Private The Faces of the Worm Emperor | The Mask of Passion

[Darth Morta]

Location: Brooka The Hutt's Casino, Nar Shaddaa
Objective: Infiltate the secret vault run containing rare valuables owned by Brooka The Hutt's spice cartel.
Sub-Objectives:
1. The Secret Vault is hidden to all but the most trustworthy or most indebted to Brooka's Cartel. By trusting only to people who won't or can't afford to give up information.
Find one of them and extract it from them by any means necessary. Or. Find a way to access the Casino's main computer's encrypted files and download the location and access codes.

2. Secure escape, the Casino is far enough from the spaceport that the escape vessel can't provide immediate support. A getaway vehicle is needed to get to the spaceport. The Casino offers three obvious options: steal a fast speeder from one of the patrons (best speed, lowest space for loot, medium stealth), steal a delivery vehicle (lowest speed, medium space for loot, best slealth), or steal a VIP shuttle (medium speed, best space for loot, worst stealth). Or. Bring your own vehicle, get it into position for quick loading, and keep security from getting too suspicious of it.

3. Deal with security. Cartel security is mostly big, dumb brutes, but the head of security is a bit trickier. They either need to have their eyes drawn away from the inside of the casino by going loud and dumb. Or. Infiltate the security office, quietly take out the security head, and direct things more subtly.

Orignal image provided by CT-312 ​

 

[Darth Morta]

Location: Bar
Tags: Open
Objective: Free Floating

Darth Morta stepped into the front of Brooka The Hutt's Casino, the air smelling heavily of smoke, spice, sweat, and alcohol. Just as the smells of vice floated on the air, the force was rich with the same sort of energy, some of it came from the people participating in every vice the galaxy could offer, but there was something else underneath, a dark energy that seemed to spur on the emotions of everyone here. That was what she was looking for, Morta suspected that this was the Mask of Passion, an artifact of the Worm Emperor who ruled before Darth Empyrean.

She had put out word quietly in several spaces to attract allies and underlings for this raid. Waiting for them to arrive Morta entered the bar area and ordered. "A snifter of Ra'rme Spice Liquor, chilled, no ice, an '86 or '84 if you have it."

Waiting for a moment while the bartender, a fairly attractive Twi'lek male, a blue Rutian rather than a red Lethan like herself, looked through a large chilling cabinet and eventually came forward with her drink. Morta smirked and, with a quick hand gesture, said, "I'm one of Brooka's personal guests, I was told I don't need to pay."

To which he replied, "Of course not, Ma'am. I'll make sure the other bartenders and servers know your drinks and food are on the house tonight."

It was good to know that even though she hadn't used that kind of trick in a while, and Morta felt good knowing that she hadn't gotten rusty.

Taking a sip of the drink, letting the alcohol burn its way pleasantly down her throat, Morta reached out with the force again, trying to identify the source of the energy that she suspected was the Mask of Passion. But the force was too muddled by the sharp emotions of the crowds around her to pinpoint it.

Morta suspected that it wasn't going to be in the main vault where the credits were stored, but had no proof of where exactly it was, and was hoping that she might be able to cut out the need to rely on others to locate it. So she'd have to wait for the rest of the crew she'd hired to make themselves known to her so they could proceed as planned.

 

[Vestra Tane]

LOCATION: Bar
TAGS: Open
OBJECTIVE: Free Floating
EQUIPMENT: A Truck, A Knife, A Blaster, and the Force

"Yeah, no, of course you're gonna get the truck ba- have I ever burned you?" A pause, and a scoff, "Okay, well when was the last time I burned you? Yeah? Everything's gonna be fine. It's an easy job, promise. Yeah. Yeah. See you for Sabacc next week? Good. See you around." Vestra shut her comms off, and slumped down into the driver's seat of the T-71 with a sigh. And she felt the tiniest twinge of guilt.

Her buddy definitely wasn't getting his truck back.

The bar wasn't anything to scoff at, but still, Vestra felt like she'd been kicked out of way nicer places before. A bit too gaudy for Vestra's tastes, but then, what were you supposed to expect from a cartel joint? It wasn't like decor critique was why she was here, anyway.

"Chandrillan Brandy," She called out to the bartender before she even got to the bar, flashed a silver credit chit to make her point, "and double up on the worm." She slithered onto the barstool, liquid, and watched with satisfaction as the bartender silently condemned two innocent annelids to a fizzy death. Right when the bubbles were at their height, she snatched it, mumbled an obligatory "Sagrona Teema," and knocked the drink back.

