Boost THE FIRST GALACTIC KAGGATH - RUMBLE ON RUUSAN

[Kudau]

CT-312 (Nearby: Jacen Breska )

The camera crew, taking the awkward advertisement as a moment to cut away, started to exit the locker room just as Kudau leaned on the entrance to let them get by. His cloak covered most of the bandages needed for his injury, but the white gauze contrasted brightly with his dark gray fur, leaving plenty of evidence for his injury. Despite this, he still carried himself with the same upright posture he always did. If it weren't for the obvious wrappings, he wouldn't look injured.

He gradually came up on the two Imperials, clearing his throat to get CT-312's attention.

"CT-312? You've certainly been trained well, and your prowess in hunting is nothing to be sneezed at..."

He took out his lightsaber, inspecting it thoroughly one final time before looking back at her.

"While I would have greatly appreciated more insight into our battle in that little interview, I feel you have already taught me a great many things about the galaxy simply by crossing blades with me..."

He offered the lightsaber, holding onto the outer ring, rather than the hilt. "...I may be obligated to give you this as a trophy, but that is not to say that you didn't earn it. Well done."

Kudau's face was not showing frustration, but rather acceptance. It was like he lost a game of holochess, rather than a deathmatch. He waited patiently for her to take the saber...

 

[Mercy]

The post-duel interview was a time-honored tradition among duelists and pit fighters. It allowed you to underline your strengths, soak in a bit of glory and above all show a touch of humility to endear the fans from all around the arena.

Mercy was not a good winner however.

Whatever the winning equivalent of a sore loser is, that was what Mercy encapsulated.

" Mercy ,

"Vyn brought calculated aggression and strong defense to bear against you, but you managed to break through both. What was your assessment of him going in?"

"I had no assessment. I didn't find out his name until I was already declared victor. The lad leaned heavy on tech to keep up. I told him this and I will say it again. If you need more than flesh and bone to compete, you don't belong here. Drop out and stop wasting the time of real warriors."

"You maintained an intimidating, almost predatory control throughout. Was that your natural combat rhythm, or tailored specifically to throw him off?"

"I saw prey and acted accordingly. Nothing more was needed."

"The way you fight walks a fine line between discipline and brutality. Do you draw a line between domination and overkill, or do you use a “all bets are off” mindset in this arena?"

"There's no difference. You want domination? You give everything. Overkill is a word the weak invented to justify losing. That's all it is."

"With this kind of victory you're now a visible threat going into the next round. Are you ready for opponents to start preparing for you specifically? What are your thoughts going into a three-way bout?"

"Two opponents, three, ten. An army. They can prepare, they can worry. It doesn't matter. I will keep going until either my body breaks or theirs. And mine never does. I will say it now: I will rip your spine out, I will grind your gears into sand. There will be no mercy once you step inside the arena. Only agony. Quit now while you still can."

In one fell swoop she had just rewritten the events that had happened without so much as blushing. Because that was the true spoil given to the victor and that had been the case for all of history.

Razmir Tezhyn

 

[Lachadann]

Up in the stands, Lachadann's integrated comlink buzzed frantically, from the bounty networks she'd connected with while trying for her not-quite-yet-achieved license. An alert scrolled across her field of vision.

Debt Collection - 5,000,000 Credits Have Gone Missing From First Toydarian Galactic Bank

Toydaria. Syndicate territory. Deathstick clouds cover the interior of a murky, dim lit office. Broken furniture, apparel, construction... the office belies the status of the individuals occupying it. At first glance, it seems a meeting of the destitute, of downtrodden gamblers. But the aura...

www.starwarsrp.net

Five thousand - no, there was a whole other set of zeroes. Five million. Five million credits, with a fee big enough to see the universe. Just one more course, one more potential sponsor interview, and she could've had a licence today - could've been in the same boat as the half-dozen bounty-hunter-looking people simultaneously extricating themselves from the stands. The mood shifted more than subtly.

