FACTION ILLusions | Black Sun

Discussion in 'Open Roleplaying' started by Jacen Novastar, Jun 22, 2021.

  1. Jacen Novastar

    Jacen Novastar The Dark Prince
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    [​IMG]

    SUNDARI // MANDALORE
    THEME

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    There was never an opportunity to miss when you were this deep into the game.

    He'd exploited many a world that was filled to the brim with the downtrodden and spice-fiends out for their next hit. Profit was a sure thing when the demand was at an all-time high, and it helped that the Black Sun were far from struggling to supply the demand that was needed across the galaxy.

    Yet there were a few planets that had managed to deter the influence of the Black Sun and its subsidiaries. One of those worlds happened to Mandalore, and his presence in Sundari meant that the status quo was ready to be challenged.

    Jacen didn't care for the Protectors and any other of the Beskar-wearing idiots who found it wise to get into his way. He had a disruptor pistol to bring to the table if needed, but he'd rather get done with his business and be gone from the planet for good. His arrival came alongside a massive shipment of spice, aptly named Deathwatch as a slight to the planet's famed warriors.

    Deathwatch found its way into the slums of Sundari no sooner than the hours after their arrival, and already the profits were starting to rack up by the following morning.

    Dealers shuffled in and out of the Cantina that he'd commandeered for his operations, entering with swollen pockets and exiting with their next stash in hand. Though he was far from bringing the planet under the Black Sun's influence, the golden opportunity he'd jumped upon would at least line his own pockets with credits, and much-needed influence.

    All he had to do was sit and wait, and that was exactly what he'd do. Posted in the back of the cantina, Jacen lounged in his own personal booth, a drink in his right and a spliff of high-grade Marcan Herb in the other. Music reverberated through the room, drowning out the inebriated savages who were his men as they engaged in uncontained revelry.

    Life was good, and the money was even better.
     
  2. Jek Raynar

    Jek Raynar Average joe
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    Deafening. The external chatter was almost unbearable for Jeks inner psyche. Native patrons claimed their cheers and in their mix Black Sun also mimicked the same. Both celebrating for different reasons. One for pleasure and the other for profit and then pleasure. There was a difference.

    The Calian adorned similar clothes that he was found in on Nar Shaddaa. A trench cloak, synth weave dress tunic underneath and synth weave slacks with elaborate trim along the median stitch. The mark of a corellian artist. A top his head rest a simple hat. Medium size and brim edging all around.

    It was the last thing he had left of his parents. And he loved it dearly. Little,if any, knew this though.

    A scowl slowly began to show on his face as the noises, the voices and various other sounds continued. A commlink in hand, rested against hand and head near his ear. Jek was having the pleasure of struggling to listen to a audio messages from various medical sources. Every message in concern to his sudden "condition". Slowly his frame motioned to the exit. To just listen to these in peace.

    " Where you going!? Come back now!" A deep alien voice barked aloud causing the Calian a physical jump. Who the kark? A single glance back revealed nothing. No patron of specific nature seemed to have a voice like that. It echoed in his mind as he thought about it and even when he choose to shut it out, it remained for a brief period.

    The front door swung open assaulting Jek with a open breeze. " Finally.." he sighed and held back a cough in his breath. Popping a squat near the entrance he absorbed the information from the messages in full.

    "Diagnosis...
    Respiratory infection...
    Bacta/Kolto treatment recommended..."

    That was it....

    In no time sooner Jek Raynard ordered bottle from the VIPs lounged. Breath of heaven. A alcoholic drink commonly found and used in weddings or celestial celebrations. Only he wasn't celebrating. A wheeze followed him as he approached the back of the establishment and reared none other than Jacen Novastar .

    " Heh. You interested in going to heaven?" Jek attempted to say before falling to a knee. Coughs followed him all the down. It was supposed to be a joke but the joke was on him. He raised the bottle up and blinked at Jacen awaiting an answer.
     
  3. Lanik Dawnstar

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    Mandalore wasn’t a world Lanik ever thought he’d visit in his lifetime. During his youth, he had taken time to study the warlike people. Once upon a time, eons ago there had even been stories of Jedi among their number and ruling them. It almost seemed impossible to imagine with the constant stories of wars and battles waged between the Mandalorian’s and Jedi. Relations had begun to get better leading up to the Pietas Station being built, but afterward all those negotiations and warm feelings seemed to grow colder than the surface of Hoth. Lanik however was not here to inspect and meet with Mandalorians, in fact he found himself disgusted by what his true job was. He was here to deliver a drug shipment.

    Close to a month ago the Jedi had managed to infiltrate the Black Suns after getting permission from the Jedi. The Black Sun had always been an ever-present influence in the Outer Rim, now however they had begun to push inwards hitting the Mid, perhaps even the Core. They needed to be stopped, but before any action could be taken, information needed to be acquired.

