The Bellow of the Beast | First Order Dominion of Belgaroth Hex

[Progflaw99]

​

Belgaroth \\ Phu \\ Yn​

Post 1​

Waste, salvage, refuse - it was everywhere. From the Northern pole to the Southern, gigantic piles of wreckage and partially dismantled salvage quite literally strewn across the surface of Belgaroth. The terrain across the core world was one of blackened rock and jutting metal, broken only by occasional spots of sludge infested swamps and mustard-yellow lakes and ponds, even seas. Corrosion ate away at the hulks of metal closest to the bodies of water, clouds of smog gently shifting across the surface of the swamps and ponds. Despite the pollution and various heavy metals, Belgaroth maintained a Type I Atmosphere, free of any immediately detrimental toxins though to spend much time in the smog infested swamps or wreckage, a mask was almost always recommended.

The planet itself was home to a variety of inhabitants, most human but it wasn't uncommon to see some diversity. Nuknog immigrants from Sump, even a few Squib - the native inhabitants of Skor, but all paled in comparison to the dominant population of humans. Most of the planet's population was centered around the one and only major city on the surface, Belgar. The only other semi-major population center was the floating space dock known as "Upside" though in truth, that served more as a transit point than a true population center.

After a failed attempt at expanding their borders towards Alliance space, the First Order set its eyes in another direction, this time settling on the salvage planet. In many ways it was reminiscent of Skor - but perhaps even more industrial, the uptick? It didn't fall within Alliance space. Sure there were plenty of toes to step on, but in all honesty subjugation wasn't the primary goal of maintaining a presence in the sector. Instead, a new approach to economics, or at least that was the holo-net was saying. They weren't completely off, but the real purpose was something a little less white collar.

Droidbreakers.

Also referred to as swamphulks on occasion, the beasts stood an imposing height at an average of 5 meters but even that was a poor measure of the creature. Not only were they tall, but solid - layered muscle swelled on the gigantic framework of bone and cartilage. Gray in color, adorned with a thick hide and small beady black eyes, the strangest part about the creature was its almost insectoid proboscis. Found amidst the wreckage, the Droidbreakers diet consisted primarily of the metals and alloys that comprised the various scrapyards and wastes about the planet. Though it was none of these things which had prompted the hunt on which they were about to embark. No, there had been quiet talk of the creature's ability to metabolize metals and alloys and how that might be used, adapted, modified to serve the needs of the First Order and their mysterious leader - Sieger Ren. A bounty had been placed on the creatures, a more than generous fee paid to those who might capture one alive in condition to be turned over to First Order scientists.

One minor detail - the scrapyard owners have found great use for these hulks of flesh and bone, clearing away rusted hulks to discover more profitable salvage underneath the uppermost layer of salvage and waste. They might not be terribly happy to know that the First Order intends to rob them of their livestock, and so the bounty was contracted silently, confidentially - even some of the First Order's agents had been tasked with recovery to keep things under the radar so to speak. Not only are there dangers of an unstable surface riddled with both ancient and recent salvage, the Droidbreakers as fierce as they be, but also that of the salvage yard owners themselves and those mercenaries in their employ. Securing and capturing an animal of such sheer size and stealthily would be no easy task.

And so the First Order Security Bureau had contracted a guide, or perhaps guide wasn't entirely the right word - frankly, it was more of a contact on the surface. A sentient droid calling themselves "Chromedome" had been contacted and persuaded by way of particularly complex electronics, to facilitate the hunt for the very creature they sought. As the order stood - these hunters were to arrive near a particularly large mountain, the droid's abode in the wreckage of what appeared to be a large section of space station. There, he would give them the information they needed to continue the hunt for a Droidbreaker, though he would not join them - for obvious reasons.

---​

​

The world of Belgaroth wasn't the only apple of the First Order's eye. Nearby, the planet of Phu had been of particular interest to the FOSB and the Order of Ren. The planet was well known in the sector for its podracing and gambling culture. Of perhaps more interest to the First Order were a criminal element known as the Ka Zor, a near cult-like organization. Though mostly unconfirmed, it was a well known fact that if you wanted to participate in illegal gambling or needed something smuggled, the Ka Zor were the ones to reach out to. Rumors of their involvement in fixed races, drug trafficking, and even the slave trade had been circulating for months before the FOSB was able to get a credible source of information. Now, the game has changed.

A newer member of the Ka Zor, an initiate, had reached out to the authorities. It had taken him several months but it was painfully evident that he was in over his head. All it had taken was the promise of a safe new start and a new identity and he'd flipped faster than a medium rare Mandoburger™. Unfortunately, time didn't favor the Order - if they were going to make their move, it had to be quick. The raid fell on the same date as the "Phu-Phuii Classic", a highly competitive race held annually on the planet. The course was barren and rocky, dangers both constructed and natural awaited the racers even though weapons were banned. It was an interesting event, though unfortunately for the First Order, it meant more bodies and heightened security.

