Roche: Asteroid 761-Echo

[Rane DeCola]

The taste of the ale in Rane’s mouth left something to be desired. So did the situation that he found himself in. As he sat pondering his current circumstances, he knew that he had come to the establishment looking for answers that he still had not found. It was time to leave again. The bit of conversation that he had just overheard indicated that he was in bad company. Rane needed to get out of the bar now. He had managed to slip past the Sith’s extensive security network, along with the asteroid’s modest planetary defences, and found his way to Asteroid 761-Echo by buying the directions from a Rodian freighter captain. He knows that if his intentions for being at the bar are ultimately discovered, it would likely be his demise.

He finishes his drink and getting up to leave, tossed a few more credits on the bar. As he does so, Rane slips a small detonation device from his sleeve and attaches it quickly beneath the bar. The device wouldn’t like kill anyone, but would cause enough commotion to get him time to get out and figure out his next move.

“Keep the change.”

Without saying any further words, Rane makes his way toward the door. The countdown was on.

Ten… nine… eight…

[Professor Mors]

Vassyl broke his concentration from Blood for but a moment, glancing over at the stranger long enough to ensure he exited the premises without harassment. The Captain was pleased to see his fellow man had deemed fit to follow the Imperial's advice. Returning his focus on the Sith, Doren mentally readied himself for more off-hand commentary, when a slight click pierced his attention like a metal splinter. Sadly, Vassyl was all too familiar with that sound, or rather, the monophonic family to which it belonged. Yes, it could be but one thing: the tell-tale pop of an explosive. In that mercurial instant, strategy and any faith in the Force were as distant to Doren as nearest star. Throwing himself off of the bar seat, the Captain unceremoniously went barreling towards Blood, with the express intention of sending him to the floor.

As soon as Vassyl made the leap, the initial blast ignited, sending polywood chips and what were once drink containers fracturing up into the air. Some materials sparked to flame, as glowing particles danced about, a veritable host of supernove simulacra. Gritting his teeth, Doren could feel a small yet virulent column of heat slide across his backside. Nonetheless, he had to endure, had to ensure that the being before him, the one individual that had fostered an unprecedented peace, remained to further serve Her Majesty. In truth, Doren had never in his wildest dreams considered that he might die defending a Sith. Still, if it was to be his last hurrah, there was some comfort in the idea that the Captain's final act had worked to preserve life, rather than snuff it out.

[Slade Xandir]

The Sithian listened, a smile creeping on his face at the forlorn he felt emanating from Slade's core in memory of Alderaan's famous wines and decadent's. The alderaanian wine was something many compared to drinkable perfection. How something so sweet yet aligned with a balance between tart and flavorful was beyond the craftmanships of a many wineries. Alderaan was held as a top place to ravish lavish living in a much more sophisticated yet peaceful way. Even the majority of peasants there were given liberty. It was notably "the planet of beauty" to everyone outside of it, and such class was near missed by everyone who had ever been. But these were stories that Blood stole from Slade's own memory, and with it, the glee that the Xandir was still mourning the planet's death, along with the majority of his people. "If there are still refineries for it, I have yet to taste a true Alderaanian wine, nor a perfect Emerald wine, else you would taste what wine need be modeled after. I'd have to try some of the wines of which you take though. Something that could give me a bit of cheer in these serious days."

Just as the conversation leveled down a more serious note, it was clear cheer wasn't for the lives they led. A scowl came as he cursed the mention of the pompous gooders. Distaste filled the mind of the Sith Lord.

"The Jedi have a passion, despite their attempt to hide it. A passion for getting in our way with every single oppertunity they can." Figuring Prazutis might have to increase the time of his lessons with his pupils, that was another thing he had to get noticed by Doren.

Something much less unclear dispersed onto Blood, but he couldn't gather exactly what nor where it came from. The Verpine were busy with their duties, and the drunkards were minding both their and everyone else's businesses in a stupor that was far from treacherous. Uncanny as it may seem, Blood couldn't pinpoint the place of origin. However, the being who came to be on Doren's side had upped and left, tossing credits change to the bartender in a nonchalant fashion. It was then the sense of danger loomed closer, ticking an invisible clock in his mind that brought the branding iron of awareness closer and closer. Looking towards Warvanus, he wondered if the First Born would notice the danger as he had.

As he turned back tot he Captain, he felt the curtains draw ever near them, and then it became focused on a single pinpoint. Under the rim of the bartops! A growl ruined any semblance of courtesy as everyone here was immediately damned to his wrath, should he not find who perpetrated this trap. There was no way to enjoy a simple drink with the boys, and Blood cursed the notion of 'regular activities'. He shouldn't have even attempted this. The Verpine could have set up a trap, growing ballsy that Tormentous hadn't come to ensure their morals were high in fear and low in rebellion. For them to possibly set up a trap for him, knowing he was the last one who had come to rid them of potential liberation.