    Under the guise of Nimel Jor, Lanik had managed to gain station as a soldier. This was his first job, his first delivery. Walking through the streets of Sundari the Jedi took a turn down an alley near a Nikto meat vendor that he gave a nod to as he passed.

    Returning the nod the Nikto reached under his stall with a hand, that's the last thing Lanik saw of him as he entered the alley and at the very end on the right a door flung open. Waiting in the doorway was a human male, a lit splif in between his lips. Blowing smoke into the Calian's face the human glared down at him.

    “What’s the vendor's response?”

    “They’ve got plenty of meat left,” Lanik answered the code, his words obviously bringing a smile to the human's face.

    “Then we’ll be eating good tonight! Consider this a downpayment.” Reaching behind him with a hand the human grabbed for something. Alarms blared in the back of Lanik’s head, hair rose to stand on end. The Jedi was without his lightsaber for that would be a dead giveaway. Instead, he reacted with preternatural speed, one foot flying out to meet the thug's chest sending them off balance. Another kick landed squarely in the prone figure's jaw, their body going limp as the blaster they’d reached for fell to the ground.

    “Stang,” Lanik said rubbing at the bridge of his nose. Of course something would go wrong at his first drop.

    Jacen Novastar | Jek Raynar
     
  4. Rynn Vizsla

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    Sundari was once the crowning jewel of Mandalore. A domed city of shining palaces and unabashed aristocracy. It was once the pinnacle of all Mandalorian society. Where the fates of an entire sector were woven by the commands of those who allegedly led the Mandalorian people towards new horizons. Sadly, over the centuries, the ideals of nobility and elitism crumbled into dust. The Mandalorian people were warriors and weren’t suited for the trappings of high society. They made for poor nobles and even poorer princes and princesses. Thus, it wasn’t surprising such trappings were wholly abandoned after the collapse of New Mandalorian society - and the deaths which brought about its fall. The City of Sundari, too, found itself being left by the Clans that once inhabited its cavernous halls. And over the years, it became a haven for the seedier aspects of Mandalorian society.

    Countless souls resided within the encapsulated City, but many held no claim to the history that lingered there. Some were Outcasts and Soulless Ones or Dar’manda in their native tongue. These were beings that eschewed the Mandalorian ways for one reason or another and were banished by their kin. Thus, they turned to a life of corruption and crime - in the hopes of carving out another day in their meaningless and insignificant lives. It wasn’t surprising then that Outlanders and Off-worlders sought to carve their name into the rotting foundations of the City. Nor was it surprising that the Journeymen Protectors - sought to test their skills within the boundaries of this domed hive of scum and villainy.

    They were once a militia of lawmen that operated on the distant world of Concord Dawn. But, over time, their influence and judicial prowess spread throughout the entirety of Mandalorian Space. They were the marshals that kept the Clans in line and the supposed Heroes of the First Succession War. Through their prowess, both on and off the battlefield, they put an end to one of the most devastating conflicts within recent Mandalorian history. To keep themselves sharp, rather than resting upon their well-earned laurels, many Protectors sought to hone themselves against the Scum of Sundari. Rynn Vizsla, Son of the late Robard Vizsla and claimant to the mantle of Chieftain, was one of these fabled lawmen - seeking to prove himself within the crucible of Sundari.

    What made matters more interesting, rather than hunting down the dregs of society in an attempt to hone his skills - was that a curiously named starship took berth within the crumbling infrastructure of the City. Such events weren’t customarily given any extra consideration, but when the transponder codes detailed the starship’s identifiers? Well, that was enough to warrant an investigation. The Death Watch had been allegedly extinct since the death of their last Commander and their absorption into the fabled Shadow Collective of old. Yet, the sentiment of returning the Mandalorian people to their crusading roots was ever-present within their martial society. One couldn’t kill off the ideals of the Death Watch without killing off their Culture in the process.

    Like their ancestors before, those that still held true to their beliefs adapted to the times. They went underground and began operating in secret. They knew that brute force wouldn’t win the hearts and minds of their people but rather through cunning and guile. Thus, the Death Watch returned to its roots as a secret society and began its campaign of cultural subversion.

    While others would seek to divine the truth of this starship’s origins, Rynn, on the other hand, wanted to ensure that his family’s secretive legacy was still intact. Had some fool elected to tip their hand before the appointed time? Or was some outside force seeking to test the resolve of their hidden cause? There were far too many questions, and the only way that one could resolve them was to take a look for themselves. As the answers began to unfold before their very eyes, the Mandalorian felt a measure of relief spread through guarded thoughts. Those that departed the perched starship weren’t adorned in the armour of his people. Nor did they wear the iconic garments of the Clans. They were nothing more than Off-worlders, seeking to make a few credits of the misfortunes of the Outcasts and Downtrodden.

