Purple Moon [Thraxis]

[Darth Ayra]

| [member="Thraxis"] |​

​

A few years ago there had been a criminal organisation known as the Black Tie Syndicate. It consisted of a few dozen crime lords, smugglers, bounty hunters and a Sith Lord. For a time business had been good although the crime lord responsible for it's foundation came to suspect that one of their members was lying to them about their true identity which consequentially ended their relationship, and the two groups moved on until finally the Black Tie Syndicate was no longer a thing.

During it's peak, however, the group made their move on Kessel. With it's legendary spice mines still in circulation and the profits that came with running them they quickly picked up business which was eventually felt across the Kessel sector. Even the slums of Formos down to Secter 3 came to know who the Black Ties were including the many gangs that sold spice and other narcotics there. One of these gangs were the Purple Rejects.

After a bloodbath, which saw many of their crew killed by this mysterious Sith, the gang fell into line and came to work for her in exchange for credits and a supply of weapons that could be traced back to Ri'ess-Emeritus Industries if someone looked hard enough. But despite entering service to the Sith the Purple Rejects weren't fools. In case they were forced into another situation where they would become slaughtered by their new master they begun to digging and came up with gold. They learned that the Sith they came to know as Ayra was in fact the owner of a couple of corporations situated on Chandrila and that her real name was Alicia Drey.

Knowing that they couldn't possibly outmatch or overwhelm a Sith Lord of her stature the Purple Rejects prepared for the day in which they invited her wrath once more in the form of bribery. In the event that both parties fell out with each other again then they would extort the Sith Lord's true identity and threaten to reveal it to the public if she turned her Lightsaber on them once more. Until that day came they continued the relationship as she had dictated. It was a good relationship. They would continue giving a slice of their profits every month in exchange for the weapons she supplied, plus their muscle and any information they came into in the underground world until the time came to pull the trigger on what they knew.

But that day never came. It only took them a week to learn that Alicia Drey had passed away on Chandrila. With their Sith Master dead the weapon caches they picked up at the end of every month from her Sun Guards stopped. Not that they did much with them anyway. They knew that the weapons they were being supplied were supposed to be used to expand their operation outside of Secter 3. But that was hard work, and the consensus of the gang was that they didn't want to go into the big leagues. So instead of using the weapons they were being supplied to expand they sold them to other rival gangs to make up the cost of profit they lost when they had to share from their spice and other narcotic deals whilst spinning the Sun Guards along with faked reports and stories that were enough to keep the charade going long enough until it went sour.

It was good business on their part, and now with the Sith dead they didn't need to continue conning her. They even begun working for someone else, a much more agreeable individual who didn't even wield a Lightsaber or have manic tendencies with thanks to a deal set up between them by some Muun from the IGBC. But it didn't take a genius to figure out what was happening here. It came to light quickly that somehow the Sith and the IGBC must have been working together at some point. How else did the Muun's know about the connection between both sides to set up a new deal with Thraxis?

With knowledge comes opportunity, and so the Purple Rejects had sent word out that they were going to talk. If the IGBC didn't agree to their demands then they were going to filter out about their very shady and dodgy business with drug dealers, slave traders, weapon suppliers and gangsters out here on Formos; and that was just the beginning. Eager to avoid a scandal involving the aforementioned and a Sith Lord on top the IGBC had capitulated.

Dispatching one of their agents to see over the Purple Rejects demands the individual question had just arrived in the Formos Spaceport...

~​

​

The Initium's engines cooled as it's pilot rose up from her seat and made her way to the back of the shuttle. Dressed in a loose but dark fitting robe, with the cowl raised over her head, she turned to the shuttle bay doors and ordered them to open. As the landing ramp lowered itself down to the ground Darth Ayra lifted her gaze upwards to get a look at the dingy spaceport, angry at the prospect that she was having to deal with these low life gangsters once again.

She understood their motives. As far as they knew she was dead. From a criminal point of view she could see why they were trying to exploit the Muuns. But they didn't know that she was still alive and that if the information they knew got out, thus creating the scandal they threatened to exploit, it could prove to be quite damaging to her latest machinations on Humbarine. Ayra possessed the foresight to see that if it became public that she was once Alicia Drey then it would create a trail of death, destruction and exploit of her own that would lead any Jedi, Sith or otherwise right to her footstep in the New Republic.

Eager not to re-create the damage that had happened during her seminal life she had come to Formos to deal with the Purple Rejects permanently. She still needed Serj Sularis to be useful in his post at the IGBC so it would not do well if he was exposed as a Muun who worked with a Sith Lord, with ties all the way back to the One Sith. To protect her interests and assets Ayra knew what had to be done tonight.

With her Lightsaber clipped to her the left-side of her hip, she turned as she made her way down the land ramp to command the Initium to close her doors and seal herself shut until her master returned. When she reached the bottom of the ramp she turned through the doors of the hangar bay she had just landed in and made her way into the throng of people that were making their way through the spaceport into Secter 3 to find the Purple Rejects.

 

[Thraxis]

Loadout:

Spoiler

Chasis Slot: Thraxis Armour Helmet Slot: Enigma Gas Mask
Cloak Slot: Phantasm Cloak Greave Slot: Thraxis Armour
Pauldron Slot: Thraxis Armour Foot Slot: Thraxis Armour
Melee: Cruciatus Blade Overcoat: Jkiti Greatcoat
Rifle Slot: DEMP Sidearm Slot: Pistolas
Misc: Null Generator Hand-to-Hand Weapon: Vambrace
Tuck-A-Bag Purple Rejects

An old used up and spat out bomber from forgotten times docked with a small crew of thirty men, women and a few in-between. They were a ragtag group, armed with Blasters and armour that was filled with more notches and scratches than there were stars in the sky. Thraxis was not here however, he was off, back on an old Besadii Class Hutt Ship playing in the ventilation systems trying to find the hole that was sucking the air from the ship. It was a convenient time too, members of the Purple Rejects had been making deals behind his back and now was the time to make money and skidaddle.

