Our Collective

[Janeth Farr]

NAR SHADDAA
OOC THREAD

On the Smuggler's Moon they meet; these agents of the Collective.

Resources are required if the fledgling organization has any chance of accomplishing its daunting objective. Credits, manpower, and logistics.

Nar Shaddaa was a world where all of these things come into place. Mercenaries, bounty hunters, and the infamous Gank Killers made it their home. A great financial hub existed in the upper city, financing virtually all the systems in Hutt Space. And countless criminal organizations struck the undercity, where they mastered the logistics of their trade in a bid for wealth and power.

It is the immediate goal of the Collective to acquire these necessities and establish a permanent foothold on the legendary ecumenopolis.

Janeth landed her light freighter on one of the mid-level docking pads near the heart of the entertainment district. She knew it was here where she would come into contact with gang leaders and crime lords alike. Many of the clubs and cantinas were owned by such people, and plenty more catered to their ilk. The woman descended the ramp of her vessel, eclipsed in total darkness on the night side of the moon.

Polluted air would've been filling her lungs if not for the simple rebreather attached to her helmet. A heavy blaster holstered at her hip was her only weapon, and a simple armour chest piece to keep her internals safe from some weapons fire and melee strikes.

She walked down the path that led her deeper into the city.

 

[Darth Imperia]

Standing beside [member="Janeth Farr"] was another woman - if that term even really applied anymore. And it was hard to put your finger on it, but there was something off about this woman.

Maybe it was the fact that she was made mostly of metal - so heavily modified that even the most hardcore cyberfetishist would've blanched at her appearance. Maybe it was the fact that, even in motion, her body was disturbingly still - her chest didn't rise or fall, her lungs having been plucked out and replaced with a hyper-efficient substitute; the same went for her heart. And her stomach. And pretty much everything else, really.

But, no - it was probably the way it felt to stand around her. This woman didn't give off the air of a killer, or a coward, or anything else you'd expect from someone who would willingly step foot on Nar Shaddaa. No, she was...approachable. Calm. Zen. She gave off the easy confidence of someone who was totally at peace with the Galaxy.

And that's because she was. Unlike so many other poor, unfortunate souls, she knew who she was and she knew her place in the Galaxy. Assault Unit 818-K was an agent of the Collective, an instrument with which to impose its grand design upon the Galaxy.

There was peace in that.

"So, Janey, what'd you wanna do first? I'm always down for cracking a few skulls, but you're the boss here. Don't remember much about Nar Shaddaa from before."

818 looked over at Janeth, and smiled a sympathetic smile. The cyborg didn't have to worry about the pitch darkness, or the polluted air, or wearing clunky (not to mention ugly) armor. She could even regulate her body temperature and ignore the chill in the air if she wanted.

The perks of being mostly machine.

 

[Ras'kala'han]

It was the height of foolishness to make a flagrant display of wealth on a moon known for thieves, killers, and bandits. Even the busiest street, the most crowded square, was not safe - the law was anarchy, the regulations of the grotesque, slavering Hutts to be waived at the will of said masters or anyone with the pluck to cross the invertebrate crime lords of the Smuggler's Moon. Foolishness, that is, if were a part of the masses.

The palanquin which bore Antherion was uplifted by a single repulsor, pulled by a quartet of Trandoshans - their scales painted a gleaming bronze to match the filigree workings of the device so the neon lights of the city scattered off their bare chests like a jewelbox. They had no regard for the cold, their pupils dilated with the obvious effect of a Savorium high - a famous species of slavers, now enslaved. They were chained to the novel device at the throat.

Antherion himself was protected from public sight by a few stiff layers of dyed shadowsilk, all the better to avoid what likely most would have drawn attention - the fact that he now had more in common with a desiccated corpse than a living being. His breath rattled once every few minutes. His heart scarce beat. On his chair, he rested, perfect-still, unblinking, unmoving. Awaiting.

