Dominion The Wretched Hive | Black Sun Syndicate Dominion of the Kastolar Sector

[Koda Fett]

The last of it was gibberish. Fett spoke and understood his share of languages, but not a lick of Jawa.

He sunk into the booth, an armoured arm rising up to stretch along the length of the seat's top. The would-be Mandalorian nodded in the direction of the same Arkanian -- who admittedly may prove some amount of trouble, given that size -- and gave his rebuttal, "I'll knock five thousand off if you can get him outside."

His gaze turned back, "People are a bit... weary, of me."

Even with a Black Crown in-hand, he was not so willing to waste the good faith.

Skeevi Merrill

 

[Jerec Asyr]

Objective One: Pirate Revelry

This he could do. Isur stepped onto Kwenn Station and looked around. This was his type of place. Debauchery, revelry. Looking to his captain, the Herglic Delpho, the larger being nodded. It was fine for the crews to take their leave. As one of the enforcers, Isur knew he would be called back to do his tour of minding the Marauder Corvette Hunter. That was fine.

For now the Nihil-inspired armor laden Karkarodon stepped forward. While Isur felt the ancient Nihil were a bit insane in their goals, the idea of a storm of pirates was comforting to him. Leaving his Wan-Shen aboard, and removing some of the armor pieces and handing them to the Hunter’s loading droid, Isur made his way down, flanked by another Karkarodon, a Wookiee, and a Twi’lek.

They were heading for the nearest cantina. As long as they weren’t playing some dumb game that didn’t make sense. But from the sounds of small beasts in combat? Isur felt that they may have found the type of establishment he could find to his liking.

A crystal fox dove at a nexu cub in a fighting ring.

OBJECTIVE 1 SIDELINE - BEAST FIGHTING CANTINA

"...and what I'm saying," Jerec brayed in the proprietor's face with both sides of his neck, "is you're a frelling loser. These mynocks are purebred. Baby animals? The feth?" He hoisted a couple of shaking vacuum cages. "You want mynock-on-mynock action. The people deserve mynock-on-mynock action. Purebreds with beskar chewrings, you can have'em at cost, just give me something else to watch but baby animals."

The mini nexu got into it with that crystal fox and Jerec found himself momentarily transfixed. Alright, so maybe it wasn't a baby per se. The little ferrik probably massed the same as he did. Grudgingly, tacitly, he admitted it was worth a bet and a good show and so forth. But so limited in scope.

He whirled on the proprietor again, ready to pitch a duel between rancors in space suits, but the proprietor had made himself scarce.

Jerec, irritably, set down his trembling mynock vacuum cages beside the ring.

"Needs a bigger show is all I'm saying," he said to the Karkarodon in Nihil armor beside him, a total stranger.

 

[Nero Drake]

BANTHA'S WILD CANTINA
KWENN STATION (OBJ 1)
Rathmar Praji U40a Isur Hasuras Na-Gerra Quinn Varanin Jerec Asyr

"Anyone else feel like calling Nero Drake a cheat?"

Nero holstered a bryar pistol and gathered up his credits ignoring the still smoking aqualish slumped over a deck of sabacc cards. No one else at the table dared to intervene and no one else on Kwenn Station cared enough to bother with bloodthirsty pirate scum. Out here in the black life was much cheaper than hyperfuel.

"Deal me out. I need another drink," he tossed a few extra credits on the cantina bar, "Sorry about the mess."

Fresh Black Sun ink peaked out just beneath the young freebooter's neckline. That shut down any further debate. No bartender was stupid enough to cross a syndicate enforcer. Gore still stained Nero's longcoat from the last time he'd crossed vibroswords. That poor fool was already on the float, tossed out of a Kwenn Station airlock like so many other lost souls.

"Those mynocks, mate?" Nero slurred at the ithorian through an old-fashioned blast helmet, "They safe? What if one of them gets loose and makes a meal of life support?"

 

[Jerec Asyr]

Blasterfire echoed through the cantina, just once over a game of cards. Jerec's mynock crates went still. Eagerly still. The purebreds knew what was up. Jerec's attention, like many others', went to the masked and gore-stained merc-type swordsperson in the blast helmet, who was now approaching or at least coming to watch the critter fight. There was an art to not being intimidated by people like this in moments like that and Jerec was nothing if not an artist, but still, at a gametes-deep adrenal level, he confessed himself intimidated. Just a little.