The group was spearheaded by Keiran, one of the original members of the Purple Rejects and as far as Thraxis was concerned, a no-good stab you in the back scoundrel who had a blaster at his hip at any time. "So. We know the plan?" He said, a sly grin crossed his face as he looked between the members gathered, all Human, or at least some off-shot gathered around, worried looks which he calmed with a feigned smile. "Look. It's simple. We make the deal, cut the shares between us..." He paused, licking his lips as an air of malevolence warmed the air, a contagious disease of violence spread between them in the soft pantomime of feet banging against a crumbling metal floorboard. "Than we use that money, hire out some Bounty Hunter to take out Thraxis and were all good." He continued, an air of confidence in his words as the rest looked between each other, locking in and loading their guns. It was a strange collaboration, Wendigo 4D1's, S3a Blaster Rifle's though most of it consisted of old Tazi Plasma Rifle's. All of which stolen from Thraxis Armory, of which Thraxis stole from the Armory of everyone else.

They slowly peeled down the ramp, confident in their numbers and arsenal, but not so foolish as to fall for a trap. If they were going down, they were going down with a bang. From the rear of the old Hutt Bomber descended a scratched, beaten Skocha Class Tank, a real relic of the Hutt Cartel, but it was all air, the pilot barely knowing the controls, the gunner simply making gun noises and the loader barely capable of lifting a shell in his drugged up state. But Keiran. He was a confident man and so with his own personal armada walked with a stride, head cocked to the side as he looked down at the citizens that passed. Two security Personal approached but were quickly shot down in Keiran's game of power, he pulled out his Blaster with a flourish, set to Automatic as he unloaded an entire clip. For the first few seconds, their bodies were pummeled, the force of Lasers pressing them back until it seared through their pristine armour, barely seen a scratch and now turned to a puddle of ripped holes and ashes. It was a clear power move, yet also one that showed an inexperience if it required a full clip to take out two Security Personel. Of course. Keiran didn't tote it like that.

"See boys? That's how we roll. Were top dogs. We were once. And we will be again." He declared, the brashness of inexperience, youth and uncalculated risks taking over as the rest of the crew fell into line, that streak of violence slowly pulsing through them as guns were aimed, children's feet shot at for a show as they felt like kings of the Space Station. No Thraxis to beat their skulls in, no force that could hold them back. They were kings. They will be kings. And they will live like kings once they make thier little deal with whoever the no name scrub was going to be.
[member="Ella Nova"]

 

[Darth Ayra]

| [member="Thraxis"] |

The arranged meeting place was the hideout of the Purple Rejects. A run down old apartment complex that had been turned into a series of dens used as brothels, or to participate in a bit of paraphernalia in the form of drugs or other such substances to idle the brain. Darth Ayra had been to the place once. Last time she was there she had been stripped down to her underwear, tied up to a wall with some genuine scum looking up her with a cloud of smoke exhaling into the air from the cigar placed in between his lips and a smile which betrayed the glee he felt at the prospect of turning her into the Rejects next whore.

Even now she could still remember how that smile had turned into unadulterated horror as he felt his neck beginning to cave in against a very powerful but invisible hand that he could not see. She could still hear the snapping of bone and the tearing of sinew as he collapsed against her great power in the Force. Instead of her being violated by his hands it has been Darth Ayra who emerged from the room with fury and vengeance in her eyes. It had been those dark yellow eyes that were windows into her dark soul that the rest of the gangsters, whores and drug addicts saw before they had each died.

The memories were powerful and they served to amplify her powers in the Force. With the dark side coursing through her body Darth Ayra turned into the hideout. A quick exchange between her and the watchers outside of the complex alerted the Rejects that she was the IGBC's contact. Escorting her into the complex that settled in the plaza that was situated in the middle outside of the series of buildings and windows that overlooked it. Barrels used for fire littered the plaza where various men armed with rifles, blasters or vibroblades stood beside them for warmth.

Each of them turned to look at her every now and then to get a good eye on the IGBC agent that had been sent to do the deal. Darth Ayra paid them no attention whilst she waited for Keiran and his group to come to the hideout to deal with her.

 

[Thraxis]

Loadout:

Spoiler

Chasis Slot: Thraxis Armour Helmet Slot: Enigma Gas Mask
Cloak Slot: Phantasm Cloak Greave Slot: Thraxis Armour
Pauldron Slot: Thraxis Armour Foot Slot: Thraxis Armour
Melee: Cruciatus Blade Overcoat: Jkiti Greatcoat
Rifle Slot: DEMP Sidearm Slot: Pistolas
Misc: Null Generator Hand-to-Hand Weapon: Vambrace
Tuck-A-Bag Purple Rejects

The Building creaked and bemoaned at its state, walls dractured and flayed in old strips of flesh, the windows popped and bled with shards of glass and lose liquor that poured in refined streams, mixing and melding in the cracked brickwork that was the foundation of the crumpled hovel that was once Keiran's old footstool.

The first thing they did as they arrived made their presence known. Those that gathered outside looked on with dissatisfied glares as up rolled a Tank, barrel pointed at the craniums of the downtrodden who simply put his head inside, ready to end it all. It called Keiran's bluff who was still busy fiddling with his old Blaster, trying to lock in a new cell while holding a definite swagger. He brushed them off, pointing to three Soldier's to keep trying to terrorize the lifeless, minds long since lost to the Canals of abuse.

It was finally all aligning. No Sith to tell him what to do. No pompous prick recalling his youth and the 'horrors' he had seen. No. Now was Kerian's reign. Now it was his time to stride through the galaxy and get all that he deserved. He kicked down the beaten door, hinges popped open like sick boils, oil dripping and clotting at the floor, poisoning a stained and bruised carpet as in walked dirtied boots that brought nothing but trash and litter. This was home turf for them, so they called the shots. Guns pointed, new lasers marks seared into the walls, old markings made fresh that this was their lot as screams became a sickened cacophony of spittle, blood and terror. Though not as much from the Purple Rejects as they would like. The haze of smoke and drugs filled the air as Keiran ordered another group to take up here, snatching drugs and beating addicts.

He had made clear his path. Dead Security. Beaten downtrodden. And Gang insignias. This was his road to kingdom come and he took a note from Thraxis. As he rocked to the door, he placed a smoke machine, two men behind him holding Red Lights as Keiran slid open the door, a trail of mist followed in his footsteps, tracked and swam around him, accentuating his sense of accomplishment as streaks of Red turned the mist to velvet carpet that coiled around him.

