Arx Space J-type 327 Nubian Conquest
Hector Von Ricmore sat in the throne room of his personal vessel, the Nubian Conquest. He had chosen to eschew wearing his typical armor until the ship had traveled closer to coruscant. The Zeltron instead wore a custom silk robe ordered from Serenno.
Gathered in front of him was a half dozen individuals recommended by the Envoy office. This adventure was the brainchild of both the Envoy Corps and the Shroud Syndicate. It was unfeasible to eliminate crime entirely from the galaxy but the groups could work to control it and manage their public image.
As such the group had several objectives. The first was to deliver a series of medicinal cures to Spice Addiction to an up and coming Coruscant politician. Noth Fask was a popular Nikto candidate in the Coruscant government. Having refused to bend to the lower level gangs the official had drawn their ire onto her family. Her young daughter had been kidnapped and forcibly injected with a variety of spice and narcotics. The child had been recovered but was suffering the after effects of addiction to those substances.
After delivering the cures the group was scheduled to make several stops. They were to deliver spice to several groups who had agreed not to deal to children and exact retribution upon the gang who had targeted the family of Fask.
This information had been presented to the half dozen individuals gathered in the throne room. The group has the opportunity to socialize and prepare as the Conquest travels to Coruscant.
After the briefing, Ardsie made her way to the nearest wall to chill. She didn’t know anything about interstellar travel, and a ship as opulent as this wasn’t helping her feel at home at all. In fact, she had never even left her homeworld at all until just recently. Deep breaths. Just take deep breaths. She told herself. She hoped the uneasiness would subside once they reached Coruscant, but something told her that the ecumenopolis would be just as jarring to her as space travel when compared to the desolate sands of Jakku that she had walked for over two and a half decades.
She sat down on the cold floor of the Nubian Starship and pulled out one of her blaster pistols to examine and occupy her mind. Like almost everything else in her possession, the pistol had been scavenged from shipwrecks. As she ran her fingers along the barrel, she put on a brave expression while simultaneously hoping someone would come up and speak with her.
Renora had remained silent and unmoving during the briefing, yet attentive nonetheless. Ever the good soldier—former or not—she absorbed the information. The woman then immediately turned her attention to weapon maintenance after having been dismissed.
Her armour—while distinctly Mandalorian—was far from traditional but it hid her features just the same. ‘Layered’ was the word of the day when it came to its design. With all the sharpness and utility of military grade specialization, it made Renora look just as lethal as she was. Between the layers, visible within intentional gaps, spot-embossed carbon fibre-esque material could be seen. Colour wise, she favoured faded greys and muted turquoise, allowing the natural silver of the beskar alloy to act as accent trim.
How long had it been since she had travelled to Coruscant? The former Legionnaire raised a pistol closer for inspection and could almost see the sprawling towers in its reflection. Not that they had arrived, just her memories visualized.
No time for sightseeing, Renora thought to herself. Even within her mental voice she held a tight High Galactic accent. Only the mission matters.
Aisha was resting against the inner hull/wall wherever there was the most people with her arms crossed, her spear blade down and leaning up against the wall beside her. She wore her purple Mandalorian armor with its distinctive red circuit board pattern, her spear, vambrace, and pistol ready to go.
“The Good Doctor” was usually a lot more dressed down and much friendlier - bubbly even - in her corset dress when aboard yachts or at gatherings, but she was on the job and needed to act as such. Given she was hired for protection and escort, she knew she wouldn’t be doing many spices this trip… Perhaps her other skills and knowledge would end up coming into play, though hopefully her past didn’t decide to catch up. Either way, she was prepared.
Juda’s red eyes scanned those in attendance. His ‘crew’ for this mission. Still, his ears itched when he heard one of his favorite words, spice.
Shedding his suit and tie for special occasions, he wore his white and red armor, as twisted by the Alchemist’s touch as the frightening scepter he held in his right hand, but clapped down into his left repeatedly. It was eager to quench its thirst for blood.
Streaking stars in the viewport built his anticipation as they were on the move. Careening towards the possibility of a fresh ‘score’
Sure, those with him were told to deliver whatever they found. Yet, taking a little taste for himself was just as good as any payment. In fact, he could earn more flipping this product for a much larger profit than splitting the reward. Or, he could have Doc Crepitus research and refine it.