"Those mynocks, mate?" Nero slurred at the ithorian through an old-fashioned blast helmet, "They safe? What if one of them gets loose and makes a meal of life support?"

"Secret contingency plan." Jerec looked around as if warily and leaned one side of his neck close for a whisper. "I sell life support."

 

[Xalazar Krev]

Kwenn Station was loud tonight. It was the kind of loud that made credits change hands faster, the kind that kept knives in sheaths because no one wanted to waste a good drink on a fight. There was no doubt that Kwenn Station belonged to the Black Sun. From the very moment the Serpent's Grace slid into her berth, the hum of the revelry bent just enough. The docking arms clamped home with a metallic thunk, the ramp hissed down, and the first waft of station air hit Xalazar Krev's senses, hot with recycled oxygen, spice smoke, charred meat, and the ever present tang of ozone from passing freighters. The emerald skinned Falleen moved like the station belonged to him, shrouded in the air of confidence of someone that knew his worth. He adjusted the drape of his long black coat, the gold threaded Black Sun emblem catching the light as he descended the ramp, light reflecting off the jeweled rings on his hands. Zarath Vex two paces behind, and Nyxa Vos keeping just enough to the side to stay out of the path of dockhands hauling crates. Zyphus Fen had vanished the moment the ramp lowered, because that's what Zyphus did, ghosted ahead to make sure no surprises were waiting.

"Breathe it in." Xalazar said, half to his people and half to himself as his eyes scanned the crowd. "That's the scent of commerce…and desperation. We'll take both." The Falleen's voice was smooth, unhurried, the tone of a man who already knew how the night would end. He passed a knot of station porters, tilting his head toward Rykko Zetar. "See the Twi'lek with the ledger? Two to one she's cooking the numbers. Find out if she's for sale, and make her ours." They moved deeper into the docking concourse, a swirl of color and noise, pirates in mismatched armor swapping stories, spice runners clutching sealed vials like lovers, captains boasting of kills and cargo over full tankards. Silaris "Ghostsong" Vy'lara slipped ahead into the current of the crowd, her lekku curling lazily as she drew a trio of corsairs into conversation. Grint Varrux kept to the rear, big Besalisk hands resting lightly on a crate that just happened to house a compact repeating blaster.

The Jade Serpents pheromones pulsed low and steady, not a show of dominance but a gentle tilt, confidence, allure, authority. Even those with blockers shifted in subtle ways: a captain leaning forward mid conversation, a spacer's eyes lingering a moment longer than they meant to. The Falleen's crimson gaze took in the open avenues and shadowed alcoves alike, every laugh and handshake a data point filed away. "Kwenn Station is under new management." He murmured to Zarath as they passed into the brighter spill of the promenade. The dark skinned Falleen watched everything, and everyone, coordinating with other soldiers brought along to ensure the safety of his charge "But that only matters if the sector believes it. Tonight's about belief. We make the right friends, remind the wrong ones why we're still here." He smiled then, a flash of amusement that never even touched his eyes, and gestured toward the heart of the gathering. "Let's go make them remember our names." The crowd swallowed them then, the black and gold of the Black Sun flaring in the station lights as Xalazar Krev and his handpicked circle moved to work the room, their leader already slipping into that easy, dangerous rhythm of business and charm.

 

[Velzari Tharn]

B L A C K - S U N - S Y N D I C A T E
T H E - W R E T C H E D - H I V E​

​

In a dark lit room aboard Kwenn Station, the Underlord awaited the arrival of his favorite Vigo Majore, Mauve. Unfortunately for them both, the nature of this impromptu meeting was less than ideal. Velzari took a puff of Marcan herb and exhaled through his nose like a dragon, adding a swirl of earthy smoke to the already thick atmosphere.

He sighed as he glanced at the modified fusion cutter on his desk. At its end was a metal plate bent into a harrowing design that any in the Underworld would recognize: the Mark of Shame.

