The Moon of Jaguada

[GreenEve]

[drop me a message to join]

[member="KeCholo"]
[member="Bulthos Dorrir"]

[Location: Nar Shaddaa, the Smugglers Moon. Crew meetup.]​

Nar Shaddaa, the Smugglers Moon; unquestionably one of Cazoa’s least favourite places to visit in the Galaxy. Everything here was dirty and the streets were too busy for her liking – full of stalls selling knock off goods, and grimy alleyways you wouldn’t dare turn down unless you had some seriously questionable business. The night was cool enough for a cloak, which she clutched close to her body, trying to keep out the stink. She had come to this forsaken place for two things -

A decent paying job, and the distraction one would bring from the hollow feeling that had taken up residence in the pit of her soul.

Up until now, Cazoa had been wandering the Galaxy, hopping from planet to planet. It had been one year since her adoptive father and his crew had been gunned down by bandits. His dying request was for Cazoa to continue the search for his long lost wife, who had been kidnapped over ten years prior. Her search hadn’t been successful so far, and the stockpile of stolen goods her adoptive father had accumulated over the years had started to run low as she sold them off to keep the ship running.

A few days ago she had one of the droids patch a message through to an acquaintance of hers, Pali, a crime lord and old friend of her adoptive father. He had been the go to man for rumours and intelligence about high value heists. The first part of the conversation had been uncomfortable – Cazoa recalled the death of her father to Pali. Like Caoza, he was a person of fronts when it came to raw emotions that made him vulnerable - for this Cazoa was thankful. They didn’t dwell on the subject too long; yet by the subtle tone in Pali’s condolences, she was sure the news would be difficult for him to process after the call had ended.

The conversation moved onto Cazoa’s need for work, and luckily for her, Pali had something. A crew made up of his finest combatants had gone missing on Jagauda’s moon in Sith space. He had sent them there to find forgotten Sith relics, and received nothing but radio silence four days after their landing. It had been two weeks, and Pali needed to find out what had happened to the crew, and if they were still alive. He feared a rival gang of bandits had murdered them, or that they had been too careless and wandered into the jaws of hostile creatures. Good, she might have to kill something. And Sith artefacts sold for a lot. The risk of travelling into this part of the Galaxy would be worth it.

Since Cazoa’s crew had all met their end with her father, Pali suggested putting her in contact with a few other mercenaries, all highly skilled for such a mission. And so here she was, on Nar Shaddaa, her destination a dingy bar, in which she would meet Pali’s recommendations.

It was Cazoa’s nature to be early – she wasn’t paranoid, just prepared. She made a habit of giving a place the ‘once over’ in case she ran into trouble and needed a swift exit. She also found it challenging to be in busy places, as she had a knack for feeling people’s emotions. There was often too much ‘emotional noise’ in bars, and although she had begun to gain some self-control over her ability, it had been a long time since she had been in somewhere so packed. She needed a little time to adjust before she got down to business, and of course time for a drink or two.

The bar was indeed busy, most of the tables were taken, and the walkways crammed full of people. There was a band playing in the corner, a small dance floor in front of it, and she spied the bar at the opposite end of the room. Behind the bar were the doors to the kitchen - she knew there would be a secondary exit there if she needed it. Cazoa felt her insides surging with all the different emotions as she slid in between people on her way to get a drink. She gritted her teeth as she fought with the whirlwind inside of her. She pulled down the hood of her grey cloak as she stepped up to the bar and caught the attention of the bartender. It didn’t take him long to come rushing to take her order – in her vanity she mused for a moment, entertained that her good looks granted her certain privileges. Although sometimes her beauty served as a hindrance.

‘A double of your strongest liquor, please,’ Cazoa said sweetly.

The blue liquid he bought her was delicious and strong. She focused on the sensation as it warmed her insides, diverting her attention from the fluctuation of life-force energies swirling around her. Feeling no immediate threat from her surroundings, Cazoa slowly began to relax.

She unhooked the grey cloak she wore, letting it hang open slightly – though not too much, so as to keep her duel DL-44’s hidden from view. She wore a dark green one-suit which delicately highlighted her hourglass figure. Her boots were dark brown, matching her belt. Her dark hair fell in a loose plait down her back, a few wayward strands framed her pale face. Her light grey eyes were alert as she turned her back to the bar. They flickered between the punters and the entrance, searching for the company to arrive. The only information Cazoa had was that the mission’s pilot would be a Duros named KeCholo, and they were a very tall race…he shouldn’t be too hard to spot.

