Peace of Mind.

[Ascendant Muse]

HAVEN
Luxury Liner, Hutt Space

Terror brought out the absolute worst in Man.

In decades long since passed, a single nation was responsible for keeping peace in this region of space. It offered shelter, stability, and true Freedom to every soul who flew its banner. For quite some time, this nation gave its people something precious: peace of mind. However. With the passage of time came corruption. Men no longer cared about doing what was right, but instead attempted to turn a profit. Freedom was exchanged for credits - and overnight the Confederacy was but a shadow of its former self. Collapse was inevitable...and in the wake of its fall did enemies pick at its remains.

The people became afraid again.

Yet, all Hope was not lost.

Some remembered why the old nation rose in the first place. Some remembered why many were willing to perish in the name of Independence. In those days, the people were tired of living in terror. They did not not know if the Light would come, promising salvation...only to offer them as a staging area for a battle against Shadow. They did not know if they would exploited by the Imperial, ruined by the Dark, or robbed of all identity in a sea of politics. They did not know when their time was coming...and thus did they unite. And now, those days of fear had come alive again. Now, more than ever, those who remembered needed to unite once more.

And they did.

Their Movement was small, as were many others to date. However. Their goal this day simple. Show the people that freedom had returned. Show the fearful that peace of mind had returned. This day, an operation would take place under the veil of secrecy: an excursion into Hutt Space. There, a bold and vindictive enemy of the Confederacy saw fit to conduct regular raids against the innocent. Semprana the Hutt took old, Confederate vessels in daring strikes; cutting down women and children who dared be in proximity. This would not stand. Semprana had to be brought to heel.

Thus did the brave and bold muster in a number of high-end shuttles, bound for a dreadnought on the edge of Hutt Space. Dubbed the Haven, the vessel was a luxury ship of unprecedented size. It was a symbol of greed and gluttony...it was Semprana's home away from home. Today, the Movement would see it become his final resting place. A plan was set into motion - to board masquerading as party guests before making the Hutt pay. This day, the fearful would be shown that, above all else, there is an ounce of hope left for them.

[member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Tmoxin Temi"] | [member="Darth Interitus"] | [member="Natalie LaForte"] | [member="Aut-X"], [member="Sarunāties"] | [member="Aedan Miles"] | [member="Izevel Zambrano"] | [member="Edward Varric"]​

 

[Natalie LaForte]

"You know I never did like these sort of things." Walking alongside the Semprana, knowing only him for clearing the bounty placed on her head in Hutt space. They weren't great friends, more so acquaintances. More importantly, apparently acquaintances couldn't do each other favors, such as paying for their cruise tickets. Not that she couldn't afford them, however it was just inconsiderate of him to not do it. "And maybe next time I'm hosting an intergalactic cruise I'll not pay for your slug body to board it." Mocking him for the fact he couldn't understand Galactic Basic, and he lacked a translator by his side to help him comprehend the insult.

She could have said something roughly along the same lines in his natural language, Huttese, but she was unarmed, mostly, and didn't want to cause a ruckus on what was supposed to be her night off. Knowing it was a neccesity when dealing in these parts of the galaxy, the Hutts, and especially ones like Semprana thought Galactic Basic to be inferior to their culture and had some deranged superiority complex of requiring others to know their weird, and more importantly, outdated dialect.

Supposed to be.

She had received word that Semprana - the scumbag she was currently walking with - needed to be taught a lesson. Now usually she wasn't up for killing individuals, but she wouldn't stop somebody else from ending his miserable life that had tortured the many.

Apparently he had gotten bored of the silence and shooed Natalie away to the lower decks to mingle with the common folk on-board. At least that meant they could finalize the plan before it was executed. Before he was executed. Patience was a virtue that she did not possess, and was only in this for the possibility of economic gain at the end of it. Ironic, that was the thing she was fighting against.

[member="Eternal Muse"]

 

[Aedan Miles]

Aedan Miles let a small smirk cross his lips the Pirate King was lounging almost lazily in the command throne of his personal flagship the Death God prototype named the Ryoko. Smirking the man raised his head looking out at the vast expanse of space as he waited calmly for his target to arrive he had been contacted and informed of a certain hutt moving through the area in a very tasty looking luxury liner. The group he worked with today had the goal of killing the hutt and Aedan was here to help with their escape while doing what he did best at the same time. Joining his ship were three Dire-class Patrol ships designated Wyrmling, Hatchling, and Drake also there was one of the only ships he had with the capability to halt ships from entering Hyperspace it would not activate until after the ship stopped here than they would be trapped here with him and his men. Sighing he stretched backward rolling his shoulders a bit as he leaned back drinking from the glass of expensive brandy in his hand muttering about it being from a good year. Around his ships members of his clan were laughing and drinking preparing for yet another heist in the fashion they always did after all Aedan was very lax about how they acted as long as they did their job right.