Below the brand was the cutter’s nozzle, which would superheat the metal to temperatures hot enough that the brand would scorch the flesh and mar it forever. Velzari rarely questioned the use of it, but in the case of Mauve du Vain, he allowed a small glimmer of pity to stave his wrath upon her. It was a gracious gift more valuable than aurodium to be given a chance to explain oneself and one’s mistakes to the Underlord.

Especially when a punishment like the Mark of Shame was a fate worse than death.

Velzari didn’t move when the automatic portal slid open. A quartet of Black Sun Guard marched the Zeltron he was expected into the room, then fanned to prevent any attempt of escape. Appreciated, but unnecessary. Velzari waved them out.

“Leave us,” he said. One of the four answered with, “As you wish, Your Excellency.”

The door shut with a soft hiss, and then they were alone. Underlord and Vigo Majore. He glared at her as she stood before him, unflinching. Not so much as a homeostatic blink. No fanfare. No drinks. Just Prince Velzari, Mauve du Vain, and a hot branding iron between.

“Sit,” he commanded. His voice was even, but his register was lower. Weighted by frustration. “Tell me what happened on Wielu,” he said.

Tags: Mauve du Vain
​

 

[Isur]

The cats and fox could fight. Isur was watching with such focus that he forgot to get himself a drink. Luckily his crew owed him one or two and approached with a large mug of… something.

Based on a sip it may have been engine degreaser. But it would probably do the trick.

That was when he saw the Nexu dive in the crystal fox and be tossed away. Not major but part of the crowd cheered. But were those Mynock?

“Let those out let’s see who is faster.” The toothy grin definitely meant that Isur would love to see the chaos the mynocks could create.

Jerec Asyr Nero Drake

 

[Brooke Waters]

She knew a number of these hunters by reputation. Remaining silent, the witch who others may or may not recognize as “Siren” looked around. This whole platform was chaotic. Some dressed fine. Others in rags. It was making Brooke miss this life.

The way she could have turned heads if she tried. But there was a lot riding on her. But perhaps the Black Sun could help her Clan. Ships, protection that the High Republic couldn’t provide? Purchasing Witch imbued articles?

No weapons on her, but the hologram displayed the bandolier of knives and belt of potion bottles.

A small spell whispered under her breath would cast an almost inky mist around her as she found a dark corner.

 

[Mercy]

Objective 1
Tag: Hasuras Na-Gerra | Quinn Varanin

On the other side of the inn's commons a door burst open.

Perhaps it was more accurate to say that a man was thrown through it. A moment later the cause of it became clear too, Mercy stepped on through, dusting her hands off.

"Oh, come now, Borius. You didn't think I'd let you cheat me out of my share of the profits?" She was about to say more but something else caught her attention. First Quinn at the bar, then Gerra at the entrance. The former she had known most of her life, the latter had been part of her 'vacation' to Hapes were they had made a right mess.

"Heya, folks, didn't realize this was the Sith gathering place. I am almost done here, give me one moment, will ya?"

She grabbed Borius, a Twi'lek man of ill repute, by the front of his tunic and casually threw him through the air. Right through the window that shattered on impact with the man landing outside.

As if nothing happened whatsoever Mercy trundled on over to the two people she knew.

"Fancy seeing you two here, did I miss anything?" Sitting down on one of the stools in a lazy gesture. The inn keep was less than enthusiast and was about to say something. A medium bag full was dropped on the counter by way of a few tendrils. "I trust that will make up for the broken window, the mess and a few of our drinks."

He began to pour without any more complaints.

 

[Velok Brokentusk]

OBJECTIVE 3: BOUNTY HUNTER'S SUMMIT​

Vibe: social (bounty hunters & friends), seedy, plotting & planning

Inside the Hunter’s Lodge on Kwenn Station, the Gand bounty broker Threkkuss has been tasked with establishing a team of bounty hunters to take on a daring and dangerous job at the behest of the Black Sun vigos.

The Black Sun seeks to expand their influence and domain through the means that suits best: crime. And in a galaxy wrought with turmoil, there is no greater tool than the bounty hunter.

