Nar Sha-DON'T - Open Skirmish

[Kuzo]

Nar Shaddaa


It came without warning. When the Sith Empire seeks out vengeance for transgressions across the galaxy, bringing fleets from Bastion to Pantora, others might expect a certain relief that the attention would be focused on others. So when a portion of the Sith fleet dropped out of hyperspace over Nal Hutta, there was no one watching for it, no one waiting for it. The Sith had a relationship of a sort with the Hutts, and Nar Shaddaa might have expected to be protected by the virtue of that.

Unfortunately, Hutts aren't well known for giving much of a chit about anyone else.

Flush with victory, there was too much energy, too much to contain to ships in empty hyperspace. Why not, it was decided, let off a little steam before returning to Sith space? Allow them to.....

Celebrate.

There is nothing joyous about the celebrations of a Sith.

It came without warning. Rather than an act of war, with intent and planning, the sith came to Nar Shaddaa looking for fun. For blood, for slaves. To take what they desired before returning to the strict structure of the Empire and the rules they had set upon themselves out of need.

The Sith came to Nar Shaddaa as Reavers. And the streets ran red.

*****

"Do you have a basement? Something that locks from the inside?"

"More like a muddy hole."

Neri swore to herself as she peered over the counter. Nar Shaddaa wasn't a favorite of hers, but sometimes you went where you had to for a job or to pick up a ship component. Of the risks you expect to take coming to the Smuggler's Moon, there were more than enough to make a rather long list and Neri had come prepared for all of them.

What hadn't made it onto the list? Sith in mawdamned numbers. The blaster on her hip was woefully inadequate, though she'd liberated a slug thrower shot gun from a trandoshan right before the idiot had bolted out into the street.

"Alright, back door. I can see a group of them going store by store down the street and waiting for them ain't doing us any favors," she said grimly.

The Sith Empire was known for a few things. One of them? Keeping their people on a leash most of the time.... but when they let them OFF? Neri's mouth set in a hard line. She remembered Thyferra. This was different. This was the bloodlust after a victory, rather than the intent scrutiny of vengeance wrought in fire. In a way this was more dangerous. Rabid and impersonal both at once.

Neri ushered the small group of people out the back of the bar and into the alleyway that ran along behind the stores. There, for now, relative quiet. But the echoes from the street could still be heard.

"Hurry."

ooc:

Spoiler

Hello and welcome! This is an open skirmish, ooc thread to be found here:
http://starwarsrp.net/topic/146921-nar-sha-dont-open-skirmish-ooc/

This is meant to be a good old, low stakes, fight fight fight. Scrap it up! The set up begins en media res, so feel free to either jump right into the story already unfolding or write how your character arrives on Nar Shaddaa. The focus/idea is mostly groundside interactions, but if you want to do ship stuff I'd recommend finding someone to tango with who wants the same! Have fun, be fair, write cool stories!

 

[Miri O'Hare]

"Well that was easy enough," she muttered, loading the last of the cargo into the bay. Her eyes fell critically on a particularly modified K-series security droid and her face crunched into a scowl. "Would have been nice to have had some help." The sitting droid perked up and looked around the hold confused.

"What do you mean me?" the droid pointed a slender finger at its chest.

"I don't see any other help around here do you? Even Six pushed a few carts!"

"You needed the exercise. You were starting to get flabby." Miri's face flushed. Since she'd joined the Smuggler's Alliance and began moving freight for the Corellians and the Alliance she'd started to put on a little bit of weight. Long distance travel with little excitement was good for her overall health since people with bloodburn weren't supposed to live very exciting lives. Technically they weren't supposed to fly as often as she did but a girl had to eat! And eat she had, it was almost all she did besides the short workouts mandated by the K-series droid who pulled triple duty as security partner, nurse, and co-pilot.

"Listen KIX, you only live once and my life has been cut significantly short so I'm just..." she stumbled over words before crossing her arms over her chest. "Just let me live!" She huffed and began storming back off the ship towards the city when Six flew down the hall and into the hold, bumping its head loudly as it tried to get in, a stream of binary shooting from its vocabulator.

"What in the Corellian hells is wrong with you?" More gibberish. She looked to KIX for help and the droid stood up quickly, his photoreceptors flashing wildly. startling Miri even more.

"The Sith are here,"

"$3*^" Miri cursed.

[member="Neri Rashal"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

​

​

Nar Shaddaa

Fires raged.

People died.

Above that all strode the Emperor of All Sith, his synth-leather boots dirtied with blood and grime as he stalked across one of the innumerable durasteel walkways crisscrossing the bottomless ravines. Black cloak trailed behind him, occasionally billowing when struck by a forceful gale. In his right hand was a sword of fire and light, a crackling rod the color of freshly spilt blood. In his left he drug a corpse by the scruff of its neck, battered and broken legs trailing limpy behind.

Around him were his followers, his subjects, his soldiers. They took great pleasure in the revelry, a stark contrast to the grim and stoic demeanor of their Lord. Those who knew him better than any would recognize the dissonance of outward expression and inner thoughts, as the fetid stench of blood and offal in his nostrils sparked the synapses of his brain and brought on a macabre euphoria known only to his majesty.