Once on the ground, it would be up to the agents involved to choose their strategy but the objectives were clear - all Ka Zor were to be either captured if possible, or killed. The Supreme Leader had little room in his empire for crime, specifically the slave trade. While the FOSB's objectives were focused more on the asset retrieval and capture of collaborators, the Knights of Ren would also find themselves at the beck and call of their Master. Tasked with not only aiding their governmental brethren, the Ren were given an additional task. The Ka Zor while fanatic, also contained a cult-like element. Coincidentally, their informant had also divulged the location of a vault of treasures. Upon further investigation it proved true, though the treasures contained within were more valuable than first thought. Manuscripts, data recordings, perhaps even artifacts of a bygone era - all stashed in a secure vault far beneath their palace, the very grounds upon which the podrace would begin. No one said it would be easy, but it was the task that had been set before them.

Spoiler

Planets & Objectives

Belgaroth
Environment: Borderlands Style Salvage Dump/Wasteland
Objective: Droidbreaker Hunt/ Capture

• Meet up with the droid who calls himself "Chromedome" and acquire vital knowledge required for the hunt of the swamphulk.
• Gear up and check equipment
• Embark on the hunt of your lives

Threats:
Raiders/ Warboys
Salvagers/ Scrappers
Salvage Yard Owners/Mercenaries
Nature/ Creatures (Notably, the Droidbreaker)

Phu
Environment: Cliffs, Canyons & Caves, Sand Dunes, Ancient Ruins
Objective: Infiltrate the Ka Zor Cartel’s operations at the Podracing tracks and uncover their slave trading/ Artifact Smuggling operation and rigged racing system.

• Attend the Phu-Phuii Classic and infiltrate the complex undetected
• Once inside, eliminate threats and locate two objectives
  Artifact Vault
• Slave Pens

[*]Capture/Kill Ka Zor Cartel Members and Cultists
[*]Free the Slaves
[*]Recover documentation incriminating the Cartel in illegal betting and gambling activities

Threats:
Ka Zor Henchmen
Ka Zor Cultists
Podracers and Pit Crews
Nature/Creatures/Raiders

BYOO: Feel free to bring your own objective or take a different approach to the above listed! If you would like assistance via DM'd character or some sort of interaction, feel free to ask a member of the admin team, but this is intended to be free form - just have fun and stay true to lore and character!

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Location: Phu
Objective: Run the Phu-Phuii Classic
Allies: First Order
Enemies: Ka Zor Cartel
Post: 1/37

Once again, Dunames is back on the podracing circuit, after that race on Luminoss that was terminated by the end of the first lap. On Luminoss, she had the heavy F-Webs on her Gyaban 787 replaced by general-purpose machineguns; here she will be racing with the F-Webs she got from the First Order since the Thakwaa expedition since she had success on Lanteeb using those. Rumors of the race being rigged abound around here. Also, it was purported that the terrain over which the Phu-Phuii Classic was very similar to the terrain run on Tatooine, or Malastare to a lesser extent. The First Order sympathizers in attendance will be there to watch over the proceedings, and there are also potentially FOSB or Ren in the crowd. Oh and those very FO sympathizers seem to mostly have bet on Dunames for the Phu-Phuii Classic, with all the other racers hailing from non-First Order worlds. At this stage of the race, all the runners are parading with their respective flags for the audience to see, with the announcer not hailing from one of the more respectable and who was most certainly not those podcaster ladies she had come to know since Lanteeb from the podraces broadcast across the galaxy: Karine Rajaion and Althea Buckland, whom many in First Order-land associated with color and play-by-play podrace commenting respectively.

"Dunames Lopez, from Dosuun!" the announcer screamed as she walked across the finish line.

 

[Rexus Wenck]

Objective: The Yn Heist
Location: Near Mount Korbard, Yn
Post: I

Rexus Wenck turned to face his squad mates as they trudged through the marshlands, in the lee of Mount Korbard. The former stormtroopers looked beleaguered and tired, attired in cheap and affordable mercenary gear, and carrying near enough equipment to storm a fortress. Which is what they were doing. Mount Korbard was home to Twi'lek cartel kingpin Ael'scellara, or the "Lekku Murderer" a man who enjoyed women, alcohol and fine art. And also used his lekku to savagely strangle women and subordinates who displeased. But it was the art which Rexus' men, the Punishers were after.

Ael'scellara's fortress on Yn's Mount Korbard housed an eighteen foot high, solid phrik statue of the One Sith's infamous leader, the Dark Lord of the Sith. Looted during the ensuring civil war after his death, the statue found its way to the Inner Rim, where Ael'scellara had bought it, and made a fountain out of it. Although they had limited equipment to take the statue out, the Punisher's hoped to be able to take out the occupants of Ael'scellara's mountain chateaux and getaway, the Dragon's Lair.

A frontal assault would be suicide, which is why the six combat veterans steadily marched through mud and reed to the foot of the mountain, before scaling it to a secret entrance to the catacombs. Catacombs, which, if local rumour was correct, had been long ago abandoned. "Keep up!" Rexus grunted from behind his helmet. It was some form of riot control helmet, taken from a law enforcement officer who had long died. "We need to get the kark up here!" He snapped.

There were groans from those behind him. "You're not the one hauling half a hospitals worth of bacta, nerf herder!" Redmond, the squads medic groaned.

"You've got nuthin but that little rifle!" Twigg wheezed, as he tried to pick up the pace.

Rexus rolled his eyes as he listened to the complaints, "Just shaddup!"