Seething with embarassment, Lachadann stayed in her seat and lit up another cigarra. This had soaked all the glee out of watching the Mercy interview. All of it.

 

[Razmir Tezhyn]

Guts of the Arena,
Some Backstage Corridors

Razmir got a notification on his datapad, not related to the Kaggath. A genuinely important one.

<Hey Raz, you better check this out. 5.000.000 Million Bounty on Kaggath Organizers.>​

He read the brief summary. They were targeting him.

1. If Kaggathian Officials Attempt To Return The Donation Peacefully, Take It.
2. If UCs Are Achieved Peacefully, This Bounty Is Not Complete Until All Kaggathian Organizers Are Hanging By Their Necks Lining The Toydarian Capital's Streets.
3. 5,000,000 UCs or nothing, no smaller credit distribution will be accepted.
4. Physical evidence is required.

His heart dropped. His smile wavered slightly. Galaxy's most wanted. This wasn't exactly how he meant to achieve that.

"Excuse me, but something urgent just came up. We'll discuss this later, hm? Keep the money."

With that, Razmir pushed past the Bounty Hunter Sal Katarn into one of the many corridors of the arena.

He needed to get out.

Now.

 

[Sal Katarn]

“Hmm-“

Sal’s data pad buzzed. He pulled it out. Read the message, grimaced. Looked back at Razmir Tezhyn retreating form.

“Hold on, hoss.”

Sal’s hand settled on the butt of his pistol. A slugthrower of the classic revolver style. He thumbed the leather catch holding it in place on his hip.

Cold eyes bored into the man.

“I think you might need some protection.”

 

[Mauve]

Skybox, Ruusan Sports Arena

A gentle chime on her datapad indicated an important message. Mauve languidly slid the pad closer and perused the contents. She went very still.

Then, without any comment, she placed the datapad back down and sat back in her chair. Her chair directly next to no less than four Sith Lords and the Mand'alor himself.

Which mattered more, five million credits, or the good graces of the heirs of empire? Mauve knew which she would choose.

She tossed a look toward Aether Verd and did not keep the pleading from her violet stare. She did him a favor once, helping set one of his people free. Was that one act worth five million credits?


Ashin Cardé Varanin | Darth Adekos | Darth Empyrean | Darth Kentarch

 

[Arris Windrun]

Arris noticed the change in the air. People looked anxious, desperate, or predatory--and not just because the majority were Black Sun.

Something was happening. The cyborg crossed her arms, furrowed her brow. Tried her best to look like she was part of the mess. No one had to know she was clueless.

 

[Kyric]

Razmir got a notification on his datapad, not related to the Kaggath. A genuinely important one.

<Hey Raz, you better check this out. 5.000.000 Million Bounty on Kaggath Organizers.>​

He read the brief summary. They were targeting him.



His heart dropped. His smile wavered slightly. Galaxy's most wanted. This wasn't exactly how he meant to achieve that.

"Excuse me, but something urgent just came up. We'll discuss this later, hm? Keep the money."

With that, Razmir pushed past the Bounty Hunter Sal Katarn into one of the many corridors of the arena.

He needed to get out.

Now.

Kyric blinked. He felt a growing sense of dread moving rapidly through the halls of the Kaggath arena. Its bearer carried a sense of existential fear loud enough for anyone with even the faintest whisper of the force to catch a whiff.

"What in the Force's name?" the kiffar asked no one in particular. He did a quick once-over of his wounds; the lightning scars had dulled from angry red to a soft white. His throat no longer burned, and the act of breathing felt mostly natural. The stiffness within his arm hadn't entirely disappeared, but the Jedi suspected a bit of physical activity would break down the tension.

Which meant it was time to get active.

Kyric popped out of the tub, a shrill whistle summoning the vornskr after him. He dressed himself with the speed and grace of a performer, snagged his utility belt, and set out into the corridor in search of their esteemed host.

