Liquidation (The Underworld: RC Exploitation of Erilnar)

[Saani Kenow]

Original image credit: Albert Ramon Puig on ArtStation​

Erilnar, The Centrality

For nearly nine hundred years the Renatasian people had been without a home. They had fought for their freedom, their desperate heroism turning the Renatasia System into the graveyard of untold thousands of Imperial and Centrality troops, until the guns of a hundred star destroyers had leveled every refuge and two thirds of their number lay dead. The survivors, scattered among the backwater systems beyond easy reach of the Centrality Public Safety Bureau, had turned to crime and terrorism in a desperate attempt to preserve their dying culture by any means necessary. For centuries they had eked out an existence at the fringe of the galaxy, fighting for every scrap.

But whatever strange wind turned the galaxy was changing. With the Republic and the One Sith disintegrating, an age of a hundred warlords had dawned, each clawing for dominion over his or her chosen piece of the great spiral-armed map. Waiting in the long dark, the Renatasian people had learned to become opportunists. Scraps had been enough to slow the death of their culture, but not to stop it. Now came the opportunity to take advantage of the chaos, to take more than scraps, enough to build something like a refuge again. A home, reforged, forward-looking but steeped in the revered past. It was a dream, and not an easy one. Sweat and blood would be shed for it.

It would begin on Erilnar, the capital of their perennial foe the Centrality government. This first step was a big one, and not one they could take alone. Fortunately, the smuggling network known as the Renatasian Confederation had grown wealthy enough on the Lesai Spice trade that it could afford to call in its underworld contacts, a wildly mixed bag of scum and villainy who had plenty of experience in all the steps necessary to bring the local underworld under the Confederation's control. Those who agreed to help would be well-paid. Those who stood against the Confederation would be fought tooth and nail until one side or the other was forced to submit.

One way or another, there would be a great change in the shadows on the planet of the three hundred thousand lakes.


OBJECTIVES:

1. Smuggle guns, spice, and stolen goods past Erilnar's customs patrols so that the Confederation can set up illegal trade planetside.

• Benefit: The Renatasian Confederation will provide smugglers with Lesai Spice shipments for free; half the profits are theirs to keep.
• Complication: The Centrality Public Safety Bureau maintains a large fleet of armed, cargo scanner-equipped customs frigates and cruisers in orbit.
• Complication: Ships arriving on Erilnar must declare their cargo and submit it for inspection at the starport. Smugglers will need to get creative.

2. Collect on the Renatasian death mark against the Dragonsnakes swoop gang, which opposes the Confederation's takeover.

• Benefit: The Renatasians will pay 2,000 credits for every Dragonsnake leatheris swoop jacket turned in to them, or three times that for gang captains' jackets.
• Complication: The Dragonsnakes are well-armed with vibroblades and repeating blasters. Mostly Aqualish and Gamorreans, they are big and tough.
• Complication: Public opinion is against the Renatasians due to their terrorist activities centuries ago; local police may join the battle with deadly force.

3. Bribe and negotiate with local politicians and security officers to look the other way while criminal enterprises are set up.

• Benefit: The Renatasians will pay 10,000 credits for every port official, local politician, or precinct captain subverted to their cause.
• Complication: There is lingering bad feeling toward the Renatasians due to ancient acts of terrorism; persuasion will be difficult.
• Complication: Attempted bribery of a Centrality official is a class one felony; those attempting it should be very, very cautious.

4. Infiltrate disused tunnels of the planet-wide monorail to set up hideouts and stashes of illegal goods.

• Benefit: Valuable salvage may still exist down in the abandoned tunnels, as well as space for personal hideouts.
• Complication: Due to damage, age, and the pressure of the surrounding water, some of the tunnels are dangerously unstable. Tread lightly.
• Complication: Down in the dark, pests have mutated and grown out of control. Duracrete slugs, mynock swarms, and worse things lurk around every corner.

5. Contribute or otherwise participate in any way you see fit.

 

[Kendall Ginn]

Kendall Ginn was already in flight with the smell of a new job lingering in the air. He had received word of the Renatasian's eyes on Erilnar, and giving his assistance meant a lot in his position. If all goes well he could be rewarded a pretty pile of credits as well as achieve some networking goals. At this point, Kendall can never find enough people who think he's on their side. Not to mention Erilnar was familiar to him, he spent some time there in the years after leaving Chandaar, it was outside the Silver Jedi's sphere of influence, yet not so far from home he felt overwhelmed. Nonetheless Kendall sent out a message to the Confederation.

"Greetings, You're probably not familiar with me, but My name is Kendall Ginn, and i've become aware of your goals set forth regarding the planet of Erilnar. I'd be delighted to offer my assistance in any form you see fit, though i believe my skills will be best served dealing with any minor opposition you find yourselves against. My line will be open to receive more details once the time arrives. I will be standing by till then."

