RPG - Unrest on Planet Balkest (Page 1 of 4)

Character Sheet

Name: Isodore Mir (Goes by Mir)
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Age: 31
Affiliation: Neutral
Occupation: Arms Dealer
Appearance: 6', thin/average build. Short cut dark brown hair, pale skin. Usually wears black military styled clothing with a blaster-resistant vest.
Weapons: Customized Seski-Mark II High-Velocity Blaster pistol, CBP holdout blaster.
___

Mir sat at a small table in the corner of the Trawler's Gap tavern, awaiting his contact. He had been planetside for two days, and already he could see the storms of a civil war brewing. Mir watched as a heated conversation at the bar escalated into a fist fight, then into a full blown cantina brawl. He sighed and returned his attention to the datapad in front of him, checking the status of his ship's cargo. It was currently docked on Atzerri with three crates of Aratech carbines already onboard, and five crates of Czerka blaster rifles ready to load.

Mir was browsing the various cargo hold cameras of his ship when a plainly dressed woman walked over to his table.

"Mind if I join you?"

Mir shrugged. "By all means." He discretely tucked the datapad under the heavy hooded rain cloak he was wearing. "These fights seem to be happening more and more often."

The woman took the chair, cracking her knuckles after she sat. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"Not exactly."

Name: Lieutenant Rendon Cors
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Age: 34
Appearance: Wears the trademark reflective silver armor of a Sith trooper. Cors is muscular in build and bears the look of a seasoned veteran when his face isn’t obscured by a black visor. He has short black hair, brown eyes, and a jaw line that is almost as intimidating as his military-issued helmet.
Weapons: Blaster Carbine, vibroblade, and a couple frag grenades.

The Sith Empire was a force to be feared throughout the galaxy. Its undying thirst for power and conquest left system after system ravaged and torn by Malak and Revan. The troopers, though often considered expendable by the Lords and Acolytes commanding them, were an appropriate addition to the Empire that posed a threat to the Jedi Knights that had defended the galaxy for thousands of years. Their tactics often proved to be as ruthless and destructive as the dark side itself.

Lieutenant Cors was no exception to this description. A former Republic soldier, the years of the Civil War had hardened him into a strict and efficient leader. He had been offered promotions several times, but Cors preferred commanding small platoons of men he trusted. Plus, most troopers knew that in the Sith army, rising through the ranks could be treacherous since superiors often did not take kindly to failure or disappointment.

Currently Cors had been stationed on a Sith outpost on one of Balkest’s moons. He and three other soldiers made up an away-team to collect supplies and intel planetside. It was expected to be a simple mission.

“Grayner,” said Cors as they strode through the market square. “Who is this contact of yours again?”

Corporal Grayner looked up from his datapad. Cors saw his own helmet reflected back at him in Grayner’s visor creating an endless, black doorway of mirrors.

“It was Meer… Mur, maybe? I forget. But he’s a friend of a friend. We can trust him. Plus he’s got loads of those Czerka rifles and I know you won’t turn those down.”

Cors turned his attention back to the market. Civilians gave the four soldiers an extremely wide berth and several individuals disappeared entirely on seeing who they were. Cors excused his Corporal’s informality. The man had proven himself to the Lieutenant on more than one occasion. Grayner also happened to be right. He knew his commanding officer wouldn’t turn down decent weapons at that price.

Cors glanced behind them to where Davies and Jayce, the former being the only female, were nervously trotting along. The two fresh recruits could barely hold a blaster let alone use it, but Cors knew that they needed the experience. Davies also had a knack for languages, which was invaluable to a group of soldiers who could only speak Basic.

A cautious man himself, Cors, unaware of the approaching Jedi, saw little to worry about venturing into Elderslie. Balkest was about as far as you get away from a hostile planet and the inhabitants seemed docile enough when human-colonist tensions weren’t flaring up.

As if the Force wished to contradict the Lieutenant’s thoughts, Grayner suddenly pointed out some commotion up ahead.

