Duel Last Stand on Darvannis

[Krasskorr the Maw]

FOOD: Connel Vanagor Allyson Locke Corazona von Ascania

​

Inside the primary hangar of the fortified warehouse, Krasskorr stood among stacks of baradium explosives and surplus military blasters. The Saurton ran a heavy claw along the silver-white scar splitting his snout, his remaining golden eye fixed on the holographic tactical display of the High Republic.

More specifically on the Capital of Naboo, a planet that had seen more than enough conflict, from the Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders to the Sith Order. It was the target for a final suicide strike meant to send a message that the Galactic Emperor, Darth Solipsis, would never fade from history, not while one last member of the Dark Side Elite was still breathing.

With the Jedi Order fracturing under the weight of its own internal schisms, the Republic's guardians were too distracted by their own infighting to notice a handful of dying loyalists gathering heavy ordnance. "The detonators are primed," a hollow-eyed officer said, adjusting a faded chest piece bearing the defaced crest of Solipsis.

"But the local Hutts are getting nervous. They know we're here. The leaks on the holonet have drawn eyes." Krasskorr's jaw clicked, the fractured bone popping uncomfortably as he let out a low rumble that shook the loose dust from the overhead rafters. He deactivated the hologram with a heavy swipe of his hand.

"Let them look," Krasskorr growled, his voice gravelly and strained from his brutal encounter with Meliant just a few weeks before. "The Hutts will not bother us, the Republic on the other hand..." He reached to his belt, checking the magnetic locks on his three-meter lightclub.

Through the heavy, reinforced blast doors of the bazaar outpost, the external sensors began to pick up three distinct signatures that had skipped past the perimeter sensors, cutting through the traffic of the Darvannis markets. It wasn't an army from the looks of it but three operatives, sent to this lawless world to cut the head off the snake before it could bite.

Krasskorr's split tongue darted past his scarred lips, tasting the dry, chemical exhaust of the hangar bay. He didn't know who the Republic had scrambled to fill the void left by the Jedi, but his claw tightened around the hilt of his weapon in preparation for one final stand.

 

[Connel Vanagor]

Bluster’s Last Stand
DARVANNIS
MARKETS

Omega Squad Every Day Gear Locations

• Michael, Gabriel, Raguel, Raphael, Jeremiel, Connel
  [Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]
• 
  Rides
  
  • "Enterprise" Station Ship
  • Vigilant Reaper
  • Null Vector
  • Speederbike
  • Iron Psalm
  Gear/Armor
  
  
  • Gear(“Bodycam” Datapad, UAD Drone, link to Seraphim AI included)
  • Lightblaster
  • Shortsabers (“Night” and “Day”)
  • 5 Throwing Lightknives
  • 3 Force Blinding Flashbangs
  • RI-17 Rifle-w-MS-0412 Grenade Launcher
  SURGICAL - CRYBERNETIC IMPLANTS
  
  • Repli Implants that would be for the limbs
  • Bonemer enhancements to strengthen structure of the body
  • Muscle enhancements.
  • Hemo enhancements for blood flow
  • Hawkeye implants for eyes
  • Advanced Medical Implant
  • Scentzy
  • Injected Nanotech upgrades
  
  
  
• Shadow Sanctuary - Enterprise

Spoiler: Landing on Darvannis

Sitting in the pilot seat of The Null Vector having just set down and BRAD is shutting down the ship’s systems. This was not going to be a day for debate. If his contact in the Hutt’s circle is right, something dire is about to go down. Something that required he do this. Putting the mask on and letting it click into place, he heard the words of the ritual ring in his head.
You will feel no remorse for those who would show none to you.
You will feel no fear beyond the fear of failing those behind you.
You will seek no reward beyond mission success.
You will feel no pain until death.
You are not wrath.
You are not vengeance.
You are the Light’s wraith.

The market was alive in the way places under Hutt rule learned to be alive. Loud enough to hide fear. Crowded enough to hide knives. Vendors shouted over one another from beneath patched awnings, promising miracle spices, clean water, counterfeit luxury goods, and fruit that had absolutely, definitely, unquestionably not been stolen from a shipment three districts over. Shoppers argued over prices with the sacred fury of people who had no intention of paying the first number. Droids rattled past on bad motivators. Children ducked between crates. Somewhere nearby, something was being fried in oil old enough to have a criminal record. Darvannis wore normalcy like cheap perfume.