He leans back in his chair a little as he finishes the recording and sends it out, hoping for it to reach them quickly."Ugh" just about disgusted at his attempt to sound more educated. he starts fiddling with little nick-knacks in his cockpit restlessly.

 

[Ugoto Chivaro]

OBJECTIVE II

Eugene hated swoop gangs. They were coarse, rough... And they got everywhere. Disorganized, unpredictable, and, most importantly, unreliable. He had been in a swoop gang once, back when he was but a wee lad growing up in rural Sashasa. Back then, he had been... What? Sixteen? It was a long time ago. But he was at a stage in his life where it was generally acceptable, if not expected, that he be disorganized, unpredictable, and unreliable. That's part of what growing up is about. He quit those losers and found some pirates to hang out with when he was... Nineteen? Probably. He had been doing this whole "criminal violence" thing for so long it was getting tough to keep track of the exact dates.

This swoop gang, the Dragonsnakes, they were a bunch of losers. These were guys in their thirties and forties running this gang. People who should have moved on to greener pastures a long-ass time ago, according to Eugene. Then again, he could see why they wouldn't. Or couldn't. Aqualish? Gamorreans? These were species not exactly renown for their intelligence. Just their big, meaty fists and smelling like death itself. Eugene was watching them through the window of his shuttle truck, judging them as they teetered in, out, and around their designated watering hole. Going by the number of swoop bikes docked outside, there were at least fifteen of them hanging out in there. Eugene himself was parallel parked a long way off from the bar, across the street.

Law enforcement had a special term for this neck of the city: a "no-go zone." And with all these brutish dragonsnakes hanging around, it was easy to see why. Fortunately for them, they weren't going to be a problem for much longer. Eugene checked his chronometer, noting the time and remembering a few more of these goons were expected to show up. Once they did, then things could get started.

 

[Darth Abyss]

Objective 3

Darth Abyss denied his new allies any personal contact, not out of disrespect but out of necessity. The children where most effective in the shadows, crawling deep under the surface of a worlds population, unseen and unheard of by anyone but themselves. Sooner or later they would reveal, when the task ahead of ithe was done and the risk of getting caught was low. The children had established themselves to the public as legitim religion, and while he knew that some could see beyond their lies it was still a solid cover he had to keep intact for his future operations.
------------------------------------
"Pale hand to Void control. Target in sight. Security code 5654789."

Abyss sat behind the screens of the quickly set up command central he and his men installed in a low class hotel somewhere on the edge of the city. Like him most of his men, his real men and not the brainwashed slaves they were creating, had a background in intelligence work. Infiltration and surveillance was their go to way to operate and it would certainly come in handy in this venture.

"Void control to Pale hand. Stay in position, keep your head done. Two of us are on the way to help you out."

On the screens in front of him he could see a live image of one of the citys spaceports. His agent was sitting besides his shuttle, the datapad in his hand sending constant Intel about the officials working there. They would need time to find the times they changed shifts, and eyes that would follow them. At this point it was a game of patience. Abyss turned to the second screen.

"Here void control. Blacksand status report."

On the display in front of him he watched as the pictures on it zoomed in on a fancy dressed man from the rooftops. Besides him stood another man, larger an armed, that had an watchful eye on the other.

"Void control here blacksand. Target moves freely through the city, and is constantly guarded. I suggest we keep watching him until the opportunity is right."

His agent was right, they had better chances to succeed if the timing was right. They had to be calm, but ready. As soon as there was an opening they had to be fast, clean and unseen. The room besides the command central, also rented by Abyss, was getting outfitted with the gear needed for his brainwashing in right this moment, and would hopefully be ready to operate once they made their move.

 

[Drogh]

Drogh was given a very vague list of things to do, no real plan and well, you was almost expected to go wild. People of all sorts were being hired for this job. It was clear that smuggling was a prioty, along with lots of other things. The goverment here was crumbling apprently, their cultral dying, yet it had a strike of light and hope that these people were clining on to despertly. When people are deserate they do thing that are morally questionable, or overlook them and indirectly support them. Yet again there are those who do not want change and will stubbornly fight to see that change does not happen, at all. The city will be under the control of a gang soon enouth, yet there are those who will bitterly fight that to the end and make sure that does not happen.

Drogh back home, in the underworld of Coruscant had been used to hiding, seeking out infomation and whispers, hiding in the smallest of corners and cracks. Drogh was a informat, a thief, a spy. A lowly kid of scum, the one that was slick then bruitsh. Yet Drogh was changing, he had come more 'aggresive' recently, Drogh was going to do more then hear a handful of whispers then run off, Drogh was going to light a match and watch world burn. Well maybe not exactly that, but Drogh was getting paid alot and he wanted to earn that pay, one way or another.