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

The last time Tmoxin dealt with the Hutts was on Christophsis negotiating some ill-fated non-aggression pact with the Hutt Cartel. The details were blurry because of course her favorite red wine - Smuggler’s Red from Corellia - had been liberally consumed, but she recalled that Sempra the Hutt had licked her hand with his large, slimy tongue, and then Draco Vereen freaked out with an irrational display - quite unnecessary at the time - of supernatural force. The Hutts fled faster than pack of feral banthas. How easy diplomacy had been dismantled with a stray, alien tongue and a psychedelic Force illusion.

But wherever commerce and capitalism flowed like rivulets - especially below the wide umbrella of “freedom” - Miss Temi would be there. The owner of the popular arena, gambling den and adult entertainment behemoth, the Morpho Sports Complex had been invited for a high stakes sabacc game.

Her dress, vermilion, to match the chemical-red locks cut to her chin, a slit in the fabric starting at the thigh which allowed a long, pale leg to emerge, distraction for any poor sabacc hands she’d been dealt. Crimson lips in an ever-present smirk, rummer in hand filled with Breath of Heaven, the sweetest, most delectable alcohol from a bottle shared once between she and [member="Aleksandyr Gaillard"]. Tmoxin gave off the aura of poised nonchalance, but her senses were heightened by the Force as she waited for the signal in order to make the strike.

[member="Eternal Muse"]

 

[Malok]

The Good Old Days.

As the glistening hologram danced before the Sith's eyes, his mind was taken back to a simpler time. Decades ago...a lifetime past...Darth Metus had waved the Confederate banner high. What had begun as an enforcement job fit for the then-Mandalorian had blossomed into a life. A place where belonged. The Darth Metus of then fought not for credits, nor glory, nor championing the Dark Side...but for his family. His wife, children, and closest friends. For [member="Calico Tal'verda"] and the Tart Cart full of Dread guard. In those days, things were simple...but everything turned to ash. First his gilded life, then the Confederacy he helped uphold. Everything he built - those same family and friends - fell apart.

And all that was left were fond memories.

A heavy exhale left the man as he focused upon the present. Fear was intoxicating the peoples of the Southern Systems - the very same terror which prompted action before. They were afraid of the Empire bringing "order" to its doorstep. They were afraid of the Jedi bringing "salvation" only to be cut down by the Sith. They were deathly afraid of the growing battle between the Alliance and First Order; hoping against all Hope that the borders wouldn't swell to swallow them in the fighting. The people were petrified. And from that terror came potential.

The Sith's grasp upon the disc which laid in his palm tightened as sulfuric eyes studied the blueprint. Haven. A ship that was easily on par with a warship in terms of dimensions...had been purposed for gluttony alone. A bold Hutt, Semprana, was fattening himself aboard this liner; celebrating his repeated strikes against the Southern Systems. Like a Mandalorian, he raided the planets - making off with assets from the old Confederacy each day. What's more, he terrorized the people along the way, spilling their blood for amusement. Now, while the Sith Lord did not care much for the plight of the people, he was an opportunist. He knew the spirit of Independence could be fostered with a solid victory.

He knew what taking down Semprana would mean for the budding Confederacy, and his own machinations.

Therefore.

His shuttle slid forth from the depths of Hyperspace, thundering forth in order to dock with the luxury liner. This day, Darth Metus did not come as a Sith Lord, nor the son of [member="Darth Carnifex"]. Rather, he came as the CEO of House Verd, Incorporated. With a handsome sum of credits deposited prior to his arrival, the Sith had paid his way upon the ship...a fair price for a Hutt's head. Alongside him were a handful of souls who, today, acted as the CEO's "Entourage." His wife, [member="Izevel Zambrano"]. His brother, [member="Darth Rixas"]. To name a few. In but a few moments' time, the doors of his vessel slid forth to expose a lavish interior. Attendants. Armed Guards. This was truly a Hutt vessel.

