The Wild Western Reaches {BSP/Open}

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Ren Rinzler
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The Wild Western Reaches {BSP/Open}

Post by Ren Rinzler » Thu Jan 03, 2019 8:10 pm

Pariah Town, Ponemah Terminal
Outer Rim Territories, Western Reaches


"This isn't real," she said. "What we have... it can't happen. You and me..."

"My feelings for you are real," he squeezed her hand in his, and she looked away, but squeezed back, before letting go.

"I won't say it," she said, adjusting her black hat. "I-I can't..."

"You don't have to," he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. She looked into his eyes, and him into her's. Those mesmerising, exotic sapphire orbs...


... faded into whiteness.

"Ugh," Rinzler grunted as he pushed himself off the haystack, the Poneman Sun in his eyes being his wake-up call. He stretched before turning to his right and seeing his white hat, next to which was a similar one but black in colour. That hat belonged to her, and it was all that he had left of her. Rinzler's lips curved up slightly at one side, before sighing, as he put the white hat on his head and pushed himself off the hay.

He picked up his vibrio-knife and blaster, placing them in his belt as he strolled casually out of the barn towards the menagerie.

Moments later one would find Rinzler on a fathier, the searing Poneman sun kept out of eyes by his hat as he rode out into the town. People moved out of the way of the fathier. Some of the people met his gaze, a few waved at him as he passed by, but Ren simply gave them a half-smile and continued on.

Tying the fathier up in the stands, Ren made his way into the Derelict Bar - that's all people called it now, no one even remembered what it's original name was. Immediately the sound of music predated for even this region of the Galaxy met his ears. Scoffing, Ren silently sat on a chair at the bar.

"Falumpaset milk, pure Naboo," he ordered. At the look the waiter droid gave him, Ren smirked. Of course, the droid was programmed to follow whatever orders it was given, and it's not like they didn't have falumpaset milk. In this corner of the galaxy, they had everything. It's one of the many reasons Ren had made it his home over the past few years.
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| Age: 234 cycles | Species: Human-Gurlanin Hybrid | Faction: Blue Star Pirates |
| Occupation: Retired; former pilot, bounty hunter, scavenger, rebel, smuggler, shipping magnate, among other things |

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Rane DeCola
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Re: The Wild Western Reaches {BSP/Open}

Post by Rane DeCola » Fri Jan 04, 2019 1:32 am

Rane looked at the outside of the building and agreed that the name that had been bestowed upon the establishment by the locals seemed to fit the outward appearance of the saloon. It was derelict alright.

This must be the place. I hope that they at least have cold beer.

His arrival on the planet had been uneventful and Rane had managed to find the agreed upon meeting place without issue. While he hadn’t been part of making the initial arrangements, Rane had been sent ahead to quietly lay eyes on the location and ensure that there weren’t any surprises lying in wait within. He was early, but that had been part of the plan. Once he was able to ensure the security of the engagement, he would signal that it was safe for the others to join him.

Entering the bar, Rane doesn’t initially notice anything out of the ordinary. The bar is mostly empty with exception of the waiter droid and a few local denizens of the planet. A man with a hat is sitting at the bar and orders a glass of milk. He is beginning to wonder what kind of mission he’s been sent on exactly, but decides to take a seat anyway alongside the man.

“I’ll have a Corellian ale, or closest thing you’ve got to it,” he says to the waiter droid. "And make sure the glass is clean.”
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Jak Bexel
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Re: The Wild Western Reaches {BSP/Open}

Post by Jak Bexel » Fri Jan 04, 2019 3:42 pm

It was a simple task, and he figured, "what choice do I have?" Jak Bexel was still twelve grand in the hole from his failed venture; a "Wellness Center" on Coruscant, one that was to house the galaxy's most rare strains of cannabis. New tax laws and a renewed doggedness on the part of the Empire threw a cold wet blanket on his dream of holistic medicine. Beholden to the front office -- who had decreed he was on retainer for every Outer Rim mission for the first quarter of this inclement fiscal cycle -- he was thus shot out of an unmarked freighter and jettisoned on to this lifeless rock.