Drogh of course knew gangs very well, the big ones that can topple empires by calling the right people, and those who just throw fruit at a window and run, and all of those inbetween. Drogh was more focused on the troublesome swoop gangs, and the other criminals who will strongly refuse these newcomers, when the rebuilding of their cultral, was for them to piooner not these outsiders. The local authorities can burn for all Drogh cared, some one take care of them for him, the authories were easy to avoid, alwayts being allowed of their prense with theif flasy uniforms and loud sirens, honnestly what game do they think they're playing? Drogh hardly thought he'd be the only one fighting the gangs, yet it always helped to have lots of hands about, to make sure people died quickly.


Drogh, unsually was not in the streets, for some reason he was seeing his refection in the water, his mind raving on about this and that. The docks were busy, yet not that busy. He found the refreshing smell mixed with chemcials of factories, dumped into the lakes oddly nice to smell. Although the waters weren't that bad, it was nice to see some clear water. He wasn't wearing his steel mask, not trying to look too suspicouse, although he was wearing a rather dark cloak which to be honnest, judging by some cultrals, was generally nothing remarkable. When everyone was landing down, getting ready for another war, Drogh was peacefully idly standing still looking down at the water, still and slient for awhile before letting out a small sigh, turning to the packed and poor streets of this crude city.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

Location: Erilnar, the Centrality.
Objective: 4
|1|

Lord Fa liked the Centrality.

It was a fond of possibilities: far enough from the Core that not every hooligan in town wanted a piece of it and yet close enough to the Sith Worlds that it wouldn't be annoying to travel to it. It was for these reasons that Tai's company, Fa Holdings, had bought up a contract on the capital of this particular pond. Erilnar was a world of water, thousands of lakes scattered across the surface and with a single, large monorail connecting the cities proper. At least, that was the idea, but the workings of terrorists had quite... ruined it.

That was where the contract had come in.

Fa Holdings wasn't an enormous corporation by any stretch of the imagination. That was why they had to be smart about it, in this particular situation it meant starting with the reconstruction of the rail between two of the largest cities.

This meant that the criminals would have about 95% of the tunnels for themselves... for now, but the Thirriken was quite blissfully unaware of the machinations of some terrorist remnant republic having their eyes on his world. Tai was already claiming it in his head, but it would be a while before anything truly could come of it- months, years... the peacock was a patient sentient.

"Bring us closer, please.
I wish to see for myself,
that which we craft here.

I have much hope now.
The Centrality is good.
It will be better."​

Their little shuttle was already approaching the landing pad. They had bought some property in the largest city of Erilnar, it was much easier for logistics and coordination, if they were capable of organizing things from a single location on-site.

 

[Saani Kenow]

Objective 1 / Coordinating All Objectives

Saani Kenow had never imagined this would be the way she'd come home. Yet here she was.

The smuggling kingpin stared out the front viewport of the freighter Summer Storm, her hard green eyes taking in the patchwork of land and water that covered Erilnar's surface. She imagined that she could pick out Sector Seventeen, could see the garbage-strewn streets of the Renatasian ghetto where she'd grown up. There had never been enough food to quiet the growling of her belly, never enough water to keep anything clean. She remembered using the 'fresher once a week at best, trying to wash her only two sets of clothes under the same stream of frigid water she stood beneath in frantic motions before the two minutes' allotted time was up. She remembered thinking that five credits was a lot of money.

All she'd had to hold onto was memories that weren't even hers, the legends told by the adults of a time when her people had stood proudly on their own. And she'd held on to them, held on through the poverty and the violence and the prison terms that had eaten up a third of her life. Now she was back, and she was one of the ones telling those stories. More than that, she was trying to bring those times back, and after all the centuries that had passed she was the closest one in a long time to being able to do it. This second chapter of her life would begin in the same place as the first had, but she intended to see it end very differently.

A transmission crackled across the holo, jerking her out of her reverie. "[member="Kendall Ginn"]," she replied evenly as the being on the other end finished, "We'd be glad to have you with us, and we'll pay well for your services." Her tone was iron, assured, accustomed to command - a far cry from the little urchin girl committed to prison at age thirteen. "Most of the local gangs are willing to cooperate, but there's a swoop gang - the Dragonsnakes - that won't agree to let us use the spaceports freely." She paused, and when she resumed her voice was as cold as deep space. "They are marked for death. A large group of them is clustered in a cantina near the Capitol Docking Facility, if that gives you a place to begin."

Turning her mind from the massacre she had just ordered, Saani considered her other plans. The Summer Storm was coming up on the Centrality's customs fleet; it was only a few minutes until the moment of truth. The Renatasians were adept smugglers in the backwater systems, making the Kessel Hop regularly, but moving product into the Centrality's tightly regulated capital world was a new challenge for them. It remained to be seen if their plan would hold up against that kind of opposition. She thought of the small containers of Lesai Spice carefully hidden among the containers of frozen fish, tiny bags of sensor-baffling material further masked by the cold, and silently crossed her fingers.

