Public Wheel of Fortune (Smugglers and Bounty Hunters)

[Jic Drow]

Location: The Wheel

[SIZE=11pt]The Wheel, it was one of those constants in the Mid-Rim. A place for travelers to rest, and refuel. A place for the more adventurous to rearm, and find their next job. And a place to retrieve certain items that needed more practiced hands hauling around the galaxy. That’s right, sometimes the Wheel was used as a smuggler’s exchange. A call had gone out on the Underground ShadowNet, word was spread in a few trusted shadowports.
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[SIZE=11pt]Goods on the Wheel, destination to follow.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt] [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Destination; Ossus.[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=11pt]
The messages were, of course, encoded. A time had been set up and there were a number of vessels, some recognizable, some not. Jic Drow had arrived early, being the point of contact for the smugglers from the Underground. The goods were brought to the Wheel by some other Underground pilots, several of which were still nearby, including a YT-2000 named Neutron Burst, and Jic knew the pilot, was glad that the ship was still here. But in order to bring less attention to any one person, Jic was the one holding the command to the loader droids. Having set himself up in one of the cantinas, the Ishi Tib was had already loaded his ship up, but one ship wasn't going to cut it.

Sipping from his Mon Calamari seaweed mash, Jic didn’t didn’t bring much attention to himself, unless people knew what they were looking for. An Alliance surplus medical pack was what the smugglers were going to be looking for. His blaster hung at his hip as he sipped the drink.

He was ready for action.

But what wasn’t so obvious, least of all to the Ishi Tib handler for this deal, was the fact that one vessel or another had triggered an agent of evil, this informant contacted the Sith Empire and Bounty Hunters Guild. Their message was simple.
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[SIZE=11pt]Terrorists on the Wheel, potential arms sale.[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=11pt]
When the smugglers arrived they were held up, waiting for the Underground to deliver their cargo. Nobody was sure why they wanted to ship arms, rations, and medicine into their enemy’s space but the pay was too good to pass up.

OOC:
The thread is a smuggler thread, we have a pair of objectives to help lead you
1. Smugglers have received word through the ShadowNet, they’re instructed to meet a smuggler with an Alliance medical pack, to receive their shipment, which is being brought to the Resistance on Ossus (characters will only know its being delivered to a location on Ossus)
2. Bounty hunters, through their own networks, have received word of an arms deal going down on the Wheel. And there are always people willing to pay for the capture of a smuggler.[/SIZE]

 

[Percy Vaceldau]

Location: The Wheel, docked and approaching the rendezvous point.
Carrying: DE-10, DL-44
Chewing: Pen


The Wheel. It was an interesting place in the Mid-Rim he'd always heard of. Whatever big deals were happening happened in a place like this most of the time. Discreetly. Meetings were held here, business deals were made, the sort. Smugglers, Bounty Hunters, Rebels, and almost all sorts of people found themselves in a place like this at least once in their life. Percy had docked himself here a while ago in his precious YT-2000 Freighter, but he ended up smoking cigarettes and taking a nap in the cockpit.

Whatever.

"Welp, time to go." he said to himself in a nonchalant tone of voice as he grabbed his blaster pistols, a DE-10 and DL-44, and slipped them into their respective areas. The DE-10 was easily visible to the naked eye and on his hip, and the DL-44 found itself tucked away in a pocket in his coat. As he walked down the ramp of his old freighter, he stretched his legs and discarded his cigarette to the side. The point of contact would be in a cantina. He reached out to a variety of smugglers through the Underground ShadowNet, so none of them knew exactly what he looked like. But they were looking for one common thing:

An Alliance Surplus Medical pack.

As he walked towards the most popular cantina aboard The Wheel, he wondered what exactly this job was for. He knew that it was being brought to Ossus, but that was deep in Sith territory, right? Something like that. Percy hadn't view a galactic map in a while because he'd been adrift in space for so long. No jobs. Nothing to do. No one to have quarrels with.

"As long as it doesn't get me caught up in one of those weird force conflicts." he said to himself once more, spitting out the pen and catching it in his hand, only to replace it with a cigarette.

"Whatever happens, happens, I guess." he said, sighing and chuckling at his most popular remark. Then, he found the contact. He was discreet and tucked away in the corner of the cantina, holding his blaster. It was an Ishi Tib so not a very common species he'd seen. At least the majority of them speak basic. He was holding onto his blaster handle, only to be ready if something popped off as usual.

