Topic: RPG - Stolen Bride

Well I was planning to join in someone else's RPG, but I don't know enough about the Mandalorians or the Vong so I thought I'd start another one (kinda lost interest in The Promised Jewel - sorry!)

Since I'm getting married in 3 days I thought it fun to have a bride to centre things on ;)

The Story (set during Empire):

Warring Twi'lek tribes Allo'et and Holmesk have decided to bury the hatchet. To do so the two tribes will combine through the marriage of Kar'bil, son of Gre'natta of Allo'et to Tresh'san, daughter of Oot'ag of Holmesk. The procedings were about to take place when Tresh'san was kidnapped by the Hutts. Apparently the marriage would cause the price of passage for smuggling to increase dramatically. Both Twi'lek leaders have combined their wealth to produce a bounty of 4 million credits for the safe return of Tresh'san and the head of Nalarg the Hutt.

The Rules:

1. You may create any character you want. But please have some variety and clarify their name and species so others can follow their actions easily.

2. You can kill characters you create but you can't kill other people's characters unless they say they have been killed in battle with you. However you can wound them...

3. You can have any weapon you want but you can only have what your character could physically carry - otherwise they wouldn't be able to move.

4. Be consistent, eg if someone says they blew up a building, don't suddenly be assaulting it.

5. If you have sustained many wounds you will have to either get medical help or eventually die.

6. Follow the storyline, sure add a few twists and turns but allow others to see where you want to go so they can help you get there.

7. Have fun.

-

Kar'bil removed his ceremonial garb and began to slip into his flight suit when his father came in. Gre'natta's white face seemed even paler than usual. "So you are going to try and find her?" He asked.

Kar'bil nodded, "She is the key to our peace. I'm not about to throw our future away to some greedy Hutt." He huffed as he started loading various pistols and riftles into a nap sack.

"Getting yourself killed would also mean the distruction to peace. Your mother and I would also be left grieving." Gre'natta said as he watched his azure skinned son.

Kar'bil stopped to look at his father. "You know I am fond of Tresh'san. Not as a mate as yet, but our bond was growing. I cannot leave her to such an aweful fate."

The older Twi'lek nodded his head in understanding. "I've summoned the bounty hunters. I'll brief them very shortly. You my son can have a head start."

Kar'bil shook his head, one lekku fell over his shoulder. "I wish to team up with one of the other hunters. I do not know what sort of tactics the Hutt's have install for us. I'm a skilled hunter of our land, but not in outer space."

Gre'natta patted his son on the arm. "You are wise beyond your years, son. Come with me, Oot'ag and I shall address the bounty hunters."

Kane leaned himself back against the wall, bent his legs in and sat his arms behind his head. He hated Twi'leks, maybe more so than he disliked Nemoidians, but the money was good. Out of all the hunters lurching around the chamber he was perhaps the laziest looking. Eyes half closed, the last person you'd expect to be a bounty hunter. He wasn't expecting to do anything on his own, few of anyone there was able or simple minded enough to go against a Hutt single handed. He didn't expect to get the job anyway. He smiled a little before nodding off, tired from the flight in. He couldn't sleep through Hyperspace jumps, and landing just gave him the jitters. He was more ready for a nap than a Rancor who'd been chasing Luke Skywalker all night.

((Sorry for using the same old characters Mel, but come on, would our hunters really pass up 4 million credits?))

As the sun of Ryloth dipped below the horizon, a certain SFS GAT-12h Skipray Blastboat tore through the storm-swept sky. The storms were common enough (a characteristic of the Twi’leks’ homeworld), but the helmeted figure who sat in its cockpit, never an incredible pilot, couldn’t help but silently curse the rapidly shifting winds.

Still, the weapon-laden craft made its way to its landing pad easily enough; and, with a more or less satisfactory landing, the gunship known as the Morbis Ferre came to rest at the Allo’et estate, bearing its unbelievably dangerous cargo.

Inside that durasteel hull, a man clad in jet-black armor punched the release on his flight-harness, untangled himself from the mess of straps and buckles, and powered down his ship’s systems one by one. When the last indicator light went from green to red, he hit the ramp release and headed aft.

The ebony figure’s armored boots made a hollow clunking sound on the dull gray floor plating, an oddly intimidating sound that echoed through the tight, short corridors of the gunboat. A BlasTech DL-36 handgun lay holstered at his right thigh, bouncing slightly with each step of his right leg. The holster rode low on his upper leg, with the barrel of the pistol just above his knee, fastened in place with two adjustable straps. A third clip attached the opposite end of the holster to his belt. If one cared to take notice, he would find that the man’s right hand never ventured far from that gun – unless he happened to be carrying some heavier firepower; which, in reality, was very often.

The Morbis Ferre was armed with both proton torpedo and concussion missile launchers, drawing from magazines of 12 and 18 projectiles, respectively. These heavy guns supplemented the vessel’s fire-linked laser turret, with the help of a trio of capital-ship grade ion cannons. The gunwell, while capable of being fired from the cockpit at a fixed, frontward firing arc, was infinitely more efficient when manned separately. As it so happened, the black-clad gunslinger strolling through his ship was very fond of efficiency.

As he passed the ladder leading up to the turret, he heard the muffled sound of cloth sliding on metal, followed by a soft thud. The dark soldier didn’t turn, but his dominant right hand flexed and twitched towards his holstered weapon out of reflex. The man that had slid down the ladder fell into step with his armored companion, joining him silently as he made his way to the cargo area. The walk was a short one, and within a few seconds they were in a rather unique looking cargo bay.

Unique, because it was stacked ceiling-high with gun racks.

The pair’s time-honored and much enjoyed ritual of weapon selection began, and the two spread out among the various weapon cases, grabbing their preferred combination of weaponry.

The warrior in the pitch-black suit pulled a Sorosuub Heavy Tracker 16 from a rack of blaster rifles, loaded it from a separate crate of power packs, and slung it over his shoulder. For years the man had dutifully carried an E-11, a reliable war-horse of a rifle; but in more recent times he’d received comments of mimicking the Empire’s stormtroopers. While he could quite honestly care less about what anyone else thought about his arsenal, he’d acknowledged that it was time for a change, albeit a small one. The Heavy Tracker 16 was almost identical to an E-11 in most respects, with the exceptions of a thicker barrel and a fixed stock. It was considerably more powerful than his old weapon-of-choice, but not exactly as versatile.

Knowing he wouldn’t likely need any more firepower than this, especially when this was nothing but a simple meeting, he opted for a tertiary weapon anyway. Pulling a Merr-Sonn 434 “DeathHammer” and its shoulder-rig from a pistol rack, he removed his rifle, shrugged the holster on, and then replaced the Heavy Tracker. He made certain that his combat knife and HSB-200 hide-piece rested comfortably by his ankles, then receded from the wide array of blasters.

Stepping back to the crate of power packs, the armored figure grabbed a handful of clips and placed them into empty pouches on his belt. He already had another in the pocket of his thigh-holster, and placed two more in the shoulder-rig’s double-mag pouches.

The gunslinger’s friend, who had little in the way of armor but wore a mask over the bottom half of his face, was much less discriminating in the matter of weaponry. His primary weapon and oldest friend, a projectile spread-gun known more colorfully as a shotgun, lay in a holster on his back. That slugthrower had been with him since his life of killing began so many years ago, and had served him with an eerie dedication ever since. While his friend had swapped his E-11 for the Heavy Tracker some time ago, this man would find it impossible to favor any weapon but the one he wore now.

On the black-clad one’s insistence, he’d begun carrying a Sorosuub S-5 in a shoulder-holster, though reluctantly. He’d warmed up to the idea eventually – after the versatile blaster had saved his life on several occasions. He pulled this on presently, placed a wide assortment of knives in various hiding places on his dark clothing, and then stepped back next to his friend.

The ebony-armored warrior, known as Arcuse to his few friends, gave his companion, Sathik, an almost imperceptible nod, which he returned. The shotgun-wielding man, though unarmored for the most part, allowed no part of his skin to show, save his head from the eyes up. And with good reason – he carried a plague in his blood, and more than that, in his breath, his skin, his saliva, anything that came from his body carried death in one of its fastest and most painful forms. Were anyone to make direct contact with the hunter, he’d do well to make peace with his god before long.

The pair strode out of Arcuse’s ship, still not speaking so much as a word. They’d gone through this phase of a hunt dozens of times, mayhap more, and there was nothing much to say. They’d watch, they’d listen, they’d learn; and then, they’d hunt.

As a wave of passengers exited the transport Faux Nigell IV into the labryntine city of Kala'uun, it was not difficult to notice the one individual who stood out amongst the crowd.  He walked slowly, a massive entity concealed by a brown, faded trenchcoat and a wide brimmed hat that covered most of his face in darkness.
The tourists hurried off to their destinations within the multi-leveled city, shops, tourist attractions, and whatever grasped their attention like moths to the fire.  The entity stood alone, until the last passengers had long since disappeared into the cavernous expanses of the underground city. 
A large crate sat on the cracked duracrete beside him, battered and worn after long journeys across the galaxy.  The entity turned and hoisted the crate upon his shoulders, then slowly walked off in the direction of the seedier cantina districts.
A passing gang of Twi'lek youths, visably high off the ryll spice prevalent on this world, approached the entity, blasters in hand. The leader, a tall gangster wielding a sawed-off BlasTech E-11, faced the entity with a malicious grin on his face.
"What the frizz we got here, boys? Kriffin idiot thinks he can walk through Black Lylek territ-"
The gangbanger never got to finish his sentence.  Without breaking stride, the entity reached into his trenchcoat with his free hand and pulled out an N'gant Heavy Carbine. 
He pressed the long barrel up against the Twi'leks forehead, and pulled the trigger. In the same millisecond, he turned with inhuman speed to aim the weapon at each of the other gangers, and dispatched them in the same manner.  It was over in less than three seconds.
The entity continued towards his destination, leaving behind the smoking corpses of the headless Twi'lek youths.

((By 'enity', did you mean 'entity'? I was wondering if maybe I was wrong, but apparently not, because there is most definitely no 'enity' in the dictionary.