"So than."​

​

He took a long, drawn-out pause, his shoulders rolled, head cocked and brows raised as he paced around. He looked with demeaning eyes, all the cards were his to play. As he moved he spotted a couch, old, bed-ridden and he was fairly sure Mould sprouted on the underbelly. He dropped onto it, a half loaded Blaster that's Cell half hanged out as his crew slowly filtered in, guns held at their side with un-uniform care. "Whatcha got? And do make it quick? My time is important." He paused, raising the Blaster and shooting a decent margin from their skull, a clear unskilled shot held with a swagger of confidence. "And fleeting." He finished, taking eye contact away as he raised his hands as if wanting them to come at him with their best offer.
[member="Ella Nova"]

 

[Darth Ayra]

| [member="Thraxis"] |

Darth Ayra's eyes followed the tank from beneath her hood as it rolled into the plaza and came to a stop. She didn't move save for her eyes as they followed each of the Purple Rejects as they made their presence known in their own hideout. She observed a whore being slapped in the face by of her pimps before being thrown hard into the ground, cutting open one of her knees. Another rushed by her, heels scrapping along the jagged and cracked pavement, eager to avoid the same fate as she and the others were put back out to work on the streets of Secter 3.

Quickly she grasped who was the one in charge. She did not recognise him. Clearly leadership had changed in the Rejects since she had last dealt with them. As Keiran lowered himself down onto the couch placed before her she couldn't help but find herself slightly amused with his antics. He had no idea who or what he was dealing with.

Turning herself fully to look upon him Keiran and the other gangsters would only make out the silhouette of her face plus the dark, yellow eyes that gleamed from beneath the cowl of her dark robe. A smile spread across her lips as she told Keiran some simple but life changing words.

"I am Ayra. Is that important enough to you?"

 

[Thraxis]

Loadout:

Spoiler

Chasis Slot: Thraxis Armour Helmet Slot: Enigma Gas Mask
Cloak Slot: Phantasm Cloak Greave Slot: Thraxis Armour
Pauldron Slot: Thraxis Armour Foot Slot: Thraxis Armour
Melee: Cruciatus Blade Overcoat: Jkiti Greatcoat
Rifle Slot: DEMP Sidearm Slot: Pistolas
Misc: Null Generator Hand-to-Hand Weapon: Vambrace
Tuck-A-Bag Purple Rejects

It happened in the span of a second. "I am" In that frame, he already brushed his shoulders, a wild look about him as he slowly turned, about to mouth off, I don't care who you are. But he didn't instead his eyes grew cold and wide, it was as if a hammer had simply smashed through the air, his every bone cracked in submission as an audible gulp resonated. The others looked befuddled for a few seconds, guns slowly rolled, fingers and arms pulled in a worrying explosion of movement as they levelled their guns, a combination of different un-uniform sorts aimed directly at her, fingers woefully close to depression as they rattled in terror and nervous anxiety.

It was held for a second, beads of sweat rolling of Kerian's cocked brow as he composed himself. He pulled his comm to his lips, eyes narrowed. He was a King. And he wasn't about to let the cards fall into her hands. He miscalculated. They were in his hands. This was home turf. There were enough guns to level even the strongest of Sith's. They simply wanted to pretend control. That's what all the Sith did. That's what she was doing. He slowly lowered his head, hands cradling him as he smiled a wide smile that screamed 'Abrasive'. "Good. I thought you might show up." He lied, tossing in another trick Thraxis used but with none of the skill. "I trust you then realize your situation." He stated, the air slowly wrapping back up as his crew garnered the same cockiness, at first a nervous chuckle than an uproar before Keiran silenced it, hand held tight as they followed suit.

"Now then. Like I said. My time is important." He said, pulling himself from the couch, half of him wanted to leave, but the other half needed to stay. To Gloat. It was his day. He had calculated nothing and came out with everything in his mind. "As I am sure yours is. To a lesser extent of course." He jabbed, chuckling along as he paced like a Cub hunting a Bear. "Now. I want the money. I want the Credits. I want your Drugs. I want your Weapons. I want... What was promised to me..." He paused, his palm patting his forehead, slowly rolling it down as he pointed to her, a commanding stance as a dozen shots fired in unison, once more a decent spread around, the Tank's rusty gears slowly rolling and cocking as it pointed the gun towards the Sith's back, unaware of what or who it dealt with. "Or Else. I promise your destruction. Right here. " He continued, a wild face of fury and contempt as he strode along, "Because unlike me. No one will remember another dead Sith." He scolded, teeth laying spittle fourth as his confidence peaked, his kingdom of glass built to its precipice.

Meanwhile...

Thraxis had finished patching the hole, exiting the Shaft as he came to his Hangar Bay. A lot was missing. His eyes scanned around a tank, several mismatched guns and an old Destroyer. He looked with puzzled befuddlement, scratching the back of his Phirik Helmet.

"Wh.. Where the hell did all my junk go?"​

[member="Ella Nova"]

 

[Darth Ayra]

| [member="Thraxis"] |

They raised their guns at her. She remained still. Then the tank rose it's barrel to point at her. But she did not move. The man sat before her paused for a moment during all of this, and she could feel the flurry of emotions that swam through him. He was a professional criminal, she noted. Whereas many of his rivals, victims or associates would not have noted the flare of fear that hit him for a split second Ayra could note it as soon as it happened. He was very quick to try and re-claim control of the situation. In the sold minute that elapsed as Ayra stood there, silent and still, watching and listening, she made a conclusion.

They have forgotten who I am.

It had to be that they had forgotten. Forgotten what she had done last time to them when they had crossed her. Forgotten the dread that she had installed in them when they saw her covered in the blood of their associates, whores and customers when they had turned up the last time to this place when they heard the transmissions of screams coming through the radio as their crew tried to get help against the assailant who was murdering them all. If they hadn't forgotten then this one would be kneeling- no, pleading- for her not to slaughter them all.

Another minute elapsed and still she had not moved, had not spoken, had not made a single sound. The effect was creepy, sinister. A long drawn out silence was created which was only then broken by one of Keiran's men spitting on the ground. A snigger escaped the lips of another. Then the other joined in. Whether it was from nervousness, cockiness or something else Ayra did not know. She didn't care.

Eventually Ayra finally moved. As her head cocked around to look backwards at the tank behind her the men stopped their laughter, rifles retrained and senses sharpened. With the dark side of the Force flowing through her Ayra felt every movement. She could see things before they could happen, if only by a second or two. Still, despite her powers in the Force and her proficiency with a Lightsaber Ayra quickly gathered that she was outmatched by them. She would have been able to kill one or two them before being mowed down by the tank or the hail of rifle fire which would have been more than someone else could do before they died, which would have been impressive in itself given the situation she was in.

