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Jacen couldn't help but smile slightly. Of course, a combat-oriented Jedi would have little experience with the more diverse ways of the Force. Perhaps it was a little proud of him, but he did take a little enjoyment in startling people with the Force. Quickly, though, he took a deep breath and released his pride into the Force. Such feelings were not for a Jedi. At the Hutt's murmuring, he again found himself translating.

"The wise Omeesh the Hutt concurs with the Queen of Naboo. No one values Galactic stability more than he," Jacen translated, eying the person who just arrived. Something told him he was hiding something, but what? He had to be patient. The Force worked on its own time, not his.

8/3/2011 #31

Warren noticed the look that the jedi was giving him, and straightened up. If the jedi could see him, then that meant others in the room could too, and Omeesh would have his hide if he were the only one of the Hutt's staff to give the princess a bad impression. Even if he did hate the slug's guts, he would prefer to keep his skin in one piece. He did return the Jedi's look though. He would have to see if he could talk to him later, find out why he made the guard's mind itch.

8/3/2011 #32

You could say literally anything bad about Omeesh the Hutt and it would ring true, but you had to give it to the slug, he could get some important people to pay him a visit now and again.

Taking another ginger sip of juma juice, Noorin stretched out his legs and gave a wistful sigh before returning to ogle the ships now gathered in Omeesh's hangar, all of them very pristine and clean and valuable. What Noorin wouldn't give to have a hundred armed thugs at the moment... but alas, he was stuck to admiring the ships. Maybe the good old NR would get busted in some permanent and explosive manner, and Noorin would have "no choice" but to commandeer the ship, but that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

He was currently parked on top of a shipping crate that had been forgotten in all the hubub of the new arrivals, and there he hid until Omeesh gave him another assignment. That wasn't due for a few hours at best, but the Hutt could get bored and decide to run him to Kessel and back at a moment's notice. Noorin lazily recalibrated his blaster pistol for the umptenth time and yawned, letting the juma juice ease his system into total oblivion.

Then again, it was pretty crummy juma juice. It might just ease his system into nigh-oblivion.

10/10/2011 #33
The Counter-Point Man

Through the hangar bay of the vast residential estate of Omeesh the Hutt, a pair of not-so-well-paid guards marched, heavy booted steps trudging through the widely-carved corridors of the spice lord's personal fortress. They moved as they were: dumb muscle assigned to an unpleasant, menial duty that they had tried, and subsequently failed, to avoid. The fact that part of their load consisted of one of their own engendered no special feelings of sympathy on their part, despite the fact that it could have very well been one of them. The lifeless body of a former colleague and companion was not any less heavy than the battered and bloodied body of a targeted quarry.

Only the most minimal feelings of relief washed over the two bodyguards; reaching their destination was hardly half of the battle, and their employer would likely berate them for attracting so much needless attention.

The two bodyguards, a fresh-faced Weequay (if there ever was such a thing in the vastness of the known galaxy) and an armored Mandalorian mercenary, heaved a large, bulky container in a cubical form. The disgruntled pair had been tasked with collecting a heavily indebted gambler and frequent patron at one of Omeesh's seedy tavern business fronts in the Refugee Sector of Nar Shaddaa and convey him before 'His Majesty' himself for judgement. Why they couldn't just blast the hungover burnout to oblivion themselves was beyond them; orders were orders, after all.

The two thugs kept to themselves, however. They were being paid half-decent credits to endure such daily routines of crap, credits that were piling up in distant, forged bank accounts even as they toiled to haul their prisoner into their boss's lair. They often let their thoughts drift toward such bank accounts. Sometimes, they were the only thoughts that got them through each day.

The prisoner was silent, for the most part - aside from mumbled curses and groans of low, buzzing pain, partly due to a killer juma and Nyriaan spice cocktail-induced hangover, partly due to the swift, tumultuous thrashing bestowed upon him by his captors. That suited them just fine. Occasionally, a fellow employee or ill-fated guest of their master would peer at one of the box's small, circular air vents. The box's contents would not return the favor. While carrying out their duties, the Weequay chose to voice one of his more coherent moments of rare thoughtfulness.

"Poor kriffin' Zeskel. Never stood a chance, going in one-on-one like that."

The Mandalorian was much less sympathetic. "He shoulda checked himself. Damn Gamorrean always relyin' on his size, underestimatin' his opposition. Last thing you should ever, ever do, kid. Size don't mean nothin' if you don't got the moves to handle yourself with it," he glanced back through his traditional battle helmet to direct his words at the inhabitant of the box. "I'll bet you know all 'bout that, don't you? With Omeesh, you get what you give, but when you get it - well, kriff, that's the thing. When."