Samlor knew better.

The Rodian moved through the corridor of fruit stands with his hands tucked into his vest and his chin lifted just enough to remind people he was useful. Informant. Broker. Hutt ear. Hutt mouth, when it suited him. He had made a living selling whispers to people desperate enough to pay for them and frightened enough not to ask where they came from.

Today, those whispers had a name.

Ariel.

He had heard the name three times since sunrise, each time from someone trying very hard to sound casual. That was how Samlor knew the information was valuable. Nobody asked directly for a ghost unless they were afraid the ghost might answer. “Samlor!”

The Rodian slowed.

A Weequay fruit seller leaned over his stand, smiling with too many teeth and too little warmth. “I have some great new fruits here, Samlor. Fresh. Very fresh.”

Samlor’s eyes narrowed. The seller had not called to the crowd. Not to customers. Not even to “friend,” which was what liars called strangers when they wanted credits. He had used his name. Samlor walked over, his mouth curling into a smug little grin. “Where is he?”

The Weequay blinked. “Who?”

“Fine.” Samlor spread his hands. “I’ll play.”

For the next ten minutes, Tilmad showed him fruit. Not codes hidden in fruit. Not a datachip under a bruised rind. Not a message etched into the crate. Fruit.

Yellow fruit. Red fruit. One purple thing that twitched when he touched it. Tilmad spoke of sweetness, freshness, moisture content, and the tragic decline of standards in the Darvannis produce trade with the commitment of a man lecturing before the Senate.

Samlor’s patience died a slow, ugly death.

At last he shoved the Weequay back and kicked the corner of the stand hard enough to send three crates spilling across the stone. Fruit bounced and split under passing boots, drawing shouts from nearby vendors.

“You waste my time again,” Samlor snapped, “and I’ll sell your location to people who buy teeth by the kilo.”

He turned and cut quickly into the nearest alley. That was his mistake. The noise of the market dropped behind him by half a breath. A black-gloved hand closed over his mouth. Samlor had just enough time to feel the cold edge of something press beneath his ribs before the dark beside him moved. Not a man stepping out of shadow.

The shadow deciding it had arms.

He was dragged backward before he could kick, scream, or reach the holdout blaster under his vest. His back struck the alley wall hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. The blade under his ribs did not cut, but it promised that it understood the route. A masked face hovered inches from his own.

No anger.

That was worse. The voice came low, filtered, and absolute. You are going to tell me exactly what I want to know.

Samlor’s remaining courage ran for the market without him.

Krasskorr the Maw • Corazona von Ascania • Allyson Locke
Personal Effects - Omega Squad Loadouts​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora did not ask about Knight Vanagor's contact in the Hutt cartels. Despite the argument they'd had in the halls of Shiraya's Rest, the respect she held for the shadow ran deep.

As the mask clicked over Connel's face, Cora drew the hood of her jacket over her head. Jedi robes would have stuck out like a sore thumb on a place like Darvannis, so with her husband's help, she'd dressed the part of a vagrant spacer.

While Connel took care of business, Cora lingered at the mouth of the alley. Back leaned against the wall, she observed the chaotic energy of the market, watching for anyone who'd taken notice of the Rodian's quick disappearance into shadow.

Empires might've died, but ideas didn't. Not as cleanly as Coruscant, anyway. It was unfortunate that the Maw had become a problem, because she would've liked to pick his lizard-brain in any other circumstance.

Krasskorr the Maw Connel Vanagor Allyson Locke

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Corazona von Ascania //: Connel Vanagor //:
//: Krasskorr the Maw //:
//: Attire //:
//: Equipment in signature //:

Working in a team was never Allyson's forté. She had always worked alone, but that's how it was back then. There weren't many Jedi, which meant there were even fewer Jedi Shadows. More often, they were considered agents under the SIS, the Alliance's original predecessor, the Intelligence Bureau.

Times were brutal, and she was taught and drilled to believe that she was a deniable asset. The Shadows were a weapon for the council to command and do the things they deemed too foul for a Jedi to handle. Walking the line between the light and the dark was something not many took kindly to.