The Derelict Bar was a Blue Star joint, emphasis on was. Any other day, the successful down-low BSP recruitment center was a safe haven for all manner of personnel. Its tap room housed 50 beers local to the Outer Rim, each from BSP-infliuenced territories. Small businesses could rely on exposure through Ponemah Terminal, a necessary business hub. Positive word sent their product further out into the core, thus growing these businesses. BSP prided itself on helping the little guy. As Jak understood, these kind little deeds internally justified their larger more violent ones. By spreading the positive, they were able to dip into the bloodshed of, say, another Kafrene, without batting an eye. Kafrene was a tax right off, he supposed, if fresh Ithorian Pale Ale was being poured to the benefit of a mom-and-pop brewery seven systems away.

Of late, Derelict was forcibly taken over by Red Key Raiders, an ever-present thorn in the side of the BSP. Their proxy war on Kafrene spooked the gang across the Outer Rim, sparking this erratic turn of events. Rather than roll out a carefully-plotted campaign, the Raiders reacted like a cornered animal. They were good at that; it almost worked well for them on Kafrene.

Jak shuddered at the thought of his internment on the asteroid city as the doorway to the Derelict Bar hissed open to receive him from the tangerine sun. Letting down the hood of his rust colored, taupe-patterned poncho, he clanked his pointed boots towards the wide space between Rane and the Hatted One. He took a seat at the bar, wiping a square sheet of sweat off his forehead with the edge of his poncho while attempting not to expose his ample armament underneath.

"Boonta Eve Pilsner, please."

"Not in, sir," droned the waiter droid.

"Mandaporter?"

"Not in stock."

"Centerpoint IPA?"

"No."

On and on it went; Jak listed through the Derelict's entire portfolio, agitating the droid in subtle ways that made it begin to lose concentration and proceed to shuffle its feet.

"Kace here?" He finally asked, prompting the droid to walk into a lowly-arched backroom. Out from said archway stood a green near-human with a bulbous cranium. He wore a fashionable puffy shirt and long fitted pants that hit the floor, leaving just enough room for the shine of his black shoes to peak through from underneath. Jak leveled his eyes at the man claiming to be Kace.

"There a problem?" The green man said flatly to Jak. In truth, he could have said it to anyone in the bar from any distance. It cut through the air with very little specificity, like a stuck metal door on gravel.

Whether he knew it or not, Rane and Jak were sent on a mission to set things right. 'Kace', as this man was called, was the actual former owner of Derelict Bar. He was an operative of BSP, a friendly one at that. Now with the RKR takeover, and they installed an imposter to field BSP concerns. They even dressed him up to look like the real Jace.

"Not at all, but I figured I should ask you, since I hear you're the owner. This is my favorite bar, with my favorite beers, and now they're all gone. What's the problem?"

Maybe, just maybe, they trained him to know when he was about to learn what happens to enemies of the Blue Stars.
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Captain, Nightshade Division. Slicer on weekends.
"It doesn't get much bluer."

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Master Buggie
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Re: The Wild Western Reaches {BSP/Open}

Post by Master Buggie » Fri Jan 04, 2019 5:59 pm

The journey from Buggie's starship to the Derelict Bar had been anything but a blue milk run. Based on the intelligence he had been afforded enroute to the terminus system of the Burke's Trailing trade route, Ponemah was a planet generally recognized as friendly to spacers who flew for the Blue Stars and the companies under the organization's far-reaching umbrella. The biggest trick, he had observed, would be passing under the Imperial space station in orbit, but the crew aboard the Imperial installation had been paid off by so many syndicates that it was practically a foregone conclusion they'd wave any given spacer's ship through-- provided their incentive had been paid in a timely fashion.

What the intelligence didn't tell him was that his speeder would be intercepted a few klicks out from the settlement by a couple of goons on swoops with bad intentions. The first salvo of blaster bolts crossing the nose of his crescent-shaped speeder bike told him that they weren't a greeting party. What's more, the red bandanas covering their mouths indicated to Buggie that they were affiliates of the Red Key Raiders, the group that had caused the Blue Star Pirates so much trouble on the Ring of Kafrene. Upstart syndicates like the Red Keys were beginning to find root in the galaxy, and the Pirate Council had expressed concern that today it might be the Red Keys angling to take a slice out of the Blue Star Pirates, but tomorrow it could very well be the Mandroxans or the cyber-enhanced Gauvians. Even the Droid Gotra's attempted hit on one of the lesser Nar Shaddaa Hutt clans hadn't escaped the Council's notice.