And cry all your collective pardons, but I can't help flaunting the firearm knowledge. In advance, this is all from memory: that N'gant heavy carbine is more specifically known as the N'gant-Zarvel 9118 Heavy Carbine. There is an error with that concerning the picture in the Star Wars Arms and Equipment guide. The picture under the N'gant-Zarvel is Boba Fett's EE-3, and the Star Wars Guide to Weapons and Technology shows it as the EE-3, showing contradictions with the two books. Just a little useless knowledge proving that I have no life apart from guns.))

(Oh.  Well that's good to know.  I was basing it out of that book, which does have a lot of errors in it. :)
Darn...you're right.  I'll go fix the spelling on 'entity'.  Thanks.)

((No problem.))

The small, one man scout craft settled roughly on Ryloths uneven surface.  It was dark green in color, with various burn and scrape marks adorning the durasteel exterior.  With a snap-hiss, the canopy popped open in a jet of steam.  A lanky figure vaulted over the side and landed with a dull thud on the ground.  He was about 5' 10", and was covered from head to toe in heavily modified stormtrooper armor.  Along with various upgrades, the armor was a dark gray color with numerous blood-red streaks on his torso, legs, arms, and helmet, which gave him a tortured apearence.  A well-worn blaster carbine was cradled in his left arm, and a long-barreled pistol was strapped to his left leg with a reinforced holster. 
  Vir Ailes, renegade Imperial, cracked his neck.  He turned his head towards the ship, and then banged on the hull with a armored fist.  A dark, void-like creature fell out of the cockpit and hit the ground in a heap.  "You lousy Imperial, I'm not going anywhere else with you until you get a better ship."  The Defel screeched, his voice nearing the high-pitched tones they got when they were angry.  "If you pay for it, fine."  Vir said absentmindedly, still scanning the landscape. 
  The odd pair were on the planet in hopes of gaining the large reward, The Defel, whose name was Kir'al, had met up with Vir Ailes who was looking for a way to get some quick cash.  Vir, not having much expierience in the bounty hunting field, but very good at combat, had gone looking for someone to co-opt with.  Kir'al was promised half the profits and half a pint of Krayt Dragon blood.  He couldn't refuse.  The insane little creature was now doubting his decision.  "Well, lets get started then.  People to kill, money to earn and all that."  He said.  Vir sighed and checked the power pack on his carbine for the fiftieth time and stode after Kir'al, wondering if it was worth.  He had little idea what he was in for.

wow! you got married! dang hey, you got married yesterday! good luck to both of you

((That's for the PM system ARC. And don't quote the whole thing, it's way too long and isn't pertaining to the thread.))

Kane stood up, stretched and walked out of the chamber, he'd lost interest no matter the sum of money available. At least for the time being he didn't feel like waiting on a bunch of Twi'leks to talk with him about anything. A few feet away from the door leaned against the right side of the wall he watched some others walk in. Apart from a couple of Twi'leks there was nothing to be seen worth his time. Inside the chamber stood a fairly tall Gand, a trio of whiphids, and a rodian sipping from a dull old flask. A few humans huddled together on one side, a quarren idly watching them play sabacc whislt a short  Sullustan garbled on with a skeletal Givin in a corner furthest from any of the windows. Just as he lost attention with the group around him, a Falleen shoved him out of the way forcing his way in. Apperantly with the female Falleen a  male Kaminoan flittered past ducking their heads as they walked in.
Deciding to actually act like a bounty hunter he studied the others, not a single one of them look too terribly experienced besides maybe three or four. He could expect a few more as well, die hards looking out for the next big fish. The people he should be worried about. He was fairly well off, not anyone well known but someone to be at least a little bit worried of. Someone who doesn't make the big mistakes, and few of the little ones. Of course he could be killed any minute of the day but thanks to a lack of reputation nobody wanted a black charred hole through his heart as much as they would someone like Boba Fett or Bossk.
If it all panned out, he'd take a vacation on Ithor after this. Maybe a week or two of sane normal tourist life. Or maybe he'd buy himself a better ship with a few gadgets to lug along. Buy a set of RadTrooper armor, spend a little time fleeing from everyone else in a radiation storm. If he made any at all, he might as well put it to some use or another. He doubted he'd make it, but you never know.

4 million credits is no small sum of money. For that price once can buy just about anything he wants: he could buy a ship, set up a small smuggling network; he could buy a small, out-of-the-way planet and become a ruler; he could get just about every bounty hunter in the galaxy working to get back a stolen princess. The probelm with the latter is quality control: you undoubtedly get the best of the best, but you're bound to attract swarms of the lesser hunters that truly are the scum of the galaxy. Looking around Kala'uun, one could see this pestilence infiltrating the city in their customary great swarms, each looking to make his fortune and most, unfortunately, not really knowing how sadly ordinary he was.

One more of these garden-variety hunters stepped out of one of the overcrowded docking bays. His ship couldn't have cost more than an average droid would have: an outdated cargo hauler, basic weaponry only, with a paint job older than most sentients. This alone showed him to be among the least-impressive of the groups at this convention, and any doubts from the ship would be instantly removed upon seeing the man. Basic militia armor from some backwards outer rim planet and a beat-up E-11 that hadn't been replaced probably since before the rise of the Empire gave the impression that this man was one of those types that puts nothing into his work. He wastes away in dungy cantinas, drunk out of his mind until some small-time crime boss contracts him to whack someone, which he does, gets paid, and spends it all on booze. Other hunters in the town gave him a single glance and invariably thought the same thing: no threat here. Which is, of course, exactly what they were supposed to think.

Despite (or, more accurately, because of) his obviously amateur appearance, there was something about this human that no other hunter here (to his knowledge, anyway) had. In fact, they were the ones who all had what he did not. All of the others, the hundreds who had flocked here with the promise of great reward, had a single unifying trait. From the eager teenagers with blaster pistols to the most seasoned hunters in the galaxy, they were all bound by purpose: every single one of them had his mind set on bringing the lady Tresh'san back home and claiming the 4 million credits. In that way, Vorn differed from them. He had no plans to bring the lady back. At least, not yet.

Vorn wasn't his real name, of course. His true name, if he remembered correctly (that was an entirely different life from the one he led now; he only ever encountered the name in his bank account, and even then he had trained his eyes to avoid it) was Iaco Hoban, but he didn't even answer to that now. His employer had once remarked on how similar the man's nature was to that of a vornskyr; it really is an accurate compatison for a variety of reasons that shall not, at this time, de revealed. The name stuck, and anytime he was ever referred to (very rarely did anyone address him directly, they simply talked about him) Vorn was the name they used. Vorn himself had no problem with it.

He began walking down the hallway away from his meager excuse for a ship, following the general flow of the mercenary crowd knowing it would lead him into the palace. He already knew where it was, of course, but no one could know that he knew: a low-quality hunter like he obviously couldn't know what he was doing. Go with the flow, do as you're told. That way, no one think that you're thinking for yourself.

He truly did not belong with this crowd. Though bounty-hunting is a pretty loose term as far as occupations go, and sometimes overlaps with mercenary work and the like, Vorn refused to associate himself with all those walking alongside him with guns hanging from their belts. One could look at his job, and theirs, and see no real difference, but to Vorn the difference was one of pure contrast. They were engineers in their trade, and he was an architect: They kill with efficiency. I kill with style. The artist always thinks himself above the layperson, and he was no exception. Unlike a regular artist, however, he had a track record to back it up.

At last the rush of hunters shambling along came upon the richly-decorated entrance to Allo'et Palace, where all the hunters would supposedly learn about their job and then leave and do it. Vorn would be doing the same, in some sense: though his job was different, here he would learn the details and carry it out. To a completely different end, mind you, but in essence the meeting held the same purpose.

Head hunched over and eyes fastened on the hunter before him, Vorn stopped when he found another pair of feet in his field of vision. Tilting his head to eye-level, he found those feet to belong to a guard standing outside the palace door. The Twi-lek was eyeing Vorn unpleasantly, his nose turned up slightly at the scent of old booze that the man positively radiated. He never touched the stuff, of course, but a little exotic cologne was all one needed to make everyone think he was a low-life drunk instead of a professional. A truly perfect disguise fools all the senses of the body.

"Straight across the atrium you will find the Great Hall," the guard said, his nose still wrinkled in disgust. "Lord Gre'natta wishes to brief you ont he finer details of the hunt before-"

Before the guard could finish his obviously rehearsed instruction, Vorn made a raucous noise at the back of his throat and spat a disgusting wad of multi-colored mucous on the Twi'lek's shiny boots. The guard managed to keep his composure, but just barely. Grinning with teeth colored with various shades of brown (dye; as a rule he was a big fan of dental hygeine), Vorn stepped past the guard and into the magnificent palace with the others.

You can never fault a man for having too much pride in his work. Joining the throngs sitting down in the grand audience chamber, Vorn meditated on his performance with a sense of a job well done. If there was one thing about this job he liked, it was this part. The acting part. The rest was just the inevitable outcome.

Step one, infiltrate premesis. Objective complete.

Vir Ailes threw the front doors to the Allo'et Palace, causing them to slam into the wall.  He strode inside angrily, his armored footsteps echoing down the quiet space, the Defel right behind him.  They were late now, late because Kir'al insisted on catching and killing some animal that was bugging him.  It had taken a little longer than he had anticipated, due to the creatures suprising speed, but there was nothing Vir could have done to get Kir'al to leave it. 

How this thing ever became a bounty hunter, I don't know. He thought.   He couldn't ignore the certain aura that surrounded him though.  Kir'al was very confident.  Or ignorant.  Ailes couldn't tell.   

As they walked down the hall to the atrium, Kir'al took in all the sights and smells of the palace, and Vir looked around alertly for any sign of a trap.  It was a normal enough looking palace, but one could never be too sure.  Vir learned that from setting traps at an Imperial prison.   

  They were so busy looking around that they practically ran into the guard, who was scrubbing something off his boots and talking to himself.

He snapped to attention, almost causing Vir to shoot him right there.  His nerves were on the edge to say the least. 

"You two, there, You bounty hunters?" He asked in a huffy tone. 