Still, from all of them, she was one of the few to survive. Even now, the number of Shadows dwindled… but that was her fault.

Closing her eyes, she did her best to ignore the ruckus that Connel was causing. He was loud, brash, and rough in how he handled things. The complete opposite of her shadow training. Despite not being a fan of it, the Corellian had to accept this was the new way of doing things. Her own contacts within the Hutt Cartel had provided her with some information. Still, Allyson was curious about the younger Shadow and his companion.

While Connel handled things, Allyson would slowly appear almost from thin air as she looked at the blonde woman. She didn't say anything at first, only adjusted the old leather eyepatch over her eye and dusted her hands on her pants.

At first glance, the woman was nothing but a spacer, lost to the stars. The only honorable and noticeable thing about her would be the crimson stripes that pipped at the sides of her pants.

Corellian First Class Bloodstripes, she wore them proudly; it was the only thing the Jedi, the Sith, or the Force couldn't take from her.
Her head turned towards the direction of Connel's interaction, then back towards the woman.

"You know anything about that?" Her voice was low, meant only to remain between them.

It was a silly attempt at small talk, but Allyson was doing her best. Hopefully, it would distract the Jedi from the wavering aspects of her hidden intentions and her connection to the Force itself.

Though even her presence in the Force was barely a drop in the ocean.

She was a shadow, a deniable asset, a ghost meant to not exist.

 

[Krasskorr the Maw]

FOOD: Connel Vanagor Allyson Locke Corazona von Ascania

​

The hollow-eyed officer tapped frantically at the glowing console, his breath shallow. "Correction, commander. The outer loop... the sensors, they miscalculated the density of the market crowd. It's not an assault team at the gates. It's an anomaly in the traffic grid." Krasskorr turned slowly, his massive frame practically eclipsing the light from the terminal. A growl came out from his throat, enough to cause the officer to back away in terror.

From a Galactic Empire to a few mangy loyalists was one hell of a fall for a member of the Dark Side Elite, but he would have to make do as he moved toward the officer in response. "Recycle the scanning arrays, and start getting those transports up and running. The moment the cargo holds are loaded you will take off." He said, gripping the officer's uniform to ensure the man understood that these transports should have departed the spaceport an hour earlier, as they were running short on time.

He shoved the man toward the console. The officer stumbled, catching his balance against the metal frame before hammering at the keys with renewed panic. Krasskorr turned away, his claws grinding dirt into the durasteel floor as he walked toward the reinforced viewing slit facing the bazaar.

The hangar was a furnace of noise, repulsor lifts whining under the weight of the baradium crates, loyalists shouting over the din, the sharp stench of unrefined fuel cutting through the dry air. They were moving, but they were sloppy. Not like the old days.

Outside, the Plateau market was a sprawling mess of canvas tents and rusted droids, but Krasskorr's eye fixed on the perimeter. The Advozse Quesh Guard were patrolling the pathways between the vendor stalls. They wore heavy helmets painted with the crimson mark of Darth Solipsis, a bold choice in the middle of Hutt territory.

Krasskorr watched one of the guards backhand a junk dealer who got too close to a supply crate. missing the scene entirely when Connel Vanagor , Allyson Locke and Corazona von Ascania decided to snag a rodian. He turned back to the hangar floor. A heavy repulsor sled loaded with thermal detonators rolled past, its anti-grav units groaning under the mass.

 

[Connel Vanagor]

Bluster’s Last Stand
DARVANNIS
MARKETS

Omega Squad Every Day Gear Locations

• Michael, Gabriel, Raguel, Raphael, Jeremiel, Connel
  [Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]
• 
  Rides
  
  • "Enterprise" Station Ship
  • Vigilant Reaper
  • Null Vector
  • Speederbike
  • Iron Psalm
  Gear/Armor
  
  
  • Gear(“Bodycam” Datapad, UAD Drone, link to Seraphim AI included)
  • Lightblaster
  • Shortsabers (“Night” and “Day”)
  • 5 Throwing Lightknives
  • 3 Force Blinding Flashbangs
  • RI-17 Rifle-w-MS-0412 Grenade Launcher
  SURGICAL - CRYBERNETIC IMPLANTS
  
  • Repli Implants that would be for the limbs
  • Bonemer enhancements to strengthen structure of the body
  • Muscle enhancements.
  • Hemo enhancements for blood flow
  • Hawkeye implants for eyes
  • Advanced Medical Implant
  • Scentzy
  • Injected Nanotech upgrades
  
  
  
• Shadow Sanctuary - Enterprise

Samlor made a wet, frightened sound against Connel’s glove.