The chance cube was cast. All that remained was to see how it rolled.

 

[Kendall Ginn]

Kendall jerked to attention as he got a return transmission, and by this point he was reaching the planet, lovely timing as his fuel was becoming scarce from the lack of surrounding hyper-lanes. He thought to himself how this made the planet a strange target for smugglers and traders. Perhaps there were ulterior motives to settling in Erilnar, but he'd have to look into this later.

He approached the surrounding blockade of frigates that monitored entering and exiting traffic. This wasn't a worry for Kendall, he hardly carried more than his blaster and other close kept gear in his small ship, the blockade only cared about the cargo, of which he had none. However, he knew this was an issue for the Confederation. Thinking of ways around this, Kendall thought of bribing the ships individually stationed at this port, a plan he didn't have the credits for. Or even destroying the ships, but they'd surely just be replaced with even more bolstered security afterward. He realized that Kendall couldn't be responsible for this issue quite yet, and as suggested by his employer he'd just have to secure an entry point on the ground.

Sending another return message, "Then I will make sure the spaceport below becomes usable, a swoop gang is never as menacing as they boast to be, but next comes the issue of the actual entry to the planet, of which i know you're aware. After i complete my stu- operations on the ground, i'd be open to contact toward that issue, if it isn't already done."

He sends the communication and opens his channel to the brigade guarding the planet. After the formalities of checking his non-existent cargo Kendall flew into a landing in the aforementioned spaceport. He secured his few belongings, and hoped out, surveying the immediate area. He knew there shouldn't be too much trouble right away, but with the Dragonsnakes 'lair' as close to the port as mentioned, it wouldn't be long before he confronted them outside. His blaster was concealed and ready, but he knew he lacked the ability and fire power to take out every Dragonsnake, or at least he planned assuming that information, and would need to take some alternative measures to deal with their presence. Perhaps broker a deal with them with the threat of being wiped out, despite the stereotypical stubbornness and pride of swoop gangs, the urge for survival was universal, and with such a widespread affect the confederacy has already had to achieve their plans, the Dragonsnakes were a blip in the radar.

He headed out of the spaceport avoiding bringing attention on him until the opportune moment, it was what he was best at. He quickly saw the culmination of people at the nearby cantina, most would assume it was just a popular hangout from the arriving merchant and traveler from the port, and while that might be true Kendall could see the gang that inhabited it. He began his approach, this is a job he'd have to improvise on.

 

[Abaddon Velshaar]

Objective 2
Post: 1
Allies: [member="Helix Syndicate"]

His training with [member="Bethany Kismet"] was going well. However, he needed credits in order to survive, and he wasn't very good at earning an 'honest' paycheck. So, getting paid to do various illegal deeds simply made sense. His search for employment had lead him to the Rentasian Confederation, who were looking to pay him for violence. It was simply too good of an opportunity to pass up. And as a wise man once said;

If you're good at something, never do it for free.

He sat in the passenger seat of Eugene's truck, stretching out as he yawned. Reaching into his leather jacket, he pulled out a bag of crisps. Opening it up, he took out one, crunching it as quietly as blue eyes rested on the scene before him. He offered some of his crisps to Eugene, finishing the one in his mouth before speaking. "Try to get a snack in while you can, mate. Gamorrean blood has a very distinct smell that just doesn't wash away easily."

There were a few Gamorrean students in at the Academy when he lived on Korriban. They were slow, brutish, but Force help you if they got hold of you. He once saw one rip a fellow student in half. Of course, Abaddon later bested that Gamorrean, but the point was the blood stained his uniform, and the smell of it lingered for almost a year. Quite the nasty ordeal. He was sure this incursion was going to be particularly nastier.

Taking the silver flask out of his jacket, he took a long swig of the rum before offering up some to Eugene as well. "So what's the plan, then? These mongrels don't exactly go down easily. Unless, of course, you take them out at the knee. They go down exceptionally easy then. Very top heavy." Taking another pull off of the flask, he corked it before sticking it back in his jacket.

He was ready for action.

 

[Desmond C'artyom]

Objective: 1

The Krayt Dragon's Pearl began listing lazily towards the planet Retasia. She had just exited hyperspace and her pilot sat asleep in the cockpit with his legs propped on the dash. A few alarms wailed and Des awoke with a jerk. He brushed some garbage off his dash, righted his hat and rubbed some crust out of his eye. He was approaching the orbital fleet. Despite Des's appearance he was actually a professional when it came to these sorts of things. Twenty Nutronium boxes filled with explosives, guns, spice and other illicit goods sat in a secret cargo hatch built into the roof. The Nutronium cost him a pretty penny, but the boxes could be re-used and best of all. They were undetectable by scanners. In his real cargo hold sat a large assortment of space potatoes. Everyone eats potatoes. As he approached the fleet they began to hail his ship.