 

[Bulthos Dorrir]

Crowded dives on Nar Shaddaa were as common as grains of sand on Tatooine. If one was looking to get drunk, get into a fight, get pickpocketed, or get in bed with their next big regret, the putrid moon of Nal Hutta was the place to go. It was the sort of place that a man like Bulthos Dorrir fit right in to. He sat in a booth near the back of the cavern-like cantina, his black boots propped up on the table in front of him, his heels resting next to a recently-finished glass of a drink the pirate could barely pronounce the name of. Bulthos kept his back to the corner, but otherwise kept his head down; he'd run afoul of a Trandoshan with a poor attitude the last time he was here. Words were said. Punches were thrown. Shots were fired. It had been an altogether unpleasant outing, and Bulthos was none too excited about reliving it. Had one of his contacts not promised a very, very large payout on a job he was rather uniquely qualified for, the Human would've been dozens of kilometers away, likely in a bar where he had slightly fewer enemies.

Fortunately - and unlike the small Human girl that had just sidled up to the bar and undoubtedly asked for a drink in some saccharine sweet voice - he had a knack for blending into rough places. Between the faded red of his shirt, the dull brown of his coat, and his head down low, Bulthos was practically invisible. The only thing on his person that made him stick out at all dangled from his right ear, where the petrified feather of a peko-peko bird rested on his coat's lapel, which somehow managed to catch what little light was actually in the smoky den and reflect it almost like a mirrored dancing ball. As clandestine meetings under the highest discretion went, it was something of a step backward. But at the same time, it would act as something of a beacon. Certainly, whenever he and his crew had raided, pillaged, and plundered, the only detail any survivors managed to truly recall was the brilliant blue feather. And anybody could wear a brilliant blue feather. Nobody did, of course, but anybody could. As with anything in his line of work - or on Nar Shaddaa, for that matter - it was all about hiding in plain sight.

And hide in plain sight he did, waiting for his contact to meet up and get the details on this massive haul he was about to pull. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have taken it; the mission already had a ship and an pilot - which had already made the pirate rather sore about the outing - and involved a little facet of the galaxy that Bulthos would just as soon never face again. But if there was anybody that knew of the Force and its dark side in this sector of the galaxy - outside of the Jedi and Sith themselves - it was the older man sitting in a corner of a nondescript bar in the middle of Nar Shaddaa.

"Yaee," Bulthos said in heavily-accented Huttese, his voice low and commanding, "Jee hatkocanh gee haku bu riniuen doth gee."

He would have what the pretty girl in the grey cloak was having. It looked good enough for now.

 

[KeCholo]

Ke'Cholo walked into the crowded bar with his loyal companion Qaeth and his mechanic T'Chungo. Qaeth, a Mon Calimari almost as tall as Ke'Cholo, wore a long flowing tan cloak that covered his entire body only revealing only his head. T'Chungo, an average size Talz, wore a tool belt and a set of krayt dragon hide pants. Ke'Cholo walked up to the bar tender ''Tree' orders of Yupi berry cocktails'' he said simply, slamming down the credits. Ke'Cholo surveyed the bar looking for his client, however he could not see her due to the sheer number of people. He felt his belt to make sure he had his blaster with him.

After a few moments, the bar tender arrived back and handed the gentlemen their drinks, ''Keep de' change'' he would say as the man took his credits. ''You seen a woman round' here? Name's Cazoa...'' the bar tender nodded to a large booth in the corner, occupied by a lone figure. Ke'Cholo took a sip of his drink and nodded to Qaeth and T'Chungo.

Ke'Cholo strode over to the booth, stared at [member="CazoaMani"] for a moment, and sat down, followed closely by T'Chungo, while Qaeth stood on the floor of the cantina. ''Name's Ke'Cholo, what's a lovely lady like you doin' in the scavenger business?'' Ke'Cholo placed his liquor on the table and awaited a response.

 

[GreenEve]

Slowly but surely Cazoa was able to drown out most of the emotional racket. She flexed her ability by focusing on each individual to pass the time as she waited for the company to arrive. Her mind sharpened on a pair of men having an animated debate at a table a few feet from where she stood at the bar. She felt the tension, excitement, and eagerness as she ‘listened’. The table behind the men, a woman stared lovingly at her date as he spoke to her, a warm feeling flooded Cazoa, her heart felt a hundred times bigger…it made her mentally gag.