But Ayra had no intentions of dying.

Using the Force Darth Ayra allowed her senses to become fine tuned. She felt outwards into the tank, feeling the stream of electricity and energy running through it's systems. She felt deeper into the vehicle, feeling the energy currents carrying themselves into the various different wires and panels that made up the tank's internal hardware. Ayra concentrated, her brow furrowing itself beneath her hood as she felt deeper into the tank until she found it. A power coupling which connected the tank's computer to it's weapon systems. With the Force Ayra removed the power coupling from the inside of the tank, and as she did, it's weapon systems lost power.

Time seemed to have slowed for the Dark Lord as she deactivated the tank's weaponry with the Force but in real time only a few seconds had elapsed. All it had taken a sudden but longer look than necessary to gather that the tank was pointing it's barrel at her. When she turned back around to Keiran and the other Rejects stood around him Ayra broke her silence.

Every syllable she spoke was laced with the dark side of the Force with the effect of compelling weaker minds to do as she instructed, but perhaps a stronger one would be able to resist her manipulation. As she spoke her words a Lightsaber appeared into her left hand suddenly and activated in anticipation of blaster rifles firing upon her.

"Lower your weapons, put them away and leave me to speak with him," Ayra told Keiran's men whilst she glared into his eyes with her own which swam with the dark side corruption of a Sith Lord.

 

[Thraxis]

Loadout:

Spoiler

Chasis Slot: Thraxis Armour Helmet Slot: Enigma Gas Mask
Cloak Slot: Phantasm Cloak Greave Slot: Thraxis Armour
Pauldron Slot: Thraxis Armour Foot Slot: Thraxis Armour
Melee: Cruciatus Blade Overcoat: Jkiti Greatcoat
Rifle Slot: DEMP Sidearm Slot: Pistolas
Misc: Null Generator Hand-to-Hand Weapon: Vambrace
Tuck-A-Bag Purple Rejects

Seconds. Everything transpired in seconds. It was as if time was slowed, the very presence of a Sith Lord slowed down time itself with their grand presence. But Kieran wasn't done. He had calculated a few things and his Backup plan was already needing to unfold. He pressed a small Distress Beacon, a wiring buzz echoing up through the heavens. The Building didn't stop it. The Skies didn't stop it. All that stopped it, was a single man, buzzing around trying to find his things. "Who did this? Oh, they better hope they got some fancy tools too cause Imma deck..." He paused, eyes wide as the mechanical chirp rang and buzzed in his mind. His eyes narrowed, his visor popping it up as clear as day. Coordinates were given. He didn't know who had it. But they made a mistake in now playing with his things. "Oh, they better just try and kill me." He mumbled, words twisted and contorted with a mixture of violence, annoyance a strange tremor in his left hand and a sprinkling of joy now knowing where he was to go.

But in the meantime, with beads of sweat Kieran looked to his men, he forced himself to stand The very words trembled his body as if he stood at the tip of an erupting volcano, his body flushed with heat as he forced himself to meet their gaze. "Fine. I get it." He chocked, dropping his gun to the ground. "But our deal..." His leg shook the most, his every instinct telling him to run. Screaming. It was deafening. Between himself telling him to run, his emotions telling him to cower and his Subconscious slowly backing him up without him knowing, the only thing that kept him around was the stubborn determination that Thraxis, the dumb dog that he was would save his life and put the Sith Lord in a hole where they belonged.

Thraxis, in the meantime, had been busy setting up, the rear door to the ship hanged open, a thin stream of purple separating the two throngs of gravity as Thraxis slowly pushed a Cargo Container down the hull, muttering curses to himself as he locked in the Coordinates. He calculated the box, got wind directions, heat and everything in between with all that being completely unnecessary considering he was about to dive into a Space Station, an arguably easier target than a full-fledged planet.

But he aligned it all. And in a single, great leap, he plummeted that Cargo Container out of the ship and on a one-way course for Vengeance.​

​

He snarled like the cub he was. He had two cards in his hand. One was Boss. The other was Misinformation. "Look. I know you think you have all the cards in your court..." He stuttered, failing to string the right simile together but pressing on, hoping they didn't pick up on it. "But the purple rejects are larger than you think." He said, brushing his hair from his face, trying a new approach. Suave. Maybe not quite a seduction, but abrasive and cocky had clearly failed. "You take me out, another group will simply get up, and say, 'Hey? We want a Slice of that pie." He continued, chuckling to himself as he still trembled with fear. "But if you just give us what we want. Poof. Outta ya mind for the rest of time." He continued, words chocking as something stirred the Atmosphere.

Something made an impact just across the street.​

His boots flared and coils of red sifted through his container, angling, reangling, controlling. It was easy as riding a dead Horse. At least, comparative to a planet. No Atmosphere meant no burning in orbit. And htis Atmosphere was too short to manage even a friction burn. But of course. The impact was something else, adn the blaster fire from the Space Station carved fresh flecks of steel from the Container and popped and boiled his Phirik a bright shade of Pink.

But the Container done it's job, badly muddled and destroyed it may be, with rocks, debris and a myriad of other things coating around as from the Wreckage a mishmash of Pinks, Red and Black emerged, a Red Visor scanned, a hand pressed against a Cargo Door that now hanged from the rubble and aa cocked smile of Keiran as the tables finally turned in his favor. A sick energy pilfered around Thraxis. A dark malevolance that twisted the air in a foul scent.
[member="Ella Nova"]

 

[Darth Ayra]

| [member="Thraxis"] |

One by one each of Keiran's men lowered their rifles and turned to leave as if compelled to do so suddenly under their own violation. Ayra smiled beneath her hood, but it quickly faltered when she realised that their leader had been unaffected by her Force Compulsion. A strong mind, she thought silently. The blue hiss of her Lightsaber permeated the air between her and Keiran as the Sith glared down at him. In a matter of minutes she had turned the tables back around on him. There were many options available now. She could kill him, slaughter the rest of his men, dominate his mind with the dark side and make him work for her, replace him with anoth-

The sudden crack interrupted Ayra's thoughts. Forcefully taken her gaze away from Keiran she turned around fully to the disturbance. He was no threat now, but whatever this was could be. To her genuine surprise she saw a cargo container half buried in the concrete of the surrounding area. The concussive force of it's sudden and surprising landing had sent a shockwave which rippled the robes of the Sith Lord as well as blowing out several already dirtied and broken windows, sending a shower of raining glass down onto the battered and cracked pavement of the apartment complex's outdoors.