"What's your business here?" The question was short and to the point.

"I am a procurer of rare and exotic goods, here to sell my wares!" Des laughed a little at his own private joke.

"Exotic goods? Says your selling potatoes..." The man replied flatly.

"Does your planet grow potatoes?"

"No,"

"Then they are exotic,"

"Whatever, just have your cargo ready for inspection when you land," The man said a little irritated.

Like stealing candy from a baby. Desmond slipped past the fleet and began his descent into orbit. If this confederation was legit, and by how many guns they told him to bring it seemed they were, then Des could expect quiet the pay out.

[member="Saani Kenow"]

 

[Kendall Ginn]

Kendall didn't waste much time to get to the cantina, counting on the idea that someone coming from the spaceport to a cantina is a normal occurrence. Approaching the entrance it became clear that he was correct. The swoop gangers hanging out front took no notice to him beyond the typical glare, they'd keep an eye on him, but he wasn't a threat yet. They were a colorful lot, consisting mostly of gammoreans and Aqualish, at least the ones outside, and Kendall was even more convinced he'd have to avoid some heavy confrontation here.

Entering the building Kendall saw it was as scummy as the outside looked, filled with bikers proudly wearing their colors and engaging in you're typical cantina activities, drinking, and playing to their hearts content. Considering his aversion to violence in this situation, Kendall considered how this could be a bigger opportunity than he first planned for. Perhaps if he convinced the gangers to turn a blind eye to the entering confederation, he could gain prestige and reward with his employer, as well as placing his own presence on the planet through alliance of this rag tag gang. It wouldn't achieve much, but it could at least give him more options. Knowing these types dont like the look of a shady newcomer plotting in their circles, he approached the bar. Even the barman held a piece of Dragonsnake memorabilia, making it clear how under occupation this cantina was.

"You just come in off the port then?" The Bartender asked Kendall, starting off with a question easily considered rude. "Aye, hoping to loosen up a bit, always helps after a long flight." Kendall responded, indicating to a drink behind the keep. He'd seen the surrounding Dragonsnake's start to take notice to him, and decided it's best not to be hasty in addressing his real reasoning, so he took just a moment to sit at the bar.

 

[Thraxis]

Objective: II​

Post: 1​

That name was one that was heard a few times in his life, Swoop Gang... the name muddled around his mind, they were an adolescent dream, something one embarks on in their youth that starts them done the path of a thug, though did he ever experience such a thing? No, he introduced his name in the life of a pirate, skipping the frivolities of playing big boy in a small pond and playing small boy in the ocean of a galaxy. He paused for a second, a raid, or something similar of sorts popped onto his Holopad, The Underworld. He paused for a second, his brow furrowed as his eyes narrowed, focusing on every word pressed down onto it, " Huh. And here I thought I hadn't made a name for myself." his spirits lifted for a second, sure it wasn't some assault of a planet, the slaughter of a village. But it would do what he needed. Gain access to the Underworld. And maybe this time, even make a contact.

Slowly he raised from his spinning ceiling chair, taking his leave of the White Palace, the Cartel needed a stake in this, and since Cadan had a particularly... explosive Drug trip and Flannigan from what he heard, had gotten a Virus it looked like the enforcer would need to do just that. Enforce the Cartel's will. He took his leave of the Pitt, the Gammoreans staying on course and keeping the discorded choir chanting its tune throughout the Pitt until he made his return. Taking one of the Smaller Ships and a Pilot they were off towards Erilnar, a planet whose name he had heard once before, in fact only a few minutes ago on a Holomessage. With the spitting of light flickering from the Engine, the light fading into nothing more then blips of light whizzing past the side of the ship they were in Hyperspace, the Sight of the white palace disappearing into the sands behind them, then the sands disappearing into Sirluur, then in turn, it disappearing into a light of its sun. In a couple of hours, they would be arriving.

After the hours of travel, the sight of what should have been a sea became visible, though after a few seconds, the deepness was lacking, the sight of a light blue coating the planet gave way to the realization, ti was covered with tiny lakes, not seas. A miraculous formation if ever there was one, if not a strange occurrence as well. As the ship started its descent the flash of light as a man propped himself on the screen, "Sir, by Authorization of the Confederation, we are required to inform you that upon landing your goods, stock and equipment shall be examined. You have been warned." the voice said, the face of a large burly man popping up, though no doubt an automated message if ever there was one. The pilot looked towards him, wide eyes terrified of the consequences of being caught with Thraxis equipment, which he had no doubt was illegal. Thraxis however had little care, or idea if what he carried was illegal.