It burned nice, and Vestra leaned against the bar, scanning the patrons. She had a job to do, after all, and...

Lethan Twi'lek. Serious expression. Huh. The heels were definitely a choice.

Vestra raised a glass in Darth Morta 's direction, and finished off her brandy.

 

[Avel Som]

---

Avel Som entered the casino, leaving Darkwing outside. It would probably look odd to have an ebon hawk inside, and the bird could keep an eye out outside. They were a great team like that.

He walked up to the bar. As much as he did not particularly like eating or drinking, he was supposed to order something. Very well. "Gimme whatever this will buy." He slapped down some kind of silver coin. He had no idea what kind of coin or how much it was worth. He hadn't really cared. Money itself meant little to the rail-thin man. He didn't really have any living expenses to speak of. He wasn't even here for any Credits, merely to help out a Sith who had requested it. Connections and acquaintances were worth way more than any currency.

The bartender looked at the coin, his eyes going wide briefly. "Just a moment," he said. He grabbed a tall bottle of something and began mixing somethings. "This is my personal spin on the Cassandra Sunrise. Merenzane Gold flavored with lachrymead and garnished with vaporator mushroom, but instead of Zabrak ferment, I mix it with fermented Endrolian ground-apple juice." The bartender pushed the glass towards Avel Som. "Give it a try. I'm sure you won't be disappointed."

Avel Som simply shrugged and gave it a shot. It was surprisingly good, which was a first for him. "Well, this is quite a new experience. I absolutely love it!" The bartender seemed to beam with pride at the compliment.

---

TAGS: Darth Morta Vestra Tane​

 

[Sinya Tarkona]

Location: Bar
Tags: Darth Morta // Vestra Tane // Avel Som
Objective: Free Floating

Sinya Tarkona slipped into the Casino, careful not to draw any attention to herself, Brooka and her had bad business between them. Frak, that was half the reason Sinya was here, to get the money Brooka owed her and get a little revenge.

Saddling up to the bar, Sinya ordered her drink, "Yo, can I get a double Broadberry Meadow?"

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Sin'yatarkona. You gotta a lot of nerve showing your face around here." The Twi'lek bartender answered, running her given and clan names together in the traditional Rylothian method of familiarity.

"If it ain't Yun'edtarkona," She replied, greeting her fellow member of the Tarkona clan as she picked up the drink from the counter, without paying. "Don't let Brooka know I'm here, he's still mad at me for that lost shipment, and I'm not convinced he didn't leak the route to kill me off."

 

[CT-312]

//: Darth Morta Vestra Tane Avel Som Sinya Tarkona //:
//: Brooka The Hutt's Casino, Nar Shaddaa//:
//: Attire //:
//: Weapons: S-5 Blaster Pistol, K-16 Bryar Pistol & Vibroblade Knife//:
​

As Rook stepped into the casino, immediately the chaos wrapped around her. Lights pulsed above the gambling pits, smoke curled from spice pipes and cigarras. Credits flowed like blood through the veins of the joint. Laughter, arguments, victory cheers, and cries of losers could be heard loudly all around the Hutt’s Casino.

She moved smoothly, weaving through the patrons. Cartel enforcers with too many weapons and not enough subtlety stuck out like sore thumbs. Dancers moving around the crowd on invisible rails. Memorizing and scanning around the area, Rook spotted the bar. It was off to the side in the back of the casino in a quieter area.

—

Rereading the mission briefing as the dropship docked in Nar Sadda. The soft hum of the ship settling into the docking clamps below. A message blinked across CT-312’s console in the ship’s bay. Sharp green on matte black, tagged with the DeathDrop’s encrypted insignia.

<:// Location: Brooka The Hutt’s Casino, Nar Sadda //:>
<:// Assigned: Darth Morta //:>
<:// Solo unit. //:>
<:// Not to be affiliated to the DeathDrop. Other unknown units will be present. //:>
<:// Instructions: Meet contact at bar. Order a drink. //:>

CT-312 absorbed the tactical information and let the implications settle. This wasn’t the standard black ops job she was used to. A Hutt’s Casino. This was a different kind of dirty and more uncertain with the variables. She wouldn’t be entering this mission as CT-312. Her usual Camouflage Scout Trooper armor she always donned was replaced with less armor coverings, a draped hood and scarf around her head. Obscuring the shape of her features. Securing the half mask over her mouth and nose with a hiss and a click. The only thing visible was a flash of sharp, watchful eyes beneath the hood’s edge.