Let’s see what happens, he thought to himself as he watched his Zabraki brother, Shimrah, meditating on the type of anger and rage the Vizslan Proconsul admired in those working for him.
Shimrah stood from his meditation, it was something he caught himself doing less and less of these days. Where he use to use his hate and anger to transform himself into a blunt weapon, rationale and logic now dominated his thoughts.
Since becoming Mandalorian on Sundari Station, a full metamorphosis had occurred within him. Gone was the obsessive desire of power for powers sake, now replaced by community, culture and The Way.
He checked his gauntlet, indicators across his armor, jet pack and weapon systems all came back green. He’d be ready to go at a moments notice.
Von Ricmore had called for help, and it was his duty to respond, with both barrels leveled at his objective.
This is The Way.
As Shimrah went over his gear, cross-checking everything, Aisha studied the Zabrak from her little area up against the starship’s hull, taking in every detail of the beskar’s construction. After he finished, the sultry little Zeltron grabbed her spear, flipping it one-eighty vertically so that the blade was pointed upwards, and shuffled walked up to him. She stopped a pace and a half away, continuing to look him up and down slowly.
“I recognize this armor,” she stated flatly, running a finger over the chestplate, “Zxyl was very focused on making sure it was some of his best work. You must be pretty important… or maybe it’s because you’re a Zabrak.”
Shimrah looked Aisha over closely, unsure where this conversation was going to go, but he took the bait.
“You aren’t wrong. I’m incredibly honored to wear such craftsmanship from the Regent. I am Kyr’tsad. But some would hardly call that important. And you would be correct again, partially at least. I was Zabrak in a former life. In this one, Ni cuy’ Mando jii.”
(I am Mandalorian now.) <@260640060775464960>
“Yeeaaahh,” Aisha starts, giving him a quick pat on the shoulder, “You’re still a Zabrak, buddy, even if you follow the Creed. In any case, enjoy the armor. Should protect you well.”
Coruscant Space J-type 327 Nubian Conquest
Space rippled as the sleek form of the Conquest emerged from hyperspace. The glimmering surface of Coruscant sat before its occupants, a thousand pinpricks of light across the planet shimmered, the Ecumenopolis was a city which never slept.
The starship descended to the planet’s surface, neon lights reflecting off its metallic exterior as it glided to its designated landing area. The passengers exited the ship and stepped onto the platform.
After a brief handoff of credits to secure the landing zone the party boarded a senate limousine airspeeder. The crew of the Conquest moved several boxes into the interior of the limo. The airspeeder then took off.
The vehicle traveled through the Coruscant airways moving relatively slowly due to the ever present traffic. Other airspeeders filled the night sky and their engines produced background noise lasting the entire trip.
After several minutes the vehicle arrived at its destination; 500 Republica. Senatorial Candidate Noth Fask had the prestige and power to live in one of its opulent apartments. The airspeeder set down on sky dock 22. The party exited the airspeeder, Hector Von Ricmore taking the time to grab one of the packages from the vehicle.
The septet walked to the entrance of the apartment. A duo of armed and armored Nikto guards stood beside either side of the door.
“The senator is expecting you. Please head inside.” One of the guards stated.
The group entered the apartment. Lavish tapestries adorned the walls. Elaborate vases, treasures and artifacts stood upon exquisitely carved platforms. Several chairs and couches were spread among the space. On one of the couches lay an adolescent Nikto who visibly shivered and whimpered. A Kaminoan in medical fatigues attended the Nikto. Noth Fask sat on a nearby chair, observing the process with a worried look.
“Finally. Do you have the medicine?” The senator demanded
“We do.” Hector replied. The Zeltron handed over the package to the Kaminoan who began to administer the medicine.
“There are other things we have to cover. For example…”
Hector’s inquiry was cut short by a yell of pain from the outside.
The yell of pain was all the cue Shimrah needed. Both of his leather gloved hands flew down into the hanging holsters, snatching the Westar blaster pistols from their resting places.