 

[Progflaw99]

Post II​

Objective I, Big Game Hunt​

Rust and decay greeted Buruk's arrival to the planet of Belgaroth. Above the shrouded orb of the planet itself hung a mid sized space platform, several ships docked, others flitting about, no doubt moving or otherwise engaging in commerce centered upon the world's bountiful salvage yards. That however was not his chief concern, and as he scanned over the control panel of his vessel, his eyes were drawn towards a geographic display of the surface. A small indicator blinked, he had reached the point of disembarkation. Carefully, he engaged the automated docking system, the hyperdeive ring gently slipping free of the starfighter's hull.

The starfighter far outperformed it's pilot, Buruk admittedly much more comfortable with his two feet on the ground. With a quick input of a few more commands, the nose of the vessel dipped low, aimed towards the Northern pole of the planet, that's where the contract had designated, a contact identified only as "Cromedome" was to be there, complete with the nesting and travel habits of their prey - the swamphulk.

Buruk had been hired on as a guide, his hunting skills a crucial part of the whole scheme. It was the first contract he'd pulled with the First Order, but if the payoff was as good as advertised, it might also be his last - ever. Whatever it was about the Droidbreakers, the Order wanted them bad enough to part with a pretty penny.

His stomach jumped as the vessel entered the atmosphere, several indicators flashing as the autopilot system struggled to account for the change in direction and compensate for the turbulence. How many times had Buruk been offered now? And yet he still managed to be anxious every time. Something about man having two legs for a reason. But that didn't matter anymore, what mattered was the task at hand.

Gaining clearance to fly across the salvage yards was a simple task, arranged by merely paying off the world's flight monitoring supervisor aboard the small orbital platform, he'd done that a week prior, now it was time to put it to the test. If he carried out his end of the bargain, it would ensure that the planetary patrol forces would disregard Buruk's presence, however his compatriot had made very clear the salvage yards employed their own security forces, mercenaries, and could guarantee nothing of them. It had been a calculated risk, but as his vessel streaked towards the pole, it seemed everything was in order.

 

[WolfMortum]

Location: Belgorath.​

Objective: Droidbreaker Hunt & Capture.​

Likely Hunting Party: [member="Buruk Surhaai"]​

Caehl Ren's Inventory​

Belgorath, it was a wasteland that most called for one such as the Caehl Ren's demeanor where Phu otherwise required a more subtle approach. Having been given his choice on the assignment for the Order of Ren, Brennan's intepretation of what the local populace of Phu's reaction might be to his less than kind appearance and lack of empathy for lesser creatures of sentiment had made it a rather predictable decision that he best be dealing with these beasts known as SwampHulks or Droidbreakers. An intriguing name to behold, given his majorly cybernetic make-up since Bespin's feud.

At the cockpit of the Furious Class Corvette sat Delengtha Ren, one of three members of the Omega Strike Team made up of other Disciples that Caehl himself had recruited under the instruction of Samka Derith. They would not be on the ground today however, instead bringing their squadron leader to the surface to continue on with the assignment alone while they themselves would return to the "Upside", the Space-dock of which was the only real place of civilization on the world aside from Belgar itself, the planets capital.

'Chromedome' was to be the contact for the hunting party to Rendezvous with, the meeting point having been forwarded to his comm's and recon device strapped to his left forearm. Seated in the cargo-hold of the smaller craft, he ignored the popping of his airways as they plummeted down through the atmosphere, breaking out of orbit and entering in a air to surface glide. Having lived his life primarily as a captain of the stormtrooper infantry formerly associated with the Empire, Delengtha was the more skilled pilot among them and behind the controls of the Corvette, he brought the vessel near skimming the mounds of wreckage and rust before cutting the main propulsion and firing the repulsors to spin the craft in a controlled arc to perform the helix touch down, a swift one-eighty degree landing which saw the front of the vessel parked within a clearing of the garbage they had come to greet, a discrete and quiet entry for which Brennan would continue on the rest of the way on his own.

Striding down the landing ramp as it descended towards the dusty cracked earth, that of which hadn't yet been covered in whatever filthy creatures called this place home, Caehl Ren stepped away from the vessel to drop his gaze, taking a moment to speak into the built in comlink within his helmet, instructing the others to depart immediately. He himself sparing no time to turn his attention back to the world before him and heading in the direction of Chromedome's supposed location. Hunting animals were one thing, they were instinctive and new the fight for survival that the natural world put on all beings sentient and otherwise, yet rumor had it that there too might be the chance to interact with the more rugged of locals here, those raiders and warboys, criminals before the might of the First Order's regime, those that would seek to gain from their cause here today. Those whom Brennan would gladly kill should they be so bold. This was, deep down, his true incentive for coming along for the ride. He had yet to take a life since fighting the pretend Jedi who had done so much damage to his formerly unscathed human form. Now he was almost as much a droid as the creatures these beasts were known for crushing.

..Almost. And it pissed him off something fierce.

Spoiler

Laptop post >.<

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Post 1
Location: The Phu-Phuii Classic, VIP Stands

There were days when Beka Barineker was convinced that the First Order was among the most progressive and egalitarian powers in the galaxy. Some Imperial groups had a history of misogyny, with female officers needing to claw -- or sleep -- their way to the top. The First Order had always been a meritocracy -- race, color, creed, and gender mattered much less than loyalty and work.

Today wasn't one of those days.