"Keep your ears out, girl. It feels like things are about to go boom and I ain't lookin' to get caught flat-footed."

---

Tags: Razmir Tezhyn

 

[Whottoomuzz Chantin]

The lights of the interview chamber faded behind him.

Cheers still echoed through the ferrocrete hallways, mixed with the hiss of coolant tanks and the whirring of droids refueling flamethrowers and munitions. Whottoomuzz slithered forward, slow and deliberate. His torso still ached, ribs raw beneath the phrik and electrum. The new jaw, riveted steel from a repair droid’s chassis, clinked with every movement, and his breath hissed behind it like wind through broken gates.

Then his commlink beeped.

Encrypted.

Old frequency. Back from the Heydey of the Chantin Kajidic.
A Huttese pingcode. Toydarian origin. He had thought his old contacts have gone to ground.
He connected.

"Whottoo. It’s Bijorr. Remember me? I used to run spice through Namadii with your uncle’s cut."
"We saw what you did in that pit. Could smell the blood from here."
"Listen. The Toydarian Bank just posted a bounty. Someone lifted five million from their vaults—then 'donated' it to this karking tournament."
"They want it back. All of it. And they want the gods of the Kaggath to burn for it."
"word is Black Sun's running the thing, so I figured we'd give you a call, seein' as you're still kicking. Maybe I put a good word in, make right with the old syndicates? Win. Take that prize. Bring it home. I've already registered you as a licensed bounty hunter, just pound 'em and bring home the mulee-rah. If you lose – find that winner, catch em unawares like, bring back the dough."
"The prize isn't glory anymore, Hutt. It's debt collection. Not everyone's forgotten ahat you've done for us in the past."

The line cut.

Whottoomuzz stared forward for a long moment. The ring still gleamed in his palm.
His grip tightened.
He didn’t flinch when the metal edge cut into his flesh.

He had been fighting for pride. For clan. For Xoff. For the audience. For the thrill.
But a reminder of his Kajidic eked its way back into his old life.

There's no escaping the underworld, is there?

Whottoomuzz grinned, tasting hutt-blood where flesh meets graft.

KILL THEIR GODS. GET THE MONEY BACK. BREAK THEIR CHOSEN. DEBT PAID IN BLOOD.​

 

[Drystan Creed]

INTERMISSION

Drystan took another drag from the cigarette between his fingers, noting the shift in atmosphere within the arena as he leaned against the doorway of his locker room. If it had the Black Sun scrambling, it more than likely had to do with credits. He scoffed.

Drystan had no desire for the tournament prize. He'd half considered donating it to an orphanage—or adding it to the coffers of the Order. Either way, it made little difference to him.

To meet those considered strong. To grow in his pursuit of combat. To discover what lay beyond his limits—and surpass it.

That was what he sought. And he would find it in the fight itself, not in the spoils that followed.

The only reward a martial artist could ever truly hope for, is another step forward on the path to self-mastery.

 

[Mercy]

After the interview Mercy was back at her locker room. Her ear was buzzing with the voice of one of her underlings.

"A social media expert? Why do I need a social media expert?" The high-pitched buzzing continued. Whoever was on the other side seemed to be very excited by whatever prospect they were discussing.

"What is a trend? What are hashtags?" A soft blink blink. "Hashtag Mercy the Agony? That sounds stupid." She said with a bit of an incredulous tone except for the little glint in her eyes. Anyone who actually knew Mercy would see the beginning of avarice.

"Half a billion shares in the first minute? You are absolutely shi-"

A pop-up appeared in front of her.