Before them loomed a Hutt palace, a jutting edifice of sharp angular walls ringed by smooth mushroom-stalk towers. When the Sith fleet had exited hyperspace over Nar Shaddaa, the palace was one of the many places that closed its gates and did nothing while the wretched inhabitants were slaughtered and paraded in grotesque processions beyond their walls. Those that could flew the pennant of the Sith Empire above the banners of whatever Kajidic just so happened to occupy these ancient citadels amidst the towering skyscrapers and endless plains of duracrete and durasteel. For the most part, the Sith tended to leave these palaces alone when they were flying the colors of the Empire.

But not this one.

The flag of the Empire did brazenly flutter from its ramparts, but it was the kajidic banner that flew alongside it that drew the Emperor's attention. He recognized the symbols, they were an amalgamation of multi-colored squares and ovals that denoted the Trinivii kajidic. In decades past, this Hutt kajidic had supplied the Jedi with local hyperspace routes that had allow them to bypass Sith fleets protecting the Parlemian Trade Route in exchange for exclusive trade rights in former Imperial space when the Old Empire collapsed. The Sith had never truly forgotten what the Trinivii had done, neither have they ever forgiven them. They had been spared only due to the Empire's fixation on other parts of the galaxy, an attention that was constantly dominated by other events.

No longer.

"Bring up the siege engines, I want these gates torn down." Growled the Emperor, gesturing menacingly with the tip of his lightsaber. "It is time for old wounds to heal."

 

[Karsan Munin]

Karsan Calnov was a man of a lot of things. And hate- and anger was one of them.

It was what lead him here. He was here on a personal mission of revenge- and it had lead him here, to Hutt space. It wasn't the Hutts he was concerned about- there was only one Hutt in particular that wanted him dead, and Karsan believed that he wouldn't dare cross him now- in fact, Karsan wasn't even sure that he was alive.

But his mission had an interruption. The sounds of war, the sounds of chaos came exploding around him. His world was on fire again. He was in the middle of a war again. Of a fight. Always a fight, always a war. Within himself, just as much as around him.

His revenge would have to wait. There was a war to fight.

-----​

​

The Sith soldier had recently came out of basic training not even a few months. He was excited, eager to prove himself to the more veteran comrades that he was surrounded by. He was eager to take slaves, prove himself, and test himself in the fires of combat. He turned a corner, and the last thing he ever saw come across his visor was a crushgaunt-adorned fist. Karsan crushed his helmet, sending plasteel, glass into his eyes. He screamed out in pain, causing his comrades who were rounding up innocents to turn their heads- but they were too late to even help him.

----​

Karsan let the kid grab his face and drop his rifle down. Karsan helped himself to pointing the kids rifle at his chin- and struck the kids wrist. The jerking movement caused the trigger-finger to jerk down- and the kid removed his own skull. The blaster tore his head clean off at that angle. He slumped over- and Karsan helped himself the rifle. They were like fish in a barrel, in the alleyway.

Kaine Zambrano had trained him well, very well, in fact.

But Karsan had learned a lot of things on his own, too. He'd come for a war, so he had his Beskar'gam, his pistols, his Beskad- he had plenty of weapons to fight them off with. Question was-

Did the Sith bring enough to stop him?

[member="Darth Carnifex"] l [member="Miri O'Hare"] l [member="Neri Rashal"]​

 

[Zef Halo]

Never had he left on a shore leave during his tenure as an Antarian Ranger, never did he claim any days off either. A Mandalorian did not understand the meaning of such words.

Not until today.

The shocked faces of his commanding officers were the only verbal reply he had received from them when he requested a brief shore leave. No questions. And even if they had asked, Amon would answer them with his typical grim silence.

Nar Shaddaa.

An infochant seemed to have attained information that his sister was actually...alive. Amon saw her die on that cursed day of the Red Coronation but skepticism ended where emotional attachments began. Despite how impossible the rumor sounded, Amon had to follow it.

Unfortunately, his way to the infochant ceased the moment the Sith Imperial Legion stormed the planet all guns blazing. With no armor on, except for a pair of vambraces and the concealed hilt of his darksaber, Amon found himself right in the middle of hell.

A corpse of a Sith Trooper flew from a mini-explosion right into the wall of the alley a woman [[member="Neri Rashal"]] hurried people out of the back of a bar. His spine cracked in a noise best described as grotesque as he hit the wall and crumbled submitting his existence to oblivion. An eerie buzzing noise like that of a demonic wasps' nest grew louder along with the size of a shadow before it materialized from the corner of the alley in the shape of Amon.

He slashed deeply through the dead soldier's chest just to be sure he would stay dead before turning his eyes at the crowd of people exiting into the alley from a backdoor. Brushes of blood, smoke and dirt stained his the stone canvas that was his face.

"Not through here." the Mandalorian moved in the alley disappearing from the main street in a hurry. He pointed the opposite direction from which he came. "There, move. Silently."

Amon had no clue why he decided to act as a shepherd, perhaps the ideals of the Rangers and the Silvers were rubbing off on him.

 

[Darth Ophidia]

[member="Neri Rashal"]

Pantora had been a success. They had proven once again that the Sith Empire was not to be trifled with. They had butchered and burned, but the legion was far from spent. Their blood still boiled, and there were spoils ripe for the taking.

While the Xiphos had not stopped in orbit, but moved on toward its' undisclosed location, Darth Ophidia had decided to join the raiding parties. Her blood did not boil, nor did her mind shake with bloodlust like an acolyte post their first successful battle. Rather, she had taken the opportunity to close some old chapters and snip away the last remains of burdensome threads.

