the stain on his soul, she could not.

"Give me the gun."

Slowly he approached the gagged man, his eyes pleading with his assumed captors. Thirdas did his best to act callous.

"Tell us about Thal. Where he's been, where he's going. Who's with him."

While Hitter translated for him, Thirdas coldly placed the barrel of the gun against the man's temple. Poor bastard trembled something fierce. Dumb bastard chose not to talk.

After a brief moment of the slightest hesitation, Thirdas instead placed the gun above the man's left kneecap and pulled the trigger. The round went off, digging into the bone of his kneecap and splitting it apart, causing a tremendous muffled cry of pain.

Thirdas blinked, using his every strength to stay in character, trying not to look utterly disgusted with himself.

"Gonna leave it at that, or you wanna be in a wheelchair the rest of your life?"

Crying his eyes out, the man started spilling it. The last thing Thirdas did was remove the man's gag, then turned away to let Hitter soak up the information. Stumbling he walked over to the table and put down the gun, visibly shaken by the event. He felt sick.

He didn't even dare face Nida.

Nida Perl | Beltran Rarr | Okkeus Dainlei ​

 

[Beltran Rarr]

"Thanks for that back there. I can't see her again, or I might compromise the mission. Let’s just get back to the ship."

Beltran regarded the young Jedi for a moment before answering.

"No."

His tone was firm, but there was no harshness to it. Beltran understood fear and he understood wanting to give in to it. Okkeus Dainlei was talented surely, but he was also young and Beltran couldn't expect the teenager to display the same mental resilience he expected from his Rangers. Still, the Lorrdian recognized this moment was one in which he could, perhaps, teach the young man something.

"The others are counting on us," He continued. "They need us watching their backs. Take another moment if you need it, but then you need to get back into the game."

It was at this point that Beltran's comlink chirped in his ear.

"Yeah?" He answered.

"Hey boss," It was Reece. He must have extricated himself from the pleasure girl. "Just letting you know the others are moving on and I've lost visual."

"Copy." He responded and cut the link. Looking out onto the street, Beltran quickly caught sight of Thirdas Heavenshield , Nida Perl walking with one of Sergeant Tulan Kor 's guys: Hitter. They were heading toward what appeared to be a pleasure house. Looking back to Okkeus, he gave the teen Jedi a firm nod before speaking up in a perfect spacer's drawl.

"Arright boy!" He said with a throaty laugh. "So you dun like tha gurls here-abouts. Then we'll take ya over there! High quality trim there, lemme tell ya!" He nodded toward the pleasure house where Hitter had just led the others inside. Beltran would then turn away from Okkeus, trusting the young Jedi to follow behind and watch his back as he made his way toward the place.

Clicking on his comlink, he got Reece connected again and spoke quietly. "Acquired visual," He said. "They're heading into the pleasure house at the end of the block. I'm taking the kid and going in to back them up. Keep an eye on the streets. Let me know if anything seems out of place."

"Got it." Reece responded.

Beltran would move purposefully through the crowd before coming up to the entrance perhaps two minutes after Hitter had led the others inside. Another powerfully built Duros bouncer moved to block his path, speaking something in Bocce that Beltran didn't understand. He didn't speak Bocce, and perhaps the Duros didn't speak basic.

But everybody spoke credits.

Beltran tossed the bouncer a cred-chit and nodded toward Okkeus and motioned to himself before nodding toward the entrance. The bouncer checked the denomination of the chit and his already large eyes widened a little. With a saucy grin Beltran spoke. "It's ma boy's burthday! Gotta get 'em somethin'...tasty."

The Duros cocked his head to the side, confirming to Beltran that he didn't speak basic, but seemed to get the idea from the tone of Beltran's voice. With another word, also not understood, in Bocce he waved the two inside.

Beltran would take a seat at an empty table, about halfway between the entrance and the room where Hitter had taken the others. It provided a good vantage point to keep an eye on things. He motioned Okkeus to join him and waved over a serving droid.

"I'll have Corellian whisky, neat. And the boy will have a Alderaanian ale."