~​

He was aware of this intriguing, transcendentalist Collective by their own outreach, of this shadowy cabal. There were ideals driving it from the top, potentially problematic, but a reliable impulse underwrote these and pulled the organization together - the eternal desire to dominate others. He could understand.

The truth was, his chief concerns were money and power. He had little interest in serving or supplication - he intended to give and receive, and these were beings who he could reliably receive from. At the very least, because they certainly required secrecy to operate. A few months' worth time with them, and he could gather enough evidence to ensure that if he went down, they went down with him. Or just, if he willed it, that they went down.

Now, now. He chided himself. At least join this little soiree and see what it has to offer before you start plotting to betray them.

He then, for the moment, contented himself with wandering the streets in a circuitous, ambling path, waiting to again be contacted. Many that he passed were used to the chill in the air, yet gave a slight shiver at the unnatural cold that followed the palanquin. Death was being borne among them, and death was ready to do business.

[member="Sanguinaria"], [member="Janeth Farr"], [member="Evoros"]

 

[Janeth Farr]

"Boss?" She chuckled. "That will take some getting used to..." Janeth carried an enthusiastic attitude with her today.

She considered this operation carefully before arriving. "Our first goal should be to find these 'Ganks.' I don't like dealing with Hutts or Qarrens, so I have no interest in going to the financial sector."

Being a leader was new, but not something she happened to be untrained for. Part of the Mandalorian way of life involved understanding leadership and tactics. Contrary to popular belief, their doctrines extended far beyond battle as well. Though it would come in handy when dealing with the Ganks, a species particularly known for their combat skills.

"Oh, and there really isn't much to say about the world... Crime, Hutts, dancing girls, and apparently an entire race of killers." She smirked beneath her rebreather.

Janeth continued to move down the strip surrounded by towering structures. Countless individuals of many races moved in droves along the sidewalk, avoiding the rise and descent of airspeeders which parked just about anywhere they found space. Already she found faces of the unseemly sort, the kind of men and women she had no interest of dealing with given the choice. Despite being a smuggler she had standards, and she kept to them well with a closed fist or blaster in hand.

Over time more information would be fed to every agent present on Nar Shaddaa. Notices of changes, new opportunities, and general reminders if things weren't developing quickly enough.

[member="Sanguinaria"] | [member="Evoros"] | [member="Antherion"]

 

[Evoros]

"You should open with the race of killers next time, darling."

Yvonne had taken the liberty of making herself more subtle than the rest of the team. She was a big believer in subtlety until you needed to be noticed, and she didn't yet. Without effort she was considerably average, as likely to be overlooked as not; next to an armor-clad Mandalorian woman and a girl who'd lost near everything to cybernetics but her cheer, her task was even easier.

So her armor consisted of thin protective lining and faith in her ability to dodge bullets; she had a blaster pistol, as discreet as a gun could be without becoming impractical, and a cybernetic where her right arm should be, seamlessly blended in. Of course, Evoros preferred to keep her fights at a distance. Cybernetics were very useful, but they didn't replace combat prowess (not that she made a point of saying so). But the agent was the type who liked to take precautions.

Besides, it threw a nice left hook.

She followed Janeth and Sanguinaria comfortably, neither falling behind nor in a hurry. Her smile was faint, somewhere between genuine and fake and not there at all. Yvonne liked the space in between best. Never one thing, never another. It was complicated in a way, but much simpler in another. Truthfully, she was accustomed to that manner enough not to think on it much.

"So, boss," she drawled, stressing the second word deliberately, "how much else do you know about the Ganks we're chatting up?"

[member="Janeth Farr"] | [member="Antherion"] | [member="Sanguinaria"]​

 

[Kellyn Muir]

He didn't think he'd set foot on back on this rock, yet the collective opinion of the group saw that he did. While the group jested amongst itself, Jest saw fit to remain his usual, semi-antisocial self and remain distant, yet close enough to be in the know. He was still uncertain of the exact intentions or goals of this cabal, yet he still found himself among them. de Rous didn't take risks, yet here he was.