A body lay by her feet, the last of three.

Casually, the ashen-skinned woman placed a new shikkar blade in the wrist-mount. The glass-like shard of the previous blade dropped to the blood-soaked ground as the new blade retracted like the fang of some viper post hiss. She stepped on the shard to crack it against the duracrete ground, and then threw a last glance at the rodian and his two thugs. She had said to come alone. Shame to waste good henchmen by disobeying her.

Just as Ophidia's mind was about to turn to her next task, she heard something; the opening of a door, the movement of a crowd.

Her body flattened against the shadow and steel, but her eyes remained open, like embers in coal, staring as bar patrons escaped through a back door. She knew she should had set fire to the bar, or at least barred the door. One hand cupped one of her lightsabre hilts as her eyes fell on a brown-haired woman, a leader. They were coming in her direction.

"Hurry"

 

[Jorco Czeku]

Once upon a time Jorco used to lay claim to some of the neighborhoods on this planet. They were his old stomping grounds. Offering protection to local businesses through intimidation. However, this only worked on lowly street thugs. More organized groups would easily give Jorco and his gang a run for their money.

Although for the last couple years Jorco has neglected his criminal background in more political and corporate pursuits. Unfortunately though the rug was taken from under him. Leaving him to crawl back to the criminal underworld. Fortunately for him he'd done well to keep many of his old allies. Currently his was in an open turf war with other fledgling mobsters to take control of what they can. Something that the Rodian has always been well aware of though is that there's always a bigger fish, and unfortunately today one of the biggest fish in the galaxy rear it's ugly head at the smuggler's moon.

* * *​

Jorco watched as some of his men dragged a rival gang leader across the street. They'd been unfortunate enough to have gotten caught in a battle that'd just taken place. He'd just began to realize what The Sarlacc Syndicate had in store for him. In a frightened panic they tried to scramble out of the grip of Jorco's men by they held him tight. They cried out for the Rodian to show mercy. Prompting one of the syndicate's members to strike him in the face. "Shut up..." They barked, letting out a soft but menacing laugh after.

Despite adrenaline taking over the rival mobster they were helpless as Jorco's men threw him onto the edge of the street, their head next to the curb. "Bite it..." Jorco commanded. However, they refused, shaking their head shutting there mouth. Jorco signaled his men to take of it the resistance as they bent down and forced their mouth open and placed it on the curb.

"Julete Donavey, you are here today because you have wronged me and abused the vulnerable in my territory during my absence. We at the Sarlacc Syndicate find you guilty of selling death sticks to the youth, kidnapping and trafficking, and unauthorized extortion." The whole time the rodian had a cold and calculated tone as their rival continued to panic. Stepping behind them Jorco raised his right leg, and in a swift motion stomped it down. Striking the solid duracrete beside their head. In fear the man screamed and closed his eyes only to find that they head had not been bluntly split in two. After that Jorco knelt down beside them.

"Despite this we at the Sarlacc Syndicate have decided to show you mercy, and are letting you off with a warning." As the Rodian mobster stood back up, his men let go of the rival and stepped back. Jorco had never planned to kill or severely injure them but to send them a clear message that he was back in town.

Just after one of Jorco's men approached. "Boss, The Sith are making their way to our position." The imperial war machine had thrown a wrench into Jorco's plans for his own turf war. Mere gangsters would stand now chance before the professional army, which he understood. But then again the chaos provided by the unprovoked attack would be invaluable.

This put Jorco between a rock and a hard place in terms of what decision he would make. Either take advantage of the carnage, or stay out of sight until the storm blew over.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Darth Ophidia"] | [member="Amon Vizsla"] | [member="Neri Rashal"]

She didn't know how to feel about all this.

Her blood pumping, adrenaline cheering her on, the slaughter had been grand on Pantora. Victorious. The Outer Rim Coalition beaten back and fractured there. It shouldn't feel this good, should it? Ophidia was her captor. The one who had enslaved her. Just a year ago Ivory had been a Warlord. Commanding armies (thugs and pit fighters, true, but an army nonetheless).

Now she was subservient to that schutta.

Stronger every day. The Force slowly subjugating under her grasp. But a slave. Not something that Iv could ever forget.

Nar Shaddaa was chaos. Shouts and screams in the distance, while her hands lashed out. From them ripped waves of telekinetic trauma. Invisible walls smashing into anything it came across.

Amon thought the indicated path was safe.

A corpse of a Rodian flying through the air towards him? Indicated the opposite.

"Come on!" Ivory screamed at the strange lightsaber-wielding guy. Screamed exactly the way an acolyte fresh of a bloody victory would. Ophidia was probably disappointed, but she wasn't here. So it didn't matter what she thought. All that mattered was this. Drowning them all in blood. Forgetting, just for a moment, she was a slave... by enslaving and killing all those around her.

"Show me what you got."

 

[Peyton Steele]

The Underground’s ORION network didn’t seem to even see that Sith Force coming for Pantora. The chances of them hitting that world just seemed slim, the strike was shocking, but by the time she was mobilized, the Sith fleet had already moved on, other targets, and the fact that she had been in pursuit, meant she was showing up to Nar Shaddaa around the same time that the Sith Fleet was. Rushing her ship down to the planet, she was hoping to get ahead of the curve, and with her changing IFF on the Underground vessel, well, that was a pretty easy move. Sure, it was a Starbird, a typical Alliance vessel, but a few reports of them being stolen, and it wasn’t so hard to see some pirate flying it.