With a loud gulp the pilot continued to lower the ship Further down, Thraxis taking his mask off, his sweated hair and alcoholic musk quickly releasing itself from helmets grip, only to be soon be recontained by a Gas Mask, he dug out from his Duffel bag, as well as a small Yellow Canister being tightly gripped in his right hand. Slowly though, with regret the engine became a quite roar, then a loud banging chime as they entered the atmosphere, landing on the designated Pad, the hangar door lowering as three officials stood ready for inspection. With a hurry they moved, if he was a betting man, he imagined that there were a lot of ships landing around now, especially with the message that was sent. As they hurried in they began their inspection, not noticing the Hangar door closing behind them and their seals becoming air tight. Th pilot began to tremble as they walked in, beads of sweat running down his face as slowly they moved closer. He could feel his own heart beating, as well as hear theirs.

Then came the hiss, the flash of yellow mist engulfing all around the room, The sputtering of Guards and Pilot's as they tried to make their escape, only to be blocked by a man, covered in Armor standing between them and their escape, a hand covering their mouths as they pushed clawed at the man, "Aricon once you wake up, get off the planet. I can find another way off site." he said as the fading conscious fell over to his side, the sputtering cough as he fell into a deep sleep, followed quickly there after by the other Guards. "Welp. Time to get to work." he chirped as his steps became a bounce, his hand wrapping around his duffel bag as it swung back and fourth, leaving the ship with few a prying eye.

 

[Tiali Orazio]

Objective II
Post 1

Chest down planted pressing against the deck ,his leg Bent with the other straight for a more stability. His elbows slightly further apart then his shoulder width, hands tightend on his DC-15x sniper rifle, finger resting at the side of his trigger guard. Cheek pressed against the butt stock both eyes lay open his dominant looking down the scope. The barrel rests on the top of his helmet (that is unequiped and on the ground in front of him if that sounds weird to anyone) allowing more stability as an impromptu bipod.
Taking in a deep breath the brisk air enters his lungs as his aim moves with the movement of his chest then with a deep release of hot air exits his lungs while his aim moves back to its original position. His finger taps the side of the trigger guard impatiently. A smile slides onto his lips "Nothing to it" he whispers to himself as he waits.

Tiali lays ready upon a tall building with a good view to provide sniper support to whichever member may need it. A small earpiece communicator rests In His ear in case any closer support is needed he is at the ready.

Tiali is wearing his custom made Urban camo suit Mk-I his hood currently over his head. A blood red dyed tikulini coat going over the top of his USC made from a UCS that was dismantled to make it. And the extra durasteel used to re-enforce and create better shoulder,shin and leg armour. A wrist mounted sonic pistol rests on his right forearm, a wrist mounted flame thrower rests on the left forearm.The tikulini leather covering most of his body with durasteel helmet, shoulder pads and chest guard. His belt had an assortment of grenade's. to the lower parts he wore magno-grip boots, with two LL-30 pistols either side of his thighs. A Tazi VibroSword Sits across his back in a sheath ready to be deployed and used for combat in an instant. Last of all an X-202 sits next to him on the deck.

 

[Desmond C'artyom]

Objective 1

The Krayt Dragon's Pearl began glowing red hot as it entered the planets upper atmosphere and Des walked down to his cargo bay. He pressed a button on a near by Dejarik table and the roof elevated itself down. 20 nutronium cases of premium grade weapons and spice. Des had the very large turbo shifter removed from his swoop bike for this reason. He began unloading the goods and stashing them in the innards of his bike. Customs wouldn't suspect a thing. He pressed the button again and the hatch ascended above again. His ship landed in the Hangar with a thud. Desmond's boarding ramp sloped downward with a slight hiss. Desmond noticed a very fat man waiting for him at the bottom.

"I'm going to need to check your cargo sir," The fat man wheezed.

"Go right ahead, someone will be by to pick it up latter." Des began unloading his swoop bike.

"You here to par take in the local races?" He rolled his eyes. Another swoop jockey.

"Er... Uh.. Yeah," Desmond turned the ignition and his bike roared to life. Even without the turbo it'd still dust most bikes. Maybe he should check out those races, but first. Des tapped a few buttons on his wrist communicator.