No longer CT-312, but Rook.

As the ramp hissed open, Rook did a final check of her equipment. Her blasters were holstered low on her hip. The other secured at the back of her belt and the vibroblade knife secured up high in front of the belt draped across her chest. The noise of Nar Shaddaa hit her like static. Speeders overhead, garbled music bleeding from signs all around, and the chatter from the packed streets. She didn’t linger and began heading to the objective.

—

The bar was half-ringed in a mirror glass and synthetic wood with bottles from every sector lining the walls like trophies. Rook spotted her contact Darth Morta and another familiar face. Sinya Tarkona , who was from a previous prison break job. Would Sinya recognize her now? With the scarf hood draped over her head and half her face hidden behind a mask. Rook doubted it. But it was good to know there was another capable body for this mission. The two others though, she did not recognize. Strangers, but more players. All part of the game.

Rook stepped up, placing her gloved hand on the bar, putting credits down. Flatly saying to the bartender through the mask’s voice modulator “A shot of Dust Juice. No chaser.” He gave her a once-over. Didn’t ask any questions. The bartender just reached for a green bottle from the rack at the back of the mirror glass, pouring the orange liquid into a small shot glass. Sliding it over to her.

Rook didn’t drink. Not yet. Wrapping her fingers around the glass, she made brief eye contact with Darth Morta. Giving a subtle nod, a gesture of acknowledgement. ‘At least the job has some drinking involved.’ In one motion she used her other hand to briefly lift her half mask up and downed the Dust Juice in once clean pull. It burned and tasted like hell. Placing the empty shot glass gently on the bar top. A small smirk formed underneath the mask.

‘Might be fun after all.’

 

["Templar"]

//: Darth Morta Vestra Tane Avel Som Sinya Tarkona //:
//: Brooka The Hutt's Casino, Nar Shaddaa //:

Templar didn’t like the way the air tasted here. Too much smoke. Too much metal. And yet… she breathed it in anyway. Standing still for a moment on the landing strip of Nar Shaddaa. She tilted her head back. Neck creaking softly as her helmet shifted with the motion, then slipped slightly back down. Just enough to catch the garish lights of the sign above. Reading the sign:

“Brooka The Hutt’s Casino.” The color. Noise. Life. So much of it all packed in one neon lie.

Her gaze drifted left… downward slightly. To her.

The slightly shorter woman who stood beside her. Radiating ease and menace both. Templar called her “Master”. A submission hardwired and reluctant. She didn’t know why ‘Master’ followed her. Or maybe it was the other way around. Perhaps it always has been.

Why had she come here? Why follow Templar to a place of chance and credits?

Templar’s fists curled slightly at her sides. The frayed leather of her gloves creaked. She barely had a handful of credits left. Scattered like thoughts since the time she woke up. She needed more. To survive and move. To not depend so much…

Her helmet cautiously tilted towards her ‘Master’. Curious.

She didn’t speak. Not well. Templar’s tongue and vocal chords had temporarily lost the grace of fluid speech long ago in the cold silence of suspended time. But she reached.

A thread. A pull. A quiet tug of a child at the sleeve of a parent. A wordless petition: <Can I…?> Her head slowly turned back to the neon sign. Templar's voice was low and broken. “Master… go?” Raspy and rough, with the weight of forgotten centuries. There was a pause, a moment of stillness between the two of them.

Permission.

They entered, the casino was loud in a way that hurt more than blaster fire. Lights swirled, halos and dancers enticing the patrons. Cartel security guards in every corner, crowd watching for anything slight disturbance. Templar walked with weightless wariness, the past echoing behind every bootstrap.

There was a flicker of thought passed through the Templar’s mind. Her ‘Master’ had indulged her. Allowing this small freedom— to step into the chaos of the casino. It was only right she offered something in return. Buying her ‘Master’ a drink.

Making her way to the bar, the Templar cast a glance across the gathered patrons. They were loud, distracted, alive in ways she no longer remembered how to be. One of the guests by the bar, Templar briefly made eye contact, Darth Morta . When the bartender finally turned her way, she ordered in a hollow rasp “Nysillin… Bubbles… Berry”. The bartender gave a casual nod. “One Nysillin and Bubbles with Brub Berry Essence, coming right up”

A gift, in her own strange way.

