Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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With Friends like these (Red Devil Cartel/Open Party Thread)

Red Draft Cantina
Beggars Row, Nar Shaada, Front of House


@B'kik [member="Marcus Collier"] [member="Zai Avery"] [member="Jim Pehico"] [member="Kitty"]

It had been a few months since they'd shown up on the block. After a few firefights, swoop races and general mischief the Red Devil Cartel was becoming the known kid on the block. Short term they owned their little street, plus the bar. But long term?

Oooh Babay, they were gonna own planets and hyperlanes. Across the Dark net as well as open channels the invitation had went out. There was a party being held to meet new folks. Investors, hopefuls and generally anyone who wanted to come along and get wasted with the Nar Shaada Originals.

Hala was already three sheets to the wind tending the Bar, where she surmised she could get the most action and get to know folks the best. Armed members kept security of course but as the techno music boomed she slammed another shot and smashed the glass against the wall.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her glove and hollared.

"WHHHHOOOO! Alright boys! Let's get a game of yard sticks going! Who's gonna match who shot for shot!"
The night had gone about as well as you would expect from a bar ran by outlaws. Four fights, one stabbing, and a couple of pick pockets. While that may seem extreme to others that was a pretty good night as far as Marcus was concerned. Spending the majority of his time at the bar, mainly providing security and dealing with Hala, he saw a lot more blaster bolt ricochet's than he cared for. In fact, it was the lacking in blaster fire that made it a good night.

His blaster pistol strapped tightly to his waist most in the bar knew better than to cause trouble in The Red Draft Cantina. The most popular outcome for troublemakers was to be taken in the back room and worked over by Marcus until his fists got tired. However, tonight seemed to be going favorably.

Wrapping his hands around his beer he downed the contents of the glass bottle, glancing back to Hala with an arched brow. "You know you can't drink boss." He teased, his eyes dancing over the cantina as he spoke to the Patched President.

[member="Hala Jast"]
[member="Marcus Collier"]

Again Marcus had decided to challenge her. While she had a different contest in her own mind for the new comers off the street she figured a side bet was in order. With a wicked grin she slapped ten platinum down on the bar and then put it into an empty jar rattling the contents. Marcus was her Master at Arms and so far he was doing a fine job.

The fact that deaths occurred didn't much matter to her, it was who died that really was important.

"Come on then pup, what you got?" She asked with a cocked head.

"Throw in some dough and we can have a side contest!"

She had a special bottle of thirty year old Corellian Whiskey as well as some Alderanian Scotch. Either would do for this endeavour. The rest would get the rot gut fire water, but hey, credits were credits.

Family first.
Arching a brow back at Hala, Marcus scoffed at her words, digging his hands into his pockets. "Only a Mandalorian can drink me under, sweetheart." The credit chits made a soft clink as he dropped them into the jar with Hala's. "Pup? Ok then princess, you're on."

Taking a look around the room Marcus noticed one of the more regular hang-arounds to the gang, some Twi'lek girl whose name escaped him, was watching the specticle with wide eyes. "Hey, blue. Run to the back and grab the Prez here a pillow and blanket, she's gonna need it." Again, talking trash was a favored past time of the Mandalorian and he was not quick to let it go.

"So you sure you wanna do this Hala? No pain if you bow out gracefully." He offered her a small smirk and a playful wink before looking over the contents of the bar.

[member="Hala Jast"]
[member="Marcus Collier"]

"Im dead sure. Tell your little honey to join in, I'll take her loot too!" Hala Jested, nodding toward the Twi'lek.

And then she placed the canteen on the liquor rack and bowed, sweeping both arms wide.

"Choose your poison buddy."
Marcus glanced over to the Twi'lek when Hala suggested that she belonged to him. In truth it was a bit more simple than that. "Honey? Nah, she's just around to keep my bed warm when I need it." This must have upset the woman because immediately she turned from the bar and their company. Marcus could only reply with a smirk at the spectacle. "Whatever."

"I see a nice bottle of Corellian Whiskey up there. If you think you can handle it." Marcus looked over the cantina once again before exhaling a bit, it's a slow night so a bit of drinking shouldn't hurt much at all.