"Yes, we are bounty hunters.  Now, move so we can get by and win more credits then you've probably ever seen."  Answered Kir'al before Vir could. 

The guard looked at this little creature who had dared insult him, and briefly contemplated ramming his pike through the Defel's ribs, and then decided he had better things to do.  He stepped aside and they went through.

"Do you have try everything possible to get us out of this hunt?"  Vir asked exasperatedly once they were past the guard.

Kir'al looked at him through his ultraviolet visor and grinned, showing off a mouthfull of durasteel fangs. 
Vir decided to ask him about that later.  He had a long list of things to ask him,  the
least of which being why he had agreed to do this in the first place.

"I happen to have been on quite a lot of these things, and I know how to win them.  So, don't question me, or my methods.  They are quite . . . unique."

"If by unique you mean insane, then yes.  Yes, they are that."  The ex-Imperial retorted.  Kir'al just chuckled to himself. 

They crossed the atrium and entered the Great Hall, where quite a few bonty hunters were assembled. 
There was a Trandoshan who didn't look too happy, and Twi'lek hunter with what appeared to be a couple dozen thermal detonaters strapped to a bomb vest. 
Mental note.  Steer clear of that one. 

He also noticed a drunk-smelling amateur who could hardly stand up straight.  He grinned viciously under his helmet.  Maybe this wasn't going to be too much trouble.  That is, if Kir'al didn't kill them both.  However, despite his obvious faults, the Defel was quite funny once you got to know him better.  Ailes hoped he would be of some help, because he didn't wan't to have to shoot him. 

Vir sat in a nearby seat and removed his helmet.  He polished the lenses with his glove, and set it beside him.  Relaxing just a little, he adjusted the sights on his carbine higher with a small tool.  His soldier's intuition forsaw some long-distance shootingin the not-too-distant future.   Kir'al just stood next to him and hummed something. 

For now, all they had to do was wait.  The hard stuff would come later.

The entity arrived at the Allo'et Palace.
It was a massive structure, covering thirteen stories of the underground city, a dominating presence over the seedy cantinas and taverns populating the area.  Elaborate mosiacs and carvings, detailing the history of the Twi-lek people, and the pompously elegant buttresses stood in stark contrast with the poverty and decay of the buildings around it.
He approached the Palace guard, who had just emerged from the guilded doorway and taken his post, bearing a ceremonial pike and a look of mild annoyance on his face.  The entity climbed the staircase, still carrying the durasteel chest on his shoulder. 
"Another bounty hunter...just excellent." The guard was clearly tired of the constant arrivals, and just as anxious for the hunt to begin. 
The entity stopped in front of him.  The Twi-lek was a tall sentient for his species, yet stood entirely within the entity's shadow. shavit the guard thought to himself.  What kind of monsters has my master summoned? 
The entity reached into his trenchcoat with his free hand.  The guard tensed, preparing to defend himself...as the entity pulled out a keypad device, and began punching in a series of letters.  With a sharp crackle of static, the device began speaking for the creature that carried it.
"--Where is...HUNT.--"
The guard relaxed.  "Inside past the atrium, in the Great Hall.  You'd best hurry...Gre'natta should be preparing to brief the hunters any minute now."
The entity turned as he shealthed the device within his coat, walking past the guard, through a dusty beam of light reflecting from the upper levels, and into the doorway .  The guard would later convince himself that he was mistaken, but for one moment, when the light was just right, he could have sworn he had seen the faint glow of...blue eyes, shining brighter than any humans, yet dim in the shadow where his face belonged.
The entity entered the palace.

“Four million creds! For that kind of bounty not only would I find the bitch but I’d skin and stuff her, lest she stray too far from her master again!”
The loud boisterous bellow of the grossly inebriated weeqauy carried over the hushed chatter of the cantina’s inhabitants. Many of the drunkard’s accompanying riff raff fell about the place in uproarious laughter. Two twi’leks that had been gossiping about the feuding family’s current nuptial tragedy stood up with a look of up most disgust. The male Twi’lek stood defiant with clenched fists staring down those who had insulted a future matriarch of his home world; his skin sank into a deeper shade of red flagging his anger towards the band of giddy miscreants. Suddenly the laughter died down and the once playful offenders gave him cold stares whilst their hands slowly slid towards their blasters. The bold twi’lek stared down the motley gang until the soft caress of his female companion soothed his soaring anger. Her soft whispers seemed to calm the offended male as she led him to the Cantina door afraid if any injury befell her beloved. The vexed male threw one last glance of pure repulsion before making his leave through the door. The weeqauy leader clipped the buckle over his holster making a snickering remark in the process.
“Women! If there’s one thing you can count on. It’s their ability to deflate your ego.” He then made a smug grin as he moved his hand from his blaster straight to his crotch pretending to crunch the contents. 

The Gang cackled at their leader’s final remark . The remaining patrons fearful of trading glances with the threatening throng began chattering again trying to cut the awkward silence that their boisterous laughter had left in wake. All on lookers were willing to let this insult go, except one. He had no quarrel with these creatures nor did he hold any high esteem for the Twi’lek race. All he saw was a group of ill-mannered scum who could never fathom the powerful link of affection between a male and female of any species. Two crimson eyes darted around within the darkness beneath the stranger’s black hood scrutinizing the bottom feeders across the room from him. He studied their movements carefully readying himself for his move. He didn’t know why he was so willing to confront them but something inside his heart urged him on.

He remembered the affectionate gesture of the female who had saved the defiant twi’lek only moments before. She let him know that his pride wasn’t worth the risk of death, she wanted to awake the next day with her lover beside her, and not in the endless unknown of the afterlife. The cloaked stranger exhaled deeply as he glided through these thoughts. Suddenly his eyes widened  as the bitter sting of his own experiences ensnared his contemplation. Memories that once lay dormant filled his head with violent thoughts. Rage slowly building inside of him through every fiber of his being. He remembered a face screaming in pain, a face he loved dearly.
“Miakai.”
He whispered. His brain became a maelstrom of shattered memories fueling his hate and anger for the scum that sat only a stone throw away from his position. Suddenly a surge of force energy blasted from beneath his robes shattering  all the glasses and nectar bottles within the cantina. Fear instantly took residence on the faces of the disturbed onlookers as all eyes shot towards the source of the blast. The cloaked stranger leaped from his chair as if possessed by an entity too immense to be housed by his frail mortal body.
“You took her from me!!!” He screamed
The gang of once bold thugs looked desperately at one another trying to comprehend whether any of them had dealings that may have impacted upon this foreboding figure. Somehow they knew that the comment was directed at them and they dealt with it in the only way they knew how. Weapons were drawn, tables were upturned and a cacophony of blaster fire filled the small cantina.

That was cool! and welcome to the boards Jodo Outkast. :).....and, uh.....check your private messages ;)

((We have a separate thread for welcoming. And if we don't, then we should. But indeed, an extremely well-written post Outkast-sai.))

Great post Jodo Outcast!.....i welcome you to the boards also and am glad you are getting involved.

                                                                            {MW} MS9

The gang consisting of two Rodians, one Trandoshan a Faleen male and their weeqauy leader all  fired frantically at where they’re mark once stood. The gunfire stopped as the gang realized in the confusion they’d let they’re blasters overheat. The trandoshan hissed in outrage as he dropped the sizzling blaster rifle. The Faleen tried to mend his weapon with a coolant charge but his jittering nerves were making the task very hard. Most of the cantina patrons had fled from the gun fight as soon as the first shots were fired.

“Did we hit him” inquired one of the rodians.
“Well don’t ask me barve! Go and check yourself.” The wee quay leader scorned.
The Rodian peered from behind the shelter of his upturned table and pulled back waiting for the residual blaster smoke to clear. When the haze faded The Rodian only saw an empty corner where the should be dead challenger would’ve been. Only a wall scared by blaster fire and the remnants of a cantina booth remained. 

“Then where is h…” The Rodian’s words were cut short by the sound of steel eviscerating flesh. A flurry of blades slicing through the air with calculated finesse rendered their curiosity with pure bafflement. Standing amongst the horrified gang was their target whirling what only appeared to be two sets of Vibro blades fastened to the blade slinger’s wrists. The graceful well trained movements suddenly climaxed into a spectacular wide arch off the surrounding area. When he finished the rotation of death he halted to witness his work. His foe’s remained statuesque for a moment then slowly the intricate incisions marked by blood began to appear all over their forms. The victims all exhaled in unison the motion causing their bodies to collapse into a pile of bloody chunks. In automatic response the smirking killer retracted the set of blades back into the sleeves of his robes. As he surveyed the signs of conflict around him he directed his attention to the holographic billboard the victims were once appraising. His eyes scanned the bounty credentials.

“This could be interesting, very interesting.” His tongue carried the distinctive and elaborate hissing sound of a Chiss backed by a dark powerful resonance that was all too familiar to the likes of the sith. As the blood lust slowly faded from his mind he began to grasp the full potential of his rage and how it had utterly destroyed people around him that he mildly disliked. He tried to fathom the potential results of his rage targeted on someone he truly and utterly hated. The consequences of is actions suddenly flooded his head. “ I must leave lest I am discovered.” As soon as he dashed for the rear exit a cold reptilian voice infiltrated his mind.

“Too late Vrax Jadrith.” Vrax panicked slightly whirling around to see who had dispensed the statement. His red eyes scanned the desolate cantina finding no other signs of life and then shuddered at the realization. It was the one who had been searching for him all this time and his sudden outburst of passionate violence mixed with the uncontrollable blast of force energy had created a fault line in the force stream. Vrax knew he had to suppress his bitter rage and concentrate on what was important, surviving. He slowly closed his eyes and took in the air around him at a steady pace allowing his tensed muscles to relax and his mind to drift into the shadow of calm. This would help him avoid the ever watchful minds eye of those who wished to track his movements. Vrax opened his eyes and remained focused on his present task.
“He can wait, the bride is of more importance.” He thought to himself not knowing whether this was true but it helped urge him on with his current course of action.
“Know taking passengers to the Ryloth system, proceed to landing deck 6 gate 13” boomed the loud speaker of the nearest transport docking bay.
“Just my luck.” Vrax looked to the pile of processed space scum strewn across the cantina floor.
“No need to clean up I’m sure the Coruscant sanitation officers will love to sift their way through this mess.” Hissed Vrax as he left the scene of death behind him.