Maybe it was purpose he sought. Maybe it was friendship. Maybe it was something less noble - discord, chaos, anarchy. Likely not, but it was a notion that had crossed his mind. Whatever led him here, he would find out why as he approached that bridge. As the group progressed down the streets of Nar Shaddaa, they clung to the shadows of the towers that made them. They were broken up by neon signs and other lights, but it was still less conspicuous than carelessly walking in the open.

"They're not friendly.", Jest nervously piped up on the topic of Ganks. He'd seen them here before, and he made it a point to stay away from them. After buying the Slave I, he made it a point to stay away from Nar Shaddaa. He didn't mind the planet in itself. He actually kind of liked it, but it was the lawlessness that kept him away. Too much unpredictability. For a pseudo-pacifist, Nar Shaddaa was an especially dangerous place to be.

[member="Janeth Farr"] | [member="Sanguinaria"] | [member="Antherion"] | [member="Evoros"]​

 

[Dyxra'a]

"How's the boss, ma'am?"

The question was asked in a sort of hushed concern, put forwards by a gruff, dirty and knotted-beard human male that lounge upon a rather well made, certainly not as grimy as his own appearance, leather settee. The one that the question had been asked of, a blue skinned and red eyed female, simply sighed as she rested her forehead against the door she had just softly pulled shut as her whole body seemed to slump forwards, the door serving as the only thing keeping her upright. However, that lax in posture didn't last for long, as, even with the silence between the pair growing longer, she suddenly straightened her back, hands clasped behind her back. Turning slowly, she took in the sight of the room with a stuttered sigh at what met her crimson gaze.

Outside dirt and soot covered windows the chaos of the underbelly of Nar Shaddaa rang out loud and boisterous - the catcalling, the screams and shouts, the sultry propositions; all of it a cacophony of the down trodden - but, within those windows, the room was fell furnished. Polished wood and leather seating had been forced into the small space, casting an air of dignity where none should have been. However, it was not the mismatch of upscale within downscale that caused such a stuttered sigh but the sight of papers, real paper and not flimsiplast, scattered about the floor in a chaotic mess that could only have been formed by someone pushing them off of a table. Accompanying that rather isolated bit of chaos were random bits of writing and drawings covered the entirety of the walls in a mess of colour, the scent of ash that hung in the air and the violin and bow set haphazardly next to upturned vials.

Finally turning towards the one that had addressed her with the question, the Chiss silently made her way over to him, lowering herself onto the settee next to him with a groan, titling her head back to stare at the ceiling - only to screw her eyes up in frustration as she saw the writing that had, somehow, been scrawled even there.

"Not good, Jarek, not good. She's still unconscious from whatever it is she took." With a dismissive gesture she pointed towards the emptied vials next to the violin. "How long has she been like this?"

For a moment, Jarek shifted in place, almost hesitant to speak. But, in the end, speak he did. "Since you left, ma'am. She fell into a state for about an hour, worried me and the others to bits, near catatonic she was. Suddenly, she jumps to her feet, screaming for us all to leave, turns, finds them where you'd him 'em, downed them, and got to work making this mess. Sorry t'have to call you back like this, ma'am."

Sighing, the Chiss sat up straight, a hand clasping onto Jarek's shoulder. "Don't worry about it. Better that I was here to limit damage than to not, right?" A brief chuckle would be her only reply. "Well, go to the rest of them, tell them the news that she's fine and that there's no need to worry."

Nodding, Jarek got to his feet and, after a quick look back at the door the Chiss had just minuets ago exited from with a worried gaze, scurried out of the room.

---------

Light, why was it always infernal lights that you first noticed when you woke up?

The question bounced around in the pounding head of the Falleen as she roused from unconsciousness, blurry eyes blinking open only to slam shut at the pain that flared within her head. For a moment, she simply lay there, luxuriating in the feeling of the sheets against her scales, but, in the end, head spinning, she made to move. Swinging her legs off of the bed and sitting up right, causing the sheets to fall away and reveal her nakedness, Dyxra'a hissed in annoyance as the cold stung at her scales and grey eyes finally adjusted to the light enough to look around what she now realised to be her bedroom - at least she wasn't in someone else's. Laying her eyes upon the glass of water next to her bed, the Falleen eagerly scooped it up to drain the glass of it's refreshing contents, sighing afterwards as it served to help sooth the dryness of her thought and roughness upon her tongue.