It wasn't that she was in something of a compromised position for this job; her assignment to infiltrate the Phu-Phuii Classic as a cigar girl and waitress wasn't in itself a problem. She would go where she was needed. But she couldn't help but notice the occasional gleeful smirk from the Quartermaster and his staff as she was outfitted -- if you could call it outfitted. The uniform left a lot to be desired; it was more or less just a black mesh jumpsuit, leaving her arms and parts of her legs bare while providing limited coverage to the rest of her body. She had had to suppress an eyeroll, and now that she was wearing it -- in public, no less -- she was embarrassed to be seen in such a state.

But there was a job to be done.

Aided by her eidetic memory, she meandered the stands of the race with drinks, snacks, smokes, and drugs in a tray that she carried, with cords around her shoulders to keep it in place as she transacted business. A hidden compartment in the cash drawer contained tiny and all-but-transparent tracking devices. When she came across a customer who she recognized from the informant's records as a member or leader of the Ka Zor, she would place one of the devices in the beverage, food, or drug container that she served. The devices were small and unobtrusive enough that it could easily be mistaken for a bit of spice or grit in the peculiar alcoholic beverage on order in the stands. The Security Bureau could then track the gangsters and take them out with agents, snipers, or orbital bombardments.

As soon as she finished her tray, her orders were to create a distraction in the kitchens so that under cover of all the chaos, she could unlock the service entrance so that [member="Adrian Calipsa"] could enter the complex and they could begin the next portion of their mission.

 

[Samka Derith]

Objective: Crush the Ka Zor
Location: Phu
Allies: [member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Jacques"]

Samka cared little for podracing, the sport failed to hold her interest. It was a dirty event, one mainly played by aliens and appealing to the lowest common denominator. The number of accidents, which the crowds cheered for, meant it was practically a blood sport. Simply barbaric.

She did care for the corruption that inherently followed podracing however. That had to be stamped out ruthlessly, with the enemy given no quarter.

She stood outside of a cantina in oversized civilian clothing, all the better to look unassuming. A jacket with sleeves that went past her wrists with a hat, slightly crooked, exposing a mess of dirty blonde hair underneath. Yes, it was decided she was blonde today.

Waltzing inside, the other patrons paid her no heed. She didn't stand out among the motley crowd drinking and dining. She looked the part of a perfectly ordinary youth, a dim smile on her face even if she internally wanted to scream at her own scruffiness.

She hopped over to an empty booth at the cantina's side and burred her face into a menu, pretending to be intrigued by the swill that passed for food in such low brow establishments. Occasionally her eyes would flicker around to survey the variety of aliens around, a hodgepodge, too many to name but she recognised the basic assortment of Twi'leks, Bith, Rodians and Wee'qay scattered around, but her gaze never lingered long enough to seem curious.

She was waiting on someone, a FOSB contract to meet her here for a briefing on the Ka Zor. He'd better arrive soon, she was loosing patience with the stench coming from a nearby Whiphid.

 

[Arage Bao]

Location: The Phu-Phuii Classic, VIP Stands
Allies: [member="Beka Barineker"]
1

His skin itched.

They had put him in some kind of mook slash gangster outfit before the start of the mission. Lots of leather, chains, holsters for guns and a few tattoos just edging out of his sleeves. A few rings. Necklace. It all added up to a shady pair of combat boots made out of some kind of leather (probably skinned from an endangered species or something). There was no taste to be found in this get-up, but there was a role to be played.

The sewer smell of the alleyway made his nose wrinkle.

But Calipsa set his jaw, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. They were to infiltrate this cartel - drugs, guns, slavery, these bastards had a finger in all the action on Phu. That wouldn't do. The First Order brought law and order to these parts and unlike the Alliance, they were fully willing to do whatever it took to help the people.

Even if it meant slaughtering every single one of these malcontents.

Two minutes in and in the distance - muffled by the door and the sounds of the nightlife - Adrian could almost hear the sounds of an alarm. Another minute in the door set in the wall of the establishment opened, giving him an escape from the alleyway. He stepped on through, carefully, but was only treated by the sight of- what? Adrian blinked, taking only the quickest of glances on Beka's outfit, before the professionalism took over again.

They were on hostile territory here and this wasn't the time. "What did Command give you to wear?" He shook his head right after, "No, doesn't matter, I got your gear here."

He showed the duffel bag he had been carrying around.

"Any problems so far?"

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Location: Phu
Objective: Run the Phu-Phuii Classic
Allies: First Order [member="Samka Derith"] [member="Adrian Calipsa"] [member="Beka Barineker"]
Enemies: Ka Zor Cartel
Post: 2/37

Once the parade of the contestants was over, all the contestants were going back to their pods; the pre-racing mechanical checks were already made prior to the parade. Also, Dunames realized that, since she didn't accomplish squat for the past years as a podracer, she was going to start the race from the last line. After all, her last accomplishment of any notoriety as a podracer was winning the Lanteeb Grand Prix all these years ago, with all the races she ran afterward being races that were cut short one way or another. Now that she was back in the Gyaban 787, Dunames eagerly awaited the call from the race commissioner, to first start the engines and after that, to get the race started. Also, the Polydroxol would realize that the race was going to be a rough one, with the rumors of hitmen going after other pilots' pods abounding. That was definitely going to be much more dangerous than the races she ran on any planet thus far, even the Luminoss one, and certainly more so than Lanteeb (even though one Marianne Kwyjibo was taken out of play by hitmen).