Debt Collection - 5,000,000 Credits Have Gone Missing From First Toydarian Galactic Bank

Toydaria. Syndicate territory. Deathstick clouds cover the interior of a murky, dim lit office. Broken furniture, apparel, construction... the office belies the status of the individuals occupying it. At first glance, it seems a meeting of the destitute, of downtrodden gamblers. But the aura...

www.starwarsrp.net

"Sev? I will have to call you back." She turned them off without skipping a beat as she quickly scanned through the missive. Apparently the Kaggath organizers had royally pissed off the wrong people. She licked her lips. Five million credits? That was not just a little penny. That was a big enough bounty to do a lot of fun stuff.

And you didn't even have to fight through several rounds of people.

She snapped her fingers and waved the masseuses off. The chair creaked in relief as she stood up. She doubted she'd be able to find Razmir Tezhyn , that fellow seemed quick like a fox and small enough to fit into whatever crevice was available.

But Mercy remembered seeing Mauve , hard to miss, that one. Surrounded by Sith Lords and the like, sure. But you only needed to get lucky once. She began to move to the place she had been transmitting from.

This was going to be fun.

 

[Xeykard]

"A fair exchange," he gave another bowed head. "This one lacks the feats and titles as you have claimed. You may call this one Xeykard. A servant of the Dark Lord, Carnifex -- formerly." The last word carried a venomous weight. He straightened, momentarily meeting Adekos as an equal, before he returned to the discomforting deference. "This one was an Inquisitor in the days of the Empire. A lackey, for a time, to the Order.

"But the galaxy changes. The Sith have changed. You led an empire, advanced in ways no other could. Now, the work stalls -- they hide behind walls to fight only among each other, pretending at the sophistication you embodied in your rule. They blind themselves to the galaxy in the guise of enlightenment. It is stagnation. It is a disgrace. But there is still time." Again, he drew himself up.

"The Black Sun arms itself for war against the High Republic. This, and others -- chances to remind the galaxy what the Sith can be. Hide too long, and they will forget us; forget to fear us.

"This one knows how to fight. But to win -- there is more to that. This one requests your aid in this endeavor. To free the Sith. A return to a time of strength, rather than barbarity."

Darth Adekos ​

 

[Razmir Tezhyn]

“Hmm-“

Sal’s data pad buzzed. He pulled it out. Read the message, grimaced. Looked back at @Razmir Tezhyn retreating form.

“Hold on, hoss.”

Sal’s hand settled on the butt of his pistol. A slugthrower of the classic revolver style. He thumbed the leather catch holding it in place on his hip.

Cold eyes bored into the man.

“I think you might need some protection.”

"You saw it, then."

Razmir's eyes flicked to the man's gun, then back up. He reached for the man's emotions, a light touch, little more, to douse his desire to do anything rash.

"You're a freelancer right now. Unlicensed, no backup, and enough bravado to make backroom deals with the Black Sun."

Razmir tilted his head slightly, matching the coldness in the spacer's eyes.

"Five million credits. That's what they want for my head. You know what five million credits does? It doesn't just make this a hunt, no.

"It turns this into a feeding frenzy. Every bounty hunter within a hundred parsecs will smell blood in the water."

Razmir gestured to the man's revolver. His subtle influence shifted. He was pushing for the man's sense of loyalty, and self-preservation.

"They'll be coming for me. Before you could cash in on my corpse there'd be a dozen hunters coming after you to take this bounty for themselves."

He stepped closer to Sal Katarn .

"But you come with me, I'll make you the gatekeeper. Every fool who comes after me will be a pay check ready for you to collect. Or," Razmir nodded to his gun.

"You draw. You take my life and pray to every deity you know that you survive a galaxy looking for your head instead of mine."

"Make your choice."

 

[Sal Katarn]

The metal amulet hanging under Sal’s shirt, pressed up against the bare skin of his chest, grew ice cold.

Katarn’s lips twitched.

Force User.

He sighed through the nose and shook his head.

“Been doin’ this a while now,” Sal felt the years in his bones, even if humans and firrerreons did not quit age the same.

“Seems to be the only thing I am good at. Killin’. Reckon they will all be comin’ regardless.”

His hand stayed on his pistol, but he didn’t pull it out.