Stepping forward, the Sith - dressed in a suit for once - gingerly tapped the comm affixed to his ear. "Metus, checking in." he muttered. And straightway, those Confederates aboard would know a wildcard had arrived.

[member="Aedan Miles"], [member="Arlox"], [member="Aut-X"], [member="Charr"], [member="Darth Interitus"], @Darth Metus, [member="Edward Varric"], [member="IT-88], [member="Izevel Zambrano"], [member="Natalie LaForte"], [member="Nylea Apollodor"], [member="Sarunāties"], [member="Tmoxin Temi"]​

 

[Aedan Miles]

Location: Ryoko
Objective: Drink and check in


Aedan Miles lounged on the command throne of the Ryoko as his crew drank and sang around the ship and on the bridge a small almost mocking smirk on his lips as he raised one hand waving it back and forth along with the song as he heard another voice in his ear muttering a series of three simple words ones that brought a savage smirk to the Pirate King's face. Pressing a finger to his own ear the young man calmly spoke clearly his violet eyes gleaming with anticipation as he licked his lips. H"Pirate King Miles checking in and ready to rob a Hutts visitors blind." After checking in he lifted a bottle of aged brandy to his lips taking a long drink from it a dark smirk on his lips.

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Decimus]

Location: Hutt Space, aboard the Lucrehulk-class Droid Control Ship "Agonizer"

It had been a troubling few weeks for the old Super Tactical Droid. According to the intelligence acquired by Imperial authorities, a sizeable amount of re-purposed Confederate vessels being used as civilian transportation had been forcibly seized by a notorious Hutt, leaving a sizeable influx of casualties in their wake. While Aut-X cared little for said organics, they were, at the end of the day, citizens within his space. Citizens he had sworn to protect in return for their fealty to him and the Geonosian Hives. Geonosis had survived much of the chaos of the dissolution of the CIS under Werah Unon as an unofficial protectorate of the Galactic Empire, and under the direct command of Aut-X, had begun to flourish once more at a rapid pace. Shipyards and foundries were constantly toiling away, filling the overwhelming stockpiles of war material Aut-X had been amassing for as of yet unknown purposes. Yet the actions of these Hutts were a threat to his aims. He needed his workers content, happy to continue working, and blows like this to their morale were something he could not afford at this critical impasse.

He had received intelligence of the Hutt's location after a few well placed bribes in the criminal underworld, and had amassed a task force to board and capture the Hutt's private yacht to eliminate him and all his associates. His personal flagship, the Lucrehulk aptly named "Agonizer", led the task force, which was also comprised of two Providence-class Dreadnaughts and five Munificent-class Frigates, each fully armed and filled to the brim with their maximum droid compliments. In his experience, it was better to be over-prepared than under-prepared. The fleet lurked a few parsecs away from the Hutt's vessel, lurking behind a small nebula.

Aut-X was sat quietly upon the command bridge of the Agonizer, reading reports handed to him by his loyal OOM-series Droid Commander and assistant, OM-5. One of only few droids or beings he actually cared about. Another droid manning the sensor console quickly noticed the arrival of the Hutt ship. "Sir, the enemy ship is within range!", the droid said in the usual chirpy tone of his droid model. "Excellent. Tell all ships to move to their designated coordinates.", Aut-X said with a nod of his head. The droid manning communications responded simply before carrying out his task. "Roger roger!"

[member="Aedan Miles"]
[member="Darth Metus"]
[member="Tmoxin Temi"]
[member="Natalie LaForte"]
[member="Charr"]
[member="IT-88"]
[member="Izevel Zambrano"]

 

[Darth Interitus]

Upon hearing of the Brotherhood's assimilation into the Sith Empire, Darth Interitus had left and followed fellow Sith Lord [member="Darth Metus"] in establishing an old faction that has risen up a couple of times in the span of 800 years. The Confederacy of Independent Systems, a faction that created years in the making by the Order of the Sith Lords, the Grand Scheme originally hatched by Darth Plagueis and then carried out by his apprentice Sidious and then with the help of Darth Tyranus an army was created to rival that of the Galactic Republic. Interitus figured that in the long run a faction led by the Sith as it was in the past would be beneficial to him.

He had traveled to Hutt Space to participate in taking the Luxury liner used by what he could gather a very wealthy Hutt. He had decided to infiltrate the ship in a shuttle, he had come under his guise of Senator Kell Jerrex of Belasco, still under plans to take over the government of Commenor and the eradication of its Jedi Order. Given time his plans would come to fruition, and this was only the beginning.