Thanks for the welcome guys :) I hope to continue this thread as all the characters seem very intresting. Cheers fellas

Kane grimaced a little, he'd just recently been through a house fire trying for a bounty. Needless to say he'd had most of the skin on his lower and upper arm burnt off in the proccess and most of the bounty money had gone to medical treatment. Although he wasn't too sure what the doctor's had done whilst he was under, every once in a while the burn marks would flair up in an ongoingly different red pattern. He'd asked about it of course but the doctor had said it was a side effect of the planet's blaze combined with his human biology. Hopefully it wouldn't reach up past where it was now. And then came the waiting, the kind of wait that makes you want to try and speak with a Polis Massan with Ubese sign language in the middle of a Coruscant black out on street level. Not that that wouldn't be entertaining compared to Ryloth, he'd had enough of underground anything on a past visit to Sullust. On the other hand he could make the best of it.
He lifted his hand gun from under his jacket, not equal to a disintegrating rifle but strong enough to singe partway through a Hutt's hide. Unlike a standard blaster he used cartridges, volatile ones with a tendency to take the shooter out more often than the person he was aiming at. But when it did work, he couldn't be more proud of using it. Unfortunately he had no idea what made up the contents of each individual shell. Each shot a semi transparent ball of black and white energy. Fairly slow compared to a blaster bolt, but quick enough for his tastes. He slowly whirled the 05 back into it's holster and began a quick paced walk to the other side of the room towards the entrance to the exit.

Kar'bil followed Gre'natta into the chamber housing the bounty hunters. His eyes scanned the current occupants and he felt deflated when he realised neither Boba Fett nor Bossk were present.

Gre'natta seemed to pick up on Kar'bil's thoughts. "You wonder where the key players are, my son?"

Kar'bil nodded. "Surely Boba Fett would not pass up four million credits."

Gre'natta shrugged. "He said his services were already engaged."

"And Bossk?" Kar'bil asked.

"Wanted more bloodshed. Live capture doesn't motivate him." Gre'natta informed.

"Ah." Kar'bil nodded in understanding. "What of IG-88?"

Gre'natta shrugged. "No response to hails."

Kar'bil shrugged. "I guess we'll have to rely on the skills here. Did you contact Reena Narb?"

Gre'natta raised a lumpy brow at his son's question. "Perhaps."

Kar'bil narrowed his eyes. "Did she accept?"

Gre'natta merely looked upon the crowd of bounty hunters as if to answer. Kar'bil snorted and let his eyes follow his father's. Then he saw her. The dark haired human female stood in the shadows of the other hunters, her bronze-coloured armour shone a dull sheen.

Kar'bil's eyes moved to her belt and saw the ancient lightsabre was still attached there. The woman claimed to be a descendant of the Jedi, illegitimate of course. She certainly knew how to weld a lightsabre and use it well, but Kar'bil was yet to see any other powers.

((Ech, I don't like this post. But I didn't know exactly how to change it, and we need to get a move on.))

"Straight across the atrium you will find the Great Hall. Lord Gre'natta wishes to brief you on the finer details of the hunt before you take your leave."

The guardsman spoke with the droning monotony of a man who’d repeated the same instructions for the past hour or two. Arcuse wondered briefly exactly how many hunters had passed him by, how many times he’d had to repeat those same sentences. Then, he dashed the thought away as one might splatter a stirge with a single swipe of the hand.

The Ubese stopped, gave the man a grateful nod, and spoke his first words since leaving the Morbis Ferre:

“Thankee-sai.”

The behavior was likely to surprise a good many people, had there been any present, considering what he’d done in his years as a soldier. All the shooting, the burning, the stabbing, the breaking, the destruction, the killing...and now this warrior stopped to thank a man for giving him directions.

Even the guard seemed surprised, receiving perhaps the first sign of gratitude he’d had all day. Searching for words and finding none, he merely nodded back. Sathik saw him watching them out of the corner of his eye, his gaze not leaving their backs until they turned the first corner. He shrugged his shoulders to shift his shotgun a bit, then addressed his friend, still facing forward as he did so.

“Awfully sociable today, aren’t you?”

“His duty is much more thankless than ours. He’s a soldier, and no one treats him like one.” Arcuse rasped. His voice, strangely akin  to the sound of two rocks grinding together, was a simple matter of anatomy. Among his own species, he’d have used the Ubese’s little-known sign language, but here his hoarse rasp of a voice would have to do. Besides, he liked the intimidating effect it tended to have on people.

“Well he can go cry me a river – then drown himself in it. Doesn’t that honor of yours ever get annoying? I mean, I can understand some things, like stepping in between me and those two rancors (which he swears he could have killed on his own, as he reminds Arcuse whenever possible), or not killing women; but saving guys like The Butcher, or not making that guard piss his pants (which his voice alone may have quite possibly done), I just don’t get why you do it.”

“In time, mayhap you will.” Was his only response.

“And mayhap I won’t.” Sathik grumbled, shrugging in his shoulder harness again.

They heard the voices before they’d turned the last three corners, and at that moment Arcuse grew uncomfortable. He hated crowds, too many targets, and too many memories that crept into his awareness. A horde of undead things shambling towards Kir’al, Sathik, and he; platoons of Republic soldiers trampling through Ubese garden-fields, a mass of green-eyed monstrosities charging into his blaster fire. That image of splashing a stirge’s innards against a wall popped into his mind again, and the memories were gone. The last thing he needed was memories of Uba III, especially in this place. The resulting rage would undoubtedly get him killed, and mayhap as many as a dozen with him.

The Ubese gunslinger ignored the discomfort that crowds brought to life in him, and continued his walk along the corridors of the Allo’et estate. Not a minute later he and Sathik were standing in the Great Hall, purposefully standing on either side of the massive double-doors. With his rifle slung across his back, Arcuse’s right hand hovered next to the grip of his holstered DL-36, his armored fingers clenching and unclenching.

The black-clad killer had a sudden and impossibly strong urge to draw and open fire, to hell with the consequences of doing so in a hall full of dozens, or even hundreds, of bounty hunters. His hand even closed into a fist around the butt of his pistol, his thumb unclipping the strip of material that held the blaster in its holster. His Heavy Tracker 16 lay forgotten on his back. Arcuse’s mind was now focused on only two things: the pistol on his hip, and trying not to draw it.

“What’s up?” Sathik asked in a low voice, his right hand reaching back over his shoulder for his pump-gun, thinking his friend must have seen something. He’d seen Arcuse going for his gun, and whenever he’d seen that in the past, there was shooting at its heels.

If you intend to shoot a man, to end his life, then by all means draw your gun.

The lessons of old sounded in his ears like drums, beating their meaning into his black-and-white mind. He’d been sent to be trained as an Ubese warrior before his world had passed on. Since the age of eight (though he could no longer remember the exact age himself) he’d been taught to kill, and even in the little time he’d been trained before the most crippling catastrophe of his life, he’d been taught well.

But if you have even the slightest doubt, the smallest second thought about what you’re going to do, then you might as well leave your gun where it is. You maggots are going to be warriors, even if you do look one step above what’s stuck on the bottom of my boot, and warriors live to kill. Do you hear me? Before you have any thoughts about where or when to shoot, decide if you will.

And did he really intend to kill? Or more importantly, why did he even want to? His hatred of large crowds had never escalated to thinning the number of people forcibly, and even the painful memories of his past hadn’t moved him to violence....recently.

He forced his hand to relax, and removed it from the grip of his blaster.

“Nothing.” Arcuse rasped, taking a deep breath. He shook his head, trying to rid it of the anger, and the shame at falling prey to it so fast. Sathik looked at him strangely, but removed his hand from his slugthrower’s stock. He stood easy again with his legs spaced, eyes scanning the room in a wide arc. He made a mental note to ask Arc about this almost-outburst later.

Gre’natta had entered the chamber while the Ubese gunslinger had been so focused on controlling himself, with a younger and well-armed Twi’lek at his heels. Arcuse assumed it was his son, Kar’bil, the would-be groom of this stolen bride. They conversed among themselves for a few moments, and the xenophobe swore that he saw the words ‘Boba Fett’ on the younger man’s lips. He had been curious as to the legendary hunter’s absence in such a well-paying job, but mayhap he simply chose not to appear to such formalities as this meeting.

The elder Allo’et stepped up to a podium placed on the raised tier he and his son occupied, and addressed the assembled bounty hunters.

“You have all been told the basic reason why I have summoned you here today: to rescue Tresh’san, daughter of Oot’ag, bride-to-be of my son Kar’bil,”

He nodded to his son as he spoke his name, who merely nodded to the horde of mercenaries. Another Twi’lek had mounted the tier, looking about the same age as Gre’natta. The black-clad Ubese reasoned that it could only be Oot’ag, then directed his attention back to the Allo’et elder.

“and hopeful daughter-in-law to myself, who has been taken from us by the Hutts. We can only assume that they plan to take her to Nal Hutta, and do Gods know what with her from there.”

Gre’natta’s face was a mask of concern and dismay, clearly sickened by the very idea of having his son’s bride-to-be in the hands of the over-grown slugs. Especially given their partiality to slavery and Twi’lek dancing girls.

“I beseech all of you to help bring Tresh’san back, and end the strife that has existed between the Allo’et and Holmesk families for years.”

The old Twi’lek immediately saw that his little speech had had no effect whatsoever on the hunters. He knew what they wanted to hear, and sighed as he stepped back and allowed Oot’ag to give it to them.

“The Allo’et and Holmesk clans have pooled their fortunes to offer a 4 million credit reward to whoever brings my daughter back. And should any of you have thoughts of throwing in your lot with the Hutts for promises of more...”

The old Holmesk’s eyes blazed fiercely for a brief moment, the way a warrior’s eyes burned in the face of battle. It told the bounty hunters all they needed to know. If anyone helped the Hutts keep his daughter in their hands, they would have a war on their hands.

“Then may the Gods help you.” He finished, his voice low and dark.