Threkkuss

After bumming around human-scale space stations for decades, Velok was not a connoisseur of that particular architectural form. He crouched through the doorway into the Hunter's Lodge and found himself surrounded by bounty hunters of every waist-high description. Velok waded through them and went up to the bar, which did not appear to have seats he could use. At least the ceilings required him to hunch only a little bit. He stayed there in growing irritation, squinting around the assembly. How many of these little people had even gone after the great kaggath bounty once, let alone twice?

(Of all the things he was - fortuneteller, vagrant, secret deadly-serious insurgent, half a dozen more - bounty hunter was one of the selves he enjoyed most. It paid the bills for other things, and he got to use the skills and knowledge and conscientiousness he'd picked up during decades of cursed exile.)

"I was told there'd be a job for all of us to shoot for. I'd like to hear more about that job."

 

[Nero Drake]

BANTHA'S WILD CANTINA
KWENN STATION (OBJ 1)
Isur Jerec Asyr

"You're funny."

Nero wasn't laughing.

Fighting through a haze of revnog he couldn't tell if the ithorian was making fun of him, and the conclusion that Nero eventually came to could mean drastic consequences for Jerec's welfare.

"Ain't you Delpho's lads?"

Fortunately for Jerec the karkarodon and his crewmates sparked memories of an old raid. Some sights even the revnog couldn't banish.

"Where are me manners? Let me buy you all a round on behalf of me cap'n."

Nero leaned in close to Jerec as if he was sharing a secret of his own, "Those who know his tale call him The Madclaw ."

Meanwhile the crystal fox drew first blood and now the juvenile nexu was favoring a hind leg.

 

[Threkkuss]

Seeing the nine foot tall boar settle up in front of him, the Gand decided against waiting for other potential participants in this particular hunt. His bug-like eyes blinked once, twice, and his respirator clicked with his oddly shaped hands adjusting the apparatus.

"Threkkuss would have preferred to wait for others, but," said the Gand, eyes upturned to Velok. "Threkkuss sees you are here and others are not. The Black Sun has hired Threkkuss to assemble a team of bounty hunters to assault the High Republic senate and target the High Chancellor for capture. Threkkuss will handle the logistics of such an operation, but the rest is to be handled by the team of bounty hunters."

Velok Brokentusk

 

[Isur]

Isur was more than happy to be watching this fight. He had a drink, and there was violence going around. Over his shoulder, he could hear some broadcasts, probably from the Core, but the Karkarodon did not pay any attention to them. It didn’t matter so much to help. Delpho would send them to whatever task he needed. The Hunter was an old ship but the crew was new and ready.

There was a storm motif, and they had been fighting around the ancient Occlusion Zone, looking for the mythical path engines. To get further and farther. More for their own treasure and conquest than the Black Sun. However, the bills were being paid by the Syndicate.

When the other being did mention their captain, even Isur did a bit of a doubletake. The Madclaw. The crews the Syndicate were pulling in were many.

“We would never turn that down.” Isur said with a nod. “The Madclaw’s crew. We’ve heard your tales.” There was, for once, an air of respect and reverence in the Karkarodon’d voice.

Jerec Asyr Nero Drake

 

[Velok Brokentusk]

"Threkkuss sees you are here and others are not. The Black Sun has hired Threkkuss to assemble a team of bounty hunters to assault the High Republic senate and target the High Chancellor for capture. Threkkuss will handle the logistics of such an operation, but the rest is to be handled by the team of bounty hunters."

Velok thought about the licensed bounty hunters he'd heard of, some of whom might be in the room's crowd of bounty hunter types already. It seemed like the kind of job that would, yes, benefit from many involved. If even a couple of them were around...

Saram Kote Eira Dyn Tarw Rhyfelwr Kaila Irons Morrow Scherezade deWinter Siv Dragr Varm Nul Jacen Breska Kinley Pryse Gavin Restur Braze Viers Connory Vreegan Fett Brent Warnel Drystan Creed Drego Ruus Aerin Denno Hilal Vizsla 5-WCH (Switchblade) Thayne Tameron Tobi Sharpe Trajan Fett Hacks CT-312 Okuma Milogen Tyrus Vastor Tae'l Vizsla Tarre Priest Silhana Cadera Zandra Ruus Amun Jax Marron

"I'm reminded of something a stormtrooper told me once. They could suppress a gathering of ten thousand civilians with ease, but were stymied by ten gatherings of a thousand. Each additional hunter involved would be a force multiplier, making the team more than the sum of its parts and splitting the Republic's attention."