Instinctively Ayra raised an invisible layer of protection in the form of a Force Shield. As she did a person emerged from the container radiating dark side energy. Apart of her was glad that she had already drawn her Lightsaber and ignited it because whoever it was seemed to be a threat. Of course there was apart of her that thought herself invulnerable with thanks to her power in the dark side, but then Dxun had been a humbling experience. A year long humbling experience, and one that she was not eager to repeat.

Lifting her arm behind her Ayra Force Pushed Keiran away from her. The couch that he had been sat upon was sent flying backwards under the invisible energy, with it's occupant sent with it. Turning her full focus upon the new entrant Ayra remained silent with a calculative stare beneath her hood as she carefully considered Thraxis. She had underestimated the Purple Rejects. But she would no longer do so.

 

[Thraxis]

Loadout:

Spoiler

Chasis Slot: Thraxis Armour Helmet Slot: Enigma Gas Mask
Cloak Slot: Phantasm Cloak Greave Slot: Thraxis Armour
Pauldron Slot: Thraxis Armour Foot Slot: Thraxis Armour
Melee: Cruciatus Blade Overcoat: Jkiti Greatcoat
Rifle Slot: DEMP Sidearm Slot: Pistolas
Misc: Null Generator Hand-to-Hand Weapon: Vambrace
Tuck-A-Bag Purple Rejects

Boots flashed and flared, Kerian fell on his ass, gun slid across the floor, and across the distance a thing that exuded the stench of alcohol, stale blood and a thin trim of malignant force energies that sapped the air around with invisible tendrils of unease twisted the air around him, boots popping in and out as true skill held him aloft. He glided across those bounces of energy as twin blades ignited in a silhouette of red, droplets of lava dripped and contorted the ground far beneath him in twisted blotches that stung with a singed glow.

His Visor flared red as he bumped into the wall, looking around for an entrance before the man dressed in black metallic plates simply shrugged, arms held aloft as several cuts were made into the wall and he pushed forward, his boots flared larger and brighter as the wall was pushed in and fell to the ground with a thud. Finally, Thraxis stood atop it, the window shattering underneath his boots as he scanned the room.

Kerian spoke up, bravado coursing through his every word as once more the table was flipped. Again. It was a serious problem. "Ha! He came faster than I thought." He declared, eyes popped and veins strained in his face as confidence bruised and brimmed in him, stepping and breaking his blaster in the process as he tried to stare into Arya's brazen eyes. "Won't need that anymore..." He scoffed, "Captain Thraxis! It's good you've come. I've brought you a-" He was cut short, his declaration falling on deaf ears as a single blaster bolt scolded through his cranium. It wasn't a kill shot, it scrapped the top of his head and unnecessary brain functions were removed as he fell to the ground in a jittery mess.

He walked in a calm manner, droplets of Lava still curtailing the floor as the ground became filled with pocketed marks, he pressed his foot on his chest, looking down with a calculative glare hidden beneath a mask as he pulled off him the GPS, pocketing it into his Duffel Bag as a fresh wave of unease and tension was brought into the room. "Little brat... Told you if you stole my stuff again I was going to Lobotomize you." He muttered beneath his breath. A skilled surgeon would realize the man was simply paralyzed at this point, and someone smarter than that would realize Thraxis knew that already.

He turned to the women in question, his blades desisted, wrapping back into his gauntlets as he took a few steps forward, the tension in the air rose, the Unease filled and spat in great vats as Thraxis stood, it was rare that he stood taller than someone, even rarer by such a margin. Slowly he rose his fingers, grabbing creases around his neck as it spat out noxious fumes, the scent of alcohol far more pungent than fuel at a gas station and twice as sickening as a boy's first Cigar. Clots of blood clumped in his hair, his face a broken miss-mash of chemical burns, scars that ran deeper than canyons and old pussy wounds as he looked down at them. "So. Where is the rest of my men. Kerian's cocky but he comes with an army of equally cocky, slightly dumber men." He continued, a hand flipped at the zipper of his bag, dexterous control as he slipped it down, pulling out and uncorking another bottle of booze that he suckled on like a mothers teat and far from ready to let go until the last drip of amber fell down the back of his throat, at which point he tossed it on Kerian, shattering agaisnt his arm and turning it into a pin cushion. "There ain't no blood here except stuff from weeks ago. There ain't no cauterized limbs either." He continued, a finger scratching an old wound that wept sickly blood. "Which means you either sent them out or I don't know Kerian too well and he can simultaneously drive a Tank and be here at the same time." He continued an empty and dazed look in his beady black eyes.
[member="Ella Nova"]

 

[Darth Ayra]

| [member="Thraxis"] |​

​

Darth Ayra observed the calm but ruthless efficiency of the man as he dealt with his man. Clearly something had happened between the two of them before they had come to Formos to deal with the IGBC-Alicia Drey connection, and Keiran had not been counting on being on the receiving end of Thraxis' wrath. The shocked look that had taken his face the moment he had been shot by the Captain was still painted over his paralyzed corpse, effectively ending his life as he had known it. A lesser person, a lesser Human might have considered the ramifications for poor Keiran well after this was over, wonder how he would get on in the slums of Secter 3 if he still lived or something of the sort. But not Ayra. She did not lower herself to lesser.

Listening to Thraxis as he spoke Ella took in his image and was instantly repelled by what she saw. The man looked like he hadn't washed in months. It reminded the Sith oddly of herself during her days under Pandeima, when the two had ventured to a lost world known only to the Rule of Two and had fought the savage barbarians there. She had been left covered in blood, mucus and mud by the end of the fighting, yet only a solitary barbarian had been killed by her master when she had reached out and took his heart out with her bare hands in front of his dazed people who had been left encumbered by the paralysing effects of the stun rods the Sith had used to fight them.

The lesson back then had been about intimidation, putting your subjects in line and how sparing lives could be useful later on. When the barbarians eventually recovered from the effects of the stun rods they would each get up gingerly to look up into the skies and see the Initium flying off to parts unknown, knowing that one day in the future the Sith would return to fight them once more, and that they would have to prepare for that day.

