Private Playing on Pitann

[Darth Strosius]

Pitann was one of the few worlds which had violently resisted the occupation of the Sith Order to a notable degree. Being part of the Kathol Resistance for a short time before it was conquered, Pitann even to this day was suspected to host sympathizers and resistance cells still loyal to the wider Kathol network. Despite the numerous purges, raids, and outright hunts that the local security forces had done in order to try and rid the world of such dissidents.

The Oasis Cantina in particular, a dingy establishment sat in a small settlement in the center of one of the world's dune seas, had been under close watch for some time now as a potential spot for resistance activity. Given how barren and remote the settlement was it was often looked over by local authorities and as such made it perfect for dissidents to hide in. And, more importantly for the sake of the mission at hand, recruit from. The governor of Pitann had requested Sith support in order to help route out the resistance on the world, offering a selection of possible assignments and tasks to Acolytes and Knights alike.

One of them just so happened to be to investigate the Oasis Cantina to determine if it was indeed a source of rebel activity, and then potentially try and determine their nearest base of operations from there if possible. Normally Darth Strosius wouldn't bother, even with his position as Lord Inquisitor, investigating such matters personally as he was a firm believer that governors were meant to sort out their own issues. However, the constant badgering for his opinion and overseeing of Acolytes on their various missions to prove themselves had won out once more. Now he found himself sitting in a transport freighter hanging in low orbit above the world, watching security feeds from the settlement as the Acolyte tasked with investigating the Cantina arrived.

Krinear Malseren

 

[Krinear Malseren]

Krinear descended from his transport with a precise, measured demeanor, instantly finding himself engulfed by the swirling sands of Pitann. The planet greeted him with its customary arid embrace, the winds weaving patterns that seemed almost alive.

He had meticulously reviewed the dossier on the Oasis Cantina throughout his voyage; it was described as an unassuming refuge for those seeking to evade the vigilant scrutiny of the Sith Order. This mission, therefore, represented an ideal test for his unique blend of talents. To graduate beyond the rudimentary tasks of his training—such as the elimination of beasts near the Academy, which posed a threat only to the most inexperienced acolytes, or the mundane retrieval of artifacts from forgotten tombs that tested patience more than skill—this mission was pivotal.

His attire mainly consisted of a simple, sand-colored cloak that billowed slightly as he made his way towards the settlement. In a world where the resistance echoes from the Sith's initial conquest lingered, discretion was his chosen weapon.

Krinear took a moment to survey his surroundings. The settlement was as barren and forlorn as he had anticipated, with the Oasis Cantina serving as its sole beacon of life. "Such a desolate rock," Krinear whispered to himself with a hint of disdain, contemplating the Order's interest in this forsaken place as he entered the cantina.

For a moment, he allowed himself to adjust to the dim lighting and the cacophony of voices that filled the air. His eyes quickly scanned the room, taking in the patrons who sought solace in the shadows of the establishment. To the untrained eye, it was nothing more than a typical gathering of weary travelers and locals seeking respite from the harsh desert. But Krinear was searching for signs of something more – subtle cues that would lead him to the resistance cells he was tasked with exposing.

Krinear moved with practiced ease through the dimly lit cantina, his presence barely noted by the other patrons. He chose a secluded spot at the bar, one with a clear view of the cantina's entrances and exits, as well as the other tables where some believed their conversations to be dulled out by the various conversations surrounding them.

He eased into a seat at the bar, signaling the bartender with a nod, "A strong blend, if you will." This simple request served as a gateway to casual conversation, allowing him to subtly probe for information about the cantina's clientele and any noteworthy happenings. His inquiries were framed with the curiosity of a traveler drawn to the allure of Pitann's distinctive culture and storied past.

Yet, beneath this casual facade, Krinear was all alert. Prowling like a predator in disguise, his senses hunting for the veiled traces of dissonance.

 

[Darth Strosius]

The bartender passed Krinear a drink, but kept his hand wrapped around the glass of dark liquid while his other was held out to accept payment for it. Nothing on Pitann was free after all, especially not in a backwater town such as this one. The cantina crowd wasn't too far from what one might expect, mainly dominated by the settlement's locals who wanted a relaxing time with good drinks and decent music after a day of work with a few traders and passersby mixed in here and there. To the untrained eye and at first glance, nothing of note.

The Acolyte's observation would reveal something different however, a pattern of movement that signaled something far more than simple repeat orders for more beverages and finger foods. In one of the dimly lit corners of the cantina, a round table was occupied by a handful of rugged individuals that appeared to be members of the local security garrison. Were it not for the seals and iconography of Pitann clearly removed from the shoulders and armbands anyway.