[member="Hala Jast"]
[member="Marcus Collier"]

Hala snickered and then nodded.

"Well that's no way to treat a lady! But if you insist, certainly."

The bottle in question had a black label, with a shiny chrome cap. T'was just then her former First Mate Drexal the Rodian came in and moved to meet them. Drexal was something of an oddity. He'd flown with Hala when she ran the Crimson Dragon, before they'd been hit by reavers and forced to scrap the ship. Still he had his uses and thier friendship ran deep.

"Still thinking about entering the podrace?" Drexal asked.

Hala poured a drink for him too as well as Marcus and herself.

"Yea. Hell dude, I'm thinking about running one of our own. But first I gotta whip this young man at his own game."

She pushed Marcus the shot glass and nodded, setting down the bottle.

"Bottoms up bub."

Then she slammed her shot.
Marcus simply shrugged at the woman's remark. "I don't take women without a spine for anything more than they are, a bed warmer. On Mandalore the weak aren't the ones you treat like a lady."

"Young man? How old do you think I am sweetheart?" He questioned, watching her pour the glass as he rested his chin on his palm. Glancing at the shot down in front of him he could not help but chuckle at the woman. "Try to keep up." He muttered before quickly downing the brown liquid.

Warming his throat as it made it's way down Marcus took the bottle, refilling both their shot glasses. "So what do I get when I win?" He questioned as he set their shot glasses back to a fill.

[member="Hala Jast"]
[member="Marcus Collier"]

"Noted then. I travelled to Mandalore once. Shame it's a wasteland now what with the nuking and all. Maybe we can make a joint trip someday."

She took her glass and clinked it with Marcus. when he asked what they would win she pointed to the Canteen and then grinned.

"What's in the Canteen. 'Less you had another prize in mind."

Then she tapped her glass to the wood with a clink and slammed it, letting the fire wash down her gullet. Her face was flushing now, but she had more in her. Besides hopefully they'd have a few guests for the evening. The pod race was an interesting proposition from Drexal and as she refilled her glass and passed him the bottle, she wondered what he thought of it.

"What would you think of taking over the Nar Shaada Classic? We could host the whole thing if we collect enough loot. Knock the Hutts out of their own game."
The bottle of Corellian Whiskey seemed to falter, rattling on the contest table as it slid toward the edge. Just before the fall, it shot through the air, landing tight in the firm grasp of an outstretched hand in the corner of the rustic bar. The owner of said hand wore an old, sleek trench coat, conforming to the slim frame of his body. Matted, dark hair covered his features, all except that pointed grin he wore everywhere. The interruption shot silence through the patrons, all eyes focused on the mysterious figure. With a slight tilt of his hand, the uncapped bottle leaked its rich liquor into his glass.

"Now that, good madam, would not be the wisest of ideas." Came a smooth voice, released from the perfect grin. "A gang like yours wouldn't stand long against the cartel, so angering them is pretty karking stupid." He continued, placing the bottle by his side and taking a sip of the branded whiskey. His head tilted slightly, casting a glance at the drinking competition he'd interrupted so suddenly. "Apologies for my brashness." Crystal blue eyes stared curiously at the gang, "I'm just trying to save some lives." His gaze returned to his drink, indulging in its charm as his legs reclined outward into a more comfortable position.

| [member="Hala Jast"] | [member="Marcus Collier"] |


The cutest capitalist thief you will ever see
B'kik was not a heavy drinker and instead used loo event as an exuse to pickpocket drunk patron.
Po bloke notice he was missing his wallet.
He looked at B'kik who iturned pointed to A'raak.
While B'kik was trying to signal not to mess with him because of his tusken bodyguard the foolish guy thought B'kik was telling him that the tusken pickpocked him.
The guy yelled at A'raak
" Oi Sand Thing give me my wallet..."
A'raak's gaddaffi went into the guys face knocking him out and possibly killing him.
B'kik couldn't help but laugh at what just happened


Dead Men End All Tales.
@B'kik @Leo Vandermolen [member="Hala Jast"] [member="Marcus Collier"]

Ash walked in to bar, rictus grin gleaming as he looked around the room. This bar was full of uncut, rough, crazy, outlaws. A total dive. And here he was, in a nice black suit, albeit one with a solid laminanium skull parked atop it. He approached the bar with the kind of casual chill that a professional hitman should have when walking into a place like this, despite it obviously being a few inches from a bar fight. And besides, it never hit to make an impression.