Gre’natta stepped forward once more, eyeing his fellow elder strangely for his hateful speech.

“Credits will be transferred upon the release of Tresh’san to Oot’ag at this location. May the Force be with you.”

The hunters, bored by everything except the promise of money, started to file out. Arcuse and Sathik remained however, not immediately joining the outgoing gun-for-hires. Both of them had noticed Kar’bil surveying the crowd of armed men and women, searching for something they didn’t know. Such an armed and motivated man would doubtless be taking part in the hunt/rescue, but if so, why had he not left earlier? Surely, being the son of the employers of this job, he had known the details earlier.

Arcuse looked over at his plagued friend, who merely shrugged, as if to say I don’t know any more than you do.

The final stragglers left the Great Hall in a ragged group. With no more excuse to stay without directly asking the younger Allo’et what he was waiting for, the deadly pair turned to follow the last hunters out...

Kane gulped down the contents of his flask, the burning sensation dropping to the bottom of his stomach. He hoped for once he hadn't taken too much relaxant. From the corner of one sleepy eye he saw the form of a Rattataki woman pushing her way through towards him. He turned his head back and tried to look like he was searching for something. She stood right behind him, arms crossed, not very welcoming at all. He finally turned, the glare he was given reminded him of stories he'd heard about Asajj Ventress. Of all the creatures in the galaxy he'd rather enjoy meeting a blood carver over a Rattataki. She wore a plain jump suit, bald pale white skin. She reminded him of a ghost rather than an actual being.
"Out of my way."
He moved off to the side, she picked up a piece of fruit, bought it and walked off. He shook his head, and walked off in the direction of the space port docks. Not too hurried, he took a glance around him, it wasn't exactly something to call home about. Sitting a slight ways away from the dock was a guard arguing with what looked like a wingless giant bug demanding to know where his ship had gone. The guard on duty was absolutely terrified, although he didn't exactly feel sympathy for either one of them.
He took a few steps out, talked with the other guard not being yelled at and found himself in front of a fairly good looking slightly beat up Imperial lander.
"May I speak with you for a moment sir? I'd like to know if you're taking on a co-pilot?"
The figure behind him was almost entirely humanoid, as far as he could tell anyway. The right side of the woman's face was completely covered, a thin metal plate that looked like it had been welded on from a certain angle and from another it wasn't giving out any secrets as to how it stayed on. He popped the door, and took a short step in.
"Sorry to be asking you but my ride just lost his ship,"she pointed toward the bug for a moment ,"I need to get off this planet, no matter what, I'll even pay you if I have to. Just please let me come along!"
"Lady, if you can fly this thing, I ain't stopping you."
She smiled innocently and walked in with him, shutting the door behind her. He let her take off, gulping down a large swig of relaxant. He hated space travel, just hated it. Other than that, there was this nagging feeling he should have asked a few more questions. At least she wasn't kidding about being a pilot. He'd probably wake up tied up, thrown to a back corner of the ship with his luck though.

Kinda quiet, too bad, we were really getting it going finally

Yeah, it's really a pity, the threads on this site keep dying, and with Scifi and Yautja banned...

Sorry, but as the man once said: 

"He who breaks the law, goes back to the house of pain."

Seriously, though.  The Forum Rules are there for a reason. 

http://www.bobafett.com/boards/misc.php?action=rules

Don't tell me SciFi is banned again!!! What reason is it this time? By the way guys I'm still intrested in this thread. I just don't have enough time to write stuff these days.

Banned for multiple reasons, and thanks Jodo

Gojan we need you to join in... please :D

I'll write something offline and post on the weekend.

I think the problem is that people are wiating for a GM figure to step in and make something happen. Once Mel posts things may get better.

Kar'bil wasn't listening as his elders spoke to the motley bunch of bounty hunters. Kar'bil was disapointed in the turn out, there were a lot of scavenges looking for money but amongst them were a scattering of professional bounty hunters.

Kar'bil spotted the Ubese looking in his direction, at least he assumed he was, as Kar'bil couldn't seen through the hunter's dark visage. Next to the Ubese stood another humanoid, his face covered with a surgical mask. Kar'bil had heard of this one, he was Sathik. Kar'bil took a step back as the two turned to leave. Kar'bil suddenly realised that the speeches were over.

With only a moments hesitation, Kar'bil approached the two hunters. "May I speak with you for a moment?" He asked.

The Ubese turned with a grace that belayed his build. His voice was like dry gravel as he spoke. "Be quick about it."

"As you know I am Kar'bil. I want to find my finacee, I have all the skills I need in battle. However I'm not familiar with intergalactic... matters." Kar'bil told, he gaged the others reactions but was unable to read any from either hunter.

"I wish to hunt with you. Know that I do not need nor want a cut of the bounty, you may keep it to yourselves but please consider my assistance." Kar'bil waited a moment to see what the answer would be.

Kane opened his eyes toward the silent gray ceiling.
"You know what just occured to me? You're flying around with no idea where we're going."
"Where are we going then?"
He shrugged and stood up, walking toward the controls.
"First of all, I'd like to know your name miss."
"Tanuka."
He vaguely smiled, tapped the metal part of her face with his index, and quietly hit the sensor jammer he'd had installed a while back.
"We're on a mission to save a Twi'lek bride...from Hutts of all things. Most of the galaxy's bounty hunters have gone after her. If we do get anywhere I'll split the four million credits with you. Other than that, I'd like to think about a plan of action."
"Don't touch my face again..."
He sighed.
"By the way, we're going to Nal Hutta, once you've set the navicomputer flipped the only red switch. If we ever make it into hyperspace I"ll show you to your room."
He picked up her bag and walked out of the cabin. After stowing it in one of the compartments with his flask and then pulling a medium sized box off the wall and pushing it into the cabin with his foot. Unfortunately, he had nothing to do besides that.
"Where are you from? I'm from a small moon in the inner core myself." Kane
"Treshna-6"
He poked his head in to the cabin.
"Where's that?"
She looked at him with one sand colored eye, the other side of her face now covered with her hair.
"A long way off from your small moon in the inner core. Think of a desert planet far worse than Tatooine and where the sun's light is few and far between."
Slowly, he moved back into the cabin. He always enjoyed watching the star lines when a ship jumped into hyperspace. Although the moment was spoiled by the bad vibe flowing around the room.

The galaxy is vast, and much of it is very, very dark.

Arcuse and Sathik were bounty hunters, yet above that, they were friends, and they had marched and clawed through ways murky black, blood-ridden, hazed of muck and filth, stained with sin, and they had fought and killed and survived.

And they planned to continue doing just that.

On hearing Kar'bil's proposal, the two headstrong and lethal hunters cast each other a glance, and then looked back to the armed, determined albeit unsure, azure twi'lek with careful scrutiny.

It wasn't unusual for Arcuse and Sathik to work with others, and a pair of free extra gun hands with a head on his shoulders wasn't entirely unwelcome, still, they both knew the benefits and risks the young twi'lek heir offered.

"We don't make it a habit to work with amateurs." Sathik said bluntly, the last word ran like venom from his mouth.

"This job will be dangerous, and anyone could die," Arcuse warned coldly in his low, grating voice, "Do you think you can handle it?"

"I can hold my own," Kar'bil replied, "and what I don't know I will learn, and with you---"

"Do you think you can handle us?" Sathik gave a questioning look with a malicious glint in his abyssal black eyes.

"...I..." Kar'bil straightened.

Without waiting for him to finish, Sathik crossed his arms with a shrug of "why not?" and looked away.

Sathik alerted his partner casually, "If he gets annoying, I'm going to shoot him."

"You can't kill him, Sathik, he's the Allo'et clan heir," Arcuse rasped without emotion.

"I didn't say I was going to kill him." Sathik explained as the two hunters began to walk out of the now near empty main hall.

The dark haired killer turned to look behind him at Kar'bil, "Hey, Blue, you coming?"

The great hall emptied with surprising speed; the hundreds of hunters, now officially on the hunt, squeezed themselves through the great double doors, nearly trampling the Twi'lek guards when they swung the portals open. Vorn was among them- staying behind the mob would draw unwanted attention to him- but he stayed toward the back, his shuffling gait too slow to match the most eager of the hunters as they sped out of the palace.

He appeared to be looking down at his feet as he moved, but in actuality Vorn's eyes were darting all around the room as indiscreetly as possible. All the youngest, the "newbies", they were called, were already out of the room, but the more experienced hunters knew there was no need for such a rush, and were lingering behind the mob. Vorn caught sight of an interesting pair, one wearing an Ubese enviro suit and the other in all black, talking with Kar'bil as they walked out together. That's right, take blue boy out of my hair for now. I'll be seeing him later, and more than likely the two of you with him. He didn't much like the looks of them- they were obviously among the more seasoned of the hunters, and that could pose a problem- but as far as he was concerned there was nothing he couldn't handle. A pair of minor inconveniences is all they truly were.

His eyes darted again, picking out a few faces he had seen around the galactic underworld: Freeda, a rodian who had tagged a famous smuggler, purely by accident in Vorn's opinion; the Quellik twins, a pair of Gotal brothers who had been around for awhile, but were still nothing special; Reena Narb-

Vorn tripped over his own feet, stumbling for a moment before falling face-first to the palace's marble floors. One of the guards moved over to help him up, but the man shrugged him away with a snarl, pulling himself up and shambled along at a faster rate. Had he been under any other disguise, that fall could have given him away, but fortune favored him this time: nothing unusual about a dirty drunk stumbling around. Dumb luck. Not his style.

He chanced another glance behind him: that was Reena Narb, no doubt about it. Her lightsaber hung on her belt and glinted in the palace's artificial light, drawing his glare almost maddeningly. He forced himself to turn forward again, and branched off to follow a crew of Weequay hunters moving to a different docking bay. Staying far enough behind, he was able to duck down an abandoned corridor with no one at all to observe him.

He let his heart slow and took a deep breath. Reena Narb.