"Whatcha got?" he asked quietly but loud enough to where only the point of contact could hear him. As he waited for a response, he pulled up a chair and sat at the table.

[member="Jic Drow"]

 

[Soloman Priest]

Lady Luck wasn’t far from The Wheel when the transmission came through.

Soloman sat with feet raised, and a drink in his hand as the holonet screen informed him of the encroaching invasion of bio-organics in the Outer Rim. He sipped his drink, wondering if they pushed any farther into the Galactic Core if they’d start paying for their corpses - Might not be a horrible paycheck if the day came. Then the alarm came up, a harsh notification as the droid brain of the GS-77 spoke up -

“Message from the Bounty Hunters Guild - Displaying now.”

The bounty hunter readjusted in his seat, and glanced to the message terminal next to him. It was a clear cut, short message that was likely sent to every bounty hunter in a parsec of the station. He sighed, knowing he was about to face some competition - but what was a little gunfight to liven the mood? He grunted as he stood from his chair and called to the navigation computer -

“Plot a course to The Wheel. We’ve got business to attend to.”, and off he went to arm himself.

---

The Wheel was as busy as ever, and Soloman noticed a few faces he recognized. The likes of Black Bart, Ostanius Cane, and other bounty hunters looking around with their iconic, shifty gaze. They were small fry, relatively, but they’d be trouble in this many numbers - with this many antsy guns about. Soloman wasn’t in the mood to get shot by a greenhorn, and moved to light a cigarra -

At least it’d help calm the bad feeling he had.

Slowly, he began to look around for leads, listening to every conversation he could - hoping to make out details that would make sense. Smugglers often had highlights to their deals, keywords, phrases, or articles of clothing that distinguished them from the crowd - but Soloman just had to figure out what it was. Step by step, the scarred Mandalorian listened and learned - but most of it was bunk.

He growled in annoyance as he puffed away at the cigarra, watching for someone of ill repute catch his glance.

[member="Jic Drow"] │ [member="Percy Vaceldau"]

 

[Yula Perl]

Smuggling could be good business if you were plugged in to the right networks. Hell, The Underground had its perks. Yula had picked up a temporary gig on The Wheel doing maintenance on the space station, as well as service any ships that had docked and were in need of repair. It was honest, boring work. It was also an unofficial gathering place for smugglers and bounty hunters, putting her in a good position to see and hear interesting things.

Ossus was Sith territory, and there’d been rumblings about the galactic giant’s waning powers. Still, the Sith kept their space tightly patrolled so any job that brought you into the old heart of Silver Jedi territory was going to be tricky. That, and Yula didn’t like Sith very much so this would be a good opportunity to stick it to ‘em.

Wiping the oil from her hands with a rag, the Zeltron scanned the clientele of the cantina. They never were a friendly looking bunch, all scowls and cigarras and drinks and blasters. The Alliance emblem caught her eye, and so Yula strode over towards the appointed Medpack, and the two beings in the vicinity of it. Dragging a chair over to the small table, she seated herself casually to one side of the reptilian man and human male. Seemed as if she wasn’t the only one to interested in the shadownet posting, but she offered both a friendly smile all the same.

“Spice beer, please.” The waitress who’d ventured close to take their orders nodded, and would retreat only to return with any drinks the table had ordered.

“Long day at work, boys?” Part of the oily rag had been tucked into the belt of her pants, and Yula nursed her beer while turning her eyes to the Ishi Tib. She didn’t really expect a response, knowing how taciturn these deals often were. Instead, she waited patiently for the point man to answer the spacer’s question.

[member="Soloman Priest"] | [member="Percy Vaceldau"] |[member="Jic Drow"]

 

[Vaudin Miir]

"This is the port authority. State your name and cargo." The gruff sounding voice came over the comms as he made his approach to the planet below.

"This is Joza Perl, luckiest wife in the galaxy." He said in a ridiculously high pitched voice, "I'm traveling with my husband, the attractive, smart, funny, and incredible in bed senator of Iktotch."

"That's too much information and you still didn't declare your cargo, Miss." The voice replied.

"Oh, he he he, no cargo other than my 2 tons of wardrobe and my undying affection for Mr. Miir." He replied in a voice even more high pitched and forced.