As she scanned the room, a glint of brilliant blue caught her eye. It took her a second to realise it was a feather earring dangling from the ear of a man who sat alone at a table several feet from her. Had he been here the whole time? These busy places messed with her. In the seconds that she tuned in on him, all she felt, on repeat, was a feeling like he would rather be anywhere else than the Moon. There was nothing else solid that she could pick up on, which frustrated her. She had stared a little too long. He grabbed a waitress’ attention who was making table rounds. He looked in Cazoa’s direction as he spoke.

He was just close enough to hear, his voice was low, and he spoke Huttese. She hadn’t bothered to learn the language, but picked up a few words and phrases over the years…something about ordering a drink, and a grey cloak. See? Beauty equals bane, especially in dingy bars, what a way to be noticed when you’d rather slink into the background. She should have worn her helmet.

Sighing softly, she turned back to the bar and ordered another double.

‘Hey do me a favour please?’ she asked the bartender. ‘If anyone comes in and asks for Cazoa, send them over to me yeah?’

She gestured toward the only empty booth a few tables to the right of her ‘admirer’. She hoped Pali had told the rest of the company that the pilot was a Duros, she was sure they would come out of their guises once they spotted him. Cazoa turned, drink in hand and made her way to the booth. She made brief eye contact with the blue feathered man as she passed him, and made a mental note to keep track of his presence. His dislike for the place made her feel a little on edge, like she had enemies here. And her failure to suss him out didn’t help either. It had been a similar situation with her adoptive father, her ability only ‘working’ proficiently after she had been around him for a while. The strong minded were always harder.

She sat down at the booth and swirled the blue liquid in the glass before taking a sip. The minutes passed slowly, and as they ticked away she began to feel a growing sense of anticipation creep up inside of her. They were her own emotions, and she trusted them well. A little voice clicked in her head, ‘Now’

Sure enough, above the average height of everyone else, she saw the very, very tall Duros enter the bar. He was accompanied by a Mon Calamari, and a smaller Talz. They strode over to the bar and ordered drinks. She was sure this was the one that she had been waiting for. She watched him ask the bartender something, and nod towards Cazoa. The company of three strode over to her booth, the Mon Calamari stood and the other two sat.

‘Name’s [member="KeCholo"], what’s a lovely lady like you doin’ in the scavenger business?’ The Duros said, placing his liquor on the table.

‘Glad to meet you all,’ Cazoa said, quickly glancing at each of them.

Like it had been with the blue feathered man, it was hard to read their emotions and their character. All she could feel was their unique life-force. She didn’t sense any unease though; she didn’t want to whip out her pistols, or take the kitchen exit she had scoped out earlier. Her fight or flight had never failed her, and if Pali trusted him, then so would she…eventually. She noted Ke’Cholo’s strong frame, he looked like a veteran in the business, no doubt his muscles were a product of many years of Mercenary work. It made Cazoa feel better about heading into Sith space.

‘I’m in any business as long as the credits are right,’ she smiled.

It was the truth at the moment, she needed any job she could get.

‘Though I usually only get calls when our mutual friend needs a little somethin’ stolen,’ she continued, her voice more hushed. ‘I don’t suppose he’s told you who else we’re supposed to be meeting? I left my ship three days ago and haven’t contacted him since.’

 

[Bulthos Dorrir]

Bulthos's hearing wasn't the best in the galaxy, but upon hearing the name "Cazoa", his ears suddenly decided to become much better at their job. The name certainly sounded familiar when the Duros said it, but for the life of him, he couldn't place it. The woman, the Duros, and his two companions walked past him - the Human girl giving him something of a look as they did so - as Bulthos pondered over the name. It was important, and he knew it was important. He wouldn't have remembered it otherwise. Was this Cazoa woman someone he'd met on another job? Perhaps one of those flighty wenches on Ord Mantell? Bulthos puzzled over the name as he gulped back the blue liquid he'd ordered.

He was distracted from his puzzle for only a moment, wondering just what in the Nine Hells he'd just drank. The sharp and vicious bite of the drink forced Bulthos to focus on that, and in the few seconds his conscious mind formed a list of all the vile curses in all the languages he knew, his unconscious mind went to work and solved the riddle of Cazoa by the time Bulthos recovered.

Cazoa was his contact. And of all the women in this hole in the wall, the only one that had her wits about her was the one talking with the Duros, the Mon Calamari, and the Talz.

Bulthos stood up as smoothly as he could and inched his way over to the table his apparent comrades were seated at, really, really hoping he was right; he wasn't looking to make any further enemies in this bar.

"Leavin' a ship's no' the bes' idea you're likely t' have, lass," Bulthos said as he slid into an available chair, his Talusian accent somehow even thicker in his native tongue, "bu' dependin' on the pilot o' the other one, perhaps no' the worst.