When his employer had given him the nickname Vorn, the crime lord had no idea how fitting the comparison was. The idea was that it compared the man to a Vornskyr: stealthy, moving in the shadows, striking hard and fast without the prey even noticing. It seemed as though he couldn't be surprised: any twist of events, he had a plan for it, one that generally led to even bigger and brighter results than the original would have. All this was true, and Vorn prided himself on it all. There was, however, one thing his employer had not known that made the comparison a perfect fit:

All vornskyrs were known to have an instinctual hatred of Jedi.

Vorn couldn't really say what it was about them that he hated so much. He wasn't out for revenge; no Jedi had ever done anything to him. Though he was never admit it, it came down to pride. he had trained, and he had worked, trying for years to become the best that he could possibly be. He honestly believed that he had accomplished that: when it came to skill in his trade, no one was superior. he was the best he could ever be, and that made him one of the deadliest sentients in the galaxy. The problem was, he could still never be as good as a Jedi.

He's come to this realization a few years ago, building on all he had ever heard about Darth Vader. He could kill a man without touching him. He could cause pain with a glance, stories said; he could destroy planets with his mind, he could become invisible, he could kill the Emperor if he wanted to. It was obvious that these stories were not all true, but they had to based in something. It all fit with the documented evidence of the Jedi of the Old Republic. The Jedi were special, and Vorn refused to accept that.

Why should they be special? Why should they be able to do instantly things that he cold never dream of doing? he ahd the ambition, the drive, the years of experience, but they still ruled everything. It just wasn't fair.

As soon as he could get away from home, he went into Jedi hunting. The Purge was just about over by then, but he'd still been on a crew that had gotten a few kills before it was commonly accepted that the Jedi were wiped out. Only then was he satisfied: finally, he thought, those willing to work for power will get it. No more automatic advantages. I'm number one again.

This view of his was dashed when he first learned about Reena Narb. There were those who doubted whether she actually had any powers, who thought that she'd just taken a Jedi's lightsaber and proclaimed herself an illegitimate Jedi heir, but Vorn wasn't willing to take that chance. If there was even the slightest chance that she could be a Jedi, she needed to die.

He'd been monitoring her actions for years now. Every time she tagged a bounty it went in his memory banks, hoping he could determine her position so he could go in for the kill. She proved to be a tricky one, though: every time he got a fix on her position, she wouldn't be heard from again until days later, and then she'd appear on the opposite side of the galaxy. It was maddening: there was no rhyme or reason to her actions. Nothing she did made sense, nothing seemed logical. It was as though she followed a higher path, one he couldn't see, and that infuriated him even more. He would be the one to bring her down, if he did nothing else in his life.

And now she was here, on this hunt. He had seen her , only paces away, in her bronze battle armor, infernal lightsaber glistening from her belt. it was all he could do to stop himself from flinging himself on her and cutting her throat. No, time for that later, after this part of the job is done. Work first, pleasure later.

He glanced around again; no one was anywhere near his little alcove in the little-traveled portion of the palace. That's the trouble with grandiose buildings; you can't possibly use it all. Plenty of space for a little fly on the wall to hide.

He unhooked his blaster rifle from his belt brought it up to his chest. Peering intently at it, he found what he was looking for: a little latch on the sight, something no other rifle in the galaxy had, as far as he knew. He flipped it, flipped the identical ones on the barrel and the grip, and the gun split along the middle. He knelt down and opened it up: rather than the gas chamber and powerpack one would expect to find, inside this weapon there were multiple objects of curiosity, each one tiny and non-descript. He took out a nozzle to a spray bottle and fixed it on the flask he wore on his hip. He spritzed once, twice, three times, all over himself, a chemical that completely eliminated the musky alcohol scent that had been part of his disguise. He picked out a pair of pliers and a box of common electrical components, sticking them in the pockets of his armored uniform.

Finally he drew a knife and dart gun, emptying the shell of the rifle. He didn't like using the weapons; they didn't show all the skill he had so carefully built up. But if he had to if he had to: if his job was about to go the wrong way, he had to fix it, even if it wasn't exactly graceful. Function over aesthetics, of course, but it was always nice to have a little flourish whenever possible.

Armed only with this equipment, he sneaked off down the abandoned corridors of the palace, working his way toward his objective. This was the part he disliked the most: the waiting. It was all necessary, of course, but it didn't mean he had to like it. He would wait a few hours until things quieted down and all the bounty hunters left. No need to muck things up with extra variables.

Huddled in the shadows of a vast columned hallway, he sat perfectly still, listening to the distant sounds of conversation and of starships taking off for their own quarries. He'd be joining them soon enough. For now, he stared intently at the security checkpoint a hundred meters or so before him.

Step two, get into position. Objective complete.

"I want you to drop us out of hyperspace about half the way there."
"Why?"
"You'll see...By the way you might as well go and find your room. It'll be the second bunk from the door on the right side."
Kane reset the navcomputer, of all the things he'd done so far in his lifetime he'd never joined any group for help, although for once it involved Hutts. The rules had just changed.
"At this point, I'm not surprised all this junk ship had was bunks hanging off the walls."
He yelled back out of the cabin.
"Yup, but if you want to I'm sure the cage is nice and comfortable instead."
Kane finished up, got to his feet, and fell to the floor. His arm had started burning, black with a red outline tatoo marks up to his elbow. And he couldn't control the convulsions of his arm, he even tried holding it down with his left but it just kept moving. He kept his mouth shut, trying not to yell, and then it was over after two minutes of pure torture. Like it had never happened at all.
Kane laid there, out of breath. It felt like he was going to die.

The transport ship Twilight's Edge exited hyperspace over Nal Hutta, the Glorious Jewel of Hutt Space.  While most of the sentients aboard the rusted vessel gathered their belongs, grateful for an end to the long journey, the entity waited in the back of the ship.  Several bounty hunters, apparent by their weapons and cocky demeanor, were aboard the ship as well; several of many who could not afford their own vessels, hoping that this bounty would be their big break. 
Such individuals were not above cooperation for a mutual benefit; in fact, these ones had already conspired and decided together, that leveling the playing field might increase their chances. 
"Landing on Nar Shadda, port H-234." a voice in broken Huttese murmured through the ancient comm system. 
One of the bounty hunters, a hefty individual clad in a pilot's jumpsuit and carrying a large blaster carbine at his side, stood up from his seat, turning to face the entity sitting alone in the back quarter of the ship.  Several other hunters, a variety of alien species and weaponry, did the same, following behind the large human who was now approaching the entity.
He halted two meters away, a smug grin across his face, as the nine other hunters took up positions around the entity. 
"This isn't your stop, buddy." he said, crouching down to see the face underneath the wide-brimmed hat.  He was noticeably suprised at the unnatural darkness surrounding the entity's head, devoid of any visible features, yet maintained his composure. "In fact, you're going to stay on this shuttle, and you are going back to Ryloth.  You understand where I'm coming from?"
His fellow hunters pulled out their weapons.
"This is our bounty." the large man growled.  "And we don't need any more kriffin hunters making things difficult for us.  If you try to get off this ship, we will kill you.  Understand?"
The entity made no motion.
"Krif you, I'm kriffin serious!" he yelled. "Kriffin answer me!"
The large man reached out to grab the wide-brimmed hat, but was quickly met by the clasp of a cold metal hand across his face, pushing him back into another hunter and lifting him off the ground.  The entity had sat up, and towered above the hunters around him.  Underneath the hat, they could barely make out the glimmer of two blue droid eyes, before the entity blew the large mans head apart.
The ensuing spray of blood and brain matter was enough distraction for the entity to reach into his trenchcoat with his free arm, pulling out a long, heavily modified Enforcer slugthrower. 
The other hunters began firing, as the entity threw the shattered body of the large man into the nearest hunter.  In the same second, he reached out with the Enforcer to whip the face of a Quarren hunter, fast enough to send him flying backwards and seperating a face tentacle in a spray of blood. 
The bounty hunters continued firing, as the rest of the ships passengers cowered beneath their seats, but the entity did not appear to be taking any critical blows.  His trenchcoat was peppered with holes...but only along the edges, as he quickly moved to dodge the incoming shots. 
The entity chambered a clip from his trenchcoat pocket, and quickly cleared the distance between himself and another hunter, a human with black hair and startlingly blue eyes.  He came up from beneath, his trenchcoat flaring out behind him, and pressed the Enforcer underneath the human's chin.  He pulled the trigger, and the explosive nova of light temporarily blinded the rest of the hunters, in which time he had slain two more with focused blasts to the head, before the human's headless corpse had hit the ground.
The surviving hunters had enough brains to at least dive for cover; though one Devaronian was fatally slow.  He could only watch in abject terror as the Enforcer first took his arm, then his head, in a shower of blood that elected screams from the cowering passengers.  A Twi'lek lifted a Heavy repeater up over an overturned table, covering the back of the transport in a wave of blasterfire.
The entity moved quickly, running up alongside the wall, and then on the wall, as the blasterfire trailed behind him.  With a quick flip off of the ceiling, he landed on the edge of the table, and grasped the Twi'lek's head, forcibly twisting it from his neck.
Another hunter stood up, preparing to fire a Tenloss distruptor, a blast sure to vaporize any opponent, despite their skills. The entity used the Twi'lek's corpse as a shield, watching as the tenloss blast vaporized the body right out of his hand.  Another hunter prepared to throw a frag grenade, but was intercepted by a trio of razor-thin flechettes that tore his face apart.  The grenade exploded in his hand before he hit the ground, tearing bolted seats from the ground and imbedding flak into unfortunate passengers. 
A tenloss blast burned the air across the entity's back, fatally missing his target as the entity put another explosive round through his head. 
The last hunter turned to run, as if he could somehow escape aboard the cramped vessel, while the entity slowly closed the gap.
  Desperate, the hunter grabbed a nearby Bothan and pulled his blaster to the passengers head, threatening to blow his head off if the entity came one step closer.
The entity kept walking, slowly and resoutely, his Enforcer sheathed inside his trenchcoat speckled with blaster holes and dripping blood. The last hunter pleaded for his life, apologizing frantically, praying to the Force that his life might be spared.  The entity kept walking. 

"Landing complete.  Welcome to Nar Shadda."