“Sir, look.”

Cors glanced over to where three ruffians had a frightened Kubaz backed up against a wall. The insectivore was just a child by the looks of it.

“Filthy Kubazian piece of fodder!” one of them was saying. “You should have just told you and your family to go back where you came from. The other two humans produced a vibroblade and a stun rod.

“What’s going on here?” demanded Cors in an authoritative tone.

The one who had spoken turned around and his expression fell when he found himself face-to-face with four Sith troopers.

“Uh, we were just talking to our friend here. Right fellas?”

His two companions nodded in agreement. One of them had a solid grip on the Kubaz’s shoulder to keep it from escaping. The creature kept squeaking despairingly clearly just wanting to go home.

“The Kubazian is fairly sure they’re going to kill him, sir.” translated Davies unnecessarily.

“It’s really not our concern Lieutenant,” said Grayner voicing exactly what Cors was thinking. “We wouldn’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”

Name: Genn Ostace
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Age: 48
Affiliation: Jedi
Occupation: Jedi Master
Appearance: Typical Jedi robes, brown cloak included. Shoulder length black hair, black goatee and mustache. Near-constant stern look on his face, though his true personality is quite the opposite.
Weapons: Yellow bladed lightsaber

Genn looked over his data pad once more. He was reading the details of both the Kubaz and the human colonies. He wanted all the information he could get to assist in negotiations. He knows from years of negotiating experience that any and all possible bits of data could prove instrumental.

Jedi Master Ostace is known to the Jedi community as 'The Negotiator'. He has gained this reputation from years of being sent to planets just like Balkest, and solving problems without ever igniting his lightsaber. For a time he would leave his saber behind, for the ultimate test and show of intention. The council put a stop to that when they caught word, ensuring that Genn should use the utmost caution in all endevours.

Genn's Jedi starfighter finally touched down in the ragged star port that Elderslie camp made use of, the auto dock feature disengaged with a click. Gen stuffed the datapad in his cloak while the cockpit shield lifted. He eased out of his ship, and a star port attendant appeared next to him at the top of a step ladder.

"Greetings master Jedi. We've received your preliminary report and have been awaiting your arrival. Accomodations for two star fighters were made however..." The attendant said in a droll, very bored voice as he looked around for a second Jedi.

"No need my friend, i'm sorry I couldn't relay this update ahead, but my apprentice will not be joining me at this time." Genn said as he walked down the step ladder.

"Ah...very well then. Any living accomodations can be requested through me, can I help you with anything else Master Ostace?" The attendant said, stepping down from the little stairs and guiding Genn down.

"No I think i'll be fine for now. If I do, i'll be sure to contact you." Genn said with a smile and nod. The attendant nodded off and walked away. Genn stepped down and his booted foot crunched down onto the grey dust of Balkest, he was instantly jolted with dark energy.

How had he not sensed this before? Had no one noticed this? A very odd dark side pressence was pulsating all around, and he was unprepared. His hand slid off his saber, the odd pressence unnaturally making him go for his weapon. He withdrew his datapad and made note of this planets dark energy, it would have to be investigated further.

For now, Genn walked out of the starport and into the camp, a molty town with the buzz of angry inhabitants. It was as if everyone had just lost alot of credits on a bet, but that animosity hung around at all times. It was clear this wasn't going to be a simple matter of negotiations... something was making these people extra aggressive. Were the Kubaz suffering the same condition?

Before visiting the Kubaz, Genn wanted to see the camp overseer, Trask Heyurk. From what Genn had read, Trask appeared the type of man more worried about the mining operations on the planet than anything else. His greed may have to be satisfied if any negotiations are to be successful.

Genn stopped a passing human, "Excuse me miss, would you mind telling me where I can find Trask Heyurk?"

The woman whipped around, her face barely holding back a light shock as she looked Genn up and down.

"Jedi?" She asked warily.