Right now, though, the state of the galactic underworld was the furthest thing on Buggie's mind. He had maneuvered himself into a shallow canyon that he thought would force his pursuers to follow in single file, allowing only one biker to fire at him, rather than both. To his disappointment, the swoop bikers were more intelligent than that. One remained on his tail, spraying blaster bolts as he tried to draw a bead on Buggie while avoiding rocky outcroppings. The other biker made the wise decision of steering himself up the lip of the canyon, where he could gain ground on Buggie's speeder over better terrain.

Buggie cursed and clutched the accelerator tightly, yearning for it to squeeze out just a little more speed. The speeder bike itself was not used often by Buggie, but its former owner had made a series of minute adjustments to the accelerator that brought it above stock performance. When Buggie had defeated Darth Vesper on Ruusan, he had claimed his vessel and its contents for himself in order to escape the Sith ambush that had nearly decimated the Jedi Council. Aboard the vessel's cargo hold was this speeder, well taken care of and, apparently, freshly tuned. The aura of its previous owner had long been cleansed, and now, Buggie needed it to get him away from these Red Key thugs, otherwise he might be hanging off the top of the Derelict Bar, rather than rendezvousing with Bexel and DeCola.

A stray shot slammed into the back of the speeder and Buggie could feel himself losing control. He cursed, realizing that slowing down was his only option to staying aboard the speeder, which had begun to wobble erratically. As the speeder bike shot out of the mouth of the canyon, Buggie disengaged the bike and hopped off, blaster drawn. The swoop bikers, realizing that they had Buggie at a disadvantage, began to circle, no doubt planning for how they wished to finish him off. They remained beyond the range of Buggie's sidearm, and he could feel the sand beneath his feet trembling as the swoop bikers continued to circle.

Buggie leveled his blaster and chose one biker to target. The ground shook beneath him even more vigorously as he decided that if the bikers were going to come for him, he wasn't going to make it easy for the both of them.

Wait a minute! Buggie realized, Why is the ground shaking?

As if summoned, a massive sand worm emerged from the ground, its huge maw gaped open as it arced through the air and crested downward, the swoop bikers caught squarely in its path. Both were consumed by the massive beast as quickly as they had once appeared. Taking that as his signal to leave, lest the sand worm tunnel its way over toward him, Buggie hopped back on his bike and took off. If he traveled at a slower pace, the controls were manageable, and he was fairly certain that he could continue to outrun any hungry sand worm that may be pursuing until he reached the settlement. He would be late, but at least he would be alive, which is more than he could say for the Red Key Raiders that had pursued him.

---

Nearly an hour later, Buggie pulled his still-smoking speeder bike up across the wide, well-traversed avenue from a fathier that had been tied down outside the Derelict Bar. He quickly crossed the main street and popped through the swinging doors to the bar that had, at one point, been safe for Blue Stars, though that was now called into question, along with everything else on this planet.

"Bex," Buggie called, as he raised his goggles and brushed off the sand from his poncho, "I'm going to space the damn moof-milker that told us this planet was safe. You should see what those thugs did to my speeder!"
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Ashara Rys
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Re: The Wild Western Reaches {BSP/Open}

Post by Ashara Rys » Wed Jan 23, 2019 6:59 pm

In another Universe, perhaps, this had meant to be the journey of a half-canine multi-centurion space cowboy rediscovering himself while finding his place among the pirates of the Galaxy. In this Universe, however, another was present at the Derelict Bar, one whose presence would alter the estimated course of history, ultimately taking the place of the space cowboy.

Her name was Ashara Rys, and she was a waitress-slash-entertainer at Derelict Bar, acting as the eyes and ears of the Red Key Raiders.

Well, technically, she was thus against her wishes. She was a kind of a slave. Third generation, she might add. Her mother had been a Togruta slave born to a Togruta slave couple during the Clone Wars, and her father was a smuggler, one that had gotten his hands on the deactivator wand of her mother's slave chip and, thus, effectively stolen her mother from her original slavemaster. But while her father had never much cared for her mother, largely utilising her for his personal wants, he did in fact care about her, his only child.

He showed her the ropes. She was meant to be his successor, Daddy's Little Girl Partner-In-Crime. He taught her how to handle a blaster, and a vibrioknife. He showed her how to pilot anything from a freighter to Y-wing. He pulled some strings to help her learn programming, allowing her to recondition droids and hack her way through the holonet into any holopad on any planet within five hundred lightyears of her current location. He also showed her every smuggling safe-spot in the Galaxy, and how to circumnavigate her way through the seediest and most dangerous of places, from the deserts of Tatooine and Jakku to the polluted heavens of Nar Shadda. He also taught her pick-pocketing.