"You wouldnae happen to be Cazoa, would ye?"

 

[KeCholo]

Before Ke'Cholo could respond a man came up and asked for Cazoa. ''Dis is her'' Ke'Cholo said, nodding towards to woman. ''Perhaps we could all make introductions on my ship, I got a gang o' rodians on my hide who are madder than a blind gundark about me stealing their droid.'' This was in fact true, Ke'Cholo had arrived on Jaguda's moon right after a vicious firefight and chase over an ancient assassin droid called ''C-21 Highsigner.'' The droid had been heavily contested by a gang of Nal Hutta rodians who were also after the droid. The droid was of extreme value to Ke'Cholo as it was a one-of-a-kind. After a long fight, he had finally taken the droid and fled here, to start his next adventure, still having the droid on his ship now seemed like a poor decision. Ke'Cholo looked around the cantina for any sign of his stalkers. ''De' sooner we get outta here, de' betta''' with one large gulp, he finished off his drink and sat the glass back down, checking the inside of his coat to feel the re-assuring handle of his DL-44. He fidgeted with it's metal clasp, ready for anything to hop out of the dark corners of the cantina and attack him.

 

[Bulthos Dorrir]

"Your bloody ship? If this wee expedition o' yours is t' get anywhere, then it'll b-"

Bulthos caught something out of the corner of his eye and stopped talking altogether. The pirate's eyes were transfixed on the entrance, where - tonight, of all nights - the Trandoshan thug that had made his last outing to this bar such a dismal affair had returned, and from the look of the three equally-ugly Trandoshans behind him, he'd brought friends. Whether or not he was looking to restart their fight was irrelevant; Bulthos was having none of it. Not now. When Bulthos spoke again, his tone was noticeably more polite.

"Your ship. Sounds good. Off we go."

 

[KeCholo]

Sensing the urgency in the other man's voice, Ke'Cholo stood up and motioned for Qaeth. Qaeth quickly grasped [member="CazoaMani"] 's arm and tugged her towards to back entrance. Ke'Cholo looked down to find a power converter attached to the wall. Thinking quickly, he drew one of his DL-44's and shot it, the room lost all light except for the little that came from outside. ''The back door!'' Ke'Cholo yelled over all the chaos to his associates, he pushed through the crowd and kicked open a back door, holding it open for the rest of crew, while he covered their escape. ''Docking bay 49'' he would tell them as they each went out. ''And make it fast'' he would add. [member="CazoaMani"] [member="Bulthos Dorrir"]

 

[GreenEve]

Turns out the blue feathered man was in fact one of the mission’s recruits, and not just one of those chaps eyeing up women at bars. He came and sat at their table asking if she were Cazoa in a thick accent. She was just swallowing the last of her drink, about to respond, when Ke’Cholo announced that he was eager to get back to the ship. He had trouble following him.

The feeling that she had whilst she tried to get a read on the pirate earlier at the bar returned - like he would rather be anywhere than here. She followed his gaze to the entrance and saw a beefy looking thug walk in with two of his buddies.

'Oh not you as well,’ she scolded turning to the blue feathered man. ‘You boys are beacons for trouble!’

She knew the drill and she definitely would rather not die on this forsaken moon caught up in someone else’s business. She raised her hood back over her dark hair and swiftly followed [member="KeCholo"] and the rest of the company towards the back exit behind the bar. He pulled out his gun and shot a power convertor sending the bar into darkness. A few startled screams erupted from the punters, glasses crashed, angry voices. She was impressed by the Duros’ quick thinking. And even more impressed when he grabbed her arm and guided her to the door – it would have taken Cazoa’s human eyes awhile to adjust to the sudden light change. She could feel around her with her senses easy enough, but of course [member="KeCholo"] wouldn’t have realised that she had some unexpected abilities…

‘Docking bay 49’ he said, holding open the back door for them. ‘And make it fast.’

The stink of the Smugglers Moon stung Cazoa’s nose.

‘Don’t worry, those thugs aren’t following us, didn't look too bright,' she said. 'I don't think they even noticed our man here,' she glanced at the pirate. 'Must have knocked a load of his braincells out during your last meeting.'

She addressed [member="KeCholo"]

‘But I’m guessing those Rodian’s that are after you are not as dim, let’s get to your ship, we don’t want them finding us too. What Pali was thinking sending us here, I have no idea.’