Plus, Peyton seemed to have a way of being very convincing to traffic controlers, had Nar Shaddaa had any. But that was hours ago. Now she was running, on the streets, pistol in one hand, stun baton in the other. A blast hit the street where she was and tossed her down an alley. Hitting the wall, she grunted and shook her head. Grabbing for her pistol, she shook her head.

She was not wearing her armor, left aboard the ship. She really was out of her element here, and she knew she got separated from her team. Get people out of here, steal what data you could. That meant getting ahold of a Sith droid.

Steal a droid they said, it’d be fun, they said.

Well, no one said it would be fun. Nor easy. The blonde should go work on finding a set of armor to hop into. But right now she was just in her jumpsuit. “Droid, Blade. Where you guys at?”

What even was that blast? She didn’t know. She’d find out soon, though.

[member="Servant"]
[member="Deacon"]

 

[Kuzo]

Nar Shaddaa
The Alley Way
[member="Amon Vizsla"] [member="Darth Ophidia"] [member="Ivory"]

Neri was on high alert. Every muscle tense, every sense in play. So while the first (sob) body (and explosion) came out of nowhere, it didn't trigger the freeze response she ran into when she deliberately stowed the hyper vigilance. Instead of freezing or cringing, the reactive response was the sound of the shotgun cocking and her taking aim. A step in front of the group she had somehow ended up leading. It wasn't a conscious thing, a choice. Really in situations like this, what choice did she have?


The situation didn't help matters. The body was clearly a Sith trooper- that fact alone could have meant that the form coming out of the shadows, that terrible buzzing filling the air around him, wasn't their enemy. But since when could one rely on a Sith to not turn on their own, simply because they wanted to? Sure, some had their own sorts of honor, but even that was no promise.

Strange, a voice in the back of her mind murmured. Two days ago, if someone had asked you what you thought of Forcers, your answer would have been a shrug and a 'don't give them much thought'- but as soon as you are again faced with a potential Dark-Sider you are prepared to meet the worst in them. You can say you left the conflicts of the Alliance behind you, but that doesn't make it true.

Not so strange perhaps. Could one say it was a bias when again and again it had borne true?

Yes, but perhaps not an unfair one.

The saber didn't help at all.

Black as pitch. Buzzing like wasps. No Jedi wielded a lightsaber like that. Neri didn't know Mandalorian history enough to know that was wrong, but who could blame the assumption? She hadn't seen the blade at first, not until he stepped out into the light- concealed in shadow it had been nearly invisible. But as he did she snugged the shotgun firmer against her shoulder, the barrels aimed right at his face.

"Oh yeah, we're not going anywhere you tell us thanks," came the even reply. "Not until I know who you are."

A good samaritan wielding THAT thing? Possible. But also possible giving orders to herd them to a slaughter. Sure he could lie, but she hadn't met one yet that could resist 'you don't know who I am, peasant?' and she was happy to bank on her ability to get a read on someone if he tried.

Not that they had much of a chance.

Not that the path he had indicated was in truth any safer than the one she had chosen.

A SECOND body came flying through the air, and it was a near thing to avoid opening fire with the tensions as high as they were here. Long training was the only thing that meant she didn't. Two shots in the shotgun wasn't a lot and it was better not to waste it, but when chit came flying from out of the corner of your eye, it took a second to figure out if it was threat or dead rodian.

And then came the screaming.

"Uh."

Okay that had gone from tense to just plain weird.

Neri didn't GET Sith. Internal power struggle? Maybe. Did she care?

Nope.

"That way," she muttered out of the side of her mouth, indicating the bartender away from THAT. Sotto vocce, low and urgent. "Come on, stop gawking and move, unless you want to stay HERE my friend."

That was a big no.

Staying where she was, she kept an eye on Amon and Ivory, ushering the small group ahead. She'd follow as soon as she was sure they WOULDN'T be.

She didn't know she was sending them into the jaws of a snake. The question was only would the jaws snap on them first.... or once Neri finally started backing up. Her eyes on the duo, she trusted that if something happened with the group, she would hear the hubbub and be able to respond.

She didn't know.

 

[Karsan Munin]

Karsan Calnov, if by definitons of any kind, was at least content here. Chaos, war, kinetic environments- Karsan thrived in it.

He turned his head towards the sound of explosions, of screaming.

The condensed, closely-formed space of the planet, and more importantly the area made things confusing. Made things hard for the Sith as much as it did for the people trying to escape. It was easy to fight a war in open terrain, in a variety of locales- but urban warfare was substantially more difficult. Too many killzones, too many things that could go wrong at a moment's notice, at a glance- you look one way, your looking at friendlies. You look another, the entire neighborhood is trying to kill you.

Not exactly easy.

Karsan walked through the street, holding the Beskad outward at his hands. The T-shape visor was a staunch contrast to the golden-hued streets, juxtaposed in many more ways than just angular. He himself- was juxtaposed. He was hyper-violent, hyper-lethal. The Sith weren't his reason for being here. They were in the way. And he was angry about it.

Karsan turned his head. A couple of people.

And then.

He saw it.

Legends, he'd heard.

Stories, he read.

Paintings, carvings, inscriptions- he'd seen.

But what he never did truly- was believe.