    Rynn felt his lips peel back into a smile as he flipped up the rangefinder attached to the exterior of his cerulean barbute.


    :: They’re not our kin, :: the Mandalorian bluntly stated. :: We need not worry about the Scheme being foiled. ::

    :: But if these cretins take root here, :: another of his kind began, offering a sweeping gesture towards the distant starship and the criminal scum residing there. :: Who knows how far their influence will spread? ::

    Rynn nodded. :: True - But we must move with caution to trim their ambitions, lest more of their kind reveal themselves and uncontrollably spread. ::

    The young Vizsla paused for a moment as he considered several branching options. Of all the routes that found themselves lying before him, there were two that seemed promising. The first revolved around storming the overtaken Cantina that these miscreants had claimed as their own. Several of his kin were likely to perish in the assault, but such a cull would ensure that the festering corruption would be pulled out by its roots. The other, however, played into the personal goals of the shadowy organization he was born into. Perhaps there was value in sparing these criminals from salting Sundari’s streets. If played right, they would serve as pawns in the ever-shifting games of power that played out within the Mandalorian realms. Pawns that could expedite the return of their secret society - and forever alter the destiny of the Clans.

    :: Set-up in the nearby buildings, :: Rynn began anew. :: I want every approach to that Cantina covered by blasters. Use flash suppressors to keep them guessing where you are - should things go south. ::

    :: What’re you gonna do? :: asked another of the Mandalorian Protectors.

    :: I’m going to have a little chat with our new friends, and introduce them to some Mandalorian hospitality. ::
     
  5. Bri-Katan Kryze

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    SUNDARI // MANDALORE

    A place that once beamed perfection, in how it was built, in how people viewed it, and the souls that dwelled within.

    Now, nothing more than a cesspool of crime, a haven for those who don’t wish to be found. Gone are the glorious days of Mandalore and her citizens.

    Though, the future is bright and the sun rose above the horizon, and for the children of Mandalore. There were rumors of clans uniting once again, but she believed them to be nothing more than words. Her family was outcasted by the other Clans, be they lesser or Greater – they turned the tide against her and her own, especially that of her father.

    ~Konnor, of Clan Kryze...~

    /Flashback/

    “Say his name....” The rain spattered against her back, as she railed into the face of one of her Cousins. Each time her fist contacted the broken flesh of his exterior, rage fueled her next blow. Sinew tensing, flexing with each strike. The man beneath her shuddered hard, gasping through broken bones and blood.

    "Mand'alor Konnor...of Cl..l..an Kryze..." He managed to cough out.

    Bri rose up, eyes burning with tears that threatened her vision, blood dripping from her fingers as she finally relaxed her fist.

    /End/

    Now, they resorted to this.

    She gazed about the cantina, dimly lit as it were, any light that actually shone was faded with thick, grey clouds of smoke – obscuring the naked eye view of the countless Mandalorians bartering and begging for work. The thick smoke that hung like a wretched stench was almost like the Mandalorian society as a whole – stuck, with no wind behind them to guide and push them from beyond the great chasm they were stuck in.

    Mandalorians aren’t made to beg like this...

    But who was she to say anything? Some within the other Clans blamed her family for everything that had befallen the Mandalorian society. Her view was different, and with the death of her father, the timing and circumstances behind it all – she knew that more than simple coincidence.

    A ragged man entered the Cantina, causing a slight stir of wind to churn up the smoke with the arrival of his presence. He seemed to be looking around, at the different armored individuals. He seemed to take interest in her group, nestled in a dimly lit corner. He approached, hands fumbling with a bag that was making a fairly decent amount of clinking noise.

    Credits...

    Bri winced slightly as he approached the table, muttering in Mando’a about problems with his moisture farm. She held up a hand, gently waving it down towards the obvious elder. As she began to speak, another Mandalorian burst from the shadows, grabbing up the ragged man.

    “Koh-PAH-nee MEERSH-moo-RAY-shay, vod?!” He said, threatening with an armored hand to the elder’s face.

    Bri stood up quickly, hand placed upon her blaster on her hip, eyes narrowing behind her buy’ce.

    “Usen'ye, vod.” She said through clenched teeth, almost hissing.

    The man perked up at her interjection, rising to his full height over the smaller Mandalorian. He let go of the man with a rough gesture to his right, ripping more cloth free from the elder’s tattered clothes, his hand swung around before him – a single finger pushing hard into the beskar chestplate of Bri. She only buckled slightly, before shifting back into a firm stance.

    “Aliit Kryze...” He scoffed, leaning in closer, hand dropping down to his side. Hut'uun aliit...”