He arrived on board the ship in his usual trappings, his lightsaber hidden on his back, and concealed by his cape. He walked forth and started to enjoy many of the comforts that were offered, food, gambling, women. All at the same time wishing and wondering when it would end so he could reveal his power and slaughter all that were on board the ship.

[member="Aut-X"] [member="Aedan Miles"] [member="Natalie LaForte"] [member="Izevel Zambrano"] [member="Charr"] [member="IT-88"] [member="Tmoxin Temi"]

 

[IT-88]

Assigned to [member="Darth Interitus"] as his protocol droid, 88 had stripped himself down from his usual Synthskin hiding place. A fresh coat of gold paint and he looked like the latest model of personal droid companion. It was all a ruse, of course, 88 would never actually be a servant to anyone, it wasn't in his programming, he followed orders, but he did not run errands.

88 could act though, it was his prime directive to blend in, easily done when no one knew your identity in the first place. No one ever would, his model isn't in the open market and there would never be another, unless the Maker desired it so. Although the Maker had been quiet lately, 88 was sure if his updates were going through or not.

While his "Senator" was off galavanting with all the pretend amenities that being a Senator held, 88 was in the cockpit managing the pilots and bringing data up from the archives to help download Huttese into his memory core.

[member="Aut-X"] [member="Aedan Miles"] [member="Darth Metus"] [member="Tmoxin Temi"] [member="Natalie LaForte"]

 

[Natalie LaForte]

It wasn't too long before Natalie met an acquaintaince of hers, [member="Darth Interitus"]. Sipping on a glass of water and staring blankly out at the large amount of wealthy guests, similar to her, in their most fancy of costumes, some bearing masks, others choosing not to. For some, that would be a benefit, for others, most likely not. Sighing and unfolding her arms before striding over to Interitus, sorry, 'Senator Kell' whom she had met only once in a senate discussion.

"Fancy seeing you here. Senator." Grinning ear to ear and taking off her mask to show her own identity. "What might bring my most esteemed colleague, Senator Kell Jerrex of Balesco aboard Semprana the Hutt's vessel? I hope you don't have any sinister intentions for this evening."

Natalie was unaware of his involvement in the plan that had been crafted, but hopefully her language would reveal his participation if he was somehow involved.

[member="IT-88"] - [member="Aut-X"] - [member="Aedan Miles"] - [member="Darth Metus"] - [member="Tmoxin Temi"] - [member="Eternal Muse"]

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

Tmoxin’s sabacc game quickly turned into rubbish, but it didn’t matter because, as the minutes ticked by, she knew the signal would come soon. Her Morpho security team - former stormtroopers loyal to the Blood Monarch - were positioned around the room, playing the role of bodyguards, guests and even drink servers.

A chorus of Xlorff and Plandl horns heralded Semprana’s entrance into the main casino area. Semprana was Sempra’s cousin, the Hutt who’d licked Tmoxin’s hand, a memory that was far too easy to recall right down to how the slime-coated tongue felt up on her knuckles. I can’t even remember what I ate for breakfast, but I can suddenly recall that memory as though it happened last night, she mused. The Hapan had been known to hold a grudge, but at the end of the day, this was just business. Eradicating the Hutts felt as natural as breathing to Tmoxin. Vile species.

Drumming her fingers on the table as she folded yet again, the Morpho executive watched a small band assemble, and her heart began to race with adrenaline. As the first strains of the song, “The Girl from the Iktari Circle” began to play, she pressed a button on her chronos which sent a wireless signal to the entire shadowy contingent that the various teams could strike, to arrest Semprana, to seize his assets, free his slaves and offer those far too willing to turn on him a job in a mercenary brigade.

Tmoxin abruptly stood and kicked over the table which felt gratifying after all of those poorly played sabacc hands. Crimson lightsaber ignited, she watched her team of Morpho soldiers open fire upon Semprana and his alien entourage, unaware even of the cruisers and battleships heading towards the liner to keep it from evading capture.