So, while Jaymi Rys had been far from being her mother's sweetheart, he had been a pretty cool dad all things considered.

That didn't change the fact that it was largely his fault that he ended up double-crossing the wrong crew without an effective escape plan.

What the Red Key Raiders had done then had planted the seeds of vengeance in her heart forever. They had murdered her father, and her mother, and made her watch. Then they had transplanted her mother's slave tracking chip into her own left deltoid.

Without anesthesia.

She had been only fifteen then.

She was twenty-five, now.

Ten years of... being a hostage? A slave? Both? The RKR had decided to put her to other uses, though. Her skill-set had helped her escape being a victim of their more sensual pleasures. Fact was, no one really trusted the fat-headed imposter posing as 'Kace' - not even his handlers. No one trusted her either. They knew she would try to become the end of the Red Key Raiders herself first chance she could. But unlike Kace, they could blow her up if even a lekku of her's flinched when they didn't want it to.

So, the moment the BSP came knocking at Ponemah, she was supposed to entertain them while send out a call. The RKR would be here within moments for a showdown. If something happened; if they lost their post-takeover influence in this part of the Galaxy, the first thing that would happen was that Ashara would be blown to smithereens.

Ashara growled at the thought, her sharp canines showing, much like a cornered nexu. She didn't want to die, despite the sorry excuse for a life she had lived. She didn't really know it, but the reactions she was showing were because of her Togruta blood. She was a carnivore. She was supposed to fight back, survive... but she needed a plan.

She couldn't help but remember her father. He had also taught her how to eye an opportunity. And she hadn't found one.

Not until she laid eyes on Jak Bexel.

Finally, someone showed up suspecting this 'Kace' wasn't the real one; Ashara could read it written all over Bexel's face. She looked at the comlink in her hand. A touch of a button and the RKR would be here, and then she'd be trapped with them forever. She looked back up at Bexel, just as a... Verpine... in robes?... came and took his place beside him.

While they dealt with pseudo-Kace, Ashara's mind raced. She was on stage. She was singing. She was dancing. She resumed her singing, as the Bith behind her continued to play the music. She realised that she, in fact, had no plan... so she decided to act purely on instinct. Swaying her hips back and forth - urgh, she hated making a herself into an object of allure - the orange-skinned Togruta seduced her way into the arms of a male Weequay. An old one.

"Ehehehehe... hellooo darlin'," he chuckled, and Ashara gave him a seductive smile, continuing her singing (see link above), before she grabbed the bottle of whatever-it-was-Bex-would-know-better from his hand and took a gulp. Urgh!!! Tasted like bantha poop... not that she knew what that tasted like but... urgh!!!

Resisting the urge to vomit, Ashara slipped out of the man's arms, rubbing her... more feminine assets... over the elderly Weequay's body just to leave a lasting impression, and to distract him from what she did next - slipping a small chit of paper into the bottle. Shen then flipped around, twirling on her toes in some form of dance move and landed quite elegantly into the lap of one Jak Bexel.

She stopped singing then, but the music continued to play. She held up the bottle to the man with one hand, interrupting his conversation with Kace by placing her left one on his chest. "Lookin' for this, Porgeyes?" she whispered into Bex's ear, like a pro-seductress.

She practically shoved the bottle into his chest. Her back shielded the bottle with a small paper inside it from Kace, on which was written: 'Help me. I'll help you. Slave tracker, left shoulder. Or I'll be forced to alert my masters.' She had written that and kept it on her ages ago, not knowing when it would be necessary. Looks like today was the day it all changed.

Or the day she finally blew up.

Let's see.

She licked Bex's cheek before finally getting up off his lap, tracing the back of her hand over his chest and then over Buggie's back, who was sitting beside him, before continuing singing as she made her way back to the stage.
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Rane DeCola
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Re: The Wild Western Reaches {BSP/Open}

Post by Rane DeCola » Wed Jan 23, 2019 11:57 pm

Rane sat quietly at the bar and minded his own business as he sipped his drink. His initial sweep of the Derelict Bar hadn't detected anything out of the ordinary and he remained quiet as his Blue Star Pirate counterparts made their way into the decrepit establishment.