     
    #5 Bri-Katan Kryze, Jun 29, 2021
    Last edited: Jun 29, 2021
  6. Rih Vizsla

    Rih Vizsla Little Wolf
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    It had been a long time since Rih set foot on Mandalore, but the more time she spent in Sundari, the easier it was to understand why. It was equal parts depressing and sickening to see how far they'd fallen, a once-proud people reduced to this, what was a shining city resembling the slums of Nar Shaddaa more than anything she might have recognized as home. No, Concordia was home. This was a reminder of why the Kyr’tsad needed to succeed, so that those who brought about this ruin weren't allowed to take root again.

    From beneath a T-visor she took in her surroundings, careful to keep her back against the nearest wall to prevent anyone sneaking up behind her. This wasn't a place of honor, and if any fights did take place here she didn't expect them to happen squarely. She was well aware of the kind that had begun making shop here, and that was what she'd come to observe. Ideally she wanted to see them hunted down and killed, but that was a job too extensive for just one Mandalorian.

    If there were to be any conflict, it would have to stay small. And as always, the universe was more than willing to provide an opportunity.

    Rih heard the confrontation before she saw it, quickly locating the two armored figures nearby. Quietly she maneuvered herself closer, settling in to watch the rest unfold behind the apparent aggressor. An old man stumbled backwards as words were to be traded for action, and she helped guide him away from the epicenter of the imminent violence, offering a reassuring affirmation in Mando'a and gesturing towards another group of mercenaries that could perhaps assist with his troubles.

    Turning back, she caught the tail end of an insult that got most men killed, and that was when she decided to act. "Oy, vod." She called out to them both, making it intentionally unclear just who she was speaking to. When the larger of the two turned towards her she approached, keeping her hands at her sides until she was too close for it to matter, grabbing him by the back of his neck and cracking her helmet against his in a Keldabe kiss.

    Even when you saw it coming a headbutt was painfully disorienting, but she managed to right herself before the less fortunate among them. "Slana'pir, chakaar." Her tone shifted as she looked to the other woman, offering a nod in greeting. "Su'cuy. Rih Vizsla."
     
  7. Bri-Katan Kryze

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    A lucky Mandalorian.

    As fate would have it, another Mandalorian would rise up and diffuse the situation before she ended up dicing him up where he stood and then melting down his Beskar for spare credits. She would lean back, huffing loudly as the Mandalorian female approached. She nodded her head out of respect, until she heard the Clan name.

    “Vizsla...” Her voice clicked through the buy’ce, a soft chuckle emitted from behind the beskar laden helm. She had no qualms with the Viszla’s, atleast those associated with modern Mandalorian society. Their ancestors though? That was a completely different story.

    She was taught from a young age, the history of their kind. She knew full and well the history of the Darksaber passing from Pre Vizsla, to the Empire, to her Sixth Great-Grandmother, Bo-Katan. The curses that seemed to follow those who were attached to the Darksaber, which was lost when her father was murdered...

    Something else for another time.

    “Thought gar an kyrayc?” A provocative statement, but one at times she wished were true. Could one be faulted for their sheer association alone? So much conflict raged through her mind as she stared through her visor at the woman before her.

    Perhaps not...

    She rose up and extended an armor hand.

    “Su’cuy, Bri-Katan ur Aliit Kryze” She said with confidence and pride, knowing full well the mere mention of her Clan could provoke a brawl.

    Rih Vizsla
     
  8. Jacen Novastar

    Jacen Novastar The Dark Prince
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    There was one thing that pissed him off more than a missing bag of dope.

    Mandalorians.

    The kind that didn't make him money, or buy his drugs to generate him the credits he deserved. The appearance of several of these type of Mandalorians were a red flag in his mind, and one he intended to address as soon as he'd allowed them the opportunity to get settled in and comfortable.

    He scooted off the edge of his booth, smoothing out his clothes once he was up on his feet. The disruptor made its way into his hand a moment later, tucked loosely in the front of his pants for ease of access. Already a few of his men had picked up on his vibe, joining behind him as he sauntered out of the private section of the Cantina and out into the masses. He finished off his the spliff with a final drag, tossing the butt to the floor near a pair of fine-looking Twi'leks who got nothing more than a passing glance from the Vigo. Perhaps another time, if they were lucky, but business was the name of the game for his tenure on Mandalore.

    A path cleared for him and his men, the crowd's ambience of noise beginning to die down as the tension swelled up with each step he took towards the newcomers. He came to a stop, greeting the trio of Mandalorians with that sly grin and unknown intentions. The bartender emerged from behind the bar, an ice-cold glass of liquor in hand and on its way to the one man who commanded the presence of everyone in the room. Even as he took the drink from the bartender's hand, Jacen's eyes didn't break away from the outsiders present in his humble little establishment.