...//: Transmitting signal to allies in range... TIME TO ATTACK

[member="Eternal Muse"] [member="Natalie LaForte"] [member="Aedan Miles"] [member="Darth Metus"] [member="Aut-X"] [member="Darth Interitus"] [member="IT-88"]

 

[Ak'lya]

Natasha weaved among party guests, trying to pass as a noblewoman from the far off Tion cluster. Lady Salana Luxortus of House Barnaba, here as an honored guest of the great and mighty Semprana the Hutt. It had taken weeks of work to get her here, from bribes and deals with the nobles, various shopping trips to make the young woman look the part of a dipsy noble, even going so far as to dye her hair a light blonde. The cybernetic port at the base of her skull was hidden under the high coller of her dress, and although she was supposed to be unarmed. the shatter pistol strapped to her inner thigh was just enough to make sure she could get out of a hairy situation if necessary.

The fancy clothes hid something else. Beneath all the rigid, designer clothing was a simple jumpsuit. Something she could actually work in. So while others played Sabbac and enjoyed the social scene, she leaned against the wall, watching the action. The AI's voice sprang up in her mind. You know, if you walk around, we can hear more conversations.

"Just let me know if your hunch is right."

It'll be easier to tell that with more info. She sighed, starting to push off the wall. Maybe she should try and socialize. If she could play the role well enough. Wait. Getting a transmission... There. Let me see if I can decrypt it. Shaking her head she started walking towards the bar. She'd want a drink to help her swallow the task at hand. Even so, she could feel the disdain from the AI as he worked.

She sighed as the fanfare played, a hand instinctively covering her ears. So here he was after all these years. There was silence, and as she felt someone's hand reach for the zipper of her dress and pull, blaster fire erupted. As most everyone ducked out of the way, and the drunken prankster hit the floor, tearing her dress of in the process, Nat simply stepped out of the ruined dress, pausing just long enough to draw her sidearm. Cybernetic eyes scanned the room.

Nat... The AI sounded worried. The message was to some assassins. You may want to hurry. She frowned, before looking to the woman holding a saber. Kark. Sith. That made it much more complicated. She took off, sprinting for the servant quarters. She didn't have much time. The target would need to be pulled out. And fast.

Before the whole place turned into a bloodbath.

[member="Natalie LaForte"] [member="Aedan Miles"] [member="Tmoxin Temi"] [member="Darth Metus"] [member="Aut-X"] [member="Darth Interitus"] [member="IT-88"]

 

[Noviac Caligo]

How many days had it been? Weeks? No, probably around a month - at least a month; to be fair, he figured his time in the hole had done wonders for his mind. Good things, fantastic things; no matter how hard he banged his fists on the wall, resounding in the dark, it would change nothing. No, it taught him patience, it forced him to meditate - oh if his peers could only see him now. What wonders it has done. Now, for the record, this was not entirely true; no, for starters, it has been two months. Second, he has not yet stopped pounding his fists on the wall. He was in what many called the Hole, solitary confinement on the Haven, courtesy of Semprana. Why? Well, because he was such good friends with a distant relative, something-something twice-removed and then forgotten: Rabozz the Hutt. Now, since their initial meeting on Nar Shaddaa, Nova was like god damn sneeze in a hurricane; to the Inner Rim, Outer Rim, bouncing between ships, planets, and characters - he was a ghost, off the grid. And he still got caught. How? He didn't remember, courtesy of the bruise still glowing on his temple. In any case, stuck here in the dark as Semprana waited for him to rot with potentially life-threatening brain damage, he had nothing but himself, time, and lots of additional time, then some more. Bang, his fists hit the wall again. Bruised, three knuckles broken; the pain was all there was, reminding him where he was. - and what he was going to do when he got out.

Then his senses cleared, the ringing in his ears clearing to the sounds of footsteps, growing closer to his cell. How long had it been since he'd been out? Were they finally going to kill him? Maybe draw and quarter him for whomever was above - he could sense them, souls floating about, indulging in vanity. The words of Vengeance ringed in his ears, and how he longed to bring them all to their knees. Then, there was light - a bright, shining light, which blinded him. He gasped, falling back, large, swollen hands veiling his face from the burning incandescence where, in equal beauty and poetic fashion, a boot connected with his kidney, knocking the air from his lungs. With a cry, he hit the ground; a large, shadowy sillhouette stood over him, complete with wide, frenzy-filled, bloodshot eyes and flaring nostrils set upon the most animal snarl he had ever seen. Oh, that familiar face: it was his guard. Great. "Will you ... just ... stop," the man cried, in between delivering the kicks to his stomach, Nova reeling, squirming, attempting to defend himself blind against his assailant;