"And your name again...*miss*?" The voice responded sounding a lot more annoyed and a lot less convinced.

"Perl, [member="Joza Perl"] ." He replied in his awful Joza impression.

"That's odd, it looks like we already have a Perl on record." The comms squawked back.

He muted the mic abruptly and looked around to see if anyone was close by.

"Kark!" He shouted at nothing before turning the mic back on.

"That is strange." He said in his same impression. "Maybe you should detain them and crrrrrrr I'm crrrrrrrshhhhhhhcrrrr. You're breaking up. Crrrshhhhhhhhcrrrr."

He abruptly cut the Comms and swung his TL-1800 in under a large cargo hauler on approach to mask his ships signature and killed his trasnponder.

"I hate smart port authorities." He grumbled as he set his ship to run silent.

 

[Ghed Saya]

[member="Vaudin Miir"]

Between corruption and simple word of mouth, a certsin hunter quickly got the news that someone claiming to be [member="Joza Perl"] had gone dark on the port authority.

And Joza Perl had a bounty.

Not a rich one, not a prominent one, not even a current one. And yet, a bounty.

An old Y-Wing detached from the Wheel and started combing the traffic lanes.

 

[Jic Drow]

The Ishi Tib was not sure who would be making an appearance, old faces? New? For him it didn’t matter. This job was for the Resistance, as far as he knew, or the Underground, they had been seeded around the galaxy, thanks to the likes of Starchaser and other Alliance brass. Some had been left behind enemy lines. He’d been there for the assault of the Sith on Mon Cala, and supporting the Mon Cals. Hell, he almost stayed behind. But he had his ship, and his piloting skills, so he was brought off world.

And now he was supporting the Underground as a smuggler, one that could be trusted. Another sip of his mash, the Ishi Tib looked around. A few messages were coming in, but that was not what he needed. He needed the pilot to actually be here. No messages regarding the Guild and hunters, not yet. But he wasn’t sure he’d receive one. For now, he was the one who was going to be able to offer jobs.

Sitting with his back to the wall, Jic was waiting for the pilots, and when someone approached him he gave his best, and albeit a very open mouthed and strained smile. “What do I have? Depends what you’re looking for, my friend. And what your ship is good for.” As he was speaking to the first man, that was when the Zeltron came forward. He’d seen a few in his time.

“Always a long day, and the boss dropped a few more runs on me. Would just hate to rent a larger ship, not sure it’ll cover our costs.” He sipped his mash. “How about your day, miss?”

Smugglers: [member="Percy Vaceldau"] + [member="Yula Perl"] +[member="Vaudin Miir"]
Hunters: [member="Ghed Saya"] + [member="Soloman Priest"]

 

[Soloman Priest]

As a hundred and more walked past Soloman, he grew less hopeful that he would be able to get the drop on these smugglers. He considered for a moment just how many people on the Wheel were smugglers to begin with; When he was satisfied with the thought, he concluded it had to be at least sixty percent of the would be visitors. It was a hub of scum and villainy afterall, what was some illegal cargo transported without a transponder?

The annoyance had drew his attention thin - a man more optimized for shooting than investigations, he couldn’t help but let a youthful Zeltron take his eye. It was common for them to be onboard, and more common for them to catch Soloman’s eye - their nature was beauty, and he was a red blooded mandalorian; a little eye candy did him good. Yet, this Zeltron wasn’t dressed like the majority - who wore the skimpy outfits of dancers, to let the pheromones of their skin waft in the passersby noses hoping to entice new customers.

No, this one wore oily rags and clothes more akin to an engineer - and she sat down and spoke to two men, one who seemed to have an alliance medpack on his person. It took a ballsy man to wear such colors in Sith space - which only forced him to consider just what it was he was witnessing. Should he approach? Stay back and watch?

Soloman had a hard time thinking about it, and eventually settled on the latter. Smoke trailed from his lips as he seemed to focus more intently on the Zeltron than the others - she was easier on the eyes than a Ishi Tib, afterall. At least she got the gears turning.

[member="Jic Drow"] │ [member="Yula Perl"] │ [member="Percy Vaceldau"] │ Vaudin Miir

 

[Gideon Saigo]

All Zeltrons look the same, Jair once heard a Coruscant First supporter say, I want them off muh planet. No, it's not racism. See, I got a Zeltron friend!

Aruetiise were weird.