The entity stopped.  He turned around, and grabbed the locked crate he carried with him, hoisting it onto his shoulder with one hand.  The passengers slowly came out from their hiding, and the last hunter could only stare in awe as the entity brushed past him, indifferent to the conflict that had taken place before. 
The entity was the first to disembark, exiting the ship into the busy streets of Nar Shadda, walking into the darkness with the crate upon his shoulder.

A quick sketch of my bounty hunter: : D

He woke up sometime later, his arm still pulsating a little. About then he noticed a Geonosian and a Kel Dor carrying him through an airlock on a stretcher. They'd made it it would seem, a little ways out of Kamino's gravity.
"Feel lucky I'm bilingual, they let the geonosian pilot. I had to talk him into believing this was the right ship."
"Tanuka...I'll talk with you later."
He collasped again.
By the time Kane woke up, they'd landed on Nal Hutta, and from his vantage point all he could see was the Kel Dor argueing with some human.
"It's time for you to wake up, or we're leaving you behind."
Kane looked up into the tan bony figure of what looked to be a Blood Carver. Half guessing he got to his feet from the pallet they'd laid him on and walked toward the Kel Dor with the bugs behind him.
"I'm sorry for the delay, but, there was an accident on one of the nearby shuttles. We just got done cleaning it up. Anyway, welcome to Nal Hutta I suppose."
And with that the official went on his way. The Kel Dor pointed to the Geonosian standing behind Tanuka who nodded and walked into the hold of the ship.
"Out of the six of us, you're the most likely to go unnoticed Kane, take your new friend and try to find a lead."
"Before I go, where's the great green one at?"
A verpine stepped out from the hold. Kane tossed a credit chip to him and walked out, Tanuka right behind.
"Who are those guys?"
"Well; Tal Rith was the Kel Dor, Glith is a Verpine, Te'dac is a Geonosian, and Moa is a Blood Carver. I met them playing a game of sabaac a few years back, I lost my ship to them in the end. Anyway, it turned out we were all after the same bounty and in the end we all lost it to Boba Fett."
Tanuka sidestepped a passing family of Rodians. He had to get by a Hutt.
"So, after that we all went back to the local cantina and that's where we decided to run the next big job together. I'm hoping to get my cruiser back this time."
Kane accidentally walked into a tall being, with glowing blue eyes, cloak, and wide rimmed hat. Kane looked up, and swallowed.

The entity stopped. 
Kane quickly apologized.  "Sorry...excuse me sir."
He and Tanuka tried to step around, but the entity moved again to block their path, his bloodied trenchcoat fanning out behind him with the wind.
"Is there a problem, sir?" Tanuka asked, as her arm slowly moved towards the blaster at her hip.  Kane tensed, preparing for a confrontation.
The entity reached into his trenchcoat.  Kane pulled out his blaster pistol, but the entity put out his other hand, gesturing that he was not attacking the two bounty hunters. The entity pulled out a small, grey box with a tiny keypad attached by a frayed cord.  He quickly typed in a message, and held it out for Kane and Tanuka to hear.
"You are...Hunters, yes?" the tiny box crackled.
Kane looked at Tanuka, and turned to relpy. "I guess you could call us that.  What's it to you?"
The entity typed again. "I saw you on...Ryloth--you are after same--Bounty, yes?"
Kane thought back to the day before, stuggling to recall the faces in the crowd...and remembered. "Yeah, I saw you too." 
"Perhaps it might be---to our benefit---for our parties to cooperate in this hunt." The entity typed.
Kane moved out of the way to advoid a drunken Weequay, who was stumbling down the walkway.  The entity did not budge, and the Weequay brushed past his arm roughly, spilling gin across the entity's trenchcoat. 
The entity's arm moved faster than Kane could follow, and connected with the Weequay, sinking into his face for one terrible millisecond. The alien went flying backwards, a trail of blood imposed against the Huttese sky, and landed several yards away, his neck twisting with a sickening noise that echoed down the hallway.  He did not get up.
After a long pause, Kane finally replied.  "What could you offer us?  Why should we join forces with you?"
The entity typed again. "I trust that was a signifigant--demonstration--of my abilities.  Believe me...I am capable of far more.  Should you agree, I will lend my--services--...towards meeting our common...goal. Should you refuse, I would have no choice...but to kill you.
Decide."

Kane didn't quite know what to say, he wasn't exactly the person to ask. His arm had seemingly drawn on its own, before he could think about doing anything it had just happened along with that same burning sensation up and down his arm. no markings though. He put the sheller away.
"Well...give me a minute."
Kane pulled a medium sized handheld from his pocket and typed out 'class 5, 6708' and the answer he got back,'AAA'
(acknowledged, agreed, accepted=AAA)
The figure typed out 'your ship is where?'
He poined to the specialty cruiser, whatever it was headed off in that direction. He stood there for a minute, and then proceeded to look the other way.
"Any idea what just happened?" Tanuka
"Not really, but that thing reminded me of something I've heard about. But it couldn't be the same thing I don't think, no abusively large canon poking out of his body."
"Right...that sure didn't help."
He nodded, hoping he hadn't made the biggest mistake since the Deathstar. And that's when he felt the cold end of a blaster barrel up against his back.
"Long time no see Kane, remember me?"
"How could I forget about you, Shen the Hailfire, Imperial demolitions expert. What a shame to be seeing you again."
The barrel shifted slightly, Tanuka not paying attention trying to look through a dirty shop window.
"I don't do that anymore, I'm now another scum of a bounty hunter, ready to raise my chances by killing you."
"Oh happy day, I couldn't imagine a more wonderful thing."
Shen pulled the blaster back.
"I think I'll keep you alive long enough for you to watch me get the bounty single handed. I'll see you and your metal faced mate later."
He sighed, now all he needed was a Boba Fett in the mix. Shen walking off, leaving a wierd vibe in his wake.

The entity approached the specialty cruiser, carrying the large metal chest upon his shoulder once more. 
Moa was the first one to notice the approaching figure, superimposed against the distant Huttese sun, trenchcoat flaring out with the heavy winds blowing across the landing dock.
The Blood Carver turned from the doorway, slowly walking down the deck while seemingly occupied with cleaning a hydrospanner.  The entity reached into his trenchcoat with his free hand, and the Blood Carver responded quickly, bringing a blaster pistol to bear on the entity.
The entity pulled out the grey box, though Moa did not lower his weapon.
"Where do you think you're going, stranger?" he asked, gripping the blaster tightly.
The entity slowly came to a stop, lowering the heavy crate to the ground, and punched a series of characters into the keypad.
"I am--part of this operation now." the ancient speaker whispered.
"Over my dead body." Moa responded.  Tal Rith and Te'dac had noticed the situation, and were now slowly approaching out of the doorway with weapons in hand. 
"Normally I would be happy---to oblige." the entity typed.  "In this circumstance however-----you will either allow me to join your hunt---or I will kill you where you stand."
"Is that a threat?" Moa replied.  Tal Rith and Te'dac trained their blaster rifles on the entity.  "We don't take those lightly here."
"Yes---it is a threat.  Stand aside."
Moa stopped to think. There were thick bloodstains on the entity's trenchcoat...blood that did not appear to belong to him.  obviously a capable fighter...but can we trust him?
"I warn you---I am more than capable of---carrying out my threats." The entity typed. "There is no need to fight---your comrades have already agreed to let me join your venture."
The Blood Carver slowly lowered his weapon.  "I suppose we can take another hunter...as long as you pull your weight." 
"That won't---be a problem."  The entity reached down with one arm and hoisted the chest back upon his shoulder.  He slowly trode up the walkway, the wind carrying his trenchcoat out behind him.
Moa and his comrades slowly turned to watch the entity board the vessel. 
Tal Rith yelled out behind him.  "What is your name?"
The entity stopped on the walkway, pausing for a minute, as if he was somehow remembering...recalling that concept of individuality and humanity that had been lost throughout countless years. 
"You may call me---HUN-89."

Kane made it back in time to get the look from a few of the crew. They didn't quite know what to say about their new "partner". Luckily all he had to deal with was  Tal Rith and Glith who weren't exactly happy with him, not that they trusted anyone either. Tanuka was busy playing cards with Te'Dac, the both of them chatting in Geonosian. She was the first humanoid he knew who could speak it although it probably had something to with her metal plate.
"Kane, go and see if you can get any leads...take Hun-89 with you this time."
He nodded to Moa and walked down the loading ramp, Hun just then getting up from his spot in the corner. On the way out, he noticed some words typed out. 'I might know where to go' He let the hulk lead the way jogging a little to keep up.
(I'm just trying to keep this going, I didn't have much to write.)

(I've got a post coming soon, just waiting for Mel to get back to me...you'll see why. This message will be replaced with an actual post eventually.)

yeah ive got a post on it's way aswell. Dont get too deep without me guys. ive been so busy.... hope u understand.

(Maltese, you're going to have to take my character with you for a while...I'm going to Mexico on a missions trip for two weeks.  Don't do anything too out of character with him, okay? ;)

I won't be posting anything here for the next two weeks anyway.

Kar'bil sat in the loading bay of Arcuse's ship, he'd give the two bounty hunters the co-ordinates to the Hutt's suspected hideout. But now Kar'bil was happy to be by himself. He sat cleaning his weapons although he knew that they were already in perfect order. He did it to keep his mind clear. He didn't want to think of the chaos that would break out if his betrothed were to die.

He sighed and lifted his head as he saw Sathik moving towards him. "You know how to use those?" Sathik asked.

Kar'bil snorted. "No, I wear them for decoration."

A smile tugged at Sathik's eyes. "Well they are pretty accessories."

Kar'bil shook his head with a smirk. "Yeah I always thought gun-metal grey went with my eyes."

Sathik chuckled. "Finally, someone with a sense of humour."

Kar'bil let the smile fall from his face as he turned serious. "How far away are we from our destination?"

Sathik scrated his masked chin. "Dunno, you'd have to ask Arcuse."

Kar'bil nodded and stood up.

"I wouldn't bother him at the moment, I've already annoyed him enough with: Are we there yet?" Sathik grinned.

"I see." Kar'bil said as he sat back down. "So why do you were a surgeon's mask?"