    "Basic."

    The word followed after the silence in the room had nearly boiled the tension over the top.

    "From what i've been told, the locals of Sundari are capable of speakin', readin', and writin' it."

    He raised the glass to his lips, sipping it to the halfway mark and then handing it off to one of the random thugs under his employ.

    "From what i've been told-- This isn't Keldabe, and this cantina definitely don't serve the kind of metal-heads who chirp their foreign tongue in the presence of their betters."

    The pistol was whipped from his pants, lazily hanging to his side and not at the outsiders for a change.

    "Feel free to stick around and hang out, but if you intend to frequent this bar more often, speak the proper fuckin' language, ya dig?"

    His grin curled even further, his free hand reaching out and retrieving the drink from whoever he'd handed it off to.

    "Pretty basic fuckin' rules, yeah? Even a beskar-junkie can dig it."

     
  9. Rih Vizsla

    Rih Vizsla Little Wolf
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    Rih was used to it by now. Growing up, she'd heard her clan name spoken like a curse enough times that she expected something similar when interacting with another Mandalorian. She was well aware of the sins of her ancestors, and contrary to what most of her kindred liked to believe, took no pride in the actions of Pre or his Death Watch. But a name was a name, and she wouldn't pretend to be ashamed of it to appease the distrust it garnered.

    Besides, it seemed her companion had little room to talk. Aliit Kryze was a name just as infamous for reasons no better, but she didn't speak on it, instead accepting the handshake. "No, we survived." There was a pause where she glanced at the small group her new acquaintance had been sitting with. "Despite what the rest of the vode would like to believe." They had always been a small clan, and recent history had done them no favors.

    "Kryze, 'lek? I didn't think you fared much better. First Kyr’tsad, now," She gestured to their surroundings, "It doesn't seem we're too different." She left it there, no more intentionally provocative than the other woman had been in the first place. None of it was meant as a genuine insult, more so testing the waters before either of them interacted further. Something typical for their people, or at least, those of them that still took pride in what they were. It seemed the both of them could agree that wasn't the same for everyone among them.

    A sudden, hushed silence interrupted whatever the rest of their conversation may have been, and she turned to face the man who parted the crowd like a beskad through flesh, not moving even as he came to a stop directly before them. Her gaze wandered from him to the thugs that followed him like a shadow, and she made a point of keeping notice of where everyone's hands were as she listened to the lecture being given. The disruptor set her on edge, and she made a point of drawing her own sidearm, a Mandalorian ripper, keeping it at her side so long as he did the same.

    It took the work out of hunting the outsiders when they waltzed right up to you, but even she wasn't brash enough to do anything just yet. Like it or not he'd cut out his turf here, and a few things had to change before she was able to lay him out like she'd prefer. Words, however, were another matter.

    She would oblige and speak Basic, if just so he knew exactly where they stood. "You have balls, aruetii. Now turn around and walk away before I take them as a trophy."
     
  10. Bri-Katan Kryze

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    How would they not have survived? She knew Clan Vizsla to be very resourceful, when they were needing to get something done – it appeared that survival was no different for them. The notion they will existed, that they still represented some level of competition, caused her to smile slyly under her buy’ce.

    That was the truth. Clan Kryze was down to maybe a handful or less after the Wars following the death of her father. Many other clans were about the same – perhaps the Vizsla clan had an up on them, but not by much.

    “Yeah you’re...right...” Bri said, as the deafening silence only made her voice sound louder. Then a younger voice in the crowd, spoke to the Mandalorians with such contempt and disgust. She hissed through gritted teeth as he instructed them, like dogs, to speak Basic. An insult to which she took note of and went to make a move – but the voice of Rih Vizsla stopped her short.

    Bri could only nod in agreement, this outsider was asking for trouble and they would be more than happy to deliver on his request. She made no move for her weapon, only righting her position to be in a more ready stance if you would.

    Jacen Novastar
     
  11. Lanik Dawnstar

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    Making his way through the streets, Lanik now had to hold the case of drugs that had nearly gotten stolen. If it had everything he’d spent so long working for would be gone in a flash. All the work of forging an identity, of doing jobs for the Huts to put his name out there as a good mercenary for hire. Down the drain in an instant if the Jedi had been caught off guard at the last drop point.

    Nothing was more uncomfortable than having to walk through the streets of any city while holding onto something that could land him with either a death sentence or getting shot. Especially on a planet like Mandalore, he needed to be rid of it. How could he have known about the client having been planning on betraying the Black Sun?

