Outpost India
High Orbit, Handooine
Handooine system, Phelleem sector
The space station was old and in poor state. Built to process the cargo from several mining outposts elsewhere in the system, it saw almost no traffic after the problems the planet had experienced lately. And, as if they were scavengers smelling a rotten corpse, the scum of society had gathered in the place. Ignoring all the necessary procedures to stay undected to the authorities (who would probably pass the information to the bureaucrats, getting it lost anyway), the dathomiri entered the station.
Wearing a face covering helmet and armed to the teeth no one dared to bother her. Quickly remembering the layout from the maps she had examined, Jade headed to the cantina in one of the cleaner corners. It was a poorly illuminated place where everyone drank in silence without bothering the rest.
She just sat in an empty table, put a blaster on the board, and proceeded to sharpen one of her blades. She got some glares and glances from the barman and some of the most aggresive clients, but it didn't bother her. She was waiting for an old friend, after all. There was no need to worry about small fish like those men.
[CONTINUED] Handooine: Uprising
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Jade Rancorfang
- Registered Member
- Posts: 40
- Joined: Thu Sep 14, 2017 5:56 pm
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Dastan Imatari
- Full Member
- Posts: 174
- Joined: Thu Sep 14, 2017 2:41 pm
Re: [CONTINUED] Handooine: Uprising
Outpost India Docking station
High Orbit, Handooine
Handooine system, Phelleem sector
Dastan had been preparing his gear as they arrived. His dark gray-green jacket beneath his sleeveless surcoat tied beneath a large set of a utility and swordbelt. He buckled his breastplate on, powered on the shield generator, and slipped his helmet over his head.
Dastan had also prepared his prisoner to use as bait for his targets. Though now he'd meet with the Bounty Hunter who had relayed information that there were Jedi on the planet, and likely jedi he had been looking for. Leaving his ship alone, he slung his black-brown cloak and cowl across his shoulders.
The station was pretty accommodating to him. Surely anyone else would see it as a run down place to avoid. Though since no one asked a lot of official questions, as lots of large spaceports tend to do- Dastan felt alright here. He had no fear of others here. Sure, danger lurked in the seedier corners of abandoned and partial deconstructed areas in the station, but Dastan had nothing to fear.
He made his way through the walkways closer to the other end of the station. As he progressed, the structures seemed to be better tended to, less decay, and the smell was better, too. Even under his helmet, he could smell that the air was less stale in this corner. This was the only decent cantina in the port, and he headed to it's neon sign, partially flickering in some of the last two aurabesh letters.
Inside, the place was not busy, but it looked to have regulars. Though Jade - he saw her immediately. She wasn't the only female in the place- but the only female who was armored, and had that special aura about her. The air of confidence carried into a place like this implied danger, and that- was what Dastan could recall from Jade.
He smiled to himself beneath his helmet and marched over to her table, where she sat alone, tending to a short blade.
"It's been a while." His voice croaked, in a smug tone. The voice was flanged from his full armet-style helm's vocabulator.
High Orbit, Handooine
Handooine system, Phelleem sector
Dastan had been preparing his gear as they arrived. His dark gray-green jacket beneath his sleeveless surcoat tied beneath a large set of a utility and swordbelt. He buckled his breastplate on, powered on the shield generator, and slipped his helmet over his head.
Dastan had also prepared his prisoner to use as bait for his targets. Though now he'd meet with the Bounty Hunter who had relayed information that there were Jedi on the planet, and likely jedi he had been looking for. Leaving his ship alone, he slung his black-brown cloak and cowl across his shoulders.
The station was pretty accommodating to him. Surely anyone else would see it as a run down place to avoid. Though since no one asked a lot of official questions, as lots of large spaceports tend to do- Dastan felt alright here. He had no fear of others here. Sure, danger lurked in the seedier corners of abandoned and partial deconstructed areas in the station, but Dastan had nothing to fear.
He made his way through the walkways closer to the other end of the station. As he progressed, the structures seemed to be better tended to, less decay, and the smell was better, too. Even under his helmet, he could smell that the air was less stale in this corner. This was the only decent cantina in the port, and he headed to it's neon sign, partially flickering in some of the last two aurabesh letters.
Inside, the place was not busy, but it looked to have regulars. Though Jade - he saw her immediately. She wasn't the only female in the place- but the only female who was armored, and had that special aura about her. The air of confidence carried into a place like this implied danger, and that- was what Dastan could recall from Jade.
He smiled to himself beneath his helmet and marched over to her table, where she sat alone, tending to a short blade.
"It's been a while." His voice croaked, in a smug tone. The voice was flanged from his full armet-style helm's vocabulator.
Re: [CONTINUED] Handooine: Uprising
Oh, what have you done this time...
The observer droid would pick up a number of trace idents and temporary DNA signatures that led to dead ends. He eyed the thing with casual ambivalence, goading it to drink him in. The Antarian Ranger outfit would undoubtedly raise red flags aplenty - something he had hoped to do to maintain cover of a slimy opportunistic arms dealer. The opposite, of course, was true; he wore it as a badge of honor and a reminder that he could run far from the fight but the Force would find him always. Never a conduit, always a catalyst.
"My name is Bekesh Malistare. I have an outpost just beyond these hills. I saw your ordinance amassing, and I'd like to help. I got weapons contracts, pal!"
He reached into his pocket and immediately heard the familiar clack of the security detail's arms. Meeting their eyes with his high-browed expression of mild shock, he produced a slick datapad, which the chief security officer yanked from his hand. "Ts'all there, pal! I got access to all the latest BlasTech munitions. Relby's... K-25s... you want real guns, not these DH-17 squirt pistols you're pointing at me? Let's be adults here, you look like a Rebellion and less like winners. Know what I'm saying? You got those frying pan helmets somewhere too or is that weekend wear?"