“Butcher’s price always comes due.”

Katarn nodded once.

“But I’ll be your gate keeper.” Would be a far sight from the worst employer Sal had ever had. “You got a bolt hole around here we can hide away?”

Razmir Tezhyn

 

[Darth Adekos]

Sidebar: Between matches, at an opportune time…

Yes, he had led an empire, hadn't he? His mouth curved into a closed, rueful smile. Tyrin Ardik the abortive Emperor was far removed from Darth Adekos the recluse; the "First Galactic Kaggath" commentator. Perhaps not that far, though.​

​

"Oh, is that what the Sith can be? A subordinate order of delinquents, hiding behind the skirts of common thugs just to pick on the weaker of two Jedi-backed democracies?" He clicked his tongue. "Such lofty ambitions. Empyrean would blush to hear them."​

​

Adekos paused to appreciate his own dialogue before continuing. "Don't worry. We must all start somewhere - I am happy to lend you my expertise. Anything to disrupt the status quo, really..."​

​

Merely asking for his help was enough to flatter his ego and improve his disposition. Truthfully, he had nothing better to do, though Xeykard's carefully selected vocabulary helped as well.​

​

Even still, there was something else in this for the elder Darth... A chance to realize a higher aim.​

​

"...I will only need a rather simple favor in exchange. Something trivial. Scarcely an inconvenience, I daresay."​

Xeykard​

 

[Whottoomuzz Chantin]

The holo-terminal buzzed against the wall of the dressing vaults, blinking in low-gain Toydarian code.

Whottoomuzz turned his great body toward it, dragging his battered tail across ferrocrete. The armor was half-refitted, his improvised durasteel jaw still cooling from the bacta-fused grafting. He reached out a hand and keyed in a private encrypted line. A screen flickered to life—no image, just a banking sigil and audio feed.

:: Welcome to First Toydarian Bank Fraud Division. Identify or disconnect. ::

He leaned toward the receiver. His jaw clicked. His voice was deep, scarred, and partially synthetic—filtered through the steel of a riveted muzzle.

"Chowbaso, This is Whottoomuzz of the Chantin Kajidic. Licensed Bounty Hunter, Outworld Registry. I’m entering the next round of the Kaggath Tournament. I know where your credits went."

A silence.

Then a ping.

The line decrypted further. Authorized.

Whottoomuzz continued, steady and without flourish.

"Your money is in the pot. Five million, stolen, funneled into the prize pool. Disguised as ‘sponsorship.’ The whole thing’s a scam. Organized by two Black Sun-affiliates. I know the names only: Razmir Tezhyn and Mauve . They recruited in back channels. Said it was a Sith fighting rite. A Kaggath. But they’re not Sith. Not really. Just marketers. They hosted it in the Valley of the Jedi to get attention. Controversial. Offensive. Rather clever. It's been a broadcasting success it sounds like."

A metallic clink as he shifted.

"I am a contestant, survived the first round, at least. I’ll win. I’ll bring the credits back or die trying. "

There was something colder now in his tone, beneath the fatigue. Not pride. Not vengeance. The Toydaria would never have been targeted like this if humanoids hadn't taken over the underworld.

I know what it’s like being the one they don’t expect to speak Basic. The one they don’t invite to the table unless they need muscle. We’re not their sideshow. Not anymore.

He let the thought pass. Exhaled slowly, steam hissing from between synthsteel plating.

"When I win, have your choice of dead-drop ready. My Kajidic may be gone. But I’m still a Hutt who remembers old debts."

The line crackled. Then went quiet.
Whottoomuzz left the terminal glowing, turned, and reached for his helmet.
Round Two was calling.