Spoiler: nearby

Spencer Varanin

 

[Darth Morta]

Location: Bar
Tags: Vestra Tane // Avel Som // Sinya Tarkona // CT-312 // "Templar"
Objective: Free Floating

Darth Morta sipped her own drink, the spice liquor burning its way pleasantly down her throat. A pleasant side effect of choosing to have them meet at the bar and she felt although her plan to identify the crew via drink orders wasn't particularly brilliant it would be enough to keep the attention of the particular brutish security forces of Brooka the Hutt from paying too much attention.

Listening in she counted off members, Vestra Tane with the Chandrillan Brandy, the smuggler who was supposed to help with extraction. If all went well, there'd be a truck waiting by the employee entrance and loading docks for them to load the profits of their endeavour.

Next to the bar was Avel Som , not exactly following the protocol she'd laid out, but managed to order a drink and she'd been able to read the anticipation in his force aura to tell he was here to be involved. Helpful or not, he was here.

A match to the bartender that had served her own drink, a blue skinned Rutian, this time female was next of her crew to show up. Sinya Tarkona seemed pretty friendly with the bartender, even using the familiar versions of each other's name. She was here to provide the extraction vessel to get them off world and later loop back around to bring the others back to their ships if they needed.

A familiar force aura stepped up to the bar, Morta didn't even need to listen to the drink order to identify this one. CT-312 was a trooper that had been a good aid in the Maw and Morta had specially reached out to the Death Drop for her again, though was light on mission details in the request.

The last one "Templar" wasn't one she recognized, but they showed up at the right time, the right place, and ordered one of the correct drinks. Perhaps one of the lesser sith Morta had sent an invitation to disguising themselves in the force. If so it was a good precaution, but not necessary here.

It was time to get things moving though, Morta reached out with the force and nudged each of them carefully. Giving them the gut feeling that whatever they were here to do, now was the time to start it, as well she added a quick flash of knowledge, the knowledge of who their fellow comrades were in this operation. While a little vague, it was better than all of them gathering in a booth and drawing attention, now if anyone needed help, they knew who they could ask.

 

[Spencer Varanin]

//: "Templar" //:
//: Bar //:​

---

It was endearing how the Child tried. Spencer's mind was a steel trap, with only small holes for the daring to try and enter. Unlike others, her mind left those holes to bait, goading the hubris of the foolish. The Child was more intelligent than that; instead of reaching for the temptation of the cracks, she gently caressed against the spine of the predator. Carefully, the Child was rewarded.

As usual, the armored girl had reached through the Force. It was their primary means of communication. Simple and subtle, but Spencer wanted the girl to find her voice. Unlike the pair, the rest of the galaxy needed to hear things in basic or see them through sign language. Eventually, Spencer knew she would need to release the Child into the galaxy to find her way - carve it like she had done for her children.

While she heard the voice in her mind, Spencer glanced at the armored warrior at her side from the corner of her eye. It was a wordless command that the Templar would understand.

Her broken words were enough; Spencer knew its intention despite several bits of context missing. Looking up at the sign that had caught the girl's attention, Spencer nodded. "That was good," she paused, then began to head inside. "Come now, let's explore, young one."

Spencer didn't wait for the Child to make up her mind, already knowing that she would be following with the uneven step she had developed in her sleep. The master wondered if the girl knew of her unique step - it was subtle and almost unsure. But Spencer could tell as she learned and grew these past few months - confidence began to slowly bleed into her stride.

Proudly, the woman smirked, knowing the bird would soon fly without needing her leash.

For now, the old ball and chain would follow to ensure she remained partially out of trouble.

Sitting at the bar, she watched as the girl made her way to interact with complete strangers. It was precious in a way how she waited in line to order. Spencer wondered what she was ordering, but her eyes flickered towards the red Twi'lek - remembering someone who annoyed her in the past.

Thankfully, the insufferable beast had finally been put down.

She mused happily, knowing she had outlived one of her most annoying enemies. Still, the pleasure was shifted as the Templar returned with something in hand. "Ohh?"

Spencer's face lit up as she happily took the drink. Sipping it gently through the thin straw, she sighed happily. "Are you a mind reader, my child?" Spencer teased playfully as she took another sip.

"Delicious and perfectly the drink I would have ordered."

Glancing in the child's direction, she nodded toward the casino. "So, what are your thoughts on everything? Do you sense anything of interest and danger?"

Despite today being a day for fun, Spencer would use some of it for a lesson to sharpen the girl's mind.

Spoiler: Tags

Darth Morta , Vestra Tane , Avel Som , Sinya Tarkona , CT-312