    Taking backstreets to avoid the sight of any potential protectors, or guards the Jedi came to what would’ve been a dead end for anyone else. A wall of metal that went up about ten feet high and blocked his path forward. Visualizing himself being on the other side of the wall, Lanik leapt. The force made thought into reality, the strings and ribbons entangling themselves with the calian’s being to enhance his physical capabilities.

    Landing on the other side of the wall, Lanik couldn’t help but feel an odd tingling at the back of his mind. What he’d come to know as a warning from the force. That awareness not pointing out the direct danger, but there was some surrounding the area of the cantina. ‘Greatttt….’ the Jedi thought as he rounded the corner of the cantina choosing not to take the front door, but instead the entrance around back.

    Entering the code he’d been given, Lanik was welcomed by a hiss, the door to the basement offering him sanctum. A single luma illuminated the basement, the beams of light falling upon numerous bottles of liquor. If he actually entertained the idea of drinking Lanik would consider the room heaven. Closing and sealing the door the Jedi moved to exit the basement into the main part of the cantina.

    “Hey boss we go-” The calian started, before feeling a hand on his wrist. The barkeep ducked under the bar shaking his head rapidly. In front of Lanik stood, his bosses being Jacen Novastar and Jek Raynar, but opposite them were two armor-clad Mandalorian women. (Bri-Katan Kryze, Rih Vizsla) Sapphire eyes darting between each group, the Jedi debated going back into the cellar.
     
  12. Jacen Novastar

    Jacen Novastar The Dark Prince
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    Jacen let out a chuckle near the tail end of the Mandalorian woman's sentence. "A feisty one, aren't ya?!" He taunted back immediately, taking a step forwards and leaning ever so closer to the woman. "I'm sure you'd love to give it a try. Many women have tried, i'll warn ya." A hand moved forwards as he stepped back, wagging a finger at Rih Vizsla as he shifted into a more comfortable position. "...And many have failed."

    Disobedience within the ranks was usually dealt with through means of immediate death or torture, if the person deserved it. Civilians weren't all that protected from these rules either, especially when they openly carried weapons and entered into a Black Sun establishment willingly. All bets were off the table as to whether Jacen would reach out and tear the woman's throat from her neck with the slight wave of a hand. The looks on the faces of the men present would give off the vibe that they were expecting the situation to devolve into bloodletting and death, but so far the Vigo didn't appear to make a move.

    Instead he lit up another spliff and moved backwards a few feet, the crowd clearing out around him as he leaned backwards and placed his elbow against the bar. A long drag followed the scene of chilling silence, his eyes having not once left the two women who brazenly held their ground. If he were being honest, he wasn't that mad at them. He respected their balls, or lack thereof, but business was business as far as he was concerned. His men would lose respect if he let the women defy the iron fist of his rule, which inevitably would trickle through the ranks until his rivals believed his fiefdom to be...open for acquisition.

    Therefore a response would come sooner than later, especially after the appearance of a certain thug's entrance into the cantina. Jacen's eyes glided across to Lanik Dawnstar with a devilish smirk. "You there. Jordan, Janik-- kid, that was it, right? Yeah-" He knew his name already. Contrary to popular belief, Jacen was very thorough about all the intricacies of his little criminal empire, including his employees at most levels.

    The disruptor that was previously in his hand would glide through the air, almost as if carried by an invisible hand. It stopped just in front of the thug's chest, then fell down as if released for the man to receive his prize. "This here is the DX-2, and when pitted against these metal-loving fanatics, trust me kid-- it's your best gods' damned friend."

    His hand drifted upwards, shifting into the shape of a gun as he pointed it towards the most openly defiant Mandalorian once again. "You think you're ready to ride with the big dogs, eh? Then point that pistol at her dome and let's see if the Beskar melts."
     
  13. Jek Raynar

    Jek Raynar Average joe
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    <<Meat. Meat. Meat.>>

    A shudder rippled down Jeks spine. His inner thoughts echoing three distinct words with a reverb like effect. If his head was hollow it would of bounced around for eons. Turning his head rapidly he turned to see who or what this voice was once again. This was the third time he had heard it. With all the commotion going on with this mandalorians and black sun in the establishment. It was difficult to tell if this was in fact the Enforcers own mind or another calling out loud toward him.

    Like a nerve he felt exposed in the cantina. Tension under pressure. He could feel the divide in the air with both Black Sun and the present mandalorians practically staring each other down. Stumbling back Jek put down the wine bottle and did a three sixty in place. Somehow Jacen, the Vigo, had illuded his offer of a drink and passed by unnoticed.

    How? Am I this drunk?

    <<Yes meat, You are...>>

    " What the kark? Who said that?!" Jek exclaimed aloud. His eyes open wide. Someone had to be playing a sick prank on him. Right?