"BANGING ​

... THE DAMN ... ​

WALL!"​

Two months was too much for some people, he figured.​

​

Then, Nova caught it: the foot. Blind as he was, this was as much a surprise to himself as the man, who could only inhale in shock just moment before Noviac twisted, jerking his body to the left, carrying the joint along with it. The ankle snapped, the attacker hitting the floor and only milliseconds before the first of the screams could escape, Noviac had jammed his fingers down his throat. Now, this was always something he hated; the holomovies always make it look different - killing someone stealthily, that is. Break their neck? Force be with us, he wasn't nearly strong enough; now suffocation, he could do that. But it took awhile, minutes - even after they passed out, you still had to hold on. And that was after they were done fingering your face, trying to poke at your eyeholes and scratch your cheeks. Now, now - there, the guard lulled to unconsciousness, but Noviac held fast, squeezing until his own vision went red; the light came back to him, the first thing he saw was a blue face, eyes bulging wildly. The guard was dead, and Noviac, at long last, was free. He didn't even feel excited, which in of itself, he felt was profound; no, his thoughts were only on that simple thing he had so long cherished in his waking nightmare. He stood up, rolling his neck, and brushing back his hair; he looked around, only casually kneeling to borrow a baton from his recently-deceased friend (ultimately, struggling a bit - it was trapped beneath the body), before breaking into a stride.

How good it felt to walk again, after all this time, and the lights - they shimmered, the vision of his goal set before him with such revelation that he felt his heart skip a beat; he was going to clean up his mess, real quick, and then he was going to send a message to the Hutts he was done being punished for his playtime. He was going to put his foot down, hard; these slugs were going to remember what happens when you nip at Noviac Caligo's heels.

Let's start with this floor.​

​

[member="Natasha Darkstar"] | [member="Natalie LaForte"] | [member="Aedan Miles"] | [member="Tmoxin Temi"] | [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Aut-X"] | [member="Darth Interitus"] | [member="IT-88"]​

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

Oddly enough the band played the entire chorus of “The Girl from the Iktari Circle” until the horns clattered to the floor and screams around the casino drowned out the singing. Once Tmoxin realized the blaster bolts from the Morpho Security Team had no effect on the tough, slimy hide of Semprana, she realized with a grimace that she would likely have to execute him herself. But that was the type of unsavory chore she normally left to others.

“Evacuate Semprana!” screeched a Sullustan.

Evacuate my Hapan Bayana, thought Tmoxin as she cleaved through a Plandl horn player who inexplicably tried to knock her senseless with his instrument.

“Doors! Now!”

At the command, her team of mercenaries, mind conditioned slaves and former stormtroopers blasted the locks on all of the exit doors so no one could move in or out. The Dark Jedi could already hear Semprana’s guards banging to get in after the doors hissed closed.

She quickly sent another message via her chrono.

...//: Transmitting signal to allies in range... Backup in the casino required


[member="Natasha Darkstar"] | [member="Natalie LaForte"] | [member="Aedan Miles"] | [member="Noviac Caligo"] | [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Aut-X"] | [member="Darth Interitus"] | [member="IT-88"]

 

[IT-88]

After having met with several members of some worthless corporations and other "senators" that really like to hear themselves speak, 88 received the order to execute the Hutts and their conspirators. Without word, a hidden compartment in 88's chest opened and from within he withdrew a blaster pistol and silenced the senators for good.

<<IT-88 on the move to your location.>>

88 fired a quick message back to [member="Tmoxin Temi"]. 88 sprinted down the hallway and extinguished a few guards along the way. They weren't expecting a protocol droid to be a part of this coup. The surprise in their eyes was stored for future gratification.

His former co-conspirator [member="Darth Interitus"] was surely steps behind 88 as he slammed into a door, caving it entirely, allowing him to hop through the deformed metal.

 

[Muad Dib]

Getting on board a few days earlier entailed a few wave of the hands and greasing of the palms. Once on board the man had begun playing cards. And winning a massive amount. As the floor became suspicious of the amount the man was winning they began monitoring him more closely finally approaching him during a particularly large pot and shoving him across the table. As he landed several shifter cards fell from his person. Beating the holy hell out of him they stripped him down to his trousers and tossed him into the brig.

That was three days ago.

Tomorrow was the day he was to be publicly executed by being spaced from an airlock. A discretionary tale of caution to others that would dare cheat and attempt to steal that which was not earned. But for now the man languished in the brig awaiting his execution.

Kneeling in the center of his cell the man rested completely immobile. His eyes were closed and only the rise and fall of his bare chest betrayed any movement. Several guards were outside of the cell flicking small pieces of food wrappers into the electrified field separating the prisoner from freedom.