"Start your engines!"

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Post 2
Location: The Phu-Phuii Classic - Kitchen Service Entrance

"Nothing, obviously," Beka replied waspishly to [member="Adrian Calipsa"] as she swung the door shut behind him and moved to bolt it. She took the bag of gear he offered and stashed it away inside a disused storage cubby. "Help me move this dumpster in front," she snapped, casting a glance towards the entrance to the storage tunnel to be sure they weren't being overheard. When they finally had safeguarded her stash of supplies, Beka turned back to Adrian.

"You have the tracking equipment? I'd say wait until one of the subjects goes to the men's room and grab him," she said. "See if you can get a location on their main base of operations. If not, we can always track them to their base of operations when the race is over." She grabbed Adrian's arm, examined his wristcom to see the time; her own model had only a hidden microphone, having been mocked up to look like a cheap, tacky piece of old jewelry, not a state of the art communications device.

"I have to head back to the kitchen. They'll be missing me. Give it a moment and then leave after me." Beka tapped her ear. "If you need me, just use our codephrase. You remember what it is, don't you?"

 

[Mishel Kryze]

Phu
Crush the Ka Zor
Post 1

​

In the days and weeks following Hoth, Mishel had come to accept a singular truth. Her father had been right, and whatever good Gram Kismet had tried to instill into the young girl had fallen on its sword. Even now she could feel Hazel Zanteres's essence the once emboldened light begin to diminish. It was a slow, and sluggish decline but it would decline nonetheless. Seiger Ren in his infinite wisdom had been correct; the Jedi were weak, and the light of this galaxy needed to be put out of its misery. His path, his First Order would be the beacon of a new light. A new Imperial light to give this galaxy a new way, a new order.

He reminded her of her mother's betrayal, how Siobhan Kerrigan had chosen everyone over her own children. Mishel realized then that she had not earned the name of Ren and decided to call herself by another surname. Zanteres, a name given by her adoptive mother Hazel and as she approached the cantina she put on the mask that would be Mishel Zanteres.

She spotted her master [member="Samka Derith"] but proceeded to head away from her. Mishel had dressed in a torn up flight jacket, accompanied by a pair of olive cargo pants with a faded Avalonia University shirt that just barely went over the lip of her fabric belt. Hair was messy, disheveled complete with woven red and pink braids. The cantina was loud, and louder were the colors of the drinks and she almost wondered if she was overdressed. A pair of hazel green orbs scanned the area around her just as she saddled up to the bar.

Lazily, Mishel looked over the drink offerings on the board behind the the bartender. "Phuscrew on the rocks," she ordered with ease as she ran a hand through her hair.

[member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Jacques"]​

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Objective: Crush the Ka Zor
Location: Phu
Allies: [member="Samka Derith"] [member="Jacques"] [member="Mishel Zanteres"]

Kyrel did not know why he was in this world, besides the objective. Deception was never his specialty and to be honest he hated it. He was a warrior preferred to fight out in the open the sneaking around, but on the other hand, he knew that he would have to get used to dealing with such missions. No matter if he despised them or not.

He had wandered the street hearing sounds of chattering, sounds of laughter and merriment all throughout the streets. Why was this happening, well it was because of the podraces, a sport that Kyrel was unaware of. He had often heard that it was a sport most preferred by aliens but he had never cared for it, and besides that wasn't his mission.

He had wandered the streets on his way to the Cantina where he would be meeting a few contacts. He was dressed in a dark travellers garb and a brown cloak, along with a pair of black trousers, his deformed and scarred face out in the open which in a desperate move tried to hide it underneath a hood. Following the Battle of Hoth and his encounter with that witch known as Kerrigan, he had made great strides in repairing his flesh. At this point, he didn't have to rely on Vader's Life Support armor to move freely. On the other hand, his deformed face was a bit of a challenge to try and make it back to its original state like it was before the accident.

He had stepped inside the Cantina, the place was dirty and foul smelling. He could see all types of life wander around those being Twi'leks, Rodians, Weequays many different times of odd and strange characters. However as soon as he entered all eyes were on him, perhaps it was either due to the fact that he was a new patron or perhaps of his deformity he didn't know. He kept his head high as he walked over to the bar.

As soon as he reached the bar he saw a couple of people that at first glance he didn't recognize. Both were young women. One had blonde hair and dressed in civilian clothing that looked to be too big for a person of her size, and the other had what looked to be cargo pants, and what looked to be an Avalonia University shirt on, her hair was a complete mess mixed with red and pink braids. It was an odd appearance but he didn't care for the filth of this world, all he did care was following the will of the Supreme Leader, and getting the mission done.

He went to the other side of the Bar and reached out with the Force. Much to his Surprise, it was Master Derith and her apprentice, 'The Abomination' Mishel Kerrigan. Even thinking of the last name filled him with anger, especially after his defeat on Hoth, but after facing against so many enemies on Hoth, but could now at least understand the vat grown girl a bit more despite his disdain for her. When it also came to Hoth he was recently promoted to the position of Master of Ren. A position that he had craved ever since he was a Disciple, something he had loathed Derith for, and at times had declared her his unofficial rival, this was perhaps because he both loathed and admired her for her status, and for the fact of always being one step ahead of him ever since he was a Disciple. Nonetheless, he could at least say that they were equal, whether she would see or have similar thoughts were unknown to him, but he also knew that this would be their first interaction respectively and looked forward to perhaps engage in a discussion or two after the mission was over, and perhaps have a proper introduction.