Sathik blinked in surprise. He thought everyone knew. "I'm a walking disease, didn't you know?"

Kar'bil leant back, "No I didn't."

"I see." Replied Sathik. "Perhaps I should go back to the cockpit then."

Kar'bil watched him go and suddenly wondered how wise he'd been to join the pair of bounty hunters.

Sadask'ha, third largest city on Nal Hutta...as vile and depraved a locale as anywhere else in Hutt space.  Smog blanketed the darkening sky, reflecting the setting sun dimly through clouds of dense pollution.  In the distance, seperated from the slums and seedy establishments that made up most of the town, stood the Hutt palace of clan Gherilijic, a tall, bloated spire that dwarfed every building around for miles. 
HUN-89 walked quickly through the cantina district, the third level of an enormous series of commercial platforms alongside the Hutt palace, the liveliest place in the entire city...itself being situated well above the slums and apartments below, with the starport barely visible in the distance. 
This was one of the seedier levels, where the gangs made their turf, where drunken aliens stumbled down the alleys and out of sight, and the dim lights advertising drinks and illicit services flickered in the distance.
Kane followed a few paces behind the towering entity...occasionally moving to avoid passing drunks and steering clear of the gangbangers leaning against the graffitied walls.  I hope he knows where he's doing, he thought to himself, just as HUN stopped in front of one of the larger cantinas; a large, three story bar with a flashing holosign "Kubba's Palace".  HUN  stepped through the swinging front door, ducking his head to fit through the entryway, while Kane quickly followed.

Sathik leaned against the inside of the entry to the cockpit, and crossed his arms, watching Arcuse at the controls of the Morbis Fere. Sathik exhaled, took down the cloth mask from his face to hang loosely around his neck and absentmindedly chewed off the loose fibers on the edge of his worn, armored black glove. The orphaned killer in front of Sathik adjusted controls with practiced fluidity.  The ship had become an extension of himself, and another powerful weapon in the hunters’ familiar arsenal.
       
“How’s our guest?” Arcuse asked without looking behind him, as he finished up the routine logistic and maintenance checks of the complex and severely lethal ship.

Sathik just laughed, a slow, horribly sadistic laugh.

“He didn’t know who I was. I had half a mind to be offended.” The black-haired killer finally elaborated as he absentmindedly scratched the faint scar under his left eye. The scar was a dim reminder from a long and bloody battle in a battledome where his own knife had been dragged along the side of his face. Sathik pulled the dark faded black of his mask up under his darker eyes, “So, what’s the plan? Do you want me to put his highness in the holding cell now or later?”

“Not yet,”Arcuse assured.

It wasn’t far too long until the Morbis Fere arrived on Nal Hutta.

The motion activated lights in the hangar bay added little illumination as they activated in the wake of the three hunters as the disembarked from the deadly Skipray.

Sathik was armed heavily with his shotgun balanced over his shoulder, and was talking animatedly to the hooded Twi’lek next to him, “Yeah, and it would have been funny as hell for the five seconds I was alive.”

Kar’bil couldn’t help but laugh. The Twi’lek was outfitted in a black hooded cloak to hide his face. It seemed only moments ago Sathik was telling him to hold still as he drew artificial tattoos on his face and head, and threatening to draw humiliating obscenities if he didn’t. stay. still. It was important that no one on Nal Hutta would be able to identify the noble blooded Twi’lek. One captured clan heir was bad enough.

Arcuse walked ahead of the two toward the ominous hangar door ahead. Also armed and on edge, it was clear that the hunt had begun.

The azure-skinned Twi’lek was beginning to feel more “at ease” around the professional killers. The trip through hyperspace had been nerve wracking as he found himself entirely at the mercy of two very unmerciful beings. It was a learning experience he would not forget.

“What was that?!” Kar’bil demanded in outrage, holding his bleeding nose as he picked himself up off the metal grating of the ship.

“A surprise attack.” Sathik said clearly.

“And how fair is that!” Kar’bil asked seething with anger at the injustice.

“I don’t know,” Sathik shrugged and cracked his knuckles, “Ask the other guy that when you’re dead.”

Kar’bil stared thoughtfully as the lesson sank in. He was about to enter a world ruled by no rules. A world where the first one to pull the trigger was the one who lived. A world Sathik and Arcuse had learned by heart, and if he was smart–and lucky–he would live. Kar’bil had lived his life in a world ruled by law, order, and etiquette, but he learned the ways of this new world quickly.   
“There are other ways to teach someone to fight dirty,” Kar’bil couldn’t help but point out, wiping his face with his arm, and standing a little straighter.

“I’m not much of a teacher,” Sathik shook his head with a slight laugh, still wearing a sadistic grin—which very quickly disappeared as Kar’bil suddenly launched out a strike of his own and caught the dark-haired humanoid in the side of the head. Sathik cried out in pain, doubled over in absolute agony from the blow, and sucked in air between his clenched teeth.

“Are you alright?” Kar’bil panicked, thinking he had hit the bounty hunter too hard, and stepped forward to help him. Kar’bil flew back with a loud crack as Sathik sucker punched him in the jaw, and broke into laughter as he sat stunned on the ground.               

And things with Arcuse had been...different.

Kar’bil watched in awe and horror as Arcuse systematically took apart and put back together his favored E-11 so quickly it was hard to follow the movement of his arms and hands, while he was  looking off to the side, completing the process by feel alone.

“What does he do? Sleep with that thing?”  Kar’bil leaned over to Sathik in a frightened whisper.

“He would if he slept.” Sathik stated.

Kar’bil stepped into the filthy Nal Hutta street behind the two bounty hunters. Across the way was a flashy dive called “Kubba’s Palace”. He wasn’t exactly sure why they were here and he had become increasingly more and more anxious once they had reached planetside.
                                       
The three hunters entered the loud cantina that was hazy from assorted smells from the fumes of alcohol, spice, and sweat. At first it had been impossible to notice the bleached and transparent wraith of a human girl sitting alone at a metal blaster scarred table, and yet it was somehow impossible that she could have been missed among the crowd of dirty patrons.    

“Whatever you do, don’t look at her eyes.” Sathik warned Kar’bil in a low voice.

“Hello.” She said in a quiet voice that pierced the very soul. Long pale blonde hair framed a pale face with fair features. Under her almost white eyes were two dark blue spots like paint on a doll’s face.        

“Lady-sai,” Arcuse bowed politely. Sathik crossed his arms and didn’t look at her, watching the potentially dangerous crowd around them, and Kar’bil followed his example.

“I know what you want. Every bounty hunter in here has been thinking all about it.” She said softly. Kar’bil angled his head just to see what she looked like, it was hard to focus his eyes to look at her, he blinked, and suddenly the more he looked at her the more she looked like...

“Tresh’san!” He cried out and stepped forward in shock. How could he not have recognized his betrothan?!

“Sathik!” Arcuse barked out, and his partner quickly and violently grabbed Kar’bil and walked away with him to the other end of cantina. Kar’bil glanced behind him only to see it was not the familiar Twi’lek girl he knew, it was someone else. A strange and yet familiar laughter rang inside his skull.

“What was that?” The azure clan heir asked, not sure whether to be confused, angry, or both.

Sathik ordered two exceptionally potent drinks from the bartender, leaned back to check on Arcuse through the crowd and turned to Kar’bil, “She’s a force sensitive,” he almost spat the word. There were very few of those that Sathik liked, “She can’t levitate or fight to save her life, but she likes to screw with your head.”

“She...looked so much like her...” Kar’bil held the crimson drink in his hand, but didn’t drink it, stil thinking of the one he had left his home world to save.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What does she make you see?” Kar’bil asked curiously and looked up at the hunter.

Sathik gave the Twi’lek a look as though it were painfully obvious, “Your mother.”

The safety switch on Arcuse’s firearm clicked loudly as it was switched off. The lovely force sensitive horror laughed nervously at the sound, and the experienced hunter felt a wave of relief as she ended her subtle assault on his mind. If she wasn’t the perfect informant, he would have killed her long ago. Her powerful mind prevented anyone from seeing or hearing what they were saying, and she could take by force of will any knowledge or memory in those around her.

“The Hutt’s are having their annual party soon. It is very important to the balance of power and the inner workings of the Hutt clan.” She looked Arcuse in the eyes as though his dark visor was completely transparent, “This particular party will be very special, and additional security will be hired later tonight for the occasion.”

They know there will be bounty hunters. Echoed within Arcuse’s mind where no one else would hear it.

“The try-outs will be held in a lower level Nal Hutta Exchange outside of the Gherilijic palace in a few hours. It is a private VIP party for the major Hutt players with a taste for violence before the official festivities and business to begin.”

Lose. The fight.

“It shouldn’t be too hard for someone of your skill to be hired.”

They will not hire someone they can’t handle, and they will make up for the lack of skill in numbers.

“Once you are hired, who knows? Maybe you will get a glimpse of the entertainment.” The pale blonde smiled emptily. Arcuse nodded, stood graciously with a respectful bow and turned to leave. For a moment too long his body paused and was held against his will.

“And what about my payment?” She insisted like a spice user needing a fix, and her voice dragged seductively  “You always  have the loveliest  nightmares.”

You won’t even know I’m inside your head.

“Help yourself,” The orphaned hunter sat across from her like an archaic gunslinger in a duel on a dusty street, and challenged darkly in his rasping voice, “if you can.” The cantina suddenly faded into silent nothingness and was empty for an eternity.

“Damn you.” she half hissed and released her hold of him, pouting like a child denied a particularly precious plaything.

Kane tried calming his mind with a shot of Tonjin. The near freezing deep aquamarine drink cascading down his throat. Arcuse and Sathik moving out of the corner of his eye. Of all the people to walk in. Almost wishing he was in HUN's position, he wouldn't have to deal with vague irrational human emotions. But in the end, Kane'd just have to sit it out. That one arm twitching ever so slightly, the liquid in the glass sloshing against the inner sides.
Any other bounty hunter he knew would be sitting there camly drinking, waiting for a chance for anything. Not that he didn't have the resolve, Kane was just different is all. Sighing he put the glass down, nodding for his bill. Hopefully the price for Tonjin hadn't changed.