To the observer the man in the cell was broken, having seemingly accepted his fate that would come on the morrow. But that was the farthest thing from the truth. The man was resting and meditating, drawing on the force as he reached out to sense the events upon the ship.

Days had passed.

But today was when it changed. Feeling the rush of the Darkside releasing across the ship as his people began their assault cause the first movement in the man in days. A slight smirk crossed his face. But still he waited as the loudspeakers blared for the security teams. Sensing the rush of dozens of guards heading to the armory he finally opened his eyes, the glowing blue eyes belonging to Muad Dib.

Rising to his feet he stepped forward and approached the electrified field. Watching the guards preparing to retaliate against the attackers he grinned and slammed open palms against the energy field. As energy sparked and energy coursed through his body he raised his head and howled while drawing on the force to absorb the energy. The guards ran back to the front of the cell and watched the prisoner electrocute himself. Their laughter faded away as Muad sent the siphoned energy back into the field which overloaded the grid and blew the capacitors dropping the brig, guardroom, and armory into darkness.

As the emergency lights flickered on they looked once more to the prisoner who was still standing with head bowed. Then the eyes raised and the glowing blue eyes seemingly pierced their souls as a demonic grin crossed the Mad Knight's face.

"Let's play."

Leaping from the now defunct cell Muad lashed out at the guards, a fist crushing a windpipe, a knee coming up and shattering a jaw, a leaping round house to the temple, and finally grabbing the last to twist the head and snapping the neck with an audible pop.

As the first of the security personnel began to return from the armory they saw a crazed mad man standing amidst the death of four guards, a scene brought to them by the weakly flickering emergency lights.

 

[Derek Dib]

Finding passage on the cruiser wasn't as difficult when you had a massive amount of credits and no rap sheet to say you were a good boy or bad boy. He was someone who flew under the radar. And in most circles that meant you were a criminal. And that in itself was all the identification that was needed. Along with more credits to spend.

He had boarded at the last refueling station and immediately began to lose credits. He bought drinks for those around and was an amusingly hospitable drunk. Seven nights in a row found him on the top deck loosing credits like a gamorean stuck with a pig sticker. But it didn't seem to bother the man though he was loosing credits hand over fist.

When the action started he was kicked back at a sabacc table, black boots resting on the edge as he lost another hand. Black hair and stubble adorned his face. Where he sat with his jacket open revealed the shoulder holsters with weapons. But as he was a jovial sort security no longer considered him a potential target. He lost big and still smiled and laughed. But as the action began the smile melted away and the glowing red eyes looked more dangerous then moments before.

Rising he as five security personnel lined the balcony to begin to fire on [member="Tmoxin Temi"] and her soldiers. With a kick reinforced through his connection to the Force he sent the card table flying out to crash against the guards. The table splintered and two of the guards went down to rise no more. But the other three had begun to climb to their feet to aim weapons at the red eyes man.

Gripping the silver cylinder at the small of his back he spun, extending the Bo staff to it's two meter length that had both ends taper to a sharp spike. As he followed through with the spin he connected with the rifles that were coming to bear on him and knocked them out of line. Reversing the direction of the staff he knocked the first guard in the head dropping him into unconsciousness. Leaping forward he kicked the second with enough force to send him flying over the railing. Spinning once more he dropped into a leg sweep that took the last guard off his feet. Rising he lashed out and kicked the man in the head sending him into the depths of a forced sleep.

Rising he glanced over the balcony and watched as a guard near the abandoned instruments began to draw a bead on the fiery redhead with the saber. Without thinking he threw his bo like a spear that cleaved through the assailant drilling him to the deck. The extinguishing of a life at his hands made the man wince. But this was a battle and he was here as a soldier.

Jumping over the balcony he drew the 48. Enforcer from it's holster and landed on the main floor. As more guards rushed toward him he raised his left hand and summoned the force into a power that the Dib line was renowned for. Bright red flames erupted in a wall of fire over the guards. Turning he aimed at the Hutt and fired two rounds from the slugthrower. A body guard leapt in front of one while the Hutt shoved a slave girl, chained to his hoverchair , in front of another.

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

Aside from her lightsaber, so far Tmoxin had employed normal combat maneuvers in order to evade punches, jabs and blaster fire. But her annoyance that the Hutt was still alive, turned into anger lapping at the edges of her consciousness like a brackish tide. Out of the corner of her chestnut-hued eyes, she noticed [member="Derek Dib"], and while she had never met the man, the Hapan would sense, not just a Force signature, but the same sliver of the darkness that she had inside of her.