Grunting, Dyxra'a pushed herself up from her bed, standing on unsteady feet, before marching out of the room, uncaring of her unclothed state. She was she and nothing else and why should she feel shame in that? She was the barely over 5' tall, tiny, green-scaled Falleen with deformed head crests and she was damn proud of that. The fact that she could feel the warmth of the air from the other room through the doorway had also been a big driving factor in her disregard of clothes, he cold-blooded nature pushing her to seek warmth, especially after coming out of the state she had just been in.

Barely five feet out of the door to her room and towards the small, sectioned off area that served as a kitchen, a cold voice spoke from behind her, causing a small smirk to spread across green-tinted lips. "What in the seven hells have you been driving yourself to, this time you damned lizard?"

Turning, Dyxra'a allowed her smirk to grow even more as she stared at the angered from of her Chiss friend, her only friend, Kana'sosu'lighu. "Asosul, come now, don't be so uptight..."

"Uptight? You're calling me uptight? Well I bloody well might well be since I have to deal with your bollocks so much! I go away to ensure that we still have claim on that shipment - which we still do if you're interested - only to be called back early before I can take steps to make sure that that fact is guaranteed by a worried Jarek. And do you know what he bloody well told me? 'Ma'am, the boss is at it again. She's out of control.'" With ever snapped sentence, after she had pushed herself to her feet, Asosul had taken steps towards Dyxra'a so that she was now only inches from the Falleen, looming above her with a finger jabbed into Dyxra'a's sternum. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Humming, Dyxra'a turned away from the Chiss, continuing on her way to the small kitchen. "We can go ahead and let the shipment fall, so you not securing guarantee is nothing to worry about."

"'Nothing to worry about'?' Have you listen to a bleeding thing I've said. When we came back to this thrice-damned moon, to claim the little we had left, you swore to never take again. And, here you are, months later, out of your mind. Do you have any idea as to what you're doing you-"

Spinning around sharply, Dyxra'a cut of Asosul before she could really get started with her own snapped comment. "Do I know? Yes I bloody know! I know that my mind is stagnating! This boring! Boring, boring boring. Same in same out every bloody day! No change, no stimuli, nothing but the same! My mind cries for more, something, anything more. I need puzzles, I need to think, do! This? This hole we're in? It's killing me! Boring, boring, same-old rubbish. Nothing, new. Everyone just so stupid! So easy to trick, to read, no challenge. No stimulus! I need release! This," she blindly grasped one of the empty vials from the table and held it in front of her, "this frees me! My mind no longer spins, it's free, transcended!" Abruptly her harsh tone seemed to sag and loose all emotion. "I'm trapped."

"Dyx..." Silently, the Chiss watched the Falleen go about getting a drink before lifting up the pile of paper she was holding in one hand, half of them written in her own writing as she had copied down the notes scrawled around the room. "What are these then?"

"Evaluations on our competitors. Their weak points are highlighted - unsteady alliances, holes in security, the lot. Pass that on to the group, get them targeting these weaknesses before they're healed. New code to scramble our data, those breaches recently have gotten too close to decoding everything. Make sure that they're implemented as soon as possible. Also, a dissection of that current rising star's, whatever the hell his name is, codes. I want his data pillaged as soon as possible so that he can be driven off of our turf. Also..."

"Also?"

"I tracked down where the hacks were coming from." Turning, Dyxra'a had a mischievous smirk pulling at her lips, a smirk that Asosul hadn't truly seen in months since their fall back to the Smuggler's Moon. "Something called The Collective. We have a new job, my dear. You, you shall be taken Jarek, meeting with the agents already on the Moon; they're going to meet with those Ganks. Assist them and make sure that a foot within the criminal enterprise is already there. I? I shall be seeing about some new funds."