As soon as he escaped hyperspace at The Wheel, the tracking fob started bleeping. The infochant wasn't wrong after all. He'd charged him quite the dime but he ought to get that investment back when he put [member="Yula Perl"] under cuffs in a non-sexual way.

The nondescript starship of his docked along other similar trash cans. With these crazy docking prices, you'd wonder how most of the ships on The Wheel were junks and not millionaire's yachts. Guess high-rollers wanted to keep a low profile.

"Hundred twenty for the day, Sir."

"Wow, that's fethin' daylight robbery." Jair took out a hundred and thirty out and reluctantly gave it to the Muun.

The Muun took it and headed away.

"Hey! Give me back my change, long head. Said hundred twenty, no?"

The Muun turned and stared silently at the Mandalorian. Ordo demonstratively put his hand on the handle of his blaster pistol.

"Good." Jair put back the ten creds the Muun gave him back while mumbling native curses.

He exited the dock and headed into The Wheel following the trail of the primitive tracking fob.

[member="Jic Drow"] [member="Percy Vaceldau"]

 

[Kingsley]

"Oh hell no," a familiar grating voice reverberated behind [member="Yula Perl"], "Rrrawk! If she's here I'm expecting hazard pay."

Kingsley was sporting his most stylish vest for the occasion and there were two twi'lek females on each arm. Their eyes were both glazed over with the spice he paid them to make this appearance. The Wheel was an old stomping ground of his which meant he had a reputation to uphold. It was important everyone in this cantina understood just how much he was killing it out there. Sure there was a fresh bounty on his head but he wasn't too worried about the Guild. Its not like bounty hunters were in style or anything.

"Scram ladies," he sniffled indignantly at his street walker companions, "Me and the boys gotta talk business."

The freighter captain scoffed at Yula and punched [member="Jic Drow"] in the shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise before taking a seat next to him opposite [member="Percy Vaceldau"]. Completely oblivious to [member="Soloman Priest"] or [member="Jair Ordo"] or anyone else with a fob in their pocket Kingsley loudly signaled someone over to order a ridiculous sounding cocktail. It didn't seem to bother him that he wasn't invited or welcome. He'd overheard details of the job from a couple smugglers on Mek-Sha. He was counting on the Ishi Tib not wanting to make a scene.

"This is embarrassing," Kingsley blushed at Percy, "You obviously recognize me. Yes, I'm the Captain Kingsley."

 

[Tulan Kor]

Task Force Raider was a unique entity within the Antarian Rangers.

It wasn't a military agency exclusively, it had another, unique objective. One that not even Tulan liked to disclose to the SJO, and why so many of their assets were procured off-site for the team's use. Credits, weapons, transportation, ammunition, gear. All had to procured through off-the-books transactions and methods to keep any oversight committees and agencies off their trail.

(He stole a lot of things, in other words).

There was no shortage of people to help and paramilitary groups to arm. Task Force Raider was sent out in small teams to train and assist local militia and rebel groups against Sith-aligned groups. The Mandalorians, the Empire, pick your poison, if they went against the SJO and the Task Force got wind of your little terrorist group, chances are that Tulan and friends showed up with a crate full of weapons and the intent to kill Sith, or help you kill some of them. Mandalorians worked too.

The Shadownet was a thing a lot of Jedi had only heard of.

Tulan used to check his mail there.

It wasn't hard to check on there from time to time. It explained why he was here. But more importantly, it explained why he was in a backroom, a crate at his feet, and a Duros rolling a coin between his fingers.

"Not easy to get, Tulan. You cost me a lot for a lot of strange gear."

Tulan crouched near the crate and opened the box, checking the contents.

"Strange to you." He said gruffly, looking up at the Duros. The Duros held out his hand. "Nice to see you working again, Tulan." Tulan handed him a bounty puck with his face on it. The Duros looked down at Tulan, who only could smirk up at him, also handing him a handful of credits. "Place is about to be swarming with people looking for you, mate." The Duros smiled at him.

"You've always been a good friend to me, Tulan. About as good of a customer." Tulan smiled and hugged one of the few men that he genuinely could call his friends. The Duros patted him on the shoulder, and turned on his heel, stopping before he was making his way off the wheel. "Good luck, Frostman." Tulan would've punched anyone else who called him that. But his friend could get away with it. He gave him a firm, respectful nod before walking out, disappearing with the crowd as the door to the storage room slid shut.