Cazoa reminded herself of how the life-force of Rodian’s felt, remembering a scouting mission for a heist that she had been on not too long ago. She sighed softly, and began following the others to the docking station. Even the side streets were crowded, and the neon signs crammed on every building made it hard to stick to the shadows. They reached the docking station without incident, but typically, as they walked up to the ship, she detected two life forces that belonged to Rodian’s. They were lurking behind some stacked cargo crates in front of the ship.

‘Hold on,’ she murmured, ‘Your friends are here.’

They emerged from behind the crates of cargo a few seconds later, thinking that they had the element of surprise. They spoke to Ke’Cholo in Rodese.

‘You thought that you could escape us? Hand over the droid.’

Cazoa rolled her eyes, and stepped out from behind Ke’Cholo’s huge frame. She was in fact the element of surprise here, and before anyone could do anything, she pulled out her duel DL-44’s and shot both of them, one in the neck, and the other square in the forehead. Not bad, she thought, considering it’s been awhile since I’ve had to kill anything, not too rusty.


‘There are four more of your friends coming up behind us,’ she said over her shoulder, holstering her pistols feeling no threat - by the looks of these guys, the Rodian's would be dead in seconds.

[member="KeCholo"]
[member="Bulthos Dorrir"]

 

[KeCholo]

Extremely shocked by the girl's precision, Ke'Cholo was quite impressed. He turned around to see four Rodians ,who had just rounded the corner, being eviscerated by Qaeth. Qaeth had ditched his large flowing cloak to reveal a large cyborg body. He was wielding four vibro-swords, one for every hand, and chopping the rodians to pieces. His swords deflecting what few shots they could get off. Years before, Qaeth had been involved in an assassination attempt, forcing the doctors to amputate most of his infected limbs, leaving him with just one arm. After many years or research, development, and construction (funded by Qaeth, a wealthy Techno Union banker) they had finally built Qaeth a new robotic body. They amputated his last arm and built a synthskin organ sack for his lungs, heart, kidneys, liver, and bowels. Qaeth then spent several years with a Besalisk swordsman learning how to wield 4 swords at the same time, eventually reaching a rank rivaling that of a Jedi Master.

​

While Qaeth was dealing with the first group of rodians, Ke'Cholo saw another group of them behind his ship. He ran around the other side to find them attempting to break into his boarding hatch. He whipped out his sawed-off DC-15A (hidden in his cloak) and hosed them down with a barrage of energy. After double tapping a few of them that were still holding on to life, he pulled out his datapad and unlocked his ship, ''Hurry up Q!'' he would yell running into his ship. Qaeth took on more of the incoming rodians, slicing and dicing them into many pieces. Ke'Cholo ran to the cockpit and flipped a few switches, warming up the hyperdrive and the engines.

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa glanced over her shoulder to see Qaeth slicing through the oncoming Rodians. It was rather artful, using four swords easily with no limitations despite having a full cyborg body. As the night’s events wore on, she was extremely glad of Pali’s recommendations.

Her senses were at full capacity now – she felt more Rodains come into range. She turned to where she felt their cluster of life-force’s - somewhere behind the ship, [member="KeCholo"] was already advancing on them. She pulled one pistol from its holster and held it to her side as she slinked along behind him. Before she could fire at the Rodians, KeCholo pulled out a DC-15A, and blasted them all off of their feet. He then unlocked his ship and disappeared through the hangar door, shouting for Qaeth to hurry.

As she turned to follow, she noticed one of the Rodians hanging on for his life. He tried to grab his rifle which laid a foot from his bloody body. She felt his fear, and his determination to stay alive. He wanted to kill her.

‘I’m not dying today buddy,’ Cazoa said, looking down at him. He was bloody, his eyes wide, trying to hold on. She kicked the rifle away with her boot, smiled sympathetically, and shot him in the chest. She watched as he exhaled his last breath and felt his life-force returned to the Galaxy. It was a strange feeling. The last time she focused on it was when her adoptive father had slipped away from her.

Cazoa shuddered the thought away, and followed Ke’Cholo onto his ship. She stood by the entrance, blasting a few more Rodian’s that rounded the corner of the docking bay. She provided cover for Qaeth.

‘That droid must have been really important to them,’ she laughed when he boarded. ‘I’d bet there’s a few ships up there waiting to pursue.’

She had one eye closed, the other looking down the iron sights of her blaster, picking off the Rodian’s firing at the ship from behind cargo boxes.

 

[Bulthos Dorrir]

"If there are, no' likely to last."