He pulled out a gold-colored credit chit and put it on the table, nodding to bartender. "Three fingers of Huttese Brandy, and leave the bottle handy. I've got some extra brain cells to kill," he said as he nodded calmly, watching the other two start what looked to be a drink-off. He could win, but given that he was a droid playing at being a human, that'd be cheating in any sense of the word. He then noticed a Jawa who was giggling at some man with a broken nose--not often he saw the desert-dwellers off Tattooine. Go figure.

He smirked. "Not a bad little joint. Security seems a bit lax, but a guy can appreciate that, I suppose. Better than having to check all your weapons at the door," he mused out loud as he swirled the glass and then took a sip. It wasn't half-bad Brandy. Not high-end, but damn good for a hole-in-the wall bar, if his chemical sniffers were tuned accurately. He fiddled with his tie-clip. He was being conspicuous as hell, certainly one of the crooks who ran this place would take notice, and then it'd be time to see what was what.


The cutest capitalist thief you will ever see
B'kik noticed a strange looking man or droid.
B'kik couldn't tell but po thing un sure was that, that man was nyeta a simple man
Fancy suit, fancy drink and fancy everything
B'kik thought that [member="Ash"] was a business man and potential investor.
B'kik signaled a'raak to leave the man on the ground alone follow b'kik
When B'kik got to where [member="Ash"] was
" m'um m'aloo good sir. Baa look like someone who is looking to invest in something. Could ikee interest baa into investing in loo fine looking bar or Utinni Traded Goods "
Jim had been running late, he had to take public transport to the meeting, he had drunk too much lum the night before and had a terrible hangover. He stumbled into the cantina and raised his flask.

"Heyyyyyy!" Jim yelled from across the cantina he then fell flat on his face, stiff as a board. He began snoring. He was out like a light
Marcus knocked down the next shot in unison with Hala,smirking as he noticed the slight blush on her face. "Liquor getting to you already? Poor girl." While the man had felt a bit more effect from the last shot he knew he was only beginning and could keep up for many more rounds. "The Classic? I told you at Church Prez, going up against the Hutt's isn't the best move. Not yet. We need more bodies, resources, pull, and most all cash."

However, when a man not far from the two of them spoke up Marcus cut his eyes towards him. "Mind your business, or get the hell out. We don't need Mynock chow like you telling us how to conduct business." With that being said Marcus poured the two of them another round of shots, ignoring the man who had spoiled his good mood.

It was not until the loud, boisterous voice of the Red Devil's Vice President echoed through the bar that the man turned back to see the VP slam into the floor. Wincing at the sight Marcus simply turned back to Hala, more concerned with their drinking game.

[member="Jim Pehico"] [member="Leo Vandermolen"] [member="Hala Jast"]
The Twi'lek girl poured water on Jim's face, waking him up, the bar couldn't have people sleeping on the ground. The bartender was just about to tell Jim to go hom, however he noticed he was apart of the Devils and backed off, He even invited Jim for a free bottle for his troubles, he didn't know what kind of drunk Jim was, and obviously he didn't want to offend the VP. Jim was a criminal, but he had at least a bit of an honor system, that he (usually) sticks to.

Jim walked over to Marcus and Hala, "Hey fellas, how are you all doing?" Jim slirred, he then looked over to the bartender. "I'll take a glass of lum on the rocks, shaken, not stirred." Jim then looked over to to the group, "So what's the haps, boss-lady?" Jim said.

[member="Marcus Collier"]
[member="Hala Jast"]
[member="Leo Vandermolen"]

Hala gave him a glance when he spoke, but Marcus was quick to cut the chatter and she nodded in acknowledgement. She would have gave him the business, except she was in no foul mood tonight and couldn't be moved to violence. She went back to their game until [member="Jim Pehico"] stumbled in and she grinned again.

"What a fool." Then slammed back another shot and poured a round for the two of them. Marcus might be close to winning this one.