Not overwhelming but enough to intrigue her.

A rush of words snaked into his mind, one by one, making their presence known as black tendrils of discomfort and intrusion. With her mentalism she caused enough friction for him to notice, but there was no pain or burning, nor did her soft voice boom out or overwhelm his ear drums.

You and I could make quick work of this room if we combine our powers, she told him, her voice slightly honeyed, but with an unmistakable Hapan accent. I’ll concentrate on Semprana. Once he falls so will the others like a house of pazaak cards.

Putting more faith in Dib than she’d put in most individuals lately, Tmoxin began to Force Choke the loathsome Hutt, attempting a complete anatomical guess to where his windpipe was - the Great Queen Mother only knew. For good measure, she also squeezed his inner organs with Force-powered constriction, leaving herself vulnerable to both blaster and battledroid as she concentrated on draining the alien’s life from him.

 

[Derek Dib]

Feeling the force touch his mind he sensed the presence of [member="Tmoxin Temi"] , the redheaded woman in the center of the room, speak to his mind. Hearing the unspoken words he gave a curt nod and a feeling of agreement through the force as he spun away from the Hutt as more assailants attacked.

The desire to not kill them quickly vanished as now he was in attack mode, not just for himself but for his new comrade in arms. Firing several shots from the enforcer he watched the slugs hammer fist sized holes into four bodies, throwing the lifeless beings back and splattering viscera into the enemy.

Taking shelter from the red eyes man wielding the hand cannon half a dozen guards dove behind the bar. Gritting his teeth Derek quickly ejected the magazine and reloaded the pistol before holstering it and gripping his boo staff to pull from the flooring.

Another wave of guards went on the offensive and Derek closed his eyes for a moment as he used the force to fuel the lightning that traveled through his hands, down his staff, into the flooring, and out into the charging guards. Their bodies writhed as the electrical charges surged through their bodies, hair catching on fire and skin blackening under the unleashed power of the force.

Adrenaline surged as the force warned of an imminent attack. Pivoting and spinning he leaped over to stand between Tmoxin and the bar where the six guards had opened fire. His staff spun in his hands intersecting the blaster bolts that were raining toward the woman. However, one of the shots was from a slug thrower and made it through the whirling barrier created by the staff and connected with his side.

Staggering slightly he grunted from the impact and felt blood pumping from his side. Slamming his staff into the flooring he roared as his eyes completely turned a glowing, fiery red. Raising both hands he raised them at the bar and with a roar of launched flaming jets of ruby fire into the barrier that the six guards dropped behind. Bottles of liquor burst raining the liquid upon the crouched attackers and a moment later the jets of flame ignited the liquor.

As the bar and the guards were consumed with fire Derek dropped the flames and pressed his right hand to his side, instantly searing the wound closed for the moment before retrieving his staff and moving back to his protection of the redhead from oncoming battle droids while she was currently in the process of choking the Hutt so much it's bulbous eyes popped to where they extended nearly a foot from their sockets.

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

Semprana the Hutt was unexpectedly more difficult to choke than a normal human, and Tmoxin balled her hands into fists and pulled back as though garroting the alien with an invisible chain. She tried to think back to secondary school on Hapes, anatomy class in particular, a holo-model of the innards of a Hutt.

Maybe I’m just not squeezing in the right place.

But eventually the loathsome slug, flailed his shrunken arms and flopped over, a huge ropey line of saliva dripping out of his slash of a mouth.

She turned around to see the fellow force user jump into sight, putting himself between her and a barrage of blaster fire. Tempted to help him instead, especially after glimpsing a crimson stain where the man had been hit by a slug, Tmoxin realized that fething Hutt was still alive. With one hand shaped into a claw she squeezed his heart until it burst in his bulky chest.

As fire erupted from the bar, causing a sprinkler system in the liner to activate, she gently placed her hand upon Derek Dib’s shoulder, on tiptoe to reach his ear. “You’re hurt. Let’s get out of here before this whole ship blows up.”

With a giant Force Push, the Hapan literally blasted energy, spraying bodies left and right, forming a path for the two of them to escape the casino room, which between the smoke and fire was rapidly becoming a death trap.

“My ship is on the lower level.”

[member="Derek Dib"]