Ayra didn't want to kill all the Purple Rejects. She merely wanted to intimidate them into silence, perhaps murdering the few that knew something about her past, and keeping the rest in line. She had thought that whoever Serj Sularis had set up as their new backer following her 'death' was just some nobody businessman looking to make some money, as the Muun had explained to her before coming to Formos. But as the Sith regarded Thraxis, as the hum of her Lightsaber fizzled in the air between them, she realised that the Muun had been incorrect, which was extremely rare.

"I sent them away to leave me to talk with your man," Darth Ayra replied as she waved her hand towards Keiran. "But then you came." Making her way forward Ayra bowed her head to allow her eyes to bore into Thraxis' own. The dark side coursed through her. It was a weapon, used only to attack, never to defend. The Sith always struck first in matters like these. Keiran had called for this man to deal with her. She could sense his hostile intentions. There was only one response she understood to that.

Attack.

 

[Thraxis]

Loadout:

Spoiler

Chasis Slot: Thraxis Armour Helmet Slot: Enigma Gas Mask
Cloak Slot: Phantasm Cloak Greave Slot: Thraxis Armour
Pauldron Slot: Thraxis Armour Foot Slot: Thraxis Armour
Melee: Cruciatus Blade Overcoat: Jkiti Greatcoat
Rifle Slot: DEMP Sidearm Slot: Pistolas
Misc: Null Generator Hand-to-Hand Weapon: Vambrace
Tuck-A-Bag Purple Rejects

He felt it. The sinister pulse. The ravishing of the force as it licked and spooled over his body. It gorged him and fueled him as his head cocked, neck vulnerable like some submissive dog playing dead. "Stop." He retorted, telling off the vile woman from making a big mistake. "I may be no Forcie. But I can tell sinister intent." He continued, a dour glare sizzling and boiling in his eyes. He pulled a hand through his hair, a moulded tussock held together by blood and grease. "And Imma make it very clear I'm in no mood to fight." He continued, taking a single step forward and holding his ground. "I came for my stuff. I've got things to deal with." He continued, cracking his neck as his own lightsabers flared, magma dripped and scolded the ground in those droplets, a game of the Floor is Lava could very well become a serious threat at the rate he was going.

He pointed them towards the Sith, if they moved around then he would have no choice but to fight back. "I've got business meetings. Underground deals to make. Drugs to launder. Rakghouls to contain." His every word croaked and harshed, he held some cocky swagger, but so far had at least proven some level of merit as he unlike most didn't bend to a Force User. "So. Unless this becomes a business meeting. I need to take these slack-jawed imbeciles back to my ship. I need to lobotomize a traitor and then I need to fill up on gas." He continued, a matter-of-fact tone followed as he stood his ground, a single lightsaber flipped off as he dug a hand into his Duffel bag, pulling out his Cruciatus Blade that met her Darkness with his own. Now he pointed three blades at her.
[member="Ella Nova"]

 

[Darth Ayra]

| [member="Thraxis"] |

Darth Ayra slowed her pace towards Thraxis to hear what he had to say. She watched the Lightsaber in one hand, recognising that it was a rare and exotic Lava saber that she had been coveting for sometime. Then her eyes turned to the two other blades being drawn. Unlike Keiran and his goons, who were all naturally cowards at heart, this man had strength about him. She had a choice now. She could kill him, exterminate the rest of the Rejects and return to Humbarine within a day, knowing that her identity would not be exposed. But on the other hand this one seemed ready to listen, to deal with her, and if her suspicion that this man was the leader of the Rejects then she was certain that the thugs that worked for him would rush to aide him if a fight broke out. She was still at a disadvantage.

Stopping within five steps from Thraxis, Ayra lowered her blade slightly as she considered him. She said: "Lower your weapons, and we can discuss what will happen next."

 

[Thraxis]

Loadout:

Spoiler

Chassis Slot: Thraxis Armour Helmet Slot: Enigma Gas Mask
Cloak Slot: Phantasm Cloak Greave Slot: Thraxis Armour
Pauldron Slot: Thraxis Armour Foot Slot: Thraxis Armour
Melee: Cruciatus Blade Overcoat: Jkiti Greatcoat
Rifle Slot: DEMP Sidearm Slot: Pistolas
Misc: Null Generator Hand-to-Hand Weapon: Vambrace
Tuck-A-Bag Purple Rejects

It seemed some semblance of an accord was reached. The glow of his opponent's blade dimmed as it lowered, and so too he met them with the same respect as his blades retreated back to their confinements, all that left was the Aura of Unease that pilfered from his Bag, the twisted malevolence of his brandished blade and that stink of alcohol that perverted the senses with its pungent fumes.

He looked them up and down, foot tapping on the ground as he looked them up and down before speaking. "So. You wish to make business." He stated, sighing his free hand clipping the bridge of his nose as he walked over to the couch Keiran had taken, dragging the man in question along and using his chest as a footstool as he dribbled and moaned. Thraxis arms were splayed out, legs crossed as he pointed to the other side of the couch for the Sith Lord to take. "Come, come. Take a seat we can get this done quickly. Gotta get to Tatooine in time for Happy Hour next week." He chuckled, deciding that bringing with him the baggage of tension was far from necessary.
[member="Ella Nova"]

 

[Darth Ayra]

| [member="Thraxis"] |

Darth Ayra did not join Thraxis on the couch. It would leave her in a vulnerable position, but it also symbolised that she would be lowering herself to his level. No, she was much more powerful than this man. She had the Force... But she did thumb the ignition button her Lightsaber, and as she did, the blue light that it permeated dissipated back into the cylinder that was her hilt. She lowered her arm to her side, keeping the weapon in her hand just in case.

"So you're the new leader of the Purple Rejects," Ayra said, the dark side of the Force warping her voice from her normal tone. "Your men were trying to extort me with something they knew. I wonder if you know what they knew."

 

[Thraxis]

Loadout:

Spoiler

Chassis Slot: Thraxis Armour Helmet Slot: Enigma Gas Mask
Cloak Slot: Phantasm Cloak Greave Slot: Thraxis Armour
Pauldron Slot: Thraxis Armour Foot Slot: Thraxis Armour
Melee: Cruciatus Blade Overcoat: Jkiti Greatcoat
Rifle Slot: DEMP Sidearm Slot: Pistolas
Misc: Null Generator Hand-to-Hand Weapon: Vambrace
Tuck-A-Bag Purple Rejects

He paused as he was denied the 'honour' of seating himself on the same couch as a Sith. He rolled his eyes, greased hair that stuck to his brow rolling along, "Fine. But just so you know. these things can take their time and sitting down does damage the air of mystique." He retorted to the disservice, pulling his bag up and taking up more space on the couch. If their legs bent, it would seem a courtesy on his part. Deals like this, after all, amounted to the level of Psychological Warfare one could pull off. So with crossed legs, he pulled himself forward, hobbling his head on his lapsed hands as he looked with great interest to how the Sith Lord would react.