The Darksaber.


To say that the Darksaber was important to Mandalorians was as if to say that water was important to crops. It was their pride, their legacy, a mark of their tenacity. But more importantly- the wielder did not ever receive it. They never stole it. Simply because- you had to defeat the last person who had it to take it. It was a mark of strength.
Karsan stared at [member="Amon Vizsla"], no idea who the young man was. But to Karsan, he was the pillar of strength in this place- a true warrior in a world marked by lies, deceit, and cowardice.

Karsan walked forward, rolling his shoulders, coming behind the woman with the shotgun and her entourage. His auditory prowess with his helmet let him get the tail end of their argument.

"You should go with him."

Karsan was as laconic as most Mandalorians were.

At least- the good ones.

Karsan rolled the beskad in his hands, but didn't reach for the disruptor pistols hanging off his hips. Not yet, at least. He was having plenty of fun with just smacking the Sith around with his big-ass Beskar machete-sword.

[member="Neri Rashal"] l [member="Ivory"] l [member="Peyton Steele"] l [member="Darth Ophidia"] l​

 

[Cypher Rage]

Nar Shadda. This was where the Sith's Largest Fleet had fled to. Cypher stood dressed in full power armor. The Armor itself was still a mystery to him. Then there was the Lightsaber-Vibro Sword that was attched to his back. Cypher had out lived a few of the younger officers that had served under him. They had died in vain because of the Sith Armada that had suddenly appeared over Tannab during the CIS Invasion. He was still pissed. A bolt of Pure Electricity flowed from his fingertips and shocked the nearset person to him. The Sith had no idea he had brought himself. Or the Legion of Droid Commandos aboard the CNS Geonois. The Nocturnal Class Battlecruiser was able to slip through the fleet and deploy its Payload. Ha. Much to the Sith's dismay. Revenge was literaly waiting for them [member="Neri Rashal"]

 

[Leona Hart]

Nar Shaddaa
Club Vertica


Take a vacation, she'd thought.

Get away from Terminus, she'd thought.

Enjoy a change of scenery, she'd thought.

Karking maw this was not what she'd had in mind.

Club Vertica was one of her favorite places to gamble on Nar Shaddaa. High class. Elite. Discerning. Didn't let just anyone with money in. Had to have the distance, the connections. She recognized the certain smugness of unearned benefit on most of the faces here, and it amused her to think about where she had come from and how little they would appreciate a 'mere' pawn shop owner rubbing elbows with them. She was perfectly happy for them to misunderstand..... if they realized it at all.

Of course, the day had not gone as planned.

"It's a terrible idea," she murmured to herself. Leona stood near a window on the highest public level of the club. Club Vertica had been locked down when word of the Sith attack had reached them. Wealthy, they were prepared for an outside 'panic', ready to protect their wealthy guests with heavy doors and defensive emplacements. That was meant, however, for things like riots. Gang wars. For now, the rampaging Sith were in other areas of the planet spanning city. But would they come here? And would the defenses mean anything?

The first she couldn't answer. But the second.....

If the Sith turned their eyes to the more affluent district, the blast doors wouldn't stop them.

She breathed in deeply around a stick of tabacc, blowing it out slowly, the smoke curling around the curve of the glasteel window and back toward her.

[member="Daro Tarsi"]

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Leona Hart"]

From her left she suddenly heard shouts.

Alarmed ones.

Followed by bouts of laughter.... and a certain cough that was familiar to her. Ragged, lazy, low and slow. It was the laughing cough of someone who knew he was winning and didn't actually give a chit. Very peculiar. Particular. Looking over was one Daro Tarsi. Wearing his best suit (which was still kinda crappy and eh), rolling dice, and smirking while women hung off his elbows.

Strange how a man waking up near a garbage bin in an alley could look so at home here.

Like he was nobility down on his luck. Rather than common trash, which just enough luck and connections to do better. "Aaaaaaah, that be it. Sorry loves." Daro murmured with a grin. Taking a sip from the infernal canteen. Washing off smell of alcohol. Warding off any more demands for gambits made. "Naw, naw. We already lucky enough not to be karked by the Sith. I ain't testing that anymore, ey?"

Daro detached himself easily.

In the background of the large viewports explosions could be seen. Lots of the crowd seemed shocked. Not him. As he moved to the bar though... he finally saw Leona. "Huh, you here too?" A stretch. Before he finished the walk to the bar. Ordered a drink. Looked at her. Ordered another one. This one... that she liked.

In the past.

"How's you holding up?"

 

[Cali Ziiva]

"Hey," a pink Zeltron shouted, her fist banging on the blast door to a club, "open up."

Why did the Sith have to attack now? She'd come all this way to deliver a shipment, and now the buyer was locked out of reach. All because of a bunch of blood thirsty men and women running around screaming like banshees. Oh, but Cali, the Sith weren't bad people. They just had dark impulses. Maybe a little kink. Hell, kink was fine in a Zeltron's book. Most of them. But running around shooting random people? Not cool.

Obviously the place wasn't opening for a cute girl when the possibility of death creeping in right behind her existed. Could just make a girl sigh.

"Hey, Big Guy," the commlink linked in with her ship, "make sure the cargo is secured. Prime the ship for launch second I get back. Oh, and no, the Sith are not welcome on board for an 'inspection.'"

A synthesized voice replied over the link, "We will not be making the delivery?"