The masked Jedi held him there for one more second, long enough for the Rodian to understand the shape of the moment. Long enough for his heartbeat to start answering questions before his mouth did. Then Connel eased the pressure from his mouth. Samlor sucked in air.

“Please,” he hissed, voice trembling between panic and indignation. “Please, I don’t know anything.”

That was the wrong first answer.

The blade beneath Samlor’s ribs did not move. It did not need to. Connel’s other hand found the Rodian’s wrist and turned it just enough for the joint to remember it had limits.

Samlor froze.

I am not asking if you know anything. I am asking what you sold.

“I sell lots of things.”

Try again.

“I don’t know names. I don’t know faces. That’s the point, yes? That’s why people come to me.” Samlor’s eyes flicked toward the mouth of the alley, toward the market, toward anything that was not the black mask inches from him. “I heard a thing. I passed it along. That is all.”

A thing.

“A shipment.”

Baradium?

Samlor went very still.

Connel tilted his head slightly, then slammed the Rodian against the wall, just enough to remind him of the situation he was in. Thank you.

“I did not say that.”

No. You confirmed it.

The Rodian swallowed hard. “Listen. Listen to me. I never touched the cargo. I never saw it. I only heard people talking. Old Imperials. Maw rats. The kind who still think dead men can give orders.”

Where?

“I don’t know.”

Connel’s grip tightened. Samlor choked back a yelp. “I don’t know! I swear by every slug in Nal Hutta’s bathwater, I don’t know the warehouse.”

You do not need to know the warehouse.

The Rodian blinked.

Connel leaned closer. You know the route.

Samlor’s panic sharpened into calculation. That was good. Fear made people babble. Calculation made them choose. Choices told the truth if you watched closely enough.

“I know a waypoint,” Samlor said quickly. “That’s all. Just a waypoint. It’s nothing. A marker. South plateau traffic exchange, old quarry side. They paid for a clean pass through the market grid, no inspections, no questions. I thought it was spice. Maybe weapons. Not baradium.”

Code.

“What?”

The pass code.

“I don’t have it.”

Connel said nothing. Samlor’s eyes twitched left. Connel followed the motion to the Rodian’s vest. Slowly, almost gently, he reached into the inside pocket and removed a thin bronze chit no larger than two fingers. The surface was stamped with a Huttese transit seal and a string of numbers burned along the edge.

Samlor sagged. “That only gets you past one checkpoint,” he muttered. “It won’t get you inside. It won’t get you anything.”

Connel studied the chit for half a breath. Then his thumb brushed across the scorched edge, wiping away a layer of grime. Beneath it was a second mark.

Not Huttese.

Imperial.

Old. Defaced. Half-scrubbed. But there.

Connel’s voice lowered. No. It gets me confirmation.

Samlor tried to smile. It came out sickly. “Then we are done?”

Connel looked back to him. Not yet.

The Rodian’s face fell. You are going to walk back into that market. You are going to apologize to Tilmad for the fruit. You are going to pay him triple. Then you are going to forget my face, forget her face, forget the other one you think you didn’t see, and forget that you ever heard the word baradium.

Samlor nodded too quickly.

And Samlor?

“Yes?”

If those transports leave because you warned someone, I will not have to find you. The Rodian went pale. Connel finally released him. Samlor stumbled, caught himself on the wall, and then hurried toward the market with the stiff, careful walk of someone trying not to look like prey while every nerve in his body screamed otherwise.

Only after he disappeared into the crowd did Connel lower the blade. The bronze chit rested in his palm. A transit marker. A false route. A market-grid clearance pass dressed up as Hutt business.

Enough.

Behind him, the air at the mouth of the alley had changed. Cora had seen enough to disapprove. Allyson, probably, had seen enough to be unimpressed. Connel did not turn around right away. He was lying about the warehouse.

He held up the chit.

But not about the route.