 

[Malen]

If there was any world that Malen would want to be in, it would be Nar Shadaa. The technological infrastructure the planet had was unrivaled. Servers ; databases - you name it, Nar Shadaa had it. And with such a wide variety of devices came the possibility that they could be exploited. Trojan Horses; viruses; zero-days, the possibilities were endless - and that didn't include what attacks could be done on specific sites in the holonet. It was heaven to Malen, and he intended to make it worthwhile.

Add that with the fact that he had joined an organization geared toward taking over Nar Shadaa, Malen was more than happy to enlist, wanting to get as many avenues towards power as he could get. Most of his life had proven to be a disappointment; when you do good for others, the wrath of others would come to kill your friends. So why not do good for yourself?

If there was anything that had been useful though, it was that the Disciples of Twilight had taught him how to reduce his force signature, appearing as any other normal person. He didn't know if the group that had gathered was trustworthy, so precautions had to be taken. Even then, in this world, you could never trust anyone, no matter who they were.

As he walked, he could hear a conversation about Ganks, a species he had never experienced before.

"Is that it?" he said, wondering if he had any more information.

 

[Lok Xiangu]

Clan Farr and Clan Munin were interlocked in a mutual relationship with each other as they both worked together to make the Mandalorian culture great again, but Clan Munin wouldn't be just working with the Farrs. They would be also working with a collective of all kinds of people that were non-Mandalorian. Different backgrounds of the rogue type, or as some normal citizen would deem as scum. Scum that Lok liked to associate with.

Today Vilaz wouldn't be able to make it to today's assignment, but that's where Lok came in. It was also better that the young Munin came today rather than his adopted father due to his knowings of the streets of Nar Shaddaa. What battles to pick, what cartels and people to make your allies, and all the essentials to navigate through the Smugglers' Moon.

Though he didn't came alone. Elite warriors of his clan, in a squad of nine (not counting Lok), came to join him for their mission on the moon. It would be enough to do their part of the job. Instead of dealing with sociopathic Ganks they would be the muscle in establishing their presence in the Underworld and eliminating competition as well as recruiting others.

"Before we go guns blazing, let's meet up with some friends."

 

[Titan]

Piracy, the flaw of the galaxy. Well one of them, there were many others as well. But Titan, or as he now styled himself, Tek'alor, sat at the bridge of the Misfortune's Keep waiting for a finance ship to pass nearby. The thing about having a banking network that shipped hard currency was you vulnerable to piracy if the pirates had gravity well generators, which Tek did. He smiled under his mask, he would help this Collective, it suited his interests at the moment. Besides if fiscal opportunities like this were common, Tek would be a rich man by the end of the year.

Around him were his corsairs, the term Tek'alor preferd to pirate, pirates killed and looted and were crazy; corsairs were gentlebeings simply making a living as semi-honest people. To his left was his gunnery officer, an ex-republic captain the man was in expert in tactics as well. To Tek's right was the navigator, a Selonian, and his First Mate Kryndor Draay, a man well suited to his job as a jack of all trades on board Misfortune's Keep. "Keep us steady and engage the Gravity Well." While their guns would be reduced to half efficiency, any ship passing by, like the treasury ship that would in a few minuets, would be ripped out of hyperspace disorienting every single one of their systems would be temporarily disrupted, allowing Titan's crew to strike and disable its hyperdrive and engines, then the gravity well would be shut off and boarding parties would be sent. Soon, very soon, Tek would be rich.

 

[Hazel Zanteres]

While she wasn't taking as many house calls these days, Hazel still retained her network of contacts. Wasn't a particularly large net, but it consisted of a list of names spread across the galaxy, primarily sourced from former patients she had cared for. It was surprising how grateful folks could be even longer after helping patch them up, even going so far as to pointing her in the direction of more contacts of interest.