"Yes, I am Jedi Master Ostace, I'm here to see Trask Heyurk, the overseer? Do you know where I can find him?"

The woman scanned him up and down again, then glanced around quickly as if expecting an attack. She looked back at Genn then pointed to a three floor building a few blocks from the star port.

"Thank you, have a nice day miss." Genn said, and recieved no reply. The woman simply watched as Genn strode down the turbulent streets of Elderslie, a gem of peace among rocks of anger. She had seen the Sith team walking through town earlier, it was clear that Master Genn, had not.

With the toe of her boot, Merlidan kicked the man off the table top. He grunted and turned on her the moment he hit the floor.

Merlidan stood up, “I just love a big strong man who’s not afraid to show it on someone half his size.”

The man seemed to think twice and rolled over and up. He was slammed by a man Merlidan recognized as Pip. “Oh I think it’s time to leave,” she said to Mir. She knew that Pip had one of the worst tempers in the colony.

Mir shook his head, “I’ll stay a bit longer.”

Merlidan shrugged, “Suit yourself.”

Using the back door, Merlidan made it to the alleyway. A street urchin stuck out his hand for anything she might care to give him. “You gotta make it worth my while kid.”

He scratched his dirty mattered locks, “I ‘eard the Sith are here.”

Merlidan raised a brow at that. “Sounds like a load of hog wash to me.”

The urchin shrugged a skinny shoulder. “I never said it was true.”

Merlidan shook her head, “Try the spaceport, someone might drop you a crumb over there.”

The urchin scowled but said no more. Merlidan was making her way to her quarters when her comm chimed. “What is it, Drymes?”

“Order 546 just came in, invoice has been transferred to your terminal and the space monkeys won’t hand over the cargo until you approve payment.” Drymes informed her.

Merlidan let out a sigh, “Fine I’m on my way to the office.”

Mir watched as Merlidan evaded a few drunken punches and slipped out the back door. He promptly checked the the datapad he'd tucked away when the woman sat down. There were two messages: one from his supplier Grimaldus, a Mando ex-mercenary and possibly his best friend. The second was from Corporal Grayner, the customer, informing him of their arrival and confirming the meeting.

"I'll just call you back." Mir tapped the call request icon.
In a few brief moments the scarred image of a hardened, but gleeful Mando Merc appeared on screen. "Su cuy'gar ner'vod!"
"Su'cuy! I hear you've got some nice hardware for me?"
"Indeed I do, and it is indeed. Those new Aratech carbines are top notch, unissued."
"And the rifles?"
"They were arsenal refinished by Czerka and have improved power packs with heavy chambers."
"You have yet to steer me wrong, Grim."
"Hey, it's me. Anyway, your ship is prepped and ready, nav is logged. Should be taking off within the hour."
"Alright thanks, catch you later, vod."
"Ret."

Mir closed the call, slinking his way around the crowd of drunken miscreants and out the back door to the alley. He promptly sent a message to Corporal Greyner, indicating his new location. Mir leaned against the worn duracrete wall of the cantina, and waited.

Cors looked into the shining goggles of the tormented Kubaz. The pitiful creature not only feared for his life, he feared for the livelihood of all his people. Colonization had made this group wary and fearful. It all made the lieutenant’s mouth water.

He turned to the human civilians.

“You can’t do this here,” said Cors.

“Hey! Who do you think—“ started one of the less intelligent ones.

“I said,” repeated Lieutenant Cors. “You can’t do this here. Take it somewhere else.”

It all dawned on them.

“Oh yes, sir!” said the ring leader. “Thank you, Officer!”

“And keep it quiet for Force sake,” added Grayner.

The away team set off again as the three boys dragged away the helpless Kubaz. They were outside the market area now. This less crowded part of the camp had less activity, but just as many suspicious glances.

“The Kubaz should just all be eradicated,” Grayner was saying. “Disgusting creatures. What do you call something that eats filth anyway?”