While the display was quick, he wouldn’t have won a shootout with some of the more legendary quick draw fighters. With a blaster leveled at the door, and one at Fask, he ignored the obvious gasps of disbelief from the room.
“C’mon Senator. This can’t be the first time you’ve double crossed someone? Surely you know that you’re suppose to close the trap once you’re out of it? Don’t you?” He said, waiting for someone to give him a reason to give his trigger fingers some exercise.
Renora—ever paranoid—had already been monitoring the various potential points of entry. Almost in an instantaneous response to the yell, her personal energy shield hummed to life and she repositioned herself. A quick burst from her jetpack propelled the former Legionnaire across the room and behind cover. Simultaneously, her twin “Pheonix Edition” WESTAR-35’s were drawn from her hips and held confidently within her palms, levelled at the entrance while allowing sightlines from the others past her.
Her helmet’s voice modulator clicked to life, the mechanical system adding radio noise to her voice that would be a familiar quality to many who dealt with troopers and Mandalorians. “Evaluate and resolve the threat, then sling accusations,” the woman barked. She clearly had little patience for Shimrah’s lack of discipline.
Hearing the noise from outside, Ardsie snapped around quickly and drew her BlasTech A280-CFE Blaster Pistols, readying for any potential danger that lie ahead. The scavenger made her way to the back of the room, putting as much distance and as many bodies between her and the door as possible. While she was ever confident in her abilities, she was also well aware of the limitations of her gear and knew that the others were better equipped to handle the situation.
“Does anyone have a plan of attack here?” She asked, guns aimed at the door.
Kasmar sits in the corner of the throne room, feeling the hum of the machinery surrounding her. She wears her pirate armor, feeling its weight against her skin as she leans against the wall. Her left-hand rests on her lightsaber, feeling the smooth texture of the hilt beneath her fingers. Despite being blind, Kasmar can sense the room’s occupants through the Force, identifying their presences by their unique energy signatures.
As she sits there, Kasmar lets her mind wander. She begins to daydream about all sorts of things, creating her own story within her head.
Kasmar’s attention is momentarily caught by a sense of shining light, and she turns her head toward it. She chuckles to herself, recognizing her weakness for shiny objects. It’s a good thing it can also be useful in spotting valuable items.
Kasmar was distracted by the pull of the shiny object when suddenly she sensed a disturbance in the Force, and her hand tightens on her lightsaber. Despite being a force disciple outside of the Jedi Order, Kasmar has trained hard to hone her skills. She may not be able to see, but her other senses have become sharpened by her training. As she continues to sense the disturbance, it’s not needed as she hears the scream. Her head cranes in the direction of the door, her knuckles going white as she grips her saber.
Kas listened to her teammates as they all barked out ideas and orders. She decided for once in her life to remain quiet, listening to hear the plans of the others. It didn’t seem like the others had much of an idea; at least, no more than herself. She’d just have to wait prepared and see.
Renora, already in command-mode, granted Ardsie her response. “Need eyes on the window. Evaluate for exfil.”
Within her helmet, the woman’s eyes scanned the information her HUD was feeding back. Obviously, there were no details on outside the room but she couldn’t take anything for granted. Nor could she turn her focus away from the primary entrance and the killbox she and Shimrah had formed with their potential firing arc.
“Primary objective is securing the civs.”
Aisha remained rather stoic throughout the whole affair, readying her spear but neglecting to say much as Renora and Shimrah went at it. instead focusing on providing immediate protection to their main contact here - regardless of whether he was guilty of anything or not mattered not, right now the man was in their charge - and providing protection from anyone entering through that door.
The commotion in the room was shut down by the echoing sound of a burst of blaster fire from outside the room.
Thump Thump Thump!
The room’s occupant’s heard the sound of banging on the outside door.
“Are you expecting company Senator?”
The Nikto let out a snort. “If you are accusing me of anything you can spit it out. No I’m not expecting anyone else and I’m certainly not foolish enough to start a firefight with my sick daughter in the room. So you lot can either go find out what that noise is or help me move my daughter out of potential danger.” Noth Fask stated derisively. The Nikto and nearby Kaminoan picked up her sickly daughter before disappearing into one of the adjacent rooms.