"Hey where the hell am I suppose to take this junk and when do I get paid?" The wind whistled by and he had to cover his mouth with his bandanna to keep bugs out. He pressed a button on his wrist and sent his message to the leader of the Confederation [member="Saani Kenow"]

 

[Drogh]

Drogh was in the streets, loud and packed, a smell of seafood was ripe in the air, the fires gave a warm humid feel. It was large city no doubt, but it had a the feel of a run down town, there were a few skyscrappers that looked over the lakes, that remined you was indeed in a city. To Droghs surprise, despite the crumbling of the city it was rather industrial, with big factories that pumped air into the night sky, yet atleast these people had the luxery of being able to see a sky. Drogh back home never saw much of the sun, it hurt his eyes when he was young. The gang, the swooper gang was powerful, no doubt about it, despite many being fine with the smugglers taking control, there were still those,not just the swooper gang uphappy with this 'invasion'. Drogh eavesdropped on every converstation he came across, if it was no value he'd walk off pretending he was never there. Drogh wanted to know every lil' plan that the gangsters had, not just the swoopers but everyone. What were the local police force planning? Were they even aware? Well if the gangsters were, most likely they were too. Drogh wanted to start of with the biggest promblem at hand Dragonsnakes. These people were the largest (with the expection of the police force) in the city, and therefore would be the most valuable, it was clear these people were going to plan some thing rather mencing

So, with the humid and the flicking lights of shops flashing every were, vehcials and bikes flying off down the roads, large factories in the distance pumping out smoke, Drogh would find the criminals he needed. All he had to do was look in the shadows and some one hiding would be fond sooner or later. He travaled to the 'no-go-zone' a fairly tall fence was guarding it, yet when no one was looking he easily climbed over the gate, despite with a few cuts from barb-wire, he was all but unoticed. He was in hells territory, and by his first stare he could tell extactly what he was doing

 

[Mephite]

Objective IV (1/?)

Pest Control. He'd been hired as pest control. This was a far cry from gunning down rebels or hunting Jedi. That's what the Shard called Mephite had seen himself doing in the Core worlds.

It was still strange to imagine things. To have goals and ambitions and to even have a body of sorts. An inorganic one but still a shell capable of moving around. The least of his experiences had been so much more than life in a cluster.

Being underground had made him recall his origins. He wasn't capable of claustrophobia but he didn't like being here. It made him uneasy as he swept his photoreceptors to scan the dark passage. Too much like Orax.

A job was a job and he still needed credits. There was a ship to fuel, ammo to buy and a shell to maintain. Life certainly had had complications added. His head snapped up as his sensors picked up something off to the left.

He raised his surplus E-11 and squeezed the trigger. Mephite's auditory processors picked up the concussive noise. It also heard the slap as a mutated slug was sent into the wall behind it. One shot and one kill.

 

[Darth Abyss]

Post 2
Objective 3

"Void control? Here pale finger one and two. We are ready and in position for further surveillance."

Two men, wearing casual business suits had taken place on a bench on the opposite side of the spaceports entrance. From the outside they seemed to have a heated discussion, while actually they focused on those entering and leaving the building. On their coms a message was patched through.

"Pale fingers? Here pale hand. One target is leaving. Twilek, male, blue skin. 1,80 meter. Black jacket and yellow pants. Followed by a human woman."

The two men continued their fake dialog until their eyes meet the person their commanding officer had described. With an angry expression one of the stood up, rushing away fron his partner. Unrecognizable in the masses, he trailed the path of the port official and the human woman. Sooner or later he would find the place the man lived in.
------------------------------------------
"Blacksand to void control. Target is moving again, seems like a bar or restaurant. Is there anyone around to keep up surveillance inside?"

Abyss looked at the screen, playing through the different ways this scenario could play out. Blacksand was an expert when it came to surveillance, skilled with many forms of tech, and with the right mindset and endurance for this kind of work. His social and infiltration skills on the other hand were nothing exceptional, maybe not even average.

"Negative Blacksand. Sooner or later he has to come out again. Stay in position, trainwreck is one his way to clear out his bodyguards."

Over the rooftops a tall and lean figure moved towards the position of the agent. Codename Trainwreck, sinper and field operative. A silent and dangerous man, always waiting for the next time to pull the trigger.

 

[Saani Kenow]

Objective 1 / Coordinating All Objectives

The first of many in the Confederation's hired smuggling fleet had touched down without a hitch. Saani allowed herself a smile; things were going well.

"Captain [member="Desmond C'artyom"]" she transmitted in reply to the smuggler who had already made planetfall, "Good work so far. You'll need to get that cargo to my people down in the monorail tunnels in order to get paid. Be careful; there are Public Safety Bureau patrols combing the city to scan for illegal goods, and most entrances to the monorail are watched. Once you get down there, follow the graffiti. Oh, and watch out for overgrown pests. We have a contractor down there already, [member="Nyz Tikkes"]. Maybe it can help you make it to the stash without any duracrete slugs eating your haul." Saani rather hoped the Chiss didn't get himself killed; he'd proven competent enough to be worth hiring again.

Now it was up to Saani to get her own cargo past patrols. She couldn't be the one doing the talking; the Centrality authorities knew her face, and they'd come for her if they knew she was within a hundred light years of Erilnar. But she had a loyal and competent crew. That would have to be enough. Her first mate, loyal to the cause but devoid of the telltale Renatasian tattoos she bore, calmly made the hail down to the docking facility. "Summer Storm requesting landing clearance. We're a merchant freighter with a cargo of frozen Frella fish bound for central market." There was a long pause, and a tight anticipation descended over the cabin. Could so many smugglers arrive at the same time without drawing attention?