“Resourceful?” Joyce put in hopefully.

“I don’t recall asking for your opinion, Private,” snapped Grayner.

“Corporal,” said Cors cutting off the banter, not that he minded. “How far is the tavern?”

“Just up this street, sir,” he responded consulting his datapad. “The dealer says he’s in the alleyway now.”

Sure enough, when the four troopers turned the corner, Mir was waiting for them. He was tall, dressed in black and had a smiling, accommodating look on his face.

“Jayce, Davies,” said Cors addressing his privates. “We’ll handle this. Stay by the entrance and alert us if anything unusual arises.”

The two senior troopers marched confidently towards the grinning, pale figure.

“Mur, I presume,” started Grayner.

“Mir actually,” corrected the dealer politely. “And you must be Corporal Grayner.”

“That’s correct,” the trooper responded. “This is Lieutenant Cors, my commanding officer.”

“We’ll take as many of the Czerka blaster rifles as you can spare,” said Cors taking over.

“Skipping negotiations are we?” inquired Mir raising an eyebrow.

“Doesn’t matter,” responded the lieutenant. “It’s a good price as long as they shoot fine. Besides, I can tell you’re too smart to bother.”

“Thanks for the flattery, Lieutenant,” said Mir genuinely thankful for good business.

“I’ll handle the transaction,” said Grayner. “Our ship’s on that slab of durasteel that they’re calling a starport. Can you arrange for the rifles to be on our cargo hold by the time we leave?”

“That’s not a problem,” the dealer assured him. “But I suppose we’re done here. I don’t suppose there’s anything more I can do for you is there?”

Here, Cors took a step closer to Mir so that they were seeing eye to eye. Or rather, eye to visor.

“I have to ask,” he started. “What makes an arms merchant so eager to deal with the Sith?”

“Hey,” said Mir shrugging. “Credits talk, nerf waste walks. Pretty simple if you ask me.”

“Excellent,” said Cors smirking behind his helmet. “Maybe that attitude will encourage you to answer my next question. I need information. Do you know anything at all that might benefit the Sith Empire in regards to Balkest?”

“I’d answer carefully if I were you, Mur,” advised Grayner.

((sorry bro ))

((Sorry for the double post... ))

Unrest on Planet Belkest

Name: Deluin
Species: Kubaz Male
Appearance/description etc.: Cloak and goggles when on surface. Basic garb of the Kubaz. A regular miner in the hive.
Weapons: Mining tools.

Deluin was returning from the miner’s supply, where the Kubaz routinely purchased the things that needed to be brought in from off world. It would have been heresy and imprudent for the off-worlders and their ships to be allowed to dock with in the hive and its mine proper, but they were necessary in these times if they were going to survive. So the Kubaz had let in a few outsiders to do business with the colony. 

He was about half way back to his quarters in the hive with the rest of the miners when Deluin heard the shouts of a Kubaz youngling.  Three ruffians were literally dragging it from the main street. Some official looking guy, who and what, Deluin wasn’t sure, was walking away from the scene. He caught the eye of the official who was sneering with glee. 

It was too much.

Deluin grabbed his vibro-pick, dropping the other few supplies to the ground. He ran after the youngling, following the poor things cries for help. Deluin slammed right into the group of humans, and they fell to the ground. Shocked they let go of the Kubaz Youngling.

“Stay away from US!” He shouted at the men. “ Don’t come any closer!” But, to no avail, as  this was all in Kubazian. The humans let out a roar of contemptuous laughter as they got up from the dirt. The youngling scrambled behind Deluin, still on the ground, terrified and whimpering.

“This beast thinks he can better us!” More laughter. And the one in the middle took the two steps closer to Deluin, and shoved him backwards. “Ha you’re no match, filthy digger.”

While he might not have been able to speak the human’s words, he sure understood them.

“The only use you have,” the man continued, “is to….die.” His companions high fived behind him.