The front door bursted open. A metallic object rolled through the doorway and into the room, coming to a stop a few feet before the party. In front of them sat the helmet belonging to one of the guards, shining from a sleek coat of blood which covered its surface.
A group of Weequay sauntered in carrying a variety of melee weapons and blasters.
“Well well, look at what we ‘ave ere boys.” One of the Weequay muttered as they stared down the party.
“Karkin, leather heads.” Juda grinned as he snuffed out his cigar on the chest plate of his armor.
“What we have here, boys,” the Proconsul mocked, “are a bunch of dead Weequay.”
The glow from his scepter painted his ghostly visage as he swept it up into a ready stance and primed his vambrace with his forearm sync. He had seen harder thugs in orphanages.
Renora didn’t verbalize a response to the Weequay as they entered the apartment. There wasn’t a need to. In fact, she was fairly confident anything she might have to say was firmly covered by the quick squeeze of her trigger fingers.
Twin bolts screeched across the room to welcome the newcomers. The after-market Trandoshan triplers installed made each WESTAR pack quite the punch. A punch that the chatty Weequay and another nearby took directly to their center of mass.
One Weequay staggered back from the blow, the blaster burning through his armor. The blast aimed at the leader slammed into a translucent dome of energy which wrapped around the Weequay leader. The vibrancy of the energy shield visible dimmed after the shot before it faded from view entirely.
It was the moment Juda had been waiting for. His time to shine. Renora’s shots were right on target. He was impressed, even though blasters weren’t his thing. Up close and personal was where he did his best work.
Gliding in with a unique grace for someone of his size, Juda shifted his weight into a wild yet accurate stroke with a might that had carried him through many battles.
crrr-ack
His scepter found its mark as the brute force of his swing chewed through what was left of the leader’s protective barrier. The thick energized carapace shattered like glass and could no longer weather the storm as it’s dissipation now revealed the soft exposed center of a meat-bag.
She heard all the movements as her allies moved in and attacked, “watching” the enemy Weequay. She waited patiently, her hand gripped around her saber. She sensed one of the weequay take a step to attack and took the opportunity. Kas’ hand stretched out, whipping back as she yanked the Weequay toward herself. The Weequay stumbled forward before flying through the air to herself.
Without missing a beat, Kasmar activated her lightsaber and impaling him on it’s purple blade. The Weequay let out a final gasp as his body fell to the floor at her feet.
Kasmar’s blind eyes hidden behind gilded yellow glasses showed no emotion as she stood over the fallen pirate, her lightsaber still humming with deadly energy. She laughed, mumbling “Imagine dying to a teen.” She stuck her tongue out, before refocusing on the remaining enemies
Shimrah had turned from the senator, now behind him as he faced the interlopers. As he watched the summary execution of the Weequay thugs, his initial reaction was to find out who sent them, but shrugged it aside.
“You certainly have the spirit for a fight.” He said, more to himself than anyone else.
The Mandalorian leveled both Westar pistols into the group, each red dot finding its mark. Satisfied with the coming results, he squeezed each trigger. Yellow gas erupted from the front and top of the pistols before finding their mark in each of the Weequay, their armor turned to useless slag from the blasts.
“Come. Join Deathwatch.” He said to the Weequay, hoping to kill a few birds with one stone.
“Betray your boss, and become initiated. It’s the only way you walk out of here.”
“Nah I don’t think we will. In fact, you gits should get off me boss.” One of the Weequay declared. Weequay 3 and 4 opened fire with their blaster pistols. One of the shots slammed into Juda’s chestpiece as he deftly swerved around the other. Other than a single black scorch mark on the armor the criminal appeared to be completely fine.
Ardsie fired her twin BlasTech A280-CFE Blaster Pistols at the Weequay who had just shot at Shimrah. The Human’s face scrunched up as she focused, both shots hitting their targets. The first Weequay goon crumpled to the ground dead as the shot slipped in between the heavily damaged set of armor they had been wearing. The second blaster bolt struck the other Weequay in a spot where Ardsie could only presume a Weequay’s heart would be, leaving a large black scorch mark behind on the armor as it hit. A smug grin crept across Ardsie’s face as she came to the realization that she had grown in her abilities quite a bit since the last time she was forced to use her blasters.