It helped the Hapan keep an ear out across the galaxy, picking up any and all information possible even if it was nothing of significance. Something she had used prior to joining the Sacred Lotus, and had remained stagnant until now. Hearing about The Collective was what sprung it back to life, finding them reaching out for those interested, and her meeting them half way and responding. It was why she was even on the planet, to both meet up with them, and widen her network because Nar Shaddaa was certainly up on the list of ideal planets to start.

Albeit, the Hapan knew it was dangerous. The Smuggler's Moon was riddled with criminals, lowlifes, and in general people that preyed on those perceived as naive and innocent.

But Hazel had all the lessons her father had taught her, making use of his years as a smuggler that he had left behind.

She had just got finished visiting the Corellian Sector. The Hapan had checked up on the clinic she had set up there with [member="Joza Perl"], having also promptly holo-called the Zeltron to inform her it was still going smoothly. Hazel had outright snorted with laughter when Joza had mentioned the sign, bringing forth memories of them backtracking through that night of drinking. Now though, Hazel was moving through the Entertainment Sector completely different to how she had arrived earlier. Dressed in her armour with rifle, knife and blaster at hand, each in their respective places on her back and belt.

It cut an imposing figure, and while eyes lingered on her in passing, none moved to approach her. A stark contrast to what would've likely happened if she hadn't worn the armour; a prime target for anyone thinking they could one up the Hapan.

[member="Janeth Farr"] | [member="Sanguinaria"] | [member="Antherion"] | [member="Evoros"] | [member="Jest de Rous"] | [member="Dyxra'a"] | [member="Malen"] | [member="Lok Munin"] | [member="Tek'alor"]​

 

[Titan]

Tek turned to face the viewport in front of him, the banking ship was ripped out of hyperspace. Excellent.Was his only thought, he opened up a line to the ship, “Attention crew of the Alastor, I am Captain Tek'alor of the Misfortune's Keep, this is a robbery, stand and deliver. Shut down your engines and hyperdrive or we will do so by force.” Excellent was how things were going, he would claim this corvette as his own, take a 75% share of the ship's currrency and give the rest to the Collective. Then he could use the corvette to breach the Hutt Treasure Vaults and then claim whatever additional treasure he could, keeping a few prize pieces for himself and his crew of course. “If you surrender now, you will be treated as passengers instead of prisoners and we will drop you off at our first stop after this trip. Otherwise we sell you back to the Hutt's or whoever's interested to make a bigger profit for ourselves, your choice.” The Alastor's engines shut off as did its hyperdrive. “Good choice, now, prepare to be boarded.” Tek said over the comm and gestured to the bridge crew to take over, he would lead the boarding party himself.

 

[Janeth Farr]

"Not enough." She answered Evoros. Though when Jest spoke up she nodded. "Yeah, and they aren't friendly..."

They weren't called Gank Killers for their pacifistic tendencies. Once upon a time they were hired by the Neimodians to protect them and their Ryll trade from a species that grew highly addicted to the drug. The Ganks decided the only course of action was to exterminate the entire species.

If Janeth had any say she'd avoid the unintended genocide of an entire species.

"Alright," she looked to the associates now gathered. She opened comms on closed channels too, so that nearby agents could listen in.

"We ought to split up... The Gank only care about violence. So that will be our approach, but we don't want to alert the attention of the Hutts who rule this world. We also know their most prominent gathering place is a compound in the undercity."

"A slicer will find a way into the planet's security grid and create a false signal to lead law enforcement away from our trail. This will also help us later when we handle the crime bosses and financial district. That'll be dangerous, so someone will need to escort them and keep physical threats off their back. A second slicer will come with me. The Gank Killers rely on cybernetic implants and high tech armour, if we can hack that we can give ourselves a position to bargain from."

Janeth also knew that Clan Munin had sent some of their muscle to assist. "Someone needs to meet up with Lok and his soldiers, together you'll sweep the compound's exterior. That way they can't flank us. Anyone else can come with me directly to meet with... Err, whoever is in-charge of these lot."

A simple plan, though it was the best one she had. Once the Gank were in their pocket then the Collective could move onto the other objectives. Using muscle to strong-arm the gang bosses and support the slicers in taking control of the financial sector.