Tulan looked down at the crate, popping it open.

Everything, locally-sourced in a haste, that an assassin could want. Thermal detonators, blaster carbine, ammunition, blast-vest and helmet, HUD-mounted eye protection, knuckle dusters, durasteel-plated gloves. Vibroknife. Disruptor pistol. Wrist-mounted chord launcher. Flamethrower wrist mount. Not a lot of juice on the flamethrower. Just needed enough.

He didn't give a damn about the money or the smugglers. That package needed to get to Ossus. And Tulan was hell-bent on making sure that happened.

 

[Percy Vaceldau]

As the Ishi Tib answered his question with a bright and wide smile accompanied by an indirect question about how reliable his ship was, a female Zeltron approached the two and took a seat at the round table. While she spoke to the other man at the table, Percy readjusted himself and propped his legs up at his end of the table, both of his hand in his coat pocket. As he looked around the cantina, he found that there were probably some sort of opposition that had been called here. An Alliance Medical Pack wasn't something you saw often anymore, and it most likely drew some sort of attention to the group of three.

Whatever. If something popped off, he was definitely ready for it.

As the Ishi Tib and Zeltron's conversation concluded, he assured the man that his ship was capable of such a job.

"Looking for work. And trust me, my ship's ol' reliable. Brand spankin' new YT-2000. She's a tough cookie." he added, laughing as he put the cigarette back in his mouth, watching the smoke lift towards the ceiling. While the other two continued their conversation that he wasn't listening to, they were joined by yet another. This time a weird species he had never seen before. He was clearly drunk, on spice or something.

He dismissed his two Twi'lek acquaintances and sat next to Percy after punching the Ishi Tib in the shoulder quite hard. Then, he insisted that he was some sort of galaxy renowned smuggler, turning to Percy and saying

"This is embarrassing. You obviously recognize me. Yes, I'm THE Captain Kingsley." he said, stumbling through a few words.

Percy grinned, the cigarette now at the corner of his mouth. Then he laughed.

"Sorry, bud. I've got no idea who you are. No disrespect. Just don't hang in these territories much." his tone of voice was 100% careless.

[member="Kingsley"] | [member="Soloman Priest"] | [member="Jair Ordo"] | [member="Jic Drow"] | [member="Vaudin Miir"] | [member="Yula Perl"]

 

[Vaudin Miir]

Vaudin took out his heavy thermos and took a swig of caff with his feet up on the empty copilot seat as he flew the heavy freighter one handed. The klaxons had been muted just so he could tolerate the proximity to the bigger ship.

"Like buddah." He said to himself as the ship closed to the station for its landing.

Vaudin eased back using only attitude adjusters. His ship slid back and he rolled it away on the far side of the flight control then began to creep along the station's hull just meters away. All he needed now was a good access hatch, a soft dock, and a quick dump of some Sith banned reading materials. Then with a shimmy and shake he'd be on his merry way and maybe, just maybe the lady that had got him off the sauce would be home long enough to catch a bite, watch a holovid, and an overdue nap.

[member="Ghed Saya"]

 

[Ghed Saya]

[member="Vaudin Miir"]

The sensors spit out an ongoing list of new contacts: normal traffic arriving at the Wheel, or departing from it. Ghed kept an eye on that list largely because flying around the Wheel meant risking a traffic accident. So long as none of those new contacts were closer than a klick, they remained the least of his worries.

NEW CONTACT 0.74km

He flinched and toggled the sensor panel's selector. The contact was a TL-1800 heavy freighter. Its proximity went to 600 meters, then 500, then 600 again, all before he got a firm sense of their relative positioning. Not the closest shave but enough to unsettle him. That TL-1800 had no transponder, and now it appeared to be snuggling up to the station in an asymptotic way, skimming the hull instead of going for a specific dock.

Ghed angled the Y-Wing to follow. No target lock, just visual.

 

[Yula Perl]

“Ah, hate when that happens.” Yula had taken up a comfortable position in her seat, chin resting in one hand, elbow propped up on the table. After taking a contemplative sip from her drink, she spoke again. “Whatcha haulin’? Might be able to give you a hand with that.” The finer details of the job had been decisively omitted from the transmission, but that was the way things went. Hopefully there’d be work enough for two, then—

Rrrawk!