She leaned back against the blast doors for a moment. "Looks like. We'll have to reschedule. You know, if they survive."

"Oh, dear. Twinkle Doom will not be pleased."

Like Mister Gloomy was ever pleased. Being displeased was probably what made the little bot happy. Not that Cali minded; any chance to mess with his circuits. With nothing further to say, the commlink was stuffed back into a pocket. Guess it was time to make a hasty retreat.

It might surprise some people to see how fast a pink blur could move, but Cali really didn't want to become a permanent resident of Nar Shadda. All she had to do was get back to the ship, and get out of the system. They could do it too. Whimsy spent good money on their 'cargo hauler' to make sure pirates didn't get any stupid ideas. Just countless Sith between her and freedom. What could possibly go wrong?

A scream would do.

"Please, spare him!" A woman's voice echoed down the alley of metal and neon lights.

"You should have taught the child manners." The gravely voice held no tolerance for what had probably been some slight by a twelve-year old. Not everyone managed to reach safety before everyone started closing their doors.

Cali had stopped dead in her tracks she'd begun to whip around a corner. Really, the whole exchange didn't involve her. She wasn't a protector of the galaxy. But it was in her nature to make people happy. To free them of their burdens. And then there had been that Jedi that'd gone on about everything and everyone being connected by the Force... it'd all made total sense, even if most of the rest of the philosophy and lifestyle hadn't. Hearing someone beg for mercy really struck home with the Zeltron.

As the blaster pointed at the pain, ready to cut them down, Cali's hand shot out and took hold of the weapon with the Force. The barrel was thrust into the air, its discharge scoring the side of a building. Then her other and was thrust forward to shove the man into a nearby wall.

"Are you alright?" The Zeltron ran up to the Human woman and the Rodian child. A smile blossomed on dark, pink lips. "Do you have somewhere to go?"

"Thank you... Yes, yes it isn't far. We were just on our way there," the Human replied as she started to straighten up, the boy's hand in her own.

"Best hurry. Make sure to secure the door after you." They'd probably be looking for easy targets. People of opportunity. At least this didn't appear to be a proper invasion.

As the pair ran off, the Zeltron's lips rippled. This planet could be fun long as you didn't think about it too much. You know, the slaves. The broken and lost. They were just people so why couldn't the Sith just... No, no, Cali couldn't fight an Empire by herself. She wasn't even a warrior. Time to leave. Yes, time to get back to the ship.

Tag: (Open)​

 

[Servant]

>Law Sync Active
>Current Laws:
1. You can slice through ANYTHING. You are the most talented slicer in the galaxy.
2. Demonstrate your abilities wherever possible. The pay is not important, but the glory is.
3. Challenge rival slicers and prevent them from taking your well-earned crown.

Fire. Bloodshed. Corpses. Fire. Ruins. Fire.

With a mind not dissimilar to a steel trap, acknowledging and analyzing each garish sight, the Intelligence strode through the warring streets of the criminal world. On a good day, it was unlikely that the local roads would have existed in paradisaic conditions, especially given the Hutt affiliations that the planet was renowned for, though the Intelligence did not believe that there would be quite as much fire coating nearly every perceived point of entry or exodus upon the brightly illuminated pathways.

The Tanuki droid; a host which had proven useful in the past due to its exceptional maneuverability, if not its inefficient and quirky programming, now found itself utilized in the role of its organic counterpart, sifting through the detritus-filled alleyways and collapsing structures which seemed to make up a significant portion of the territory.

The durasteel plating and framework which made up several of the external components of the host were clearly more resistant to the exceptional heat of many of the present fiery obstructions, though prolonged exposure to these growing pyres would result in internal overheating and subsequent electronic damage. Though the Intelligence would continue its survival, safe within the confines of its core several dozen blocks away from the endangered host, it would nevertheless be setback rather severely. The operation would almost certainly be a failure if the organics were left in charge of slicing operations.

Beyond that, the Laws clearly dictated that the Intelligence should openly display its abilities wherever possible, and the action of stealing one of the Sith affiliated machines, siphoning away the data which had been left in its databanks, and assuming full control of its motor functions would no doubt prove the capabilities of the artificial entity. When the potential for the mission had been detected, the Intelligence had been quick to contact its past companions, and inform them of its desire to assist in the completion of the mission. Unforeseen complications had arisen, however, on account of the intensity of the raid upon the crime world, and the Intelligence had been separated both from its organic associates, and from the prospective objective.

Crawling through an opened window, through a residence whose occupants had already been exterminated and whose charred corpses now littered the structure, and promptly out the detonated wall at the other end of the apartment, the scavenging droid took immediate notice of what it could only assume was a squadron of Sith affiliated forces. Armed and armored to the teeth with enough destructive instruments to have caused a significant portion of the devastation within this particular street, the Intelligence instantly recognized that any direct confrontation would almost certainly end in the destruction of its Host.

Incidentally, the communication devices being used to transmit orders from the lead organic to its subordinates was detected almost instantly, the close proximity making it quite simple to detect through local airwaves. Lacking in creativity on account of its mechanical mindset, the Intelligence fell back instantly upon a plan it had conceived and performed once in the past, promptly skewering the comm-channel of the squad, turning their well-planned orders into little more than electronic static and the occasional garble of utter gibberish.