"Summer Storm," the answer finally came, "you are cleared to dock in Sector 92, landing bay A25. Have your import permits ready for inspection." Saani let out a little of the breath she'd been holding, but not most of it. Not yet. The real test would be getting past the inspection on the ground, where the big scanners would run over every inch of the ship - especially if the customs officers realized that there were Renatasians aboard. They would have to hope that their preparations had been good enough. The Centrality's picket ships parted, allowing the Summer Storm a clear approach vector to Erilnar. Slowly the smuggling vessel drifted down the gauntlet of warships, as if being swallowed by a many-toothed worm.

Of course, they wouldn't even get to the ground inspection if the customs ships were able to scan their illegal cargo...

 

[Saani Kenow]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W9chF9gYZqI[/media]​

Objective 2 Update

The Dragonsnakes were tough, totally unchallenged in the region around the Central Market spaceport of Sector 92. But tonight they had no idea what was coming for them.

As [member="Tiali Orazio"] watched from the rooftops, one finger on the trigger, and [member="Abaddon Velshaar"] waited in the speeder truck, [member="Kendall Ginn"] marched right through the front doors of the Mangled Mynock cantina. The swoop gangers were everywhere; loud, atonal music, the rattle of chance cubes, and raucous laughter filled the bar, the air already choked with the smoke from dozens of lit cigarras. Most of them were Aqualish and Gamorreans, with the odd Houk and Klatooinian scattered among them. All had clearly seen their share of combat, with dozens of vibroblade scars and blaster burns between them. They were all armed, too: wickedly-curved hooks, broken bottles, vibrokives - and the outline of heavy blasters against their leatheris jackets.

One of the Gamorreans marched up to the bar, its porcine snout flaring with drunken bravado. It stared down at Kendall, its meaty hands curling into fists. "My seat," it grunted, its tongue made thick by drink. "Our bar. You not belong here, little man." All around, the other gangbangers watched, some with open amusement and some with narrowed eyes. Sentients had been beaten to death for staring into the windows of the Mangled Mynock, let alone walking inside uninvited. On the one hand, the Dragonsnakes had to respect that kind of confidence. On the other, they couldn't let any threat to their rep stand, and if that meant throwing what was left of a Weequay onto the monorail tracks for a headfirst appointment with the morning train, they planned to make sure it happened.

Meanwhile, [member="Drogh"] and [member="Thraxis"] hunted through the backstreets of the seedy port district. It didn't take much to notice a pack of swoop gangers riding their bikes down one of the main market roads, laughing loudly as pedestrians scattered and threw themselves out of the way. They were clearly drunk out of their minds - and it only made them tougher, heavier-handed, and more vicious. The one in front, a scarred Aqualish in a captain's jacket, let off a volley from a repeating blaster pistol, shattering storefront windows and pulping the fruit in a nearby market stall, which brought a renewed roar of laughter from his companions. The Dragonsnakes were king here, and they didn't plan to let anyone forget that they could do whatever they wanted.

 

[Kendall Ginn]

Kendall felt the pigs breath over his head as it spoke, and he quickly reached a few revelations. One, hes been a fool to misjudge the situation as he has, thinking a swoop gang would have the manners for guests. Second, he hadn't completely been caught off gaurd, and there are a few things left to be seen, the other contractors surely approaching the same job for instance. And third, this was a Gammorean, and a Gammorean had nothing more precious than his brawn, and how his fellows viewed said brawn, with the eyes of the bar on him Kendall knew the play was to continue with his somewhat accidental bravado.

Kendall stands up slowly and turns to the Gammorean. "Im impressed to see a Gammorean speak basic, I apologize for the seat." He somehow doubted flattery would get him far, but it was important to set an etiquette. "but i doubt an apology is all you're looking for." he turned toward the man standing straight, not quite coming up to his height or weight, but held firm in the pig's shadow. "I need to see who's in charge, I'm sure they'd like to decide whether or not i belong here." Kendall stood stone, forcing himself not to shake, he'd dealt with brainless gang types all his life and he wasn't about to get shown up by pig breath. Don't draw the weapon, they'll have him down in seconds, but if he can convince this one he has a reason for being here, then things can go well, if not he'd have to work off of Gammorean pride and fight this one on one. Unfairly of course, but they dont need to know that. He noted a vibroblade on the thugs belt, thankful that it didn't have a traditional Gammorean axe, he could nik the weapon in a fight, they're tough but die the same as any. The bar for cover, worst case he mercs this one and ducks and cover, hoping the sudden action draws some moves from any other employees of the Confederacy. But no matter, it all depended on this big boys decision.