He let the caffeine rush drive his supposed mania for credits, but he had limits. The goal was to get inside, not end up a dark crater just outside. When the chief officer received a definite answer on his end, and Jak could only assume it meant his apprehension as opposed to execution. He heard the second clack of their arms, that familiar flip to stun - and he knew he was almost there. The suit was equipped to withstand some, but he had other surprises in this Seraph-class speeder. His posture stiffened as he crossed his arms, covertly placing his left thumb on the switch for his PSD.
"I warn you sir," Jak/Bekesh added, "I will not be disrespected just shouting distance from my home. If you plan on taking me to your leader, then do so as a friend. Otherwise, things may get dicey."
"For you," the chief security officer shot back, raising his blaster to Jak's face.
"Well, we'll see," Jak shrugged and activated his PSD just in time to absorb the first shot. The force knocked him back in his chair, but he remained conscious. Upon the first shot, his Droidekas activated their shields and ambled to life off the hood of the speeder. Their settings were for stun as well, having done area read-outs and assessed the proper response. They began firing at the security detail with extreme prejudice.
Jak hopped up onto the seat of the speeder and absorbed one more blast from the officer before pouncing at the man, grabbing the muzzle of his rifle and driving his forearm hard into his face. Jak fight was solely with this fink. Logistically speaking this was a losing game; eventually his droids would deactivate, his speeder would cease, and he would lose consciousness. Between now and then, however, this man was going to meet his wrath.
Fresh blue hell reigned down on the speeder and the security officers around it. Between the ion currants, the Droidekas managed to knock out a third of the forces. As the attack began to weaken them, they rolled into balls and escaped down a ravine. They knew their master's wish for incarceration and did not wish to wind up in the hands of treasonous scum, and so they retreated to base with an update for the gang, positioned elsewhere. Meanwhile, Jak was throwing hands with the chief officer on the ground, inserting a word between each punch.
"I said," he grunted. "Be. A. Friend."
Each resulting punch fell softer on the battered face of the man who offended arms dealer Bekesh Malistare. Finally, Jak collapsed on top of him and was rolled off, searched, and apprehended. Mission accomplished.
He dreamed of electric blue shaak.
The observer droid would pick up a number of trace idents and temporary DNA signatures that led to dead ends. He eyed the thing with casual ambivalence, goading it to drink him in. The Antarian Ranger outfit would undoubtedly raise red flags aplenty - something he had hoped to do to maintain cover of a slimy opportunistic arms dealer. The opposite, of course, was true; he wore it as a badge of honor and a reminder that he could run far from the fight but the Force would find him always. Never a conduit, always a catalyst.
"My name is Bekesh Malistare. I have an outpost just beyond these hills. I saw your ordinance amassing, and I'd like to help. I got weapons contracts, pal!"
He reached into his pocket and immediately heard the familiar clack of the security detail's arms. Meeting their eyes with his high-browed expression of mild shock, he produced a slick datapad, which the chief security officer yanked from his hand. "Ts'all there, pal! I got access to all the latest BlasTech munitions. Relby's... K-25s... you want real guns, not these DH-17 squirt pistols you're pointing at me? Let's be adults here, you look like a Rebellion and less like winners. Know what I'm saying? You got those frying pan helmets somewhere too or is that weekend wear?"
He let the caffeine rush drive his supposed mania for credits, but he had limits. The goal was to get inside, not end up a dark crater just outside. When the chief officer received a definite answer on his end, and Jak could only assume it meant his apprehension as opposed to execution. He heard the second clack of their arms, that familiar flip to stun - and he knew he was almost there. The suit was equipped to withstand some, but he had other surprises in this Seraph-class speeder. His posture stiffened as he crossed his arms, covertly placing his left thumb on the switch for his PSD.
"I warn you sir," Jak/Bekesh added, "I will not be disrespected just shouting distance from my home. If you plan on taking me to your leader, then do so as a friend. Otherwise, things may get dicey."
"For you," the chief security officer shot back, raising his blaster to Jak's face.
"Well, we'll see," Jak shrugged and activated his PSD just in time to absorb the first shot. The force knocked him back in his chair, but he remained conscious. Upon the first shot, his Droidekas activated their shields and ambled to life off the hood of the speeder. Their settings were for stun as well, having done area read-outs and assessed the proper response. They began firing at the security detail with extreme prejudice.
Jak hopped up onto the seat of the speeder and absorbed one more blast from the officer before pouncing at the man, grabbing the muzzle of his rifle and driving his forearm hard into his face. Jak fight was solely with this fink. Logistically speaking this was a losing game; eventually his droids would deactivate, his speeder would cease, and he would lose consciousness. Between now and then, however, this man was going to meet his wrath.
Fresh blue hell reigned down on the speeder and the security officers around it. Between the ion currants, the Droidekas managed to knock out a third of the forces. As the attack began to weaken them, they rolled into balls and escaped down a ravine. They knew their master's wish for incarceration and did not wish to wind up in the hands of treasonous scum, and so they retreated to base with an update for the gang, positioned elsewhere. Meanwhile, Jak was throwing hands with the chief officer on the ground, inserting a word between each punch.
"I said," he grunted. "Be. A. Friend."
Each resulting punch fell softer on the battered face of the man who offended arms dealer Bekesh Malistare. Finally, Jak collapsed on top of him and was rolled off, searched, and apprehended. Mission accomplished.
He dreamed of electric blue shaak.
Blue Star Pirate.
Captain, Nightshade Division. Slicer on weekends.
"It doesn't get much bluer."