"Coming right up, sir." The droid said as it moved away to acquire the drinks.

To Okkeus, Beltran spoke. "Keep your eyes peeled. If there's going to be an ambush, it's probably going to go down soon."

 

[Chronicler]

Hitter looked stunned, not by what Thirdas did- but by what the man was saying. He grabbed the man by the collar, repeating several things in Bocce that were hushed, low, worried. Astonished- even for Hitter. He blinked several times, letting the bleeding, whimpering man go limp as he dropped his collar.

Hitter walked to the door, then back to the table, picking up the gun.

"We gotta go."

Hitter turned, and put the barrel of the weapon against the man's face, blowing a fresh hole in it, leaving the room deathly silent for a moment. Hitter seemed perfectly okay with it, not bothered by the act at all. He exited the door, handing the gun and a few more credits to the Duros doorkeeper, who nodded in appreciation. They seemed to know each other. He half-turned his head to Thirdas and Nida.

"All these girls here, and all the Duros you see there. Thal pulled them off a freighter heading for Sith Space, and all over. Coruscant, whatever. They made a life for themselves out here. That man back there-"

He checked his six- then spotted Beltran Rarr Okkeus Dainlei sitting there. Non-verbally he gave the Ranger hand signal to 'rally up'. Knowing Beltran's capabilities, Hitter was more than confident that he'd understand to rally back up at the ship.

"Told me something we can't share until I confirm it with Tulan."

It was something to be said that Tulan was the only one comfortable using his real name out here, even in the Outer Rim- and the fact that other Rangers used his first name, not his rank. The walk back to the ship was quiet, uncomfortable, and filled with an uneasy feeling. The crowds had dispersed, for the most part. People parted ways for the party.

They'd been made.

The walk back to the Spaceport was quiet, before they entered the landing pad... finding Tulan face to face with a squad of goons, rifles in hand, staring him down. But the apparent leader, a tall Zabrak- was laughing and sharing a cigar with Tulan. Hitter walked forward, excusing himself to the Zabrak, and whispered to Tulan. Tulan nodded, and patted him on the back. In Bocce, he told him good job.

Tulan turned to the gathered, watching Beltran and the young Jedi approach, puffing on the cigar. The Zabrak gestured for Tulan to explain.

 

[Tulan Kor]

Five Minutes Before the Group's Arrival


Loading the gear into the new ship was an easy process- along with scrubbing the flight data for the Silver Jedi spaceport at Silver Rest. Those codes were too valuable, but everything else he was willing to give up for the information he needed. Horse nudged Tulan as he was hunched over a box, gesturing to the entrance to the spaceport. He spotted the rifles first out of instinct, but didn't reach for the Disruptor pistol in his waistband, he just stood up.

He sniffed as the Zabrak, Trip, approached. Horse went to approach him first, but Tulan stopped him. Trip approached Tulan, arms out.

"You don't call, you don't visit..."

Tulan smiled, approaching the Zabrak, holding his arms out. The two embraced, patting each other on the back.

"Can't call when you never stay in one place."

"Good to see you, Tulan." Trip said, smiling at him. Old friends. Smugglers Union pin on his collar, he looked up at Horse. "He one of your new boys?" Tulan looked back at Horse, nodding. "He's game, though." Tulan replied, gesturing for Trip to sit on a nearby crate- and Tulan sat near him. Trip gestured for his guards to mingle about, who did just that, posting up near the entrances, ensuring their visit and exchange wasn't to be interrupted.

"The man we picked up- he was transporting live cargo through our territory. But it seemed...too good to be true. Almost like bait. And before you ask, the people we found were compensated and sent back home- with protection. But they seemed like bait- everything we found was too good.". Tulan took out a pack of cigars, offering one to Trip. Trip took one with a polite thank you, and Tulan lit Trip's before his own. "He was leading whoever found him at their eventual destination." Tulan stopped, puffing on his cigar. "Which was where?" Trip shrugged. "His flight logs and the crew we expended all had them in the Deep Core." Tulan stopped, turning his head. They

"How the hell are they bringing slaves into the Deep Core? That's Alliance space." Trip nodded. "We can barely smuggle spice through there, but these guys were boldly bringing slaves into the Alliance territory." Horse looked down at Tulan, cocking his head. He leaned over to Tulan, whispering. Tulan nodded as Hitter and the rest of the team approached. Tulan excused himself, while Hitter jogged up to him. He looked up at Thirdas, giving him a thumbs up, before his face went pale.