    Jacen Novastar
    Lanik Dawnstar
    Bri-Katan Kryze
    Rih Vizsla
    Rynn Vizsla
     
  14. Lanik Dawnstar

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    Having walked into the center of a conflict that he didn’t think he wanted any part of, Lanik was prepared to duck behind the bar with the barkeep. If it wasn’t for Jacen Novastar looking directly in his direction. Lanik didn’t know much about the man, but from what he’d heard there was nothing that Jacen wouldn’t do. That if you were to be a member of the Sun working under him that murder and enslaving others was on the table.

    “Ummm, its Nimel Jor act-” The Jedi started to hopefully defuse the situation a bit, but before he could finish the sentence Jacen kept talking, all the while a disruptor pistol floated through the air as if trapped in a tractor beams wake. It hovered a few seconds right in front of the calian’s face before suddenly dropping. Hands opening, Lanik caught it, his eyes looking down between the pistol, to Jacen. Following the vigo’s finger, Lanik’s gaze moved to the Mandalorian woman standing opposite the room of Jacen. (Rih Vizsla)

    Eyes darting back to Jacen, then over to Jek Raynar hoping for assistance, Lanik saw the man having a hysteric fit. Talking, and even yelling to himself. For a few seconds, the Jedi thought about his time talking to Grandmaster Kalja. Perhaps this task was greater than he’d perceived. Never had he thought he’d have to kill another in cold blood. It was against everything Lanik stood for, it spat in the face of what his parents would’ve wanted. Yet if he didn’t there would be more lives on the line, including his own. Nor would anything he had learned reach the Jedi.

    Mouth dry, Lanik raised the pistol pointing it at the woman. His finger moved towards the trigger, the Jedi in him fighting against pulling it, the realist knowing he had to do it. His thoughts flitted to Valryss, of how she had become so casual about taking the lives of others. About how deep into a hole she’d fallen. Was that what would happen to him? Was that the fate to befall all those who associated with the Dawnstar name? That or a death in which they could do nothing to prevent.

    By the force, forgive me mom.

    Rih Vizsla | Rynn Vizsla | Bri-Katan Kryze
     
  15. Rynn Vizsla

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    When one waltzes into a Viper’s Nest unprepared, they willingly sought their own demise. For who but the Force itself knew what lay beyond those welded, filth-encrusted walls? The Protector and his kind could only fathom that this Cantina was infested with dozens of the Marked Criminals. That what they had seen, was merely a fraction of this Organization’s available might. That prospect would’ve disheartened even the most stoic of lawmen, as they ventured into the proverbial hive of scum and villainy - in the hopes of valiantly discharging their duties. Yet, Rynn took heart in his differences from such a noble caricature. He knew that he was to be outnumbered, and likely pitted against an entire room filled with lawless savages, armed to the teeth. But, that didn’t stay his hand. In truth, the Mandalorian silently relished the prospect of putting his mettle to the test.

    As his armoured footsteps bore him ever-closer towards the overtaken Cantina, the Protector’s eyes scoured the filth-encrusted surface. A targeting reticule traced the flickering movements of his eyes as the man devoured the details of the structure. It was a simple building of Mandalorian origin. One that had seen many winters, and bore the markings of each season passing it by. What made the structure wholly unique, amongst the duracrete jungle that surrounded him, was that it was the only one defiled by enamel graffiti. Countless sayings in several languages, alongside a dozen icons, fought for prominence across the Cantina’s weathered exterior. One amongst their number seemed fresher than the rest. It was a stylized Sun motif depicted entirely in Black.

    Could this symbol belong to these newfound miscreants, Rynn mused. He had never seen it before this moment, and knew naught of its significance.

    The closed, and weathered portal was afore him now. It was then, and only then, that the Protector elected to check his gear. To do so beyond this door was to invite disaster. His helmet’s systems ran a swift diagnostic and found nothing amiss. Every connected system returned with a pleasing emerald rune that depicted their optimized status. The heavy weaponry that the man had once borne, however, wasn’t found on his person. There was little need to draw such firepower from his starship’s armoury, as the Mandalorian believed his armour, it’s systems, and the brace of pistols clamped to his thigh-plates would be more than sufficient for the task at hand.

    Besides, Rynn thought to himself, what weapons these Criminal Scum could bring to bear was little match for Mandalorian Steel.

    Such prideful musings turned to ash in his mind as the door before him parted to reveal the scene within. The tension was palpable, as his eyes bore witness to a solitary figure - holding what seemed to be a disruptor pistol in the direction of one of his armoured kin. While his mind wished to drink in the details of the scene, and to commit them to memory, the Protector’s body acted on its own volition. Lives were at stake, and there was little time to waste. Rynn’s fingers gracefully slid onto the textured grip of the weighty blaster. In one, smooth motion, the DE-10 came free from his armoured thigh and rose. There was no warning - nor verbal demand to lay down the destructive weapon.