Krasskorr the Maw • Corazona von Ascania • Allyson Locke
Personal Effects - Omega Squad Loadouts​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Allyson appeared at the mouth of the alley, stirring Cora's attention her way. She'd worked with the Shadows, and while their work hadn't fallen under her purview as an NJO councilor, she'd become familiar enough with their list of assets.

It wasn't unusual for operatives to be killed in action. In a few cases, turned. In Locke's case, she'd been marked MIA for a number of years, and her resurfacing had been met with caution.

"Men," she explained with a gentle rise and fall of her shoulders.

Something in the Force didn't feel quite right. Like a chess piece shifted just out of place. Cora wouldn't ignore it, but she wouldn't chalk it up entirely to what was going on behind her. Perhaps it was in whatever lay ahead.

A pair of enforcers happened down the perimeter of the narrow road, drawn by he ruckus in the alley and the play of shadows against the far wall. They lifted their weapons towards the two women – not overtly threatening to shoot them, but on the cusp of it – and issued a gruff demand:

"You," one said, voice filtered through that ugly helmet. "What's happening down there?"

This close, Cora could see the bold red insignia of Darth Solipsis scrawled right above the helm's brow. An eyebrow went up. Still?

Clearing her throat, she pressed the side of her index finger to her lips.

"Just some nexu fighting over scraps," she drawled, almost lazy. The finger drew along the length of her lower lip before subtly curving over her cheek, then falling away. "Nothing important."

The troopers remained still while they processed this information. A few seconds, at least.

One of them grunted. The other mumbled: "Shithole has a nexu problem." before plodding off. A shaken Samlor stumbled from the alley after they'd rounded the corner. Cora kept her eyes on that corner for five heartbeats before she glanced to where Connel lingered. Lying about the warehouse, but not the route.

"Lead the way," she said to Vanagor.

Krasskorr the Maw Allyson Locke Connel Vanagor

 

[Krasskorr the Maw]

FOOD: Connel Vanagor Allyson Locke Corazona von Ascania

​

The hangar was alive with activity, the sound of the repulsor lifts piercing Krasskorr's ears as the loaders finished lifting the last heavy baradium crates. The transport pilots gathered by their boarding ramps, getting their final instructions for the attack run to Naboo's surface. Everything was ready for takeoff, but the delay left Krasskorr feeling uneasy.

Suddenly, a chime from his wrist comlink broke his concentration, the loud static cutting through the hangar's noise. "Commander," crackled the voice of an Advozse Quesh guardsman from the small speaker. "We have a situation at the southern edge of the bazaar. A local merchant reported a nexu wandering in the alleyways. Some vendors are getting nervous." Krasskorr's golden eyes narrowed, and his snout twitched.

Normally, a stray beast in a Hutt-controlled market wouldn't catch his attention. But today was different. The first transports were nearly loaded, their cargo holds filled with unstable baradium charges, and the spaceport was on a strict timeline. Any unexpected disruption in the market could attract unwanted attention from the Hutt Cartel's enforcers or, even worse, lead to a complete lockdown and alert the Republic.

"I don't care about some wandering creature," Krasskorr snarled into the comm, his voice rough from his fight with Meliant. "But I won't let the Hutts get tired of us and close the spaceport before these ships take off. Instruct the patrol to send a priority alert to the rest of the guards. Any nexu spotted near our route must be eliminated immediately." He switched off the comm before the guard could reply.

Grabbing the thick hilt of his three-meter lightclub from his belt, his heavy claws tightened around it to press the ignition button, as the plasma blade roared to life, its crimson glow lighting up the surface of the floor beneath the command platform as he moved to intercept this threat before it could ruin the Galactic Emperor's vengeance.

He approached the front entrance of the warehouse, letting his dark side presence expand outward instead of keeping it in contained. If a threat was lurking in the dusty streets of Darvannis, it would have to confront the Maw and he planned to draw Connel Vanagor , Corazona von Ascania and Allyson Locke right into the trap.

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Corazona von Ascania //: Connel Vanagor //: Krasskorr the Maw //:
//: Attire //:

Allyson couldn't help but snort at the woman's comment. Things were different nowadays, it seemed. Shadows weren't so worried about hiding and keeping quiet; they were no longer spies and the silent strike of the Council. Allyson would have to learn, now that she was trying to come home.