Things had become chaotic far more than Hector Von Ricmore preferred. What was meant to be a simple delievery had turn into a firefight, blaster shots flying around the room. Readying his blaster rifle he let loose a bolt into the Weequay Kadrol had blasted, shattering the rest of its armor.
Renora scanned the action playing out in front of her. Seconds had passed, but already so much had occurred. That was the way of conflict.
The Weequay gangsters returned fire upon the party. Red blaster bolts flew threw the air. Kasmar attempted to intercept a bolt with their lightsaber a moment too late, the bolt slammed into their shoulder. Ardsie attempted to sidestep the blast aimed at her, failing to dodge the attack but successfully mitigating the impact. The Weequay leader landed a lucky shot, his blast impacted the thinnest portion of Juda’s armor, bruising the flesh beneath.
Despite the chaos, Renora remained calm. This? This was her place of business. The battlefield.
Focus brought the barrels of her twin pistols to the attacking leader once more, tracking his movements. She exhaled, the sound deafening within her helmet. At the same time, her fingers squeezed the triggers as her arms steadied.
Peow! Peow!
The first bolt struck true. Breaking through what remained of the leader’s armour, the impact scorched and he crumpled inward around it. That brought him face first into the second bolt. The force of it left a blackened maw where his face once was and sent his body spinning to the ground.
Juda watched as the leader had fallen. Renora was a fierce warrior, that was for certain.
“Let’s end this!” Graves roared, swinging wildly at a Weequay henchman to the left of the leader’s twitching body. The glint of his scepter caught the light as it crashed down with tremendous force. Yet, the Weequay, snapping out of the demoralizing shock of losing his Commander, slid back. The scepter nearly kissed his wrinkled forehead. Fortunately for the thug, the only thing the scepter connected with was durasteel grating as it dug into the floor.
Juda groaned and recoiled his weapon, readying himself for the next opening.
Kas winced, gritting her teeth in pain as the blaster shot found its mark on her shoulder. “Alright, time for some payback,” she growled, determination fueling her every move. Channeling her connection to the Force, she extended her senses, searching for anything that could aid her in this intense duel.
Her awareness honed, Kas sensed a nearby table, its presence beckoning her. Without hesitation, she reached out, her fingers curling into a tight fist as she summoned the table to her command. The piece of furniture levitated, forming a protective barrier between her and her adversary.
With adrenaline coursing through her veins, Kas launched herself forward, her body propelling off the ground and then off the still-airborne table, propelling her toward her foe. The Weequoy, caught off guard by her audacious maneuver, attempted to regain control by aiming his blaster at her once more. Little did he know, Kas was one step ahead.
Anticipating his move, she executed a perfectly timed backflip, her nimble form evading the incoming blaster shot with calculated grace. The bolt of energy whizzed past her, missing its mark by mere centimeters. As she landed with unwavering poise, her grip on the lightsaber tightened.
Seizing the opportune moment, Kas unleashed a strike, her lightsaber slicing through the Weequoy’s defenses like a scorching blade through ice. The crimson blade tore through his armor, leaving a sizzling trail of purple energy in its wake.Kas stood tall, her gaze unwavering, fueled by the fire of triumph.
“I warned you,” she declared, her voice resonating with unwavering resolve. “Crossing paths with me was your gravest mistake.”
Kas remained vigilant, her senses keenly attuned to any signs of further danger.
Shimrah watched the rest of his group dispatch the thugs with relative ease. It seemed other than Juda taking a blast to the torso, everyone would walk away relatively unscathed, but there was still time for that to change.
A squeeze of the trigger launched another yellow blaster bolt from his Westar pistol. It caught another thug in the forehead, leaving a sickly charred and smoking crater before the body slumped to the floor.
“Last chance.” The Mandalorian said.
The remaining criminals decided not to take their chances, fleeing out of the apartment back to where they came. With the conflict completed, the party was able to sucussfully complete their delivery and report back to the Envoy Corps.