Not a direct threat, per se, but the ugly implications in his voice were noticeable enough. However their prisoner felt about it, he kept it to himself, as more silence emanated from the container. The Weequay continued to let his young, wily ego get the best of him.

Upon entering the chamber of Omeesh the Hutt, the two guards proceeded to abruptly drop the container from its hoisted heights, forcing its lock open and allowing its two residents to spill out, one lifelessly, the other . . . mostly lifelessly.

Mordin Asht felt an acidic belch building in the back of his throat, but suppressed it out pain and the inevitability of impending vomit. For what seemed like minutes, he lay upon the floor of the chamber face down, a low sound that failed to resemble anything humanoid leaving his body. The body next to him, the dead Gamorrean, was much quieter. A vibroknife and two blaster bolts to the face tended to have that effect on sentient beings. Whacking their quarry with the blunt end of an electrostaff, the Weequay was the first to speak up to their employer.

"Here's that Kiffar you ordered out for, boss. Karkin' schutta killed Zeskel, fried our assassin droid too."

10/18/2011 #34
Michael The SyrJirk

Masan stood silently in the full grown crowd now, covered in simple but royal looking robes that aided him in not raising attention, especially considering his normal robes did little to conceal his allegiance or his light sabers. It had not been hard to get into the palace, especially when someone was waiting to let you in. Sith have connections every where now and after a few reports of a Jedi on the planet by a good informant it didn't take long for him to be assigned to find the piece of sith bait. He didn't think it'd be this easy though. He arrived expecting to go out on a hunt but instead found his target delivered right in front of the very audience. A pass of ill will by the force he assumed, well for the Jedi at least.

Despite whatever plans that Omeesh had for the man were soon to be drastically debased. He'd been told plain and simple in the mission the Jedi is to be killed. He liked when the missions had no rules. Having to take out targets while trying to keep relations with another tribe was often testy and the force has field days with missions like those. Always keeping you on your toes but the Sith have little to no intentions on keeping peace with Omeesh. Whatever resources he could provide they could easily take. And already have made agreements with a few of the other Hutt's in the region as well. Quick and decisive alliances make a purge go on so very well, the Anzat mused to himself silently.

However the force still had him perplexed. He sensed a large force presence here. This man should be powerful, he thought at first that the man might have a friend but if he had another ally he probably wouldn't have ended up captured in the first place. Either way he had to wait for the right moment to strike, no Hutt liked having his jewel taken even if it was a dangerous force wielding one that would probably escape anyways. In this sense he would be saving Omeesh future trouble. He smirked silently at the thought as he sunk into the crowd.

10/18/2011 #35

"Yes. I can see that," Scarlet commented dryly as she gazed at the collared Jedi. More and more, she was regretting holding the meeting here. If only she could free the poor people in his thrall. Just then, a couple of goons poured a couple of unwashed bodies on the floor and her nose turned up in disgust. She may have been outgoing, but she drew the line here.

"Ugh... Maybe we should have our meeting elsewhere," she told the others, moving to leave the room as the Hush roared in rage at his subordinates.

"Kill the idiots who brought the bodies! Don't let the delegates leave!"

Just then, Jacen smiled and nodded at his fellow Jedi. He gripped his collar and with the Force, crushed it as if it was made of alluminum foil. At the Hutt's roar of surprise, he thrust out his hand and pulled his lightsaber back into it, igniting its green blade and dismembering a couple of guards. It felt good to be free again, he thought as the Hutt's goons engaged the diplomats' escorts and the two unfortunate goons who brought the wrong body at the wrong time.

10/18/2011 . Edited 10/18/2011 #36
The Counter-Point Man

Naturally, the swift and abruptly ordered betrayal of the pair of armed guards came as quite a shock, fresh-faced Weequay and experienced Mandalorian alike. Their electrostaffs loose and quivering, one motionless body on the floor took this gleaning moment of opportunity to strike.

Mordin snatched the opposite end of the Weequay's electrostaff out from his hands, turning it around to drive it into his solar plexus with quick and damaging invective. The member of the grizzly near-human species wheezed, spat a large heaping wad of blood and phlegm from his mouth, and collapsed to the floor.

The Mandalorian mercenary was significantly more experienced, but not nearly as quick - a defensive strike was kicked down by their former quarry, who rather sloppily used this opening to headbutt the armor plated and helmeted thug. Perhaps not to the Kiffar's desired effect, as his stinging headache began to wash over his nerves with thumping pain, and the Mandalorian warrior tumbled to the ground due to the limp leg of his former companion laying dead on the floor.