He had nothing in particular against the Republic and tried to be a good person in general, so there was something of a moral quandary. One did not speak of moral quandaries in places like this.

 

[Mauve du Vain]

First her eyes fell upon the Underlord, the high-boned features of his face impassive and cold. Then they fell upon what lay near and prominent on the desk.

Below the brand was the cutter’s nozzle, which would superheat the metal to temperatures hot enough that the brand would scorch the flesh and mar it forever.

Her stomach twisted, writhing in knots, and she unconsciousy pulled the hem of her robe tighter about her. As if that feeble fabric might offer some protection for the threat looming there upon the desk. The threat of a mark she did not deserve.

“Sit,” he commanded. His voice was even, but his register was lower. Weighted by frustration. “Tell me what happened on Wielu,” he said.

His words fell like a hand upon her shoulder, pushing her into the chair with the weight of them. She found herself doing as bidden, every instinct in her screaming to run. Her heart hammered in her chest.

"You know what happened," she said, struggling to get a grip on the fear icing her veins and constricting her throat, "The bounty hunter Velok managed to get through security, after the bounty that Aleenan with the Toydarian Banker placed on Razmir and I after Ruusan..." she shook her head, "The Princess of Eshan tried to stop him. Arris Windrun helped. I would have salvaged the situation, you know I would have. But the Republic dogs are more feral than I imagined."

Her lips twisted in a sneer at the memory of Aurelian, looming over Quinn, whispering his hateful threats.

"The Prince of Parrlay tried to murder Princess Varanin. I... intervened," she licked her lips, she knew what he would say. She should have let the Prince murder Quinn. That would have been the smarter play. The colder play. The play of a Falleen Underlord, not an emotional Zeltron. Republic High Prince murders Sith Heiress. But would even that have swayed the Wielu councilors?

"You are disappointed in me," not a question, a statement.

Velzari Tharn

 

[Jerec Asyr]

"Where are me manners? Let me buy you all a round on behalf of me cap'n."

Nero leaned in close to Jerec as if he was sharing a secret of his own, "Those who know his tale call him The Madclaw The Madclaw ."

“We would never turn that down.” Isur said with a nod. “The Madclaw’s crew. We’ve heard your tales.”

BEAST FIGHTING CANTINA - OBJECTIVE 1 PERIPHERY

"Oh you're The Madclaw's men! Let's absolutely have that drink. Tell me everything. What's he like as a captain? What's his grooming regime?"

As Kaggath spectator and then as co-chaotician of the orbital defense of Wielu, Jerec's opinion of The Madclaw was quite high.

"Barkeep! Ships all around!"

This being outside the normal variance of drinks all around, Jerec found himself obliged to explain.

"I'm Vigo Majore Captain Jerec Asyr!" he said over the dogfight at Ithorian volumes. "And every Black Sun spacer in this cantina just won a brand-new Cataclyst Raider corvette. Free. You get a Cataclyst! And you get a Cataclyst!"

That was easily like twenty corvettes. He was flush with success.

 

[Nala]

Location: Lanupa - Objective 2

Tags: OPEN

The first transmission from Lanupa died. The comms relay melted into slag under the Sable Cut's opening attack. A jagged plume of smoke climbed into the thin mountain air, scattering resort guests below. Moments before, they had been sipping spiced caf, congratulating themselves on their great taste in luxury. Now, only terror remained.

Nala stood at the forward hatch as the corvette's assault skiffs launched, the wind tugging at the black folds of her coat. Let Kwenn Station's pirates keep their feasts, their posturing, and their boasts of glories. Let them puff themselves up in taverns and trade embellished stories. She was here, on the true edge of the knife, claiming the Skull Ridge Mountains for the Black Sun. Her worth needed no advertisement; it would be carved into the very bones of this place.