Bulthos had almost completely lost the other four when the lights got shot out in the already-dark bar. When he finally found his way out, it was a quick trip to Docking Bay 49. It would have been quicker but for the blaster fire and the whirring of machinery that cut off the fastest route to the vessel; not armed himself, he decided against jumping into a bit of business that would only get him killed. Especially when it was business Bulthos had no business being involved in whatsoever. The agreement between he and his contact specified that he would provide his not-insignificant knowledge of dark side lore to the job, so as to help scope out what was of genuine value and what was best left buried.

Bulthos had to repress a shiver as he made his way onto the ship, almost feeling a tingle in his left arm.

"Let me make a quick call while you lot make friends with tha' lot, an' any pursuers we'll have pursuin' will nae be pursuin' for long.

"Oh, an' bloody liftoff would be nice!!"

 

[KeCholo]

The blaster fire from [member="CazoaMani"] was extremely helpful for Qaeth. With her help, he finished off the remaining rodians and sprinted for the entrance and made sure [member="Bulthos Dorrir"] got inside. The door would quickly close once everone was in. ''Make yerself comfortable'' Ke'Cholo yelled from the cockpit to his two guests. Several other crew members ran around the huge ship. ''Why didn't you blast those guys?'' Ke'Cholo asked, or rather yelled at the crew that had remained in the ship. ''Locked us in boss'' a voice said from somewhere else in the ship, belonging to a Kaleesh rifleman. ''Smarter than they look!'' Ke'Cholo yelled back, still preparing the ship. An uproar of laughter erupted in the ship from Ke'Cholo jab at the Rodians. Ke'Cholo would pick up the PA system and speak into it ''Lock yerselves in, we're lifting off!'' would broadcast all over the ship. Shortly there after, Ke'Cholo revved the engines and lifted them above the space port. ''Hyperspace here we come!'' the coordinates already locked in, the ship jumped into hyperspace. Once they were in, he would broadcast again ''Everyone meet at the cargo hold, we're going to meet our guests''


((Link to my ship's image.))

 

[GreenEve]

The doors of the ship closed once Qaeth and the blue feathered man got safely on board. Cazoa put her pistol away and followed after them, nodding in greeting to KeCholo's crew as she passed.

'I need to patch a message through to someone too,' she said, following the blue feathered man when he announced he was making a call.

She had one of the ship's droids send a message to Pali stating that anyone else coming to Nar Shaddaa for the mission, were to redirect to the moon of Jagauda. She removed her cloak, and strapped herself into a chair as they began their advance into hyperspace. She rubbed a small rock of amethyst between her fingers as she wound down from the combat.

'Everyone meet at the cargo hold, we're going to meet our guests,' [member="KeCholo"]'s voice rang over the PA system, jerking Cazoa from her thoughts. She slipped the amethyst back into it's pocket and looked over at the blue feathered man. 'I guess that's us,' she said, unstrapping herself and standing.

 

[Bulthos Dorrir]

Bulthos had barely managed to get himself tucked away somewhere alone when he heard that they had been locked in. Had to move quick. Had to move now. And by the Force, if that little furry bastard didn't pick up...

"Oi, it's me. Listen quick. This lot an' I are goin' to Jaguada. Ship'll be one of those newfangled numbers, we'll be breakin' atmo any sec...you've an eye on it? Good. Now, that'll be goin' to Jaguada...yes, other side of the bloody galaxy Jaguada. I wan' you to hang abou' in orbit once we make landfall, an' if somethin' shoul' happen to me down there, then I wan' you to frag these sods. Clear?"

Once he got an approval from the voice on the other line, Bulthos cut the comlink. His eyes had been scanning his small hiding place all the while; near as he could tell, nobody had eavesdropped on him. Not that it would matter too much; the order only specified to act if something had actually happened, and while a possibility, Bulthos found it an unlikely one. Of course, if the crew of this ship fired at that ship, all bets would be off. And Bulthos wouldn't begrudge them in the slightest for it.

They were pirates, after all. Death was something of a drinking mate.

As soon as he pocketed the comlink, Bulthos sprinted through the ship and found Cazoa, strapping himself in beside her.

----------

'I guess that's us.'

"Ne'er would ha' guessed, lassie."

Bulthos unbuckled himself and rose to his feet, looking towards the door that would lead them to the cargo hold. He hadn't seen much of either of his compatriots, but he had managed to catch a glimpse of Cazoa's face when she was covering the door. Bulthos hadn't liked what he'd seen. Not in the slightest.

"Right. After you."

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa pursed her lips at the blue feathered man. She sauntered through the door, her hourglass figure swaying as she walked. Men, she thought. She tapped into his slight unease of her, and wondered what it could be. Eventually she would grow more accustomed to his presence, it might be easier to pinpoint then. For now, she made a mental note to keep track of him. He hadn't raised a weapon earlier to help with the Rodian's, he looked like a fighter, she wondered why he hadn't joined in. Cazoa would be sure to ask just exactly what he was planning on contributing to this mission once they reached the others in the cargo hold.