Once everyone figured out where they needed to be, then they would begin their move.

[member="Sanguinaria"] | [member="Antherion"] | [member="Evoros"] | [member="Jest de Rous"] | [member="Dyxra'a"] | [member="Malen"] | [member="Lok Munin"] | [member="Hazel Zanteres"] | [member="Tek'alor"]

 

[Kellyn Muir]

"I can do that.", Jest said confidently, notioning he would strike the security grid. He'd done something similar on the fly when he was making his way to the spaceport some time ago. Janeth indicated it would be dangerous, and though each hack wasn't without risk, they were generally less dangerous the more loops you threw in. Jest's modus operandi was to hack from somewhere remote, somewhere non-suspect. The last place he'd used a hack he obliterated with the turbolasers of the Slave I.

Without delay, Jest turned about and took a few steps outward removing himself from the conversation. He patched into the closed channel to listen, if only as background noise he might passively listen to. Tapping away on his holopad, he began looking at maps of the vicinity and the schematics of buildings therein. Got it. There was a warehouse only a block away, only partially occupied. Partially occupied was always better than completely abandoned, as it was easier to blend in and avoid scans. Individuals in a large building on a scanner only attracted suspicion and consequentially, attention.

Without turning to see who followed, he began his walk down the alleyway. He expected someone to tag along, though who he didn't exactly know. He didn't know any of them well enough to completely trust them, nor to care who accompanied him. He was already out of his comfort zone with a handful of strangers, and now he was jumping both feet into this dangerous project with them for reasons unbeknownst to him. But that's how the saying went - out of the frying pan and into the fire.

[member="Janeth Farr"] | [member="Sanguinaria"] | [member="Antherion"] | [member="Evoros"] | [member="Dyxra'a"] | [member="Malen"] | [member="Lok Munin"] | [member="Hazel Zanteres"] | [member="Tek'alor"] ​

 

[Hazel Zanteres]

Upon reaching the meeting point, Hazel had remained silent as she made her presence known. Several sets of eyes fell on for brief moments, given she was seemingly the last to make a physical appearance.

She listened as the supposed leader; or at least the one organizing this whole thing went about discussing the plan. Hazel didn't know the specifics, just the broad strokes of what they were intending to do on Nar Shaddaa. She had come here on a whim, something about the Collective had tugged on strings that had been recently unearthed.

Her time on Ord Mantell had revealed certain aspects she hadn't realized had been dormant, or maybe they were more recent than she thought. Either way, the Hapan found herself pulled towards in different directions she hadn't been before.
And she wasn't entirely sure how she felt about that.

Hazel's gaze turned to Jest as the man voiced his decision and was promptly on the move.

"I'll back him up." She said, her voice distorted beneath a voice modulator, making it sound more gruff and deeper. The Hapan gave Janeth a small nod before following after the slicer.

In a few swift strides Hazel was just behind Jest as the duo walked down the alleyway. She began to interact with her wrist computer, similarly patching into the secure channel with the rest of the group. From there she simply followed as they headed towards a warehouse.

"What's the plan?"

[member="Janeth Farr"] | [member="Sanguinaria"] | [member="Antherion"] | [member="Evoros"] | [member="Jest de Rous"] | [member="Dyxra'a"] | [member="Malen"] | [member="Lok Munin"] | [member="Tek'alor"]​

 

[Malen]

He was about to volunteer for to take away the security grid, but was beaten by one second by [member="Jest de Rous"]. "I guess I'll take care of their armor." Malen stated, with a hint of disappointment. He found the other job more fun to do, but he knew ultimately the end result outweighed his own feelings.

"I guess I'm with you.", looking at [member="Janeth Farr"]. He didn't know much about her, nor did he know the names of the people in the operation. Other than do his job effectively, his main objective continued to be making sure no one could sense that he was a trained force sensitive.

Malen then waited for them to move out, already preparing his datapad, as well as all the weapons he needed for the mission.