Deluin swung. As he removed his vibro-pick from the skull of the human, he let loose a loud noise. There was brain on Deluin’s goggles, and blood splattered all over the human’s companions. The was a dark pool staining the ground. Deluin swung again, and this time lodged the tool deep into the chest. Blood spurted up from the wound, all over Deluin.

Horrified the  two men, stood there, expressions of shock on their faces.  Finally it connected, and they turned and ran.

Deluin stood there a long moment, his chest heaving in anger and violence. Blood dripped off his face and goggles, only to land back on the body, dead, laying on the ground.  Finally he used his sleeve to wipe some of it off his face and goggles and turned to the youngling behind him.

“ It’s all ok now youngling. It is safe. You are safe.” Sensing the apprehension in the child, he continued on, “I didn’t want to have to kill him. But he would have killed you. He wanted all of Us dead.”  The youngling gave a look, and simple said. “I understand.”

“Lets get you back home.”  With that Deluin offered his hand to the child and it was accepted and so they walked back to the hive with out further incident.

Merlidan threaded her way through the streets with relative ease. She was somewhat surprised when a couple of men went tearing by her screaming bloody murder. Merlidan frowned, deciding that the guys had probably drunk too much and lost a fight.

There were times when Merlidan longed for a quiet day, mainly when she was underground, however in the thick of things it was hard not to get caught up in the chaos.

Strangely the dark fog that seemed to emotionally suppress Merlidan waned as she drew closer to the office. The emotional weight that had been pressing down on her seemed to lift and Merlidan felt a sense of tranquillity that had eluded her since her arrival on Balkest.

Ahead of her she saw a man dressed in the typical robes of a Jedi. Merlidan raised a brow. The Jedi were creatures of the light, could it be that the turmoil of Balkest had become so intense that it was almost a tangible force of its own?

To test the theory, Merlidan moved closer to the Jedi’s presence and strangely enough her mood improved with it.

Name:Ja'tka
Species: Unknown, humanoidish.
Occupation: Bounty hunter/mercenary.
Affiliation: Unemployed, so none
Appearance: Work-pants, chest is covered in Mandalorian armor, dark matte colors, dark dewback-leather jacket. Head is wrapped Tusken style. Black augmentative jaw-piece, causes heavy vocal distortion. Left eyepiece appears to be augmentative.
Weapons: Blaster carbine and pistol, wristblades. Short blue lightsaber, used only as last resort, or cutting tool.

Broken goods. All Ja'tka was, all everyone on this damn rock was.  It certainly wasn't as hot as the dustball on which he had become what he was, but it was, if possible, more desolate. On Tatooine, the sands ruled all. Here, it was less obvious. Booze probably. Ja'tka was trying to get drunk now, as a matter of fact. A short mechanical straw sprung from his jaw-plate(just because he was broken goods didn't mean he had to have a hard time drinking), and he inserted it into the glass of....something. He didn't care much what it was he was drinking, all that mattered was that it was strong. This world for some reason brought back memories. Of heat. Things he didn't want to recall. Perhaps it was his lack of employment, bringing back the hot air, the pain he suffered. He needed an escape from the utter boredom he was suffering.

   Turning a corner he saw a man in robes. Jedi robes. On a whim he dumped out his glass and cast it aside. He had a feeling this man was important. He would follow him, see what was happening.  It seemed escape was here.

Pip eyed the guy with the interesting dress sense. His head was wrapped like a Tusken raiders but he wore the chest plates of a Mandalorian. Either the guy was well traveled or he simply didn’t have any dress sense.

Not that Pip was by any means a slave to fashion. The object of Pip’s interest was not party with the security detail as those guys were busy harassing a skinny Twi’lek waitress. Pip saw that the Tusken Mando was eyeing off someone in one of the booths.

Like a life-sized boulder, Pip placed himself between the Tusken Mando and his possible victim. “Hello friend,” Pip said as he gulped a mouth full of his brew.