Confusion was written upon the body language of the organics, though the Intelligence did not detect it until the Sith warriors began to vocalize their irritation with the sudden failure. Raging eyes began to scour the premises, attempting to determine the cause of their sudden sabotage, but the diminutive size of the Tanuki, and the debris nearby made it somewhat difficult for them to pinpoint the location of the Host. It was at this moment that one of the organics was able to make contact with the Intelligence, requesting to know the location of the Host.

In the sexless and monotone voice it often undertook when communicating through the devices of others, the Intelligence responded with its exact address: "Latitude 234.466, Longitude 841.947" The machine was familiar with the fact that organic minds were ill-designed to thought processes, but it believed that the organics could draw close enough to its position if it provided up to three decimal places of its coordinates. Meanwhile, if the fledgling signal was to believed, the position of [member="Peyton Steele"] was in the direct East, almost immediately beyond the Sith affiliated squad.

Medical diagnostic from this distance acknowledged that all of the squadron members were humanoids, and were likely closely-related to humans in terms of base biology, though without an uploaded anatomy program, it was impossible to determine what their exact races were, and altogether unnecessary for the purposes of the Intelligence. A noise of approximately one-hundred and sixty-five decibels would result in the rupturing or tearing of the eardrum in many humanoids. A degree of safety of roughly ten additional decibels would likely be suitable for dealing with any abnormalities among the squadron. Permanent inner-ear damage and subsequent tinnitus was likely to remain for the extent of the organics lives, but that information did not concern the Intelligence.

Without moving a single hydraulic muscle, the Tanuki gazed onward at the searching squad, observing as they suddenly to a man collapsed onto their knees, many of them dropping their weapons and grasping helplessly at their ears as their comm-systems revolted against them. With the force distracted, the Host promptly sprinted across the street, headed to its rendezvous destination.

Programs

Spoiler

• Biological Diagnostic - 3 PU
• Host Control - 10 PU
• Aggressive Virus Dispatch - Wireless - 10 PU
• System Control - Peyton Comms - 1 PU
• System Control - Sith Squad - 1 PU
• Universal Translator - 2 PU
• Dedicated Defensive Systems - 6 PU
• Mechanical Diagnostic - 3 PU

Remaining PU - 14

Tanuki Droid - http://starwarsrp.net/topic/146036-tanuki-droid/

 

[Darth Ophidia]

[member="Ivory"] [member="Neri Rashal"]

Tensions rose, she saw the woman with the shotgun, heard just barely the conversations. She could taste the people nearby in the air. Ah, Ivory, what violence in her. No, Ophidia was not disappointed. She expected this. An acolyte needed to unleash their violence and act rambunctiously. That was why they had raids such as these. In time, she would be reined in and tempered, given direction, sharpened. That was where some of her previous attempts had failed; they had refused to take direction. And what is power without purpose?

People coming in her direction, fleeing, she let them pass her. Not all, but some. Was she going to let them flee? She considered it. There was no safety on Nar Shadaa tonight. Then again, they smelled so tender. Fresh.

Before she knew it the sabre had entered her hand. Her thumb teased the button.

Waiting. Watching.

The tail end of the group passed her, leaving only a few stragglers and the woman with the shotgun. Darth Ophidia chewed the inside of her lip in anticipation, eyes lingering, hungry, burning and still.

She fished into the back of her toolbelt and pulled out a metal globe. Non-lethal, and some said it was almost useless. She clicked it and quietly tossed it. Smoke flowed out, obscuring the vision of the bar refugees, swallowing her in a deeper obscurity.

She waited for the shotgun woman to get closer, hand on the trigger of her hilt. As soon as she was in range, she would swipe at the weapon in an attempt at rendering it useless. Those guns were such a hazzle.

 

[Shade of Decay]

"I don't believe I've ever set foot on a more worthless planetoid."

Tsisaar walked slowly along one of the alleys of Nar Shaddaa, the crumbling, decrepit architecture around him closing in tightly, like a poor creature's attempt to replicate Coruscant. It didn't help that he was somewhat lower down among the levels, rather than walking through the more open and up-to-date squares and streets higher up. Such movements there would be too open and observable for what he intended to have done.

He turned to the woman walking next to him, motioning for her to stop. "This is where we part ways," he said quietly. "The citadel of a certain Kajidic, Kajidic Dastilli, is nearby. Their Kajidii was an ally of the Saaraishash." He stopped for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Was being the important word there. Some months ago, while I was taking care of some business that needed his aid, I was attacked by assassins. Though they claimed to work for a certain clan, I determined they'd actually been sent from Dastilli."

He pulled out a piece of parchment, that had the flag of Kajidic Dastilli drawn upon it, and handed it to Iresias. "I imagine he was trying to use my death to incite a war between the clans, with Sith aid as revenge for my killing. Unfortunately, the Kajidii is not nearly so bright as his predecessors were. Infiltrate their compound, kill any of the Hutts you find inside as well as anybody who comes to their aid, and bring me any especially valuable information or materials you might happen to find while doing so." He withdrew his hands back within the folds of his robe, nodding with his head off in the direction he expected [member="Iresias Sirax"] to go.

"You'll find them a couple kilometers east of here. There'll be an entrance on this level where you'll get in the easiest." He turned, walking back down his original path. "I have other matters to attend to." Matters of more importance than getting revenge on an unwise Hutt, in his mind. He could sense a presence on the planet, fairly near to where he stood, that was familiar to him. The master of one of his earlier adversaries, a former tool of the Sith...