Yula’s smile fell immediately and she sat back in disgust just as Kingsley and Co. came into view. “Kark off wermo, I was here first.” Well, technically the other guys was here first. She had no bone to pick with him, but with Kingsley there were so. Many. Bones.

She couldn’t help but chortle when Mr. Nonchalant brushed off Kingsley’s introduction. “The only way you’d get recognized is from your wanted ad.” Kingsley had made a name for himself in certain swaths of the Rim, and they happened to overlap with Yula’s stomping grounds. Settling back into a friendlier demeanor, she gave Kingsley a measured look. “My sister’s doing good, by the way. Sorry to hear about the breakup.”

Just like that, she felt a pair of eyes on her. A predator’s gaze. She refocused on the Ishi. “So, about that job?”

[member="Percy Vaceldau"] | [member="Kingsley"] | [member="Jair Ordo"] | [member="Soloman Priest"] | [member="Jic Drow"]

 

[Gideon Saigo]

The more it beeped, the more people shoved out of the Mandalorian's way up until it led him to a cantina.

Doors slid open to reveal the classical thick cloud of smoke, the smell of sweat and cheap booze. For all the high-rollers playing here, the Wheel still had its traditional watering holes for those who'd gambled it all or waited for the next racket to get some creds.

Eyes stuck on him, as usual. The famed T-visor and armor always attracted attention. No stealth with this chit. None needed, either. Usually.

His searching finally fell upon his target - a talkative Zeltron. [member="Yula Perl"]. Good looking too, but these were most likely the pheromones piercing through the sweat of the cantina's population. The T-visor fell on a nearby patron talking to her - the fethin' bird. Just when Mar and him were about to fry this karker, a Jawa blasted their arse. Ordo still felt the stinging feeling across his left forearm from that bolt.

Two mynocks, one stone?

Perhaps.

Jair strolled on forward calmly but decisively. Pistol still in its holster, rifle still slung on his back. He took those out he was most likely toast. He stopped right behind where Yula was sitting with his T-visor looking elsewhere.

"I can take you in warm or I can take you in cold." He whispered to the pink skin. "Choose."

[member="Kingsley"] [member="Percy Vaceldau"] [member="Jic Drow"]

 

[Jic Drow]

The smuggler was not quite expecting everyone to be arriving together. Hopefully this was just a wave. Jic was hoping he would get a few waves of ships and get the goods off the Wheel so he could leave and make his way back out towards Termnus. Had a few things to do out there before heading home to Tibrin. Hopefully a few hundred talons richer. But for now, he could hand out some datachips, they could load up their ships, and get out of here, head to Ossus and make the drop. From there?

Well, he had their names, he’d get the call if they were successful, and then there would be more talons in line for them, if they wanted it. But a run to Ossus? That wasn’t for the weak, so they seemed to be in this for a reason. The nice thing was, he was pretty good with his memory, even among different species.

“A brand new 2000? You done any work to it?” Any ship could be a smuggler ship, but it helped to have the pilot know what he added to his ship. A twitch of his eyes when Kinglsey punched his shoulder, the Ishi Tib shot the bird a glance. It seemed Kingsley was doing what Kingsley did best, making friends all around. “You hear to heckle the pilots or fly, Kingsley?” Jic gave a his equivalent of a grin.

He was getting back to Yula’s questions. “Well, I’ve got a few crates, all heading towards Ossus. Have some party supplies, but also food and medicine. Apparently Ossus is setting up some festival, and well, as payment the locals needed to take care of their own.” A complete and utter poodoo story, but he hoped the tone and term for the weapons gave everyone an idea.

“I’ve got some supplies loaded in my ship, but a few more, and some pilots with the bronzium to go past the Sith, are really a short supply.” He placed a few chips on the table, clearly datachips. Not something that could really be traced anywhere, but they corresponded with a specific set of packages. His second hand came up, blaster in his grip.

“When we’re ready…” He looked at their new companion, who didn’t seem to be the most smuggler type.

With the beskar helmet.

Smugglers: [member="Yula Perl"] [member="Vaudin Miir"] [member="Percy Vaceldau"] @Kingsley [member="Percy Vaceldau"]
Hunters: [member="Jair Ordo"] [member="Ghed Saya"] [member="Soloman Priest"]
[member="Tulan Kor"]

 

[Soloman Priest]

A fething T-Visor.