She looked towards the trooper that had decided to speak to the blonde woman. The small hairs on the Corellian's neck stood; she hated feeling this exposed and out in the open. Situations like this were the reason why she worked alone and not with others.

Still, thankfully, the woman was able to convince the guard to look elsewhere.

Allyson released the breath she had been holding; she was on edge, especially with how Connel handled the Rodian. He seemed pleased, though, enough to get what he wanted out of him. She quickly looked at the chit and chuckled softly.

"It doesn't look very secure. Are you sure it's the right route?" She offered her hand.

"I'm unsure if the Shadows still have my data file, but I'm a Technomancer," she waved her hand casually.

"Mechu Deru and the like." She stepped closer to her fellow shadow, but still kept some ounce of distance. Enough for her to react if, for some reason, this was a trap for her after all.

"If he erased anything, or if there's anything left loaded on it, I can pull it off or at least try and rebuild its data."

Allyson finished.

It was at that moment that something rippled in the Force. She wasn't a fan of it; the feeling was too familiar. Darkness cut through the silence like a sharpened blade.

"I've got a bad feeling about this…" She whispered loud enough for the group to hear her. If they weren't discovered after Connel made a ruckus with the Rodian, they were definitely found out now.

Groaning silently, Allyson felt the sudden urge to blip out of sight, perhaps go home and leave this death mission to the kids. But she had made a promise to Ala that she'd behave and provide help for this mission.

This was a test, and Allyson was determined to ace it.

"Well, we better move before whatever that is decides to fall into our laps."

 

[Connel Vanagor]

Bluster’s Last Stand
DARVANNIS
MARKETS

Omega Squad Every Day Gear Locations

• Michael, Gabriel, Raguel, Raphael, Jeremiel, Connel
  [Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]
• 
  Rides
  
  • "Enterprise" Station Ship
  • Vigilant Reaper
  • Null Vector
  • Speederbike
  • Iron Psalm
  Gear/Armor
  
  
  • Gear(“Bodycam” Datapad, UAD Drone, link to Seraphim AI included)
  • Lightblaster
  • Shortsabers (“Night” and “Day”)
  • 5 Throwing Lightknives
  • 3 Force Blinding Flashbangs
  • RI-17 Rifle-w-MS-0412 Grenade Launcher
  SURGICAL - CRYBERNETIC IMPLANTS
  
  • Repli Implants that would be for the limbs
  • Bonemer enhancements to strengthen structure of the body
  • Muscle enhancements.
  • Hemo enhancements for blood flow
  • Hawkeye implants for eyes
  • Advanced Medical Implant
  • Scentzy
  • Injected Nanotech upgrades
  
  
  
• Shadow Sanctuary - Enterprise

The thing about the right informant is that they can get you the information you need, when you need it, and without raising any suspicion. But finding the right one can be a challenge, especially in a city as vast and complex as this one. You need someone who knows the ins and outs of the city, who has connections in all the right places, and who can be trusted with sensitive information. With the right informant, you can navigate the city with ease and uncover the secrets that lie beneath its surface. The wrong one, however, could lead you down a dangerous path or worse, get you caught. That's why it's crucial to choose carefully and build a strong relationship with your informant, one that's based on mutual trust and respect. In a world where information is power, having the right informant can make all the difference. Samlor was not the right informant, there were no “right informants” in this line of work here…


… that doesn’t mean that he was the wrong one either.


Scan this. He held the chit up, and while it was at the exact moment the other Shadow, Allyson had mentioned her skills,and it looked like he was asking for her input, he was actually talking to the AI link in his suit. The AI would analyze the data and cross-reference it with all available sources to provide the most accurate and up-to-date information possible. “Seraphim AI” is a system that was put in place in the days of the Silver Jedi Concord and has been associated with Omega Squad ever since. He did not like to rely on technology, but she made a great point.

Scanning…

Downloading…

Information research in progress…

Always good to have a second set of eyes, even if it’s a machine.


Allyson brought up a great point about the importance of the security of the route that they should move to. It was not wrong to think about potential risks, but Connel was reminded of something Bren Alazar, or “Michael” of Omega Squad told him during a training session. If you were hiding in plain sight, would you want to take a secure route? Secure routes draw suspicion.