 

[KeCholo]

The crew all lined up in front of their guests. They were all in the very expansive cargo hold filled with various boxes of freight and ammunition. Ke'Cholo spoke first ''You already know me'' Ke'Cholo said with a tip of his hat ''I'll be yer captain for this expedition.'' He then turned to Qaeth ''Dis' is Qaeth, my co-pilot and the man that gave me my first contract.'' Qaeth would bow to the two guests, a faint ''drip...drip...drip'' could be heard. His swords were attached to his frame and still dripping with rodian blood.

''This is T'Chungo, my mechanic and engineer.'' Ke'Cholo said moving on to the Talz next to Qaeth. T'Chungo had somehow made it through the combat and into the ship, making minimal use of his small blaster. T'Chungo was in possession of a rare Clone War experimental weapon that he used in high combat situations, it was called the reciprocating quad blaster. It was a large canon like weapon, wired to a back pack that folded over the shoulders. Capable of taking down small aircraft, gunships, and dropships it was a devastating weapon. T'Chungo whistled a Talz greeting to the two.

Beside T'Chungo was a Shistavanen furiously typing away at a datapad. ''That's Worwir, de' numba's man'' Worwir gave a slight nod, barely looking up from his datapad, he was in fact in the middle of galaxy wide card tournament. Worwir was an avid and efficient gambler, Aaways weighing the odds with the risk, he barely ever lost. An amateur at combat, Wowir stuck to online gambling as a constant source of income for the crew. He was also the strategist and the man who constantly searched the holonet for jobs.

Farther down the line was Shaleel Jal Qaevan, a Kaleesh rifleman. ''That's Jal'' Ke'Cholo would introduce him ''Best rifleman this side of Coruscant.'' 'Jal' as he was more commonly called, was the first-born son to a Kaleesh warlord. Some time later in his life, his father was murdered by a huge pirate force raiding the village. Jal went off world to look for work and used his talent as a marksman to get into the mercenary and bounty business. ''A pleasure to meat you both'' Jal would said bowing.

Ghaacko was a gand findsman and the sniper of the team. He usually kept to himself but talked when need be. Ghaacko has never told Ke'Cholo why he went away from his homeworld, perhaps trying to forget his past. ''Ghaacko'' Ke'Cholo said simply, motioning to the gand. Ghaacko stood motionless, but then suddenly bowed. He stood back up gripping his high powered rifle.

Easily the largest member of the crew, Raxo Trax was a colossal 3 meter tall herglic. Several rows of teeth adorned his jaw, multiple chipped or broken from constant biting of opponents. A galactic brawler, Raxo went on tour with a fighting group known at the GFI ''Galactic Fights Incorporated.'' With them he gained thousands of credits, but spent most on women and liquor. He now serves as the group's brute and loader of cargo. ''This..'' Ke'Cholo said with a laugh ''Is the galaxy's best brawler.'' Despite outward his outward appearance, Raxo flashed a large toothy grin to the two guests.

Finally the last member, Zobacca. A wookie with cybernetic implants served as the group's quartermaster and keeper of the armory. Zobacca had cybernetic enhancements all throughout his body, enhancing his hearing, strength, speed, and even his voice. ''Hello!'' Zobacca said in a very...human voice. He installed (by himself) an expensive, experimental, implant that translates his wookie speech into galactic basic. He lurched forward to give the two hugs.

This...'crew' one might call it was a rag-tag group of smugglers, mercenaries, gamblers, and bounty hunters. They had gone from one end of the galaxy to the next, all experienced in different fields, they were a force to be reckoned with.

[member="CazoaMani"] [member="Bulthos Dorrir"]

 

[Bulthos Dorrir]

As the Duros made the introductions - curiously leaving himself out - down the line of crewmen, Bulthos's eyes never stopped darting between them, his attention darting from man to man like a spiced-out durni. The Duros certainly had an impressive crew at his beck and call...if what he was saying about them was true. All embellishments to make his people look good, no doubt, however talented the lot of them actually were. Just so long as they stayed out of his way as he did his part in the excursion, Bulthos wouldn't have a problem with any of them. Unless, of course, the Duros was lying about their abilities. Or lying in general. Bulthos had forgotten what it was like to be a guest on another man's vessel, and he wasn't at all keen on the idea. Especially a guest on a ship of a man he had met twenty minutes ago at most, with nothing more than his word he was taking them where their treasure lay.