When Buggie arrived, Rane heard the comment the Verpine made concerning security on the planet. Apparently the usually well-versed insectoid hadn't read Rane's initial report to land closer to the designated meeting place due to the fact that there had been widespread reports of "banditos" roving beyond the outskirts of the podunk desert town. Besides, he knew that Buggie was more than capable of handling a couple of dodgy locals with speeder bikes. He was sure Buggie would get over it. Eventually...

As he continued to enjoy his beverage, Rane couldn't help but notice the Togruta who had turned her attention to one of his associates. Rane wasn't jealous as Togrutan females weren't his type, but the newfound attraction to the other BSP member's in the room placed Rane on heightened alert. As he continued to monitor the situation, Rane gets a somewhat unnerving feeling almost like the group had walked into a trap.

Despite his premonitions, Rane continued to keep his cool and continued to act though he were minding his own business. Buggie and Bexel were the senior members on this mission, so Rane would follow their lead, which at this point, meant that it was time to order another round.

"Hey bartender, another round over here. Make sure it's cold this time and clean the damn glass before you pour it."
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Jak Bexel
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Re: The Wild Western Reaches {BSP/Open}

Post by Jak Bexel » Wed Feb 13, 2019 4:03 pm

"Huh," Jak grunted with an inquisitive flair as the dancer threw herself onto him. "I'm out of practice, lady, but give me a few minutes to get loose..." he muttered, before feeling the full weight of her arm thrusting the bottle into his chest. Contact with a female of any species felt nice, as the closest intimacy he had of late was patting his ball droid on the belly in affirmation of her trust. But he shook all of this off when he caught a double-glance at the tuft of paper sticking out of the bottle. All of this transpired before the imposter bartender, who shook his head and walked off -- another loudmouth customer pacified, it seemed.

Jak continued to hold the bottle close, wiping his cheek off and palming the note that stuck out of the bottle. It was old and yellowed, something that had seemingly been written ages ago and awaited the perfect recipient. As he carefully unfolded it under the bar, it appeared their mission had some more stakes added to the pile. He felt a pang of guilt, but spinning it in his mind Jak determined that The Force had led Buggie here for more than just gang war, with he and Rane providing the distractions.

He rested the note on his knee under the bar and nudged Buggie in the side with an elbow. "Say partner, take a look at what she done!" he hollered, still in the guise of a lowlife who enjoyed craft beer. To anyone else witnessing this exchange, it looked like the human was soliciting the Verpine with a glance at his, uh, assets.

Following the dancer back to her post, he also caught wind of the bartender in the doorway. Some chatter had arose in the backroom, and they wouldn't stop glancing in the direction of the three men who caused such a standard commotion. It would be time to act soon, but they would have to be more delicate than previously thought.
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"It doesn't get much bluer."

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Master Buggie
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Re: The Wild Western Reaches {BSP/Open}

Post by Master Buggie » Mon Feb 18, 2019 1:29 am

The Togruta's fingertips tracing the chitinous ridges on the edges of his shoulders barely registered with Buggie. Evidently, the entertainment had taken a liking to Bexel, and Buggie caught his partner's eye, clacking his mandibles in a quick, teasing gesture. Still, from the moment Buggie had seated himself at the bar, something appeared off within the cantina. A sentient with a green, bulbous head appeared to be looking at Bexel expectantly, and seemed to be unshaken by the interruption that the dancer had caused.

Just as Buggie's focus was shifting from the round-headed sentient standing on the other side of the bar with a shirt so puffy that it masked the form of his torso, he felt a nudge at his side. Glancing to Bexel and following his partner's gaze, Buggie absentmindedly glanced at the Corellian captain's crotch.

"Wha--?" Buggie blurted, before his gaze settled upon the note that Bexel had laid across his leg.

It only took a fraction of a second for Buggie to get the gist of the contents, and to put on his own act, adopting the intelligence level of one who imbibed craft brew in an establishment such as this, "Ahaw, damn, she pitched a tent, she did!"

Wordlessly, Buggie stretched out his influence with the Force, touching the mind of his other companion, Rane DeCola, and passing along the sense of concern that he himself was feeling right now. The Togruta was a slave, and by all indications, her masters weren't friendly with Buggie and his companions. Buggie's eyes began to cross every face nearby, studying them for telltale signs of ill intent. Who were the Torguta's masters? The ownership and employees within the cantina? Or everyone inside, save for his own allies?
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