As she spoke a tingle ran up his spine, to be called a leader of something was not common. The Rejects really amounted to a group of people he trusted to exist on his ship and play cannon fodder though not much further than that he would be forced to admit. Of course, the tingle might come from the Force, as skilled as he was in... A very niche way, he couldn't tell the titillating warp of the Force if even a hint of Subtlety was added. But Thraxis chuckled, slapping his knee as to disservice her position and air of seriousness. "Ha! Now that's a good one." He continued, feigning to wipe a tear from his eye as he met a neutral pose, arms outstretched. "No. I don't know what they know. I don't waste my time with trivialities." He continued, looking them up and down before sighing. "Though, if the Secret is you're a Sith..." He paused, drawing out a long whistle as they sized them up again. "Lorrrd." He drew it out, as if reassuring himself in his knowledge, "You are dirt outta luck. Cause I can tell without an inside scoop." He continued, a rather facetious stance on the entire matter as it played out

He decided that if all they wanted was to talk Dark Sider, he would have to stop. A pre-emptive strike. Always control the conversation, that's what he learnt from the Hutt's at least. "Now, Darth... Darth." He continued, flippantly disregarding his lack of information on who he dealt with, strolling through with the air of confidence Kerian had but some modicum of skill to actually back it up. "Do you have any other business you wish to discuss? Maybe hire the purple Rejects?" He struck a cord in his mind as he spoke, realizing how if a Sith had a secret to hide and his men had it, how valuable they might be to them. "Because, unlike you, they don't have any dirt on me and well..." He paused, his lips pulled back as his teeth were revealed, stained yellow and the stench of air fumed and popped like a pungent disease his words drawn out in a disgusting display of confidence and malevolence all wrapped up in a twisted vile of malice. He didn't need the force to get it across. He didn't need the Aura of Unease. He didn't need to even use Zeltron Pheremones that rolled off his skin in sickening and twisted fumes. No, it was simple, basic. Charisma. "They know to fear me." His every word, there was no hint of doubt, simply the hint of viper venom that twisted his words with cruel intent. He was going to make use of them, even if it did mean selling his soul to a Sith.
[member="Ella Nova"]

 

[Darth Ayra]

| [member="Thraxis"] |

"I have no need of the Rejects now. My business has moved far beyond Formos and their little operation." Ayra paused, assessing the situation. Reaching out with the Force she sought guidance, answers on how to deal with him. She knew that she was presently outnumbered, and unlike the goons that she had just dealt with, this one was reasonably skilled. If she wasn't stood in a compound of thugs that were all heavily armed and ready to help their boss should a fight break out then she would be in a far better place to bribe, extort or intimidate the man into doing what she wanted. But she wasn't in such a position.

In the end it would have to come down to cunning. As Darth Ayra begun to piece together her offer she found that she could make this situation benefit her beyond making sure that her identity was not exposed. "If you want to make a deal that can benefit us both then you will do what I want. The thugs that were trying to extort me in the Rejects are all to be killed, no exceptions. The remaining Rejects can then do whatever they want, seeing as they work for you now, and we can move on."

"You and I will be working together from now on so that I can keep on eye on my back. Now that we have met I cannot allow the risk that you might extort one day too. For all I know you know what Keiran knew already, which is unacceptable to me. In exchange for this new relationship I will arrange for you to expand your organisation into the New Republic, beginning on the world of Humbarine. Weapons, drugs, gambling, extortion- these are things that we can do together."

 

[Thraxis]

Loadout:

Spoiler

Chassis Slot: Thraxis Armour Helmet Slot: Enigma Gas Mask
Cloak Slot: Phantasm Cloak Greave Slot: Thraxis Armour
Pauldron Slot: Thraxis Armour Foot Slot: Thraxis Armour
Melee: Cruciatus Blade Overcoat: Jkiti Greatcoat
Rifle Slot: DEMP Sidearm Slot: Pistolas
Misc: Null Generator Hand-to-Hand Weapon: Vambrace
Tuck-A-Bag Purple Rejects

He looked puzzled, it seemed history went far deeper than he expected. Formos... These little Rugrats have been running far longer than I expected. He winced his eyes, looking at Ella with a smile, his curiosity had been well and truly piqued. After all, it was one of the few Early Conquests of the Cartel he missed. Why he missed it he would never remember, but history ran deeper than he imagined with this one, or at least, the ex-petty servants of this Lord.

So far, the Sith had made rather fair deals. Kill a small contingent of his troops. Get work. Not like Popara the Hutt was returning his calls, nor was the GenoHaradan going any place and Justice Shipping... Well if James wasn't dead from an overdose or smothered by an Ex-Lover than he was certain the man was an ass. "You make... Fair deals. However..." He paused, Phirik coated fingers scratching and pulling at the hairs of his chin, a soft scratch underlying the atmosphere as he bemoaned and sighed, drawing it out. "Two things before we finalize this deal. Well, three." He said, pulling from his Bag an already prepared sheet of paper, it was short, simple and if a loop-hole was found this thing was about as binding as a Child's promise to marry the girl in the sandpit.

I Thraxis, have free autonomy, ability and reign over myself and any troops I command, I can do any jobs that may align against your interests, however by my honour, and binding of this contract, I shall not take contract work that I am expressly aware of standing, encroaching or opposing you. To solidify this Contract upon signing I shall transfer a 5 Million Credit's Transfer for you in safe keeping until as the time that our work expires upon which I am to have it returned, or be met with goods of equal or lesser value. What you can expect of me is the following.