Someone would pay for-
The bar screamed a blinding white, and Blood barely had enough time to extend himself over the Captain in an attempt to both follow him to the floor, and prevent the demise of both of them in this ridiculous place of assassination. He wasn't going down in a damned bar.

After the noise and scambles had subsided, the massive draconian rose from the rubble of polywood and synthstone, reaching an arm to assist the Captain up, should he need it. And the first words out of his mouth as he recovered from the unknown of the debacle: "Where is he."

[Rane DeCola]

He was already through the door when the device went off. Rane had not waited around to see the product of his handiwork. It was not his intention to harm anyone, but rather to cause enough confusion to allow him to quickly and safely leave the small asteroid. Chaos was already setting in.

Rane hurries toward the transport terminal. He had planned on security locking down the terminal in advance and had paid off a Verpine transportation agent that would allow him to get on a final transport that would be cleared to leave the asteroid before all traffic on and off the asteroid ceased.

Minutes had passed already. He continues onward and reaches what qualified as the asteroid’s only spaceport. He sees the Verpine transportation agent that he had made earlier arrangements with. With the promise of more credits in his future, the agent inconspicuously motions to Rane.

Rane eyes the guard cautiously. Everything seems to be going as planned. He reaches the agent’s checkpoint and as he hands the agent his falsified credentials and the final few credits to seal the deal, alarms begin to sound in the terminal.

“Is everything in order?”

The Verpine who now held his fate in his hands shoved the credentials back into his hand and then pushed him past a gate that closes behind him, sealing him off from the rest of the facility. Rane looked back at the Verpine and nodded approvingly. The Verpine did the same. Rane knew that the life that the Verpine race had now on Roche was a hard one. In the short time that he had been in the system, seeing the conditions that the Sith had forced on the inhabitants there had been enough for him. It was time for him to leave, but somewhere inside himself, he knew that he would eventually be back.
-----

The freighter lifted off of Asteroid 761-Echo with Rane on board without incident. He didn’t know where he was going or what he would do when he got to the freighter’s destination. His search for Master Buggie on Roche was a short one, but had turned up like all of his other attempts at locating the elusive Verpine Jedi, empty. Rane was broke now and would need to come up with a new plan before continuing his search.

He gets up from his bunk and makes his way from the berthing area of the vessel to the freighter’s galley and common area.

“Anyone know where we’re headed next?”

One of the crew looks up from what looks to be a rather unappealing meal, “yeah, sure, you’re the new guy right? Well, it’s back to the sand box from here I imagine.”

“Where exactly do you mean by sand box?”

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OOC: I'm jumping forward and wrapping up my end of things are far as the thread is concerned. It has been nice to acquaint myself with you all once again. I'm certain that we will meet IC soon. As for my Sith and Imperial friends, I'll be sure to give you your opportunities for payback in the future

[Kell Sangros]

He scanned the room, at the varied merriments going on around him, all seemed like a normal cantina. Everybody enjoying their drinks and drinking away their worthless static lives into oblivion. He loathed them for it. Then there it was… the prickling at the back of his mind, the same kind of prickling that warned the War-Bringer of danger, and as he felt it he saw someone, a verpine making a hasty exit.

He rose abruptly and began to follow, keeping his Force Mask in place until he decided to drop it, and drop it he did as various by standers angled to block his path , he did not push through them, he did not tell them to move, instead the Sith Lord drew his lightsaber and began impaling anybody who got in his path . These lives held no meaning to him, they were beneath him. “The Weak serve the Strong” His former Master had told him in the infancy of his training. When people started falling , there was some commotion, now people were clearing his path. He had hoped the ruckus would be enough that his Imperial ally and his Master could make a conspicuous exit. He did not mind fighting his way out. He was itching for a fight.

The delay was enough, whoever that bug like creature was was gone, and not being too familiar with the species he could not pinpoint him through the Force. The anger rose within the First Born, he gripped the hilt of his lightsaber tighter. When the rising wave passed through him he closed down his blade and clipped it to his belt. He now needed to find this terrorist. Was this person targeting his Master? His Imperial Allies? Even dare say himself? Either way those aforementioned were in danger by this insect’s actions and like a good exterminator he needed to squash this insect.

He could feel his Master making his way to safety, He pulled his true nature inward again, shrinking by his will his presence in the Force *Force Mask* Now to figure out their next move.

(OOC: Maybe next time, give all the participants a chance to reply before deciding to close the thread just sayin…)