Knowing who the girls now was, he stuck to the other side of the bar, lowering his hood to reveal his deformed face, no one, especially in the Order of Ren, ever taking a glance of Kyrel without a mask or a suit of armor to hide his damaged body, he looked around at the drinks, the bartender was tending to a couple of customers, one was a Twi'lek male and the other was a Zabrak. After he was finished with them he then looked to Kyrel who gave a shocked look at how he looked. Rubbing his dark hair back he looked to the Bartender and asked in a raspy voice, his vocal chords still undergoing the process of being healed. "Corellian Whiskey please." With that the Bartender nodded and got him his drink, Kyrel sipped his drink and looked at his surroundings, while taking glances every now and then at his fellow Ren on the other side of the Bar wondering what the next move would be.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Location: Phu
Objective: Sting Raid on Ka Zor cultists
Allies: [member="Samka Derith"], [member="Kyrel Ren"], [member="Mishel Zanteres"]​

He clicked his tongue in disdain as he waded through the crowd of inebriated zombies toward his contact. 0772 held more than moderate disdain for the disguises employed by Field Agents, a staunch proponent of decorum and uniform. To fit in with the dregs of society, he had opted for a less formal, albeit still collared black button up without the flashy accents or lapel pins that designated him as First Imperial. His black trousers matched and his hair was freshly washed, clinging to his forehead and around his ears.

The First Order had a long list of designated Force Users, and a shorter list- classified for review by only a few- of undesignated ones. 0772 knew the woman for what she was not because he was privy to that privileged information, but because of what he was not privy to. The blonde woman at the edge of the bar was a steel trap, and hers were the only thoughts in the room he could not hear. She was almost certainly a Force User- far too short for an Epicanthix.

So, as he made his way through the cantina toward her, he calculated the probability that she was a direct servant of the Supreme Leader. He had worked with the Ren before, but none of them were well known. What was Sieger's game in all this, and why had he sent an attache for the Security Bureau?

There was a well known distrust toward the unchecked Knights by the Agents of First Order Security.

"Tea," he replied to the serving droid that assaulted him three quarters of the way to his destination. "Coruscanti Grey, if you have it." The machine whined a few times as it processed the order and whistled twice appreciatively. He gave a slight nod and finished his walk to the booth.

"Is this seat taken?" he asked, ruby red eyes sparkling with amusement. The woman looked too bored for someone who had come to watch a podrace. Everyone else in the establishment was too engrossed to notice, or too taken with other things. 0772, however, was trained to see things.

And feel them.

When his tea arrived, he lifted it to his face, took a deep breath, and sighed. Even in the most disgusting parts of the galaxy, order could find a way. He took a sip, savoring the taste as he waited for the woman's response. "Tea?" he asked. "My treat."

The established greeting.

 

[Preliat Mantis]

Location: Phu
Objective: Raid
Allies: Other Agents


The man waded through the crowds, parting them with his imposing mass alone. At six foot four- there were few crowds that weren't small for Preliat Mantis. He was wearing denim blue pants and a black jacket. The jacket served a purpose, it concealed a collapsible slugthrower rifle. All he had to do was extend the stock, load a magazine, and he'd be good to hook and jab with any threat that the Ka Zu could throw at him. That, and the small Ori'ramikad knife up his sleeve. It was only about as long as his forearm, but the beskar material- could probably cut through any material the criminals had. Or flesh, for that matter.

The First Order was a very regimented group, especially the Ren he was going to be working with, along with the agents here. He'd have preferred to just crush them with a squad of clone commandos, but some tasks required a bit more precision than Preliat was used to. Not that the Wolf was a stranger to subterfuge, it was after all, one of the tenets of a good infantryman to have deceptive, concealed movements.

The race was about to kick off, and the cantina gave him a respite from the hustle and bustle of the town. It was also, home to the obvious sore-thumbs. [member="Kyrel Ren"] stuck out harder than most. Preliat leaned on the bar, opting to be near Kyrel- figuring he was also with the Ren. Preliat had the look of a bounty hunter, had the background of it too. It was easy for him to blend in, because he truthfully belonged more to these kinds of planets. The Ren were a big part of the First Order. They were just rebranded Sith to him. Sith and Preliat never got along. Sith and his little axe got along just fine, though. They met a lot.

He waved over the bartender, and spoke Huttese to him. Another way to conceal yourself was not reveal your true language. He spoke perfect Huttese, like most in the galaxy, anyways. Easy to cover up an accent from the Mandalore sector if you never spoke the language. The bartender returned with a beer. Preliat looked casually over at Kyrel, the same way any patron at the bar would. He had no idea who he was, so it was truthfully- a rare casual interaction coming from Preliat.

<"Excited for the race?">

He quipped in Huttese. The man could easily, if he kept up with the Mandalorians even in passing, know who Preliat was. Preliat was famous for two reasons- one for his days as a sports star, and the other, because he was the Wolf of Manda'yaim. The man who killed Dredge. The man who cut down Sith like butter through knife, among his accomplishments on the battlefield. If one could call them accomplishments.