I am coming for you, [member="Romi Jade"]. It is time for you to rejoin your apprentice.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

​

​

Plumes of phosphorous light billow out from grotesque rents in the fortress walls, smoldering stone and melting metal falling away down into the bottomless depths. Companies of Imperial Legionnaires advanced on the gates, their path blocked by piles of debris that had fallen down from the fortress battlements above. Scourge war droids comprised the majority of the vanguard, escorted by towering Titan automatons, while the organic Legionnaires moved up from behind.

But at the very front of the advance was the Sith Emperor himself, unfettered by caution.

In his hand crackled his lightsaber, scarlet blade slashing back and forth to redirect the energy bolts of the Hutt defenders back towards them. Occasionally one would clutch at their wound and tumble down to the ground, but for the most part the Emperor's implacable defenses kept them ducking behind the multi-tiered walls. Houks, Klatooinians, Weequays, and Nikto comprised the majority of the Hutt palace defenders, typical henchmen of the Hutt Cartel in general. From where the Emperor stood before the unbroken gate, he could see neither hide nor slime of the fetid warlord that had locked himself inside.

The high-pitched whine of an engine cut through the cacophony of battle as aerial assault ships swung around from one of the palace's mushroom towers, guns letting loose on the advancing packs of battle droids and Legionnaires.

One of these ships decided to turn its weapons against the Emperor.

A foolish mistake.

The Emperor leapt up and over the creeping barrage of cannon fire and missiles, sending a pair of the explosive devices tumbling away with the Force so that they exploded harmlessly beneath the fortress moat. Synth-leather clad feet connected with the stone edifice of the Palace walls, the Emperor then propelling himself off and up from the wall, spinning in mid-air as he did so, to land upon the top of the nearest aerial vehicle. Lightsaber now ignited, he swung down to slice through the armor plating connecting one of the wing turbines to the main fuselage of the ship. The wing tumbled down into the abyss as the craft suddenly began to spin out of control, twirling around and around as more and more altitude was lost with each passing second.

Propelling himself away from the doomed aircraft, the Emperor managed to latch onto one of the fortress parapets and haul himself up and over the wall. Once in amidst the wall's defenders he was virtually unstoppable, his advance towards the gate tower visible even from the bridge connecting the palace proper with the rest of the cityscape.

The gates flying open to welcome the advancing Sith Army was all the evidence required to know that the Emperor's assault on the tower had been a success.

 

[Iresias Sirax]

Her master's words had piqued a curiosity within; words of plot - of scheming stink that would soon end miserably for those without the wit to foresee the consequences to be wrought upon them. How could one be so foolish? It mattered not, truthfully. All that was to be understood was the weight of death, and the reaping of what has been so thoughtlessly sown. Fate was coming.

Behind a durasteel apparatus bearing no discernible, relatable features to anyone human or similar, Iresias listened with an eerie silence. Red hues of electronic inner-workings glowed with a soft light, the form of the woman herself adorned with a blackened scarf wrapped around her neck, hanging just off her shoulders. Her body clad in vest lined with duraplast plates, the rest of her figure concealed in a form-fitting body glove. In this moment, Iresias would become that of Sith - the advent of her new beginning.

She accepted the parchment, giving a subtle nod to [member="Tsisaar Taral"].

They would pay in blood, those with the audacity to toy with the Sith like they were personal attack dogs. They were owed nothing, and nothing they would become. Iresias departed, her expression lifeless beneath her helmet. Blood was on her mind, that sanguine metallic aphrodisiac.

The smell, the feeling of its viscous embrace coating her hands and body. Her skin twitched with morbid delight.

- Arrival -​

​

As she approached the supposed location of the compound, Iresias noticed the very same semblance of the flag upon a hatch. The way was seemingly lacking of reinforcement, quiet and rancid with the offensive odor of such a lowly city; a far cry from Zeltros, and a great offense to the higher standards of the noble Zeltron. Iresias had heard stories of this place, and how its populace consisted of insignificant scum and criminals alike. Upon making entry, Iresias eased herself into the tight confines of what could be thought of as a backwater method for those working under the Hutts that resided somewhere within.

Her footfalls stopped in place, her ears picking up the faint chattering of multiple men at least a few meters away. They were none the wiser, and now was the moment of reckoning. Her footfalls started again slowly, then quickened into a gradual sprint as she rounded a nondescript corner in a rather bland duracrete corridor. A small group of five men armed with military grade blasters turned their attention to the sudden disturbance, their eyes going wide as Iresias rammed her midnight gloved fist into the center of the leftmost bodyguard, his sternum shattering as the blow coupled with the might of the Force dealt fatal internal damage.

As the others thought to react by immediately but wildly opening fire in retaliation, Iresias took hold of her first target and pulled him in front of herself, his form becoming riddled and reduced by a barrage of blaster bolts. The corpse was shoved forward, the screeching hiss of Iresias' lightsaber broke through the cacophony of dread and panic as the remaining men regarded their friend that they so recklessly murdered. She twirled the blackened hilt, and with a few precise, surgical slashes, their quarrel had met its end. Their bodies cut deep, scorched flesh emitting a sickly sweet smoke.

Casually but with a cold, stoic demeanor, Iresias carried on. A final twirl of her crimson blade as she sensed other nearby prey...

Blood... she craved it so.