The Forsaken moved as one under her command. Boarding teams spilled from their skiffs, slicing through the mountain resort's meager security like vibroblades through silk. Stun batons clattered uselessly to the decking. Guards fell one by one, the air filled with the sharp crack of Teräs Käsi strikes, breaking bone faster than blaster fire.

Above them, the jagged peaks of the mountains framed the opulent wellness spa. It was a monument to corporate arrogance, sitting polished and fat atop the gravesite of pirate legend Tak Rennod. Nala's gaze rested on it with a soldier's disdain. It didn't belong here. It would be stripped bare, just like its guests, and the Black Sun would plant something lasting in its stead.

She advanced without haste, her boots silent over shattered glass. Her cold presence pulled her crew forward. Every hallway taken, every control room secured, broke another lock on the treasure the mountains promised. Whether it was myth or merely metal didn't matter. Black Sun had ordered her to claim it, and she would deliver.

 

[Brent Warnel]

Brent dipped his head under the doorway as he entered the Hunter's Lodge. As he stepped into the seedy lodge, he swept his gaze around, seeing the myriad of aliens gathered here. No one stood out to him initially, no one he knew or should know.

He made his way to the bar, where a gigantic ape-like being was next to an insectoid-looking creature. Brent's HUD lit up on the insect, a targeting reticle sitting over its face.

TARGET LOCK CONFIRMED
>> TARGET FOUND <<

As Brent was walking up to the two of them, Brent overheard their conversation thanks to his HUD's built-in systems:

The Black Sun has hired Threkkuss to assemble a team of bounty hunters to assault the High Republic senate and target the High Chancellor for capture. Threkkuss will handle the logistics of such an operation, but the rest is to be handled by the team of bounty hunters."

Brent walked up to and stood next to Threkkuss , on the opposite side of Velok Brokentusk .

"I hear you have work. Targeting the High Chancellor, huh? What's the pay?"

As Brent asked the question, movement across the lodge caught his attention. Another Mandalorian, or would be, Koda Fett , sat with another individual. Brent was unfamiliar with him and did not remember him from the Crusade. He would engage with the other as soon as he finished his current conversation.

TAGS: Threkkuss Velok Brokentusk

 

[Threkkuss]

"This one agrees," said Threkkuss with a faint, solemn nod.

His role in this particular job was to facilitate the logistics behind the scenes, to identify the appropriate window to act and bundle all the much-needed resources the hunters would require. He might have had an idea or two on how it should unfold, if by his design, but that was beyond his reach.

"The Black Sun has agreed to pay two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand credits per bounty hunter," Threkkuss answered with his gaze momentarily shifting towards the newcomer. "Threkkuss has been tasked with hiring four more bounty hunters, for a total of five, with ideally a wide range of specialty areas covered."

Velok Brokentusk - Brent Warnel

 

[Levi]

Jerec Asyr - Nero Drake - Isur​

Levi could have sworn he heard something about free drinks in this direction. The old pirate tried to keep his swindling to a minimum amongst his criminal cohorts, but he always kept an ear out for exploitable offers.

By the time he meandered over to the source, a vaguely familiar Ithorian became plainly familiar when he announced his name clearly for all to hear: Jerec Asyr. Levi had met him a while back, closing out a deal that would have otherwise gone sour with a certain Twi'lek crime boss. It hadn't been quite the payday Levi hungered for, but credits were credits, and the port had come in handy more than once.

Now, this Jerec was making an even grander offer than drinks: free starships for any Black Sun affiliate in the joint. To a veteran con-man like Levi, the whole idea sounded like a scam too good to be true. Levi was equally surprised to hear the Ithorian dub himself a bonafide Vigo for the Sun; Not that anything good would come of doubting him on the matter. The Black Sun was the face of crime right now. They were the reason this port was alive with scum and villainy once again. Levi just had to accept that he had been outside of the in-crowds for too long to know.

All the same, he couldn't help but comment unsolicited, "Quite the offer. But I'm afraid I've already got the best ship a scoundrel could ask for." Despite how subjective the term "best" could be, there were precious few categories that the Outrider II could be considered "best" in.

The devaronian eyed a few of the others present, gauging their reactions to Jerec's offer for some actionable context.