 

[Arage Bao]

Location: The Phu-Phuii Classic, VIP Stands
Allies: [member="Beka Barineker"]
2

They made quick progress and obfuscated the nook, where she stashed her equipment.

In the meantime it was difficult not to pay attention to the skimpy outfit she was wearing. Which was, presumably, the entire point of the exercise during this mission. After all, people who were focusing on her... assets, weren't focusing on her trigger finger or tracking equipment stashed in the various rusted piece of tech.

Still though, distracting.

"Yeah, Skinny Dip." Adrian eyed her before shaking his head. "Boys in the backroom got a funny sense of humor."

Calipsa hadn't realized this was why they picked that code phrase. It had been strange to him from the start, but that was neither here nor there.

More important business to attend to.

They exchanged another nod and went their separate ways for now. After a minute or five Adrian followed suit, but instead of turning to the kitchen moving past that and towards the racing tracks themselves. He wouldn't actually go outside to watch. The lobby would be a good place to scout out opportunities.

There were a lot of people already here - most of them moving past him towards the racing tracks.

Not a single one of them even looked at him. Looked like the disguise was working great. Eventually he noticed one of them detaching himself from the group, going in the direction of the toilet.

How Adrian noticed?

The tattoo burned just beneath the ear on the neck.

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Location: Phu
Objective: Run the Phu-Phuii Classic
Allies: First Order [member="Adrian Calipsa"] [member="Beka Barineker"]
Enemies: Ka Zor Cartel
Post: 3/37

"Three, two, one, go!" the droidic voice announced before the race began.

While Dunames does not suspect that she is, in fact, used to cover the activities of the FOSB agents, once the engines start, the countdown for the start of the race begins to ring on the electronic scoreboard, just overhead the finish line. Of course, her last-line position for departure is going to make the race that much harder. Once the race started, Dunames sped off into the pit area, which was built almost identically to the one in Mos Espa on Tatooine, on which she dreamed of racing but never was able to enter - and it's not a distant victory on Lanteeb that would be enough to seal the deal. But once in the short straightaway, she began boosting, and she no longer was dead last, so that, by the time she flies past the secondary grandstand, and stops boosting, she was able to overtake five racers, making her go from 18th at the first curve to 13th at the second. Little does she know is that one of those five racers she just overtook is attempting to overtake her, in turn.

"Dunames Lopez is about to escape the worst of the crash..." the podcaster commented, while another of those last-line racers crashed into the secondary grandstand.

OOC: The track layout is the following:

Spoiler: Phu-Phuii Classic track

 

[Caid Centurion]

Phu
BYOO
Post 1

"Mi'lord, we're approximately five minutes from our destination."

Caid's bright gaze glanced up from the flimsis he'd recovered from his late father's estate on Corstris. As his eyes found the dark-skinned Captain of his personal guard, the Sith nodded his head. "Very well, thank you. Maintain a stealth approach."

"As you command, Mi'lord."

As soon as the warrior had departed, Caid returned his attention to the information before him. These particular records had been maintained with regards to the Moross Crusade. He found the entire concept to be interesting though not necessarily all that surprising. At the very core of its ideals, it seemed every bit like something the man would have involved himself in. The most curious part about this, however, was that it was more or less the only organization that Cameron Centurion had maintained personal files on. Caid suspected that had to do with its importance to the man. In time, Caid was sure his...investigation...would take him to the planet of Exocron.

For now, however, he had business to tend to in the name of the First Order. Stowing the flimsis, Caid came to his feet and exited his cabin. Casually, the Ren made his way down a small set of steps to the lower level of the Nightstalker. From there, it was a short walk down the corridor to the communications room. Caid entered a specific identification code from memory. In a matter of minutes the holographic form of the Grand Master of the Order of Ren appeared - an individual he had seen fewer times than he'd seen the Supreme Leader, curiously enough.

"Master Ciardha..." The cloaked figure immediately proceeded to business as if every second was very literally scheduled. "You have arrived, good. I'm uploading final operational details to your personal device. As is always the case, understand there are several objectives being undertaken at once. However, per your recent audience with the Supreme Leader, he wishes for you to handle a more...delicate matter."

Caid had been doing these types of...operations...long enough to know that words like delicate and sensitive tended to mean illegal, distasteful, or a combination of both. He said nothing.

"Whether the target lives or dies is of little consequence. His ability to connect what follows to the First Order, however..."

"Support."

"None. Solo as you prefer."

"Parameters."

"The First Order respects the rule of law and the order enforced by justice above all others."

Caid knew it was the party line. Just like he knew the Supreme Leader himself would have no problem hanging Caid out to dry if something went uncontrollably sideways in the execution of a "softly sanctioned" operation.

"It will be done."

"For the Supreme Leader."

Caid just gazed at the holographic display. Both he and the Grand Master knew that Caid didn't exactly...completely entertain the cult mentality. The Sith Lord could have sworn he saw the hint of a smile on the man's mostly hidden features. In the next instant, the connection terminated. Turning, Caid returned to his cabin to collect his datapad and review and pertinent details that he was not already aware of.