• To not use the force
• A Direct stance against my own safety
• A can-do attitude
• A willingness to perform any tasks required whether in the bounds of the law or strictly against it
• An ability to command my troops in times of my Absence or express consent of which they shall be notified and aware
• An inability to betray you as loyalty runs thicker than the density of a Black Hole
• To take Relics or Artifacts I may find in service to you for myself if they do not stand against your express wish

All the following was read in old and faded ink with a small stamp in the corner that was stolen from some Alcohol shipping company. "Now, as for the other two things..." He paused, talking as they hopefully read the contract, "I can't just go and murder a third of my fighting forces. I can, however, abandon them on my Planet, where..." He chuckled a wild dance in his words, "Well. They either live or they die. Escape is not possible." He continued, looking down on Kerian as he still spat drool and now mucus, "Except this one. Gonna lobotomize him and make a wicked slave. Oh, and..." He paused, looking them up and down, it had been a while, a long time in fact since he had made deals with Siths. And the last ones he did had oh so great toys to offer. "I will need something to make sure you don't betray me. Maybe... An Artifact? I'll still exchange the Five Million. I just need something to keep an eye on my back." He responded, leaving the ball in the Sith Lord's court.
[member="Ella Nova"]

 

[Darth Ayra]

| [member="Thraxis"] |

Darth Ayra looked down at Thraxis with a look of surprise. Was he being serious? In all her interactions with criminals ranging from thugs, drug dealers and bounty hunters through to crime lords, king pins and those business entrepreneurs who didn't mind playing dirty Thraxis had to be the strangest of all of them. He really had just drawn up a contract as if the two were doing a transaction, and if one crossed the other, then they could just pull them into court like it was nothing... it was ludicrous, and slightly hilarious.

Stopping herself from betraying a snigger, Ayra refrained and controlled herself before comically signing 'Ayra' at the bottom of the flimsi. When she was done, she folded her arms and begun to speak. "When I said no exceptions I meant it. If you are truly serious about our future working relationship with each other then you will have no qualms putting hits out on a few low lives from Formos. This will prove to me that you are the man that I need."

"When it is done I will be in the nearby spaceport on my ship. I will wait there for a day. You can bring your funds and news that they are all dead. I will have what you want too."

Without another word Darth Ayra turned her back on Thraxis. She was done with compromising with others. That had been the way of Pandeima. That had been the way that had led her down the path of ruin. No, she was a Sith Lord. Better yet she was a Dark Lord of the Sith. Absolutes were her way, she had told Thraxis what she wanted to be done, and it was consequentially what needed to be done. Gathering the Force into her legs, Ayra burst out of the Purple Rejects hideout and out into the streets of Secter 3, where she slowed down and entered a brisk walk back to the Initium.

 

[Thraxis]

Loadout:

Spoiler

Chassis Slot: Thraxis Armour Helmet Slot: Enigma Gas Mask
Cloak Slot: Phantasm Cloak Greave Slot: Thraxis Armour
Pauldron Slot: Thraxis Armour Foot Slot: Thraxis Armour
Melee: Cruciatus Blade Overcoat: Jkiti Greatcoat
Rifle Slot: DEMP Sidearm Slot: Pistolas
Misc: Null Generator Hand-to-Hand Weapon: Vambrace
Tuck-A-Bag Purple Rejects

He tapped his finger against his chin. There were thirty men he had to deal with and to be honest, he wasn't the sort of man to bend over backwards for a Sith. "Why do they always give such terrible first missions... Damn Si..." He paused half-way through, a revolution changing his speech, "Well... [member="Darth Abyss"] wasn't so bad. I need to check up in him. The guy was cool." He continued as men drenched in sweat and faces red with panic slowly rolled in, guns raised high as Thraxis shrugged it off, waving them off like the buzzing insects they were. Now was the time for charisma and deception as opposed to skill and strength.

"Don't even bother." He responded, looking over their arsenal. His. Arsenal. "Those guns don't have enough firepower to pierce Phrik." He responded, pulling out a Pistola from his Duffel bag and firing a few wild shots into his armour, making especially sure to avoid the joints. It caused a silent panic, they breathed heavy, eyes flushed and their skin grew sticky as cold sweat fused clothes to skin. "But I also can't be bothered fighting all of you." He carried on, pulling out Credits and booze from his bag as he counted out his Security Deposit. "So, I said to myself, 'Hey, why don't I let you guy's sort it out?' And figured well..." There was an air of confusion as to where he went with it all, rolling his eyes as he had to spell the final details out, "The last one Standing gets to live." He said bluntly, taking the first sip pulling out his comm unit, "Oh, and if any of you guys run, well, I have names and will just send... I dunno that Fett or Shark guy." He continued, disillusioned with the scene as one of them tried to escape, a sharp buzz of electronics beneath his cuff as Laser fire ripped flesh in cauterized cinders, a body left behind more scraps of flesh than anything whole. "And if you guys still attack me, well... Phirik can take a lot of ship fire. I'll just blow this place up from the ship." He continued his underarm stip a whirl and alight with activity, blaster fire an inch away from seeping out in a wave of gunfire and cleaning u a good deal of shop.

But he didn't need to. The words had gotten across, the aura of unease from the bag warping their already paranoid minds into a violent frenzy, Thraxis kicking pressing down on Kieran's chest as he wheezed, eyes popped and gouged out in comic fashion as through the cacophony of colours and gore Thraxis remind unphased, a few wildmen trying to call his bluff only to expose themselves to another in the crowded fight.

Though with no armour to spare, a single man emerged, a man carved in cauterized knicks and cuts, body racked in pain as Thraxis clapped, "Congratul..." He trailed off, raising his gauntlet as the leak of blaster fire ripped him to shreds, "Ahh I can't even be arsed." He bemoaned, body falling to the ground as he coughed and sputtered denied even the briefest of last words, robbed of his anger at betrayal as Thraxis simply pulled a dribbling and babbling incoherency, "Come on you doped up dumbass." He moaned, walking out of the building through the hole he had carved. Beneath him the tank still sat, the top popping off as he groaned, "Go... I've gotta do all the work." He cried, dropping atop it with a mighty thud, boots flaring with pops and sizzles of red light as he crashed atop of the Tank, lightsabers in a furious flare as they carved the top, Thraxis the entire time winged and wiped through the three, the same problem as before though this time lacking a weapon to defend themselves. He felt partially bad. But at the same time, he was in a rush. And now he had a slightly damaged, but working Tank.

Overall, it took him Fifteen Minutes, five dealing with the Rejects, five finding parking and another five trying to figure out where the Sith lord was. But inevitably, a man singed with a few Blaster Marks rocked up, a dribbling nincompoop over his shoulder as he looked to the Sith, helmet back on,

"Done. Now. You got anything to trade?"​

[member="Ella Nova"]