It wasn’t a fool proof strategy, but it was worth considering in their current situation. Samlor is a womprat. He’s paranoid but he’s also stupid. He’s going to his contacts right now and selling me out. Not Imperial… crime… they’re going to look for me.

Requested Routed uploaded to datapad.

Perfect timing.


Pulling the Bodycam Datapad out of his webgear, and pulling the crystal out, inserting the piece into his visor, he showed them both how to use it. I slipped a S.A.L.T. behind his collar. You want to hear what he is saying, press this button. He pointed to it. If you need to see what I am seeing, press this one, be wary, it can be a shocking experience at first, jarring to the eyes.


They’re looking for me, not the two of you. Take the route, I’ll see you at this warehouse. He checked the wall for spots he could grab to climb.


We’re clearly walking into something. Let me spring the trap.


Something his father used to do in situations like this. Make yourself obvious, expect the opposition to look for you, let them get comfortable, and make mistakes. Then strike when they least expect it. May the Force be with you both.


He just hoped it would be enough.

Krasskorr the Maw • Corazona von Ascania • Allyson Locke
Personal Effects - Omega Squad Loadouts​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

"I've got a bad feeling about this…"

“I agree,” Cora frowned. “We might be walking into something bigger than expected.”

The winds of the Force could change in an instant. Right now, they bayed in warning.

Cora leaned in for Connel’s demonstration, then took the proffered crystal. Her thumb slid over the stone’s smooth, polished surface before she deposited it into her pocket.

“Sounds like a plan,” she said. If Connel was marked, then it made sense enough for the two women to split from him for the time being.

And then, he was gone. Vanished into the chaotic haze of the market. Cora looked to Allyson, then tilted her head back to the road. She’d trust the former (returned?) shadow with the map.

The route pulled them through the busiest sector of the market, tapering off into side streets, then alleys. Each shadow they passed spared them a glance, but none lingered. The closer they moved to the warehouse, the more Cora dimmed her presence in the Force. If they were being tracked through that particular mean, it would give the impression of moving away from their target.

They were closing in on the massive warehouse, stopping short at the mouth of a darkened alley. Cora crouched behind the discarded shell of a burned speeder and squinted where she saw crimson in the distance.

“I suppose that is the source of what we felt,” she murmured. Even far away, Krasskor’s imposing figure seemed impossibly large.

Allyson Locke Connel Vanagor Krasskorr the Maw

 

[Krasskorr the Maw]

FOOD: Connel Vanagor Allyson Locke Corazona von Ascania

​

The first transport lifted out of the hangar with a deafening whine, its repulsor fields whipping dust and loose junk off the loading platforms. The hold was packed tight with baradium, more than enough to flatten an entire district. It did not take long for it to clear the atmosphere, much to Krasskorr's satisfaction.

He watched the ship turn into just a dark dot before disappearing, likely entering the hyperspace. Behind him, the crew was already scrambling over the remaining transports to get them ready for departure. Whatever disturbance had emerged out in the bazaar, it had come too late to halt the Emperor's vengeance entirely.

He lowered the head of his lightclub, though its three-meter crimson blade remained ignited, sputtering against the dirt. His snout lifted, his split tongue flicking past his scarred lips to taste the air. The spaceport was a mix of smells from the market crowds. But beneath this layer was something else entirely, the smell unlike the guards stationed around him.

He could not tell where the smell was coming from and that in itself was dangerous. His eyes moved from street corner to street corner beyond the warehouse entrance. The trail was weak disrupted by the crowd and the hot wind rolling between the buildings but it seemed to gather near the warehouse itself.

It made him reconsider the guards earlier report. Perhaps the creature was not the only thing prowling nearby. He stepped out of the warehouse to the street itself, his feet sinking into the soft dirt due to his weight. He did not blindly charge into the market but allowed his presence in the dark side to continue expanding outward in an attempt to flush them out.

Roooooooooooooooaaaaar

He roared a challenge to Allyson Locke , Connel Vanagor and Corazona von Ascania , the sound enough to shake even the most strong-willed. If they answered him then he would know for certain that the Republic had sent someone to stop him but for now he was content to stand here as a blockade until something finally happened.