    Only the swift depression of the trigger, and a thunderous crack as a sapphire-hued bolt of coalesced lightning speared out towards the readied disruptor...

     
  16. Rih Vizsla

    Rih Vizsla Little Wolf
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    Talk was cheap, and they both knew it, so Rih didn't fire back with a retort. In fact, for the most part she tuned out everything he had to say, watching instead as weapons traded hands and others in the bar shifted their stance or reached for a hidden blaster in preparation for the explosion of violence they could all sense coming. There was no real tactical way of winning a bar fight, but she had a good feeling. Two Mandalorians against a room full of outsiders wasn't the worst odds she'd ever heard of.

    But three was even better.

    When Lanik raised the disruptor she immediately lifted her ripper to draw down on him, and was halfway to pulling the trigger when the door opened and a single shot was fired in the direction of her would-be target. She didn't need to turn and look to know it was another Mandalorian, and now wasn't the time to press for details. Instead her aim shifted, and she squeezed the trigger twice in quick succession, sending two rounds downrange towards Jacen. Remove the one calling the shots and the rest would follow, but it wouldn't be that simple. Still, she couldn't deny it felt good to pull the trigger.

    There was no good direction this was going to go, but the first order of business was finding some kind of cover before more people got trigger happy. She moved to the side, glancing in the direction of the one who had fired the first shot, briefly recalling the tone with which Bri-Katan had spoken her clan's name. There was something to be said about another Vizsla entering the bar, but for now she settled for calling out to him over comms.

    :: It would be nice to hear you brought friends. :: It took nothing more than a few movements of her eyes to link Bri-Katan to the same channel, allowing them to hear each other clearly regardless of the chaos. :: Got a plan? ::
     
  17. Maya

    Maya Just A Little Girl
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    Stubbornness and the people that it endowed.

    All I could do while focusing on eating some slop for a cheap credit, was the sudden influx of Black Sun, and Mandalorians who showed up to the Cantina. It was as if the fates had decided that today would be a day that there would be a fight between these people on a force-forsaken planet of Mandalore. The people here had been trying to bring it back into a golden age for years since the fall of the Imperials and their control over it. School years had taught me much about the traitor Jedi attempting to overthrow the Galactic Republic, which had evolved into an Imperial state.

    Now?

    The Mandalorians wanted to become stronger. It made sense. What didn't match up, was the Black Suns, clear by the way they acted, talked and dressed since the syndicate had been getting a pair of balls in the past couple years. They were here trying to establish a foothold maybe? Or just tie a knot into the Mandalorian's panties. Either way, part of this was enjoyable seeing people almost "White Knight" it up in full gear, while others just came in plain clothes wanting to have a drink.

    It was a mix that could be seen quite often in the galaxy now days. However, I didn't plan on getting into the middle of this. Even with a sudden blastershot being fired at the black suns.

    So I just sat there, eating my hard earned slop with a spoon, with a show.
     
  18. Jek Raynar

    Jek Raynar Average joe
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    Everything became a blur. Movements hard to specify from another. Time seemed to come to a halt with the distinct sound of blaster fire erupting only meters away. The Calian jerked his head toward his chest and hunched his shoulders out of instinct alone. A rush of chemicals seemed to give him the edge he needed to now be more alert. Adrenaline. It was not the same as Rystaad but for now it would do. Like cold water a chill ran down his back and hairs on his body rose like the dead rising from the graves. A sense of wrong and danger finally seized him.

    Looking back Jek observed the scene. A young up and coming lad by the looks, Lanik Dawnstar . A newbie to the Syndicate that had yet to earn his name of a "Made-man" especially under the watchful eyes of a Vigo like Jacen Novastar . Ruthless, intolerant of failure and hungry. By the trajectory of the blaster bolt it seemed to be a disarming shot? A warning?

    Wait. Was that a disruptor pistol?! Was he karking mad?

    Jeks dominant hand twitched, his instincts telling him to draw the .48-caliber enforcer pistol on his hip hidden in his trench coat and let loose, but something had hold of his arm. Wide eyed his gazed darted to a limb restricted by nothing but air. For all intents and purposes it had seemed as if he had fallen into one of the three responded to conflict. Flee, fight or freeze. In his cause this was freeze.

    No, Meat. You will watch this. You will watch this.

    There it was again that voice. Deep. Alien and midst his thoughts. Stuck in his minds eye.

    " What is this?!" The Calian exclaimed before another two shots were fired away by the contenders across the bar.

    They were mandalorians.

    Feth...This is gonna suck.

    Rynn Vizsla
    Rih Vizsla
    Maya
    Bri-Katan Kryze