[member="Sanguinaria"] | [member="Antherion"] | [member="Evoros"] | [member="Dyxra'a"] | [member="Lok Munin"] | [member="Hazel Zanteres"] |@ Tek'alor

 

[Titan]

Titan walked on board the enemy ship to a faceful of blasters. "Fire!" Screamed the enemy ships captain. Idiots, Titan drew his sword and walked forward, then he ran through the docking tube and cut down several opponents. His knowledge of Force Speed, combined with his Dolina Ring Seed were paying off, Titan slaughtered everyone in his path. Impaling, decapitating, severing limbs, body slamming, nothing was getting in Titan's way. When he stopped just one enemy, the leader, remained. "Cut the comms on one of the escape pods and jettison him." Titan told his men, "Four of you come with me to the bridge."

When Titan arrived at the bridge there was no one there, it seemed they had been foolish enough to think they could stop him. But they hadn't, and now Titan would be visiting the legendary Dosacc Kadjac vaults.

 

[Evoros]

The crowd was bigger now, but Yvonne's presence - well, lack of one - stayed exactly the same. Not a hair out of place, not a toe out of line. Tapered amber eyes tracked the scene, sketched patterns through the air as she mapped and observed and analysed.

It was precaution, nothing more and nothing less. Certainly not curiosity; people only held interest in how they related to her. But the agent liked making a point of being a step ahead. The element of surprise was a powerful weapon, and more importantly one that she could avoid falling victim to simply by paying attention.

She didn't particularly expect a need for anticipation. Truthfully, she simply preferred the upper hand. Yvonne hated anything that felt lesser.

The set of her face was just shy of impassive. A trace of mirth, a flicker of arrogance; she liked giving little away, but Evoros was enjoying herself. After all, the action was starting soon.

"I can back Munin's team," she offered lightly. "Is it likely we'll run into something dangerous?"

She was sure she'd be happy with either answer available.

​

[member="Janeth Farr"] | [member="Lok Munin"]​

 

[Lok Xiangu]

The suspicious group of Mandalorians trekked their way through the filthy streets of Nar Shaddaa, acting as they own this place. They're government was incompetent and laughable, but as individuals or an intelligent, cooperative group of them they were feared. The glory of the Clans were at its rest, but they still remained as one of the greatest bounty hunters and warriors they Galaxy has ever seen. Just one small attack at Lok or to anyone of his companions, and they would unleash tenfold.

Overkill, but it sent a message.

The squad of Warriors made their way to a location that belonged to an infamous and developing Crime Lord named [member="Gorba the Hutt"]. There were guards protecting the front entrance and readied themselves when they saw Lok and his friends. The young Munin simply continued walking and aggressively bumped shoulders into a Rodian thug. The henchmen followed the foreign guests into the main chambers of Gorba where patrons were drinking, enslaved beautiful women danced, and a slimey Hutt sat overlooking his domain.

"Gorba, it's so nice to meet you," Lok announced out loud where the music stopped playing and everyone looked at him. Munin warriors positioned them in key areas in case things went to kark and Gorba's hired guns were on their guard.

"Let's talk."

[member="Evoros"]

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

Location: Bareesh Pleasure Palace on Nar Shaddaa

The Hutt himself sat on a raised dais, surrounded by Vodran and Nikto retainers. The dancers' movements, the music, the crowd's chatter, the small-talking Gank squad in the corner, everything stopped when the group of Mandalorians barged their way into the palace on Nar Shaddaa. The whole throne room grew deathly quiet.

Wide lips clasped around the stem of a hookah pipe parted to blow out a cloud of vapor, through which Gorba squinted with his one good eye at the cluster of intruders.

"Eh? Bargon wan chee kospah." He rumbled, waving a dismissive hand.

Quiet gasps, then the throne room floor became deserted in a flurry of movement as dancers and courtiers sought to get out of the way. The fifty-or-so retainers in the throne room leveled blaster rifles, slug throwers, and vibroaxes on the Mandos.

A group of Houk thugs, wielding stun batons and pistols, moved to cut off the exit points.

[member="Lok Munin"]