Spoiler: OOC Notice – Bounty Compliance

This post is made in pursuit of the following active bounties:

• 5,000,000 Credits Missing – First Toydarian Galactic Bank
• Information Wanted on Kaggath Contestants & Organizers
• Sabotage the Galactic Kaggath – Ensure a Sympathetic Winner

 

[Xeykard]

"Ambition must be earned," he countered, yet still in agreement. The Alliance's time would come, or so he hoped -- perhaps Adekos could help on that front, though to encourage him, Xeykard suspected he would need to learn of Adekos' connection to the Alliance. The Silver Shield Group was one thing, but he knew there was more.

"Let it be the first of many, in mutual exchange," he said. Still, his eyes narrowed barely. Adekos' words, of course, implied the opposite of simple. "Name it."

Darth Adekos ​

 

[Darth Adekos]

Sidebar: Between matches, at an opportune time…

The mechno-chair brought him closer, each step punctuated with a heavy thud into the tiled floor. Tyrin's hands found the armrests and he leaned closer, such that Xeykard could smell the Umbaran wine on his breath and see the glint of rage in his yellowed eyes.​

"The Malsheem must be destroyed."​

It came out as a malediction, born hissing into this world through the Sith Lord's gritted teeth. There was something elemental about the hatred that simmered within Adekos at that moment. Fundamental. An expression of oppositional dogma... Almost religious, insofar as Darth Adekos could be said to have one.​

​

And then it was gone. As if merely issuing the statement has exorcised something unseemly from him. The mechno-chair leaned back and away while Adekos settled into his previous, lounging deportment, now at a more comfortable distance.​

​

"I leave the details to you, naturally," he added.​

Xeykard​

 

[Xeykard]

Xeykard didn't -- doesn't -- flinch, but there were moments he came close. The look in Adekos' eyes reminded him: the man before him was one of vaunted few Sith Emperors. They spoke of his wisdom, his manipulations, his expertise; but at his core, it was the same fire that forged them all. It burned hotter, darker, in Adekos' withered heart. Xeykard had once considered that exact course of action: to strike a blow unlike any other the Dark Lord had suffered. For all his confidence, Xeykard had backed down from the challenge, searching for something more manageable.

This wretched man in front of him still held ambitions, hatreds, beyond what Xeykard had ever imagined. He was forced to rise to the challenge. Adekos lounged; his fire finding a foothold in Xeykard.

"Then it shall be done." He started away, determination ironclad. "In time.

"Until next we meet."

Darth Adekos ​

 

[Lachadann]

With the second round ostensibly about to start, the pace of notifications accelerated across Lachadann's view. Irritably, she went to clear them with a tongue flick, and froze. Ahead of schedule, despite every challenge and obstacle imaginable, her bounty hunting license had come through. Which put the other notifications in a very, very different light. More of a menu, really.

Surreptitiously, she took a look around the stands, which still boasted many viewers anxious for round two and chomping down on concession goods. She skimmed past the information bounty - she might encounter something worth knowing, sharing, and selling, but it didn't inspire her. She likewise skimmed past the sabotage/match-fixing bounty and paused only to bookmark the Sith acolyte kidnapping price that had gone up recently. Her attention hooked on the million-credit bounty on the Kaggath organizers for the non-peaceful return of five million, the same posting she'd looked at only minutes ago under very different circumstances.

What did she have to work with? A charric pistol on each hip, a Rekalikad folding knife, a repulsor belt, a backup sonic emitter - she'd bought or secured a lot of gear recently but most of it was still out for delivery or was back on her shuttle. Not much to work with, but then again she had excellent navigational instincts and something else going for her too. All these supplemental bounties rolling around might thin the field.

The only organizer she knew of was Mauve , who'd obviously been in the commentary filming chamber and just as obviously would be en route to somewhere safe. Landing fields - no, someone who looked like that would never use public landing fields. Private bay or some kind of safe room, the former more likely than the latter. A planet offered only so many places to hide with five million credits, and the universe was infinite.

Lachadann eerk-eerked down the stairs from the stands thoughtfully and started walking through the halls and tunnels in a direction that felt right.