 

[Samka Derith]

Objective: Crush the Ka Zor
Location: Phu
Allies: [member="Jacques"] | [member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Preliat Mantis"] | [member="Mishel Zanteres"]

Samka noted the other Ren getting into position at the bar, far away from her as agreed. No good would come of crowding together. The events to come would be something of a test for both Kyrel and Mishel. The young girl now had the chance to recommit the dedication she had been wavering from. On several occasions, Samka had considered harsher methods to rekindle the Darkness in Mishel's heart yet such methods were always a risk to emotional stability. Staying the path seemed to have paid off and the girl was returning to the true way despite the pestering influence from the Order of the Sacred Lotus.

Then there was the cyborg, Samka herself had overseen his promotion to the rank of Master of Ren but now he had to prove himself worthy less she take it away again. Kyrel had proven himself a terrible force on the battlefield but what else could the monstrosity offer, she wondered? Could he develop further into a strong leader? Or would he remain the Supreme Leader's blunt hammer and never a scalpel? Even now, he stuck out for sure but due to the insanity of the cantina's other regular patrons, it wouldn't be long before most people returned to their drinks.

"Is this seat taken?"

A man had approached her booth. Her immediate instinct was to dismiss the patron, far too often now had she been approached by gentlemen in seedy places while undercover, but she was waiting on a contract and one glance at his unusually neat clothing told her all she needed to know. A thin smile graced her lips and she gestured for the man to take a seat opposite her. Her now hazel eyes (the corruption of the Dark Side repressed externally) took in the little details of the man. He was perhaps more pale than her which was quite a feat, although her concealment of the Dark Side had put some colour back into her skin.

"Only with sugar," she replied to his question of tea, delicately placing the menu flat on the table between them and flashing the agent a sweet smile, "It's far too bitter otherwise." The agreed response to her contact.

Sam made a quick last second spot check to insure they weren't being overheard before continuing, her voice much lower, controlled and sinister than before, "You're here about the infestation? We have quite the pest problem. How much do you know?"

 

[Mishel Kryze]

Phu
Post 2

​

A glittering drink of blue hues slid down to the young woman. Her eyes became lost in its presence. She hadn't heard the voice of another young woman, green skin - Mirialan, dark hair. "You know if you stare at it long enough it might just do a trick," her voice had a rasp to it was deep, and caught Mishel's attention. The woman continued to talk and even offered up a smile. "Names Leyna, Leyna Acula."

"Mishel Zanteres," the brunette replied with a smile as she shifted positions on the stool. She moved with her back now facing [member="Samka Derith"] and [member="Jacques"], sitting side saddle with one hand twirling the cute straw that accented the drink. The young Ren drank in the other woman's presence. She was older if the laugh lines on her face were anything to go by. A scar ran across the edge of her right eye, while another dripped across her lip on the left. "So, Leyna how can I help you?"

Leyna took a seat beside Mishel ordered up a glass of brandy, Balmorran even. "I don't know, can you?" She started, "not sure if you Imperials help but I am short a lady on my crew, think you can uh help me out here Avalonia?" The woman teased she looked at the human's shirt and chuckled, "I mean if you want."

The Tygaran gave a shy smile as she turned away a moment her face flushed pink and then as she looked at the Mirialan who could only shrug. Mishel replied, "depends on the help." She then brought the straw to her lips as she held the glass and took a sip of the Phuscrew. She was still so unsure of whatever it was this Leyna wanted but she knew what she wanted. As the Tygaran teenager pondered the other woman's offer she reminded herself that far too often had she gone off, on her own. And more often than not this led to trouble. And so as she looked over her shoulder, Mishel looked at Samka and then back to the Mirialan.

Leyna caught the young woman's eyes and followed her gaze to a blonde. "It wouldn't be difficult but I'm in need of an extra pair of delicate hands to handle something for me, so if you're interested." She took out a holocard from the inside of her jacket. Force, her jacket Mishel wanted to die just looking at it. Leather, real Rontho leather that had been worn - faded. It smelled of - no reeked of alcohol and oil. As the Mirialan handed her holocard over she ensured that their hands brushed against one another. "Call me."

Mishel looked over at her drink, and back at the holocard. She threw the straw out of the drink and practically chugged her drink as she put the holocard in her own jacket. Just to avoid a lingering gaze, which - she still had. Over the older woman that had now walked away in such a swagger the young woman wasn't entirely sure if the Phuscrew was helping. She remained firmly planted in her seat as she set the now empty glass down and looked over at the Balmorran brandy and ordered up a glass for herself, "can I get a glass of that? Double shot, please."

​

[member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Preliat Mantis"]​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

"Skinny Dip," Beka agreed, her eyes flashing with mild annoyance at it. The young woman cleared her throat as she moved along, her fingers tugging at the rough edges of her outfit around her hip, trying to get more coverage, although it was a pipe dream at this point. She came into the kitchen just as her tray had finished filling. She climbed back into the case, looping it around her shoulders and then walked back out to the racetrack stands. The agent moved back towards the VIP stands and continued her work, marking the people who matched the description of high-ranking members of the criminal gang, or who her instincts and intuition told her knew things about the operation.

Her eyes scanned the row as she passed out another drink, then an order of fried whatever. How did these people live their lives eating this muck? She wrinkled her nose and moved along the row. "Cold drink? Hot snack?"

[member="Adrian Calipsa"]