"I'm sure."

Tulan and Hitter exchanged words in Bocce, which caused Trip to freeze up as well.

The three exchanged a heated, concerned conversation. Trip walked away first, rubbing his chin. He spoke to Hitter again, who nodded profusely. Tulan walked towards the team, urging them forward. He chewed on his cigar for a moment, sighing. He spoke to the Silver members, probably bewildered by the entire goings on- especially the language barrier they had.

"The guy Hitter killed- was the guy who's name came up with the manifests on the ship carrying slaves that the Union intercepted. He was carrying Slaves into the Deep core to go into Wild Space..and someone in the Alliance was going to meet him there to help him do it, wherever it was." Tulan sniffed, glancing back to Trip.

"The Union has it in with the Slavers as a whole- Trip himself here was freed as a child by the Republic. But they're not big fans of the trade. Also makes their jobs harder when people crack down on crime as a whole."

Tulan tapped his feet.

"We'll have to go into Alliance space to find out where the next stop was." Pulling out his communicator- he debated on sending a message to Melia Siari, but shook his head. He instead- messaged one Seydou of Thyrsus . Coded, but direct- the message was sent to the man, as distant as he was. Still reliable.

DIRT IN HALLWAY. NEED TO MEET FOR CLEAN-UP SERVICE. CAN BE LOCAL IN FOUR DAYS.
​

"Everyone okay?" He asked, specifically looking at Nida Perl and Okkeus Dainlei , trying to determine if the young Jedi were still up for it. "If this is legit- we might be facing something more serious than I thought initially. You all need to be prepared for it. Thirdas, good job with the mark. Beltran, I heard you were good as security. Nice job, everyone."

 

[Okkeus Dainlei]

Once Okkeus and Beltran sat down at the table he began to survey the room. Heavy crowd, lots of drunks. He trusted the man, and if he said there was going to be some fighting, there would be. Continue to look around to room he saw the waiter droid roll over to their table.

"Your drinks."

It set them down on the table and rode off toward the next customer. Opting to not get drunk on the mission he pushed his glass toward the center of the table. Who knows what was in it. He didn't see if Beltran drank his beverage. Probably not. Pulling out his newly-purchased butterfly knife he began twiddling it between his fingers. He watched as the blade rolled off of his thumb, circling back around where the handle rolled across his middle finger.

A muffled gunshot nearly made him slice his finger off. Putting his knife away quickly he turned to a door where the sound came from. Slowly the door opened. Out of it came Hitter, walking nonchalantly. Following him was Thirdas and a queasy-looking Nida. Hitter made a signal our direction. He didn't know what it meant, but by Bletran's reaction of getting up and following, he guess it meant we needed to get out of here.

Exiting the pleasure-house he followed all of them, taking up the rear. The streets were starting to clear out. Either people were going home, or back to the clubs. The were silent the entire walk back. Up ahead he could see the new ship on the landing pad. What he could also see was a group of men with rifles surrounding it. He kept his hand ready for his lightsaber, prepared to fight at any moment. Hitter walked up toward a Zabrak that Tulan was talking too. After some quick words and a laugh, he realized that these men meant no harm. For now. Once Tulan was done talking he came over to the group and addressed them.

"Everyone okay? If this is legit- we might be facing something more serious than I thought initially. You all need to be prepared for it. Thirdas, good job with the mark. Beltran, I heard you were good as security. Nice job, everyone."

He thought for a moment. Though the danger of the mission did scare him a little bit, he wasn't going to back down, he came to help, and he was going to do so.

"I'm fine. I am prepared for whatever comes. No backing down now."

He stood there, waiting for the others to reply.

Beltran Rarr Thirdas Heavenshield Nida Perl Tulan Kor