Soloman wasn’t often a man to wear his armor - after being ostracized by the greater mandalorian clans and losing the rank of Ori’ramikade, there wasn’t much reason to disrespect them further. He still had it of course, but it collected dust in his ship - something he preferred to look at than wear this point. He clenched his jaw, flexed the muscles that ground his teeth, and watched as he said something he couldn’t make out to the pink skinned Zeltron.

It wasn’t hard to figure out the implication. One of them had a bounty on them.

Sliding up his sleeve, he glanced to the microcomputer he used to track bounties; and sure enough - Yula Perl was a target he seemed to have let slip his mind. A cold 20,000 credits at that - and it wasn’t a bad gig. Though, this Bounty Hunter before him might have been over his head, considering the present company.

Soloman scratched at his chin, taking the time to speak quietly into the vambrace he carried with him always -

“Warm up the ship engines.”

And in the distance, the GS-77 he used to hunt the Galaxy’s most wanted roared to life - much to the surprise of the engineer working on it nearby.

Now, it was simply a matter of seeing what the group would do. Either he’d take Yula, or he’d take the rest of the smugglers - either the Sith would pay him, or the Bounty Hunter’s Guild. It didn’t really matter at the end of the day.


[member="Jic Drow"] │ [member="Jair Ordo"] │ [member="Yula Perl"] │ [member="Ghed Saya"] │ [member="Vaudin Miir"] │ [member="Percy Vaceldau"] │ [member="Tulan Kor"] │ [member="Kingsley"]

 

[Tulan Kor]

The sight of an armored Mandalorian drew enough attention that a kitted-out Commando dashing through the wheel could get by. Besides, people walked through here with guns all the time. Just not loaded slugthrower rifles. Things were heating up, and that pink-skinned seductress harlequin she-devil needed to get out and deliver the god damn packages to where they needed to go.

The cantina was about to become a warzone.

He came around the corner just in time for the armored douchebag to repeat the tired old "bring you in cold" line. Sounded stupid. Coulda just zapped her right then and there, and dragged her to a carbonite slab.

Smugglers needed to win this time.

Damn the Sith.

And he hadn't anything against the Bounty Hunters, truly, really, honestly.

But he needed to figure out who he was a doer and who was a don't-er in the cantina. There was a game nearby. Played with little balls. Had to get them into holes or something. Sounded dumb and boring to Tulan. But useful.

He walked in, rifle across his chest. He rolled it at the opposite end of the bar, where most of the patrons were. Dimly lit, a little black ball rolling on the floor could not possibly be mistaken for a-

"Thermal detonator!"

By the professional person, at least. The pros knew that it was a game ball.

The average bar-goer on the Wheel, though? They had enough shootouts and explosions on the Wheel monthly that any chance they were going to get vaporized was enough of a chance for them take to not. They began to- you guessed it, run for the door. And through the CHAOS , Tulan hoped to capitalize on it and make a nice little escape with his new smuggler friend.

Hopefully she didn't ask a lot of questions or smooch on his Rangers like the other Zeltron he knew.

Little minx, that one.

 

[Soloman Priest]

“Thermal detonator!”, Soloman heard, but he saw it.

Someone dropped a ball on the floor, and everyone thought it was an explosive. Not exactly great timing by that measure, and Soloman knew rather quickly someone had either noticed him watching - or noticed the rookie approaching the Zeltron and her friends himself. It wasn’t a good situation, and as the crowds began to run through the Chaos of the cantina, Soloman found himself cursing under his breath.

People kept getting in his way, so it seemed he wouldn’t have the easy walkout he had hoped for - so as he pushed a few of the more terrified members of the crowd aside, he kept an eye on the group as best as possible. No doubt whoever made this distraction was hell bent on using it for some end - likely to save the would be smugglers from the likes of the Mandalorian. Soloman, however, would keep his distance for a moment longer - always keeping an eye on them, as best as he could.

Two shots could secure the bounty, and four could see him with some bodies to collect a price on. It was all a matter of waiting and seeing just who was going to approach.


[member="Jic Drow"] │ [member="Jair Ordo"] │ [member="Yula Perl"] │ [member="Ghed Saya"] │ [member="Vaudin Miir"] │ [member="Percy Vaceldau"] │ [member="Tulan Kor"] │ [member="Kingsley"]