Additionally they appeared unkempt and haggard, faces scarred and dirtied by the sun and desert alike. While they were drinking and carrying on with one another like many others in the cantina they spoke low and occasionally glanced around as though to make sure that they weren't being watched too closely. Every now and then a server, a Sullustan clad in the casual yet surprisingly uniform garb of the cantina workers, would come to their table with new refreshments as well as a very quickly placed device. It was round and small, metallic in composition and clearly sporting buttons alongside a small antenna. Some sort of communicator most likely.

When a cheer rang around the bar as a point was scored by one team or another on the sport that was playing on the holodisplays that circled the main bar area, the group took the opportunity to slip out of their booth with the communicator in hand and begin making their way out of the cantina. Evidently whatever signal or message they had been waiting for had come through.

Krinear Malseren

 

[Krinear Malseren]

Krinear's gaze swept over the cantina's inhabitants. The mix was predictable—tired locals blending with the occasional trader, each seeking a moment's peace or a night's forgetfulness in the murky ambiance. But Krinear's interest wasn't piqued by the weary faces drowning their sorrows. Instead, his attention was drawn to a corner where a group of rugged individuals sat, their gear stripped of any official insignia, suggesting they were more than just off duty local militia. Their hushed tones, intermittent scanning of the room, and the discreet handover of a small, buttoned device didn't escape his notice. It was a dance of shadows he knew all too well, the kind that whispered of hidden agendas and covert meetings.

As the cantina erupted in a collective cheer over some sport triumph displayed on the holoscreens, the group seized the moment to discreetly exit. Krinear, sensing his moment had come, began to follow. He tossed a generous amount of credits on the bar counter, more than enough to cover his untouched drink and ensure his departure went unnoticed. The bartender's attempt to return his untouched drink was met with Krinear's cool indifference, a mere flicker of annoyance crossing his otherwise impassive face. "But sir, you forgot—" his voice lost amidst the din as Krinear, with a practiced motion draped his cloak's hood over his head, veiling his features as he stepped into the cool embrace of the Pitann night.

The air outside was a refreshing contrast to the cantina's stuffy warmth. He followed the group with a predator's patience, his steps silent whispers against the settlement's sandstone streets. The settlement's layout, a chaotic sprawl of hastily erected shelters and patched-up ruins, spoke volumes of the residents' stubborn, yet futile, refusal to yield to the Sith's might— a defiance Krinear noted with detached amusement. Krinear mused on the futility of the resistance's efforts, considering their small-scale defiance was hardly worth the effort of quashing. In his view, these were merely desperate gestures by individuals barely worth noting, clinging to a semblance of defiance on a planet as inconsequential as the sand it was built upon. Yet, such misguided attempts at resistance piqued his interest, if only momentarily, as a curious diversion.

Just as swiftly as these thoughts surfaced, they dissipated, with his targets halting at a building indistinguishable from its neighbors, save for the faint murmur of activity within. Unbeknownst to them, they had inadvertently guided an adversary straight to their hideout...

Darth Strosius

 

[Darth Strosius]

Neither the group of disgruntled militia nor the Acolyte's own exits were really paid any heed by the patrons of the cantina, too busy celebrating with more rounds and loud cheers. By contrast the town around the cantina's boisterous attitude was largely devoid of noise and activity. As late as it was only unsavory, or inebriated, individuals would be out and about while the normal citizenry would be mostly confined to their dwellings until morning. The dunes were hardly any kinder under moonlight than they were beneath the sun's glare after all.

The 'militia' would make their way through the quiet settlement without much fuss, clearly locals of some variety given their familiarity and overall lack of surveillance in spite of their seemingly covert purpose. They felt safe and secure and thus they were all too vulnerable. Vulnerable enough to not bother taking a more subtle route to their destination with their mysterious communicator in hand. A poor decision on their part really.

With only a cursory glance at their surroundings, one that could be easily avoided by even the newest of Acolytes, the group knocked on the door to one particular building in the settlement. It was nondescript and seemingly no more distinct than any other building in the town, with a sign that hinted at it being some sort of warehouse or storage building with rentable room. And at a decent price no less.

A slot in the door opened but no words were exchanged, with one of the group simply holding up the communicator to reveal an odd yet very visible symbol. One that perfectly matched the sigil that the local resistance groups on Pitann were using, a reference to some old government or cultural sign that the locals had adopted to try and preserve their history before Sith rule. The slot closed as quickly as it had it opened but soon after the door would slide open to welcome in the militia group, with it quickly closing as soon as the last of the mysterious soldiers had stepped inside the warehouse.

Aside from the main door that the group had just entered there did appear to be a ventilation system, signified by a vent that poked out of the western side of the building, in addition to what must have been some sort of loading area at the back that was closed off by large metal shutters. Any of which could serve as potential entry points with their own benefits and drawbacks respectively.

Krinear Malseren