In such cases, it would be reasonable to assume that the Duros and his band of merry malcontents were simply looking to sell them off to some unfettered Hutt with particular tastes. Hanging around in the circles that he had for the last few decades, however, Bulthos was relatively sure of his own safety, as well as that of Cazoa. For one, they weren't especially valuable; Bulthos knew for a fact he wouldn't fetch a good price at all, and from what he saw the girl had a weapon, and wasn't at all bad with it. Further, whatever they had to gain by holding them ransom or selling them off would be a pittance compared to what might lie in wait on Jaguada. To the right buyer, Sith memorabilia could easily reach a value somewhere in the mid-millions. And with Bulthos there as something of an appraiser, they could maximize their profits and keep things easy for...what was his name? Ghaako?

Of course, they'd have to know who he was in order to seal that bit of the deal. His position would assure it, Bulthos was certain. But while he wasn't wildly infamous, the pirate with the blue feather earring did have something of a reputation.

It was the kind of reputation that kept his name whispered rather than spoken.

"I'm Bulthos Dorrir," the pirate said, sidestepping the Wookiee and giving him a vicious glare before turning his attention back to the Duros, "and I'm here t' make sure we get what's worth gettin' an' no' die in the process.

"An' who, pray tell, is our brave captain?"

Bulthos had to keep from spitting the words out, still not altogether okay with the idea of not being on his own ship.

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa leaned lightly against a crate of ammunition in the cargo hold. Lined up in front of her were Ke’Cholo’s crew. They looked like a mismatched bunch at first impression, but as Ke’Cholo introduced them individually, praising their skills, she started to have faith despite their presentation. They reminded her of her old crew, her father's crew. They had perished along side him, during an ambush. Looking at the close knit group before her, it stirred feelings, a longing to be part of a crew again, a longing to see her father and her friends.

She hated those feelings. They made her feel hollow, and alone. Cazoa grit her teeth, and turned her thoughts to how she would introduce herself. She couldn’t necessarily mention that she had a few extra senses, or core powers like those Jedi she’d heard about…or her ability to suss people out, and on rare occasion manipulate the emotions of people, especially the weak minded. Or her ability to almost predict the future, or her uncanny way with words – hiding her true intentions easily, making everyone love her, or the fact that when she was really angry she could fling objects around with her like they had no weight. Even she didn’t understand what she was, no way could she be as special as those Jedi, not her. She couldn't be special.

She sighed inside, no, she would just have to stick to sharing her aptitude with weapons, and her stealth. Though she felt comfortable around the crew as she were, if she were to let it slip that she had some crazy powers then maybe Worwir, sitting immersed over his data pad, might sell her off to someone, and she didn’t fancy being a slave again.

Cazoa’s thoughts were interrupted by the oddest ‘Hello’ she’d ever heard from a Wookie. He had an implant placed, translating his Wookie speech into Galactic basic. Her nose crinkled into an adoring smile, she let him hug her, extra-long since Bulthos hadn’t been keen.

Bulthos finished introducing himself - she finally knew his name. He would definitely be useful to the mission if what he said about himself were true. Cazoa had no clue about Sith relics, she was glad someone here had some knowledge about the loot. Her main objective here was find out what happened to Pali’s prize crew, but once they had figured that out, she was definitely going after some of these ancient artefacts, they would sell for too much to leave rotting on the Moon.

‘I’m Cazoa,’ she said, still smiling as the Wookie let her go. ‘I’d rival Jal here for his position as the best rifleman this side of Coruscant.’ She winked at Jal.

Zobacca resumed his place amongst his crew, and Bulthos spoke,

‘An’ who, pray tell, is our brave captain?’ Cazoa sensed he wasn’t happy about having a ‘captain’.

Her eyes rested on Ke’Cholo, waiting for his response.

[member="KeCholo"]
[member="Bulthos Dorrir"]

 

[KeCholo]

''Me?'' Ke'Cholo asked back, a bit shocked. ''I'm da' Outer Rim's best mercenary.'' he said winking. ''I've worked just about as long as you've been alive.'' Ke'Cholo said looking at @CazoaMani. ''Your fader' called de' right man for the job....I've seen just about it all. As for whatever we find on this moon that doesn't shoot back, you each get a 10% share, the rest goes to us. Worwir will sell it to the highest bidder, if we end up with something you want...well you can buy it from us.'' Ke'Cholo said putting his hands in his pockets. ''Either of you need weapons?'' he asked. (([member="Bulthos Dorrir"]))