Her eyes darted to where B'kik was stirring the pot with Tuskens and guests and rolled her eyes. That little Jawa made her nervous, especially as their Treasurer. The guy had a bad penchant for stealing just about anything that wasn't bolted down. Good during an Op but bad for business. She decided to keep a closer eye on him.

[member="Marcus Collier"]

When Marcus said something about the liqour getting to her she shrugged and pointed to to his glass.

"Just drink your drink dude!"

Then [member="Ash"] was somewhere calling her attention with his ominous and very sketchy appearance. While sights like his might be common elsewhere in the criminal underworld, one did not enter a biker bar that was notorious like this in a full blown suit. She scooped up the bottle and glasses with one hand and ignored Jims wild "Whats up!"

Instead she locked eyes with them both and nodded.

"My left, guy in the suit. Let's go check it out." Then she clinked the glasses in her hands.

"Don't worry Marcus, I ain't forgot our game, we'll bring it with us during this tactical pause."


Dead Men End All Tales.
[member="Hala Jast"] [member="Jim Pehico"] [member="Marcus Collier"] @B'kik @Leo Vandermolen

The dead-looking man in the sharpest suit money could steal grinned and sip his drink as the first man approached him. The Jawa. Asking him for cash right off the bat? Bold, if more than a little bizarre. He chuckled, his raspy, tinny voice coming from the skull, like a man speaking through a slightly battered microphone. The assassin looked as yet another two seemed to be heading his way. He nodded to the Jawa and spoke softly, "And what, pray tell, would be the nature of my investment? Hell, what does you trade goods company deal in, specifically?" He wished his face had the articulation to arch a brow. Still, his dull red photoreceptors glinted slightly in the dim lighting of this bar. It was definitely a rough joint, even by Nar Shaddaa standards. Still, he needed to know exactly what kind of crew he was dealing with. The Jawa spoke fluent basic, and opened directly talking about financials. Likely not the boss, but between that that and penchant for thievery, probably known for working acquisitions.

The other two approaching him seemed to have relatively level heartbeats, but a bit of a drunken swagger. Then there was the unconscious guy who'd just been pushed back into the land of the coherent. A habitual drunk, but he was definitely known to the bartender, else a bouncer would've already handled it. Nobody was trying to rough him up or talk him down, so he had some semblance of authority here. The one with the multiple facial scars looked like he was muscle, but not the dumb variety, as he had clearly just given actual advice to the others--that meant he was likely the lieutenant to the brunette, who seemed--energetic, to put it mildly.

He nodded. "But sure, kid. Don't let the old cynicism fool you. Give me your turbolift pitch. You might just pique my interest...." He was still curious, and frankly, there was no sense preventing people form giving him more intel without any major effort. A little goading, and these new guns would happily tell him what he needed to know.


The cutest capitalist thief you will ever see
B'kik was very happy he found what seemed to be a rich interested investor
" Ikee assume baa more interested in the people who own loo bar un nyeta Utinni Traded Goods so ikee wezza tell baa about The Red Devil Cartel un why baa should invest in it. The Red Devil Cartel is a very sophisticated group that specialises in acquiring land in Nal Shaddaa from the hutt cartel via what ikee call Aggressive Negotiations. With baa investment in The Red Devil Cartel baa will be able to acquire facilities in Nal Shaddaa easily and shall have Red Devil Cartel Grunts protect said facilities"
B'kik was hoping loo would be a very successful business talk.
"Have it your way, kid." Leo muttered furtively, looking over to [member="Jim Pehico"] . "Good to see you too Jim, what are you doing mixing with these petty crims?" He questioned the ORC rookie who was quickly making his mark throughout Kathol. "I would have assumed you had better sense then to be aiding people who stand for nothing. You're better than that." His moralistic approach was not the norm, however he felt it was necessary in such a situation, to convince Jim to leave these thugs behind.

Leo glared at the two who emanated the most authority before finishing his drink, standing, and taking his leave. He planted his feet at the doorway, "You comin' Jim?" He asked, almost mockingly, though his features spoke the upmost seriousness. "Leave the criminal chit to the criminals."

| @B'kik | [member="Ash"] | [member="Hala Jast"] | [member="Marcus Collier"] |

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