Normally, the Mandalorian would've taken this time, if his fellow criminals and the newly-revealed Jedi Knight brandishing a green lightsaber had yet to spring to a frenzy of chaotic action, to put a burning plasma hole through the drunken and incapacitated Kiffar's head. However, he was not expecting a beam of crimson red energy to rip through his traditional armor and pierce a portion of his small intestine, the hot light cauterizing whatever fluids would be spewing from his open puncture wound. He groaned in a low, muffled tone, and simply sighed a last breath of physical defeat as the blade slid effortlessly up his torso, slicing through vital organs and severing a large portion of his spinal cord before exiting out his recently-dislocated shoulder.

Mordin stumbled back, red lightsaber in hand, and tried to regain what little composure he had in such a state - not before vomiting upon the slain Mandalorian, but as composed as he could be. He was still surprised they failed to notice his own lightsaber on his person - had Omeesh not informed his henchman of who their target was? It mattered little now. What did matter, however, was escape.

Slashing upward in a jagged stroke, the Kiffar Force-user simultaneously cut through the face of another assailant, who fell to the floor with a scream of agony, and returned the blaster bolt of another opponent back at him, the red flash nailing him square in the chest as he crumpled backward into a stack of cargo containers.

10/25/2011 #37

The other Jedi's blade lit up a pretty green, and Chirq, seeing it from the corner of her eye, sprung into motion, her glass shattering to the ground with out a care. She didn't pull out her own saber, not at first, focusing instead on movement.

Three paces to cross the floor, a fourth to end up behind the guards even now aiming at her fellow Jedi, a twist of the body and an arcing extension of the leg to bring them both down as her foot met their heads. The Guardian was moving too fast for any normal being.

Another moment, and then her lit up her blade, casting a shimmering teal hum through the air. The Force was surging through her, through her bloodstream, and she let it lead, all thought forgotten, all deliberation surrendered.

For a moment, everything was alright again.

And then she saw the third lightsaber. But this one lit red.

11/8/2011 . Edited 11/8/2011 #38

It was an unfortunate turn of events that forced them into battle, Jacen thought, but it had been unavoidable. Generally, violence was unavoidable when a Hutt was throwing a tantrum, but Jacen still felt pity for the few foolish or scared of their master enough to obey him. Taking a few steps forward, the Jedi Consular thrust his hand forward to send a group of goons into the wall, knocking them out. He grinned slightly and deflected a few blaster bolts, again using the Force to hit their heads together or into a solid object with just enough force to knock them out.

His spirits was further lifted by the site of a cyan lightsaber. It was good to battle alongside another Jedi again. He glanced at the exit and nodded in approval as he saw the politicians leave, heading for the safety of their ships. Very good. The battle was winding down and Jacen was about to shut off his lightsaber when he saw it. A figure wielding a lightsaber. He took a defensive posture and regarded the man, a Kiffar he believed, impassively.

"Your drunkenness blinds you, as does your use of the Dark Side."

11/8/2011 . Edited 11/8/2011 #39
King Under the Mountain

Kar' Gur had been perfectly content to sit and drink while the delegates did their thing, even when the Jedi started swinging around their lightsabers. But then the Hutt and his gang opened fire on his charges. And worse, had someone shot his mug out of his hand. The Zabrak stood up, his hands disappearing into his coat, only to emerge a second later holding a pair of blaster pistols. He paused for a moment to put his hat on his head.

A nearby Mandalorian guard shouted something at the smuggler in his native tongue. Gar' Kur looked at him and stated coldly, "I don't speak gibberish," And then gunned the man down with a barrage of blaster bolts.

He moved on to the guards harassing the delegates, killing them outright with shots to the back of the head. Then he sat back down and claimed a new mug to watch the new fight in the making.

11/9/2011 . Edited 11/9/2011 #40
Michael The SyrJirk

One, two, three blades of light Masan saw as the situation quickly spiraled out of Omeesh's control. Quite the spectacle considering the swift demise of and evacuation of most non-force users, a small almost invisible grin on his face as the three force users stood alone on one side of the room. Masan watched from the middle and saw another bystander observing as well from the corner of his eye.

Two Jedi, one ally. Well probable ally, he'd never seen the Kiffar before but judging from the previously caged man, if he used the dark side he could at least count on him to fight off the Jedi before they got into qualms. Although usually he would've joined the fray as soon as possible to end it quickly he wanted to see how this played out. One saber in hand unlit and keeping some attention on the man watching from the sides just in case he wanted to see how this was going first.

11/9/2011 #41
King Under the Mountain

Gar' Kur narrowed his eyes as he watched the remaining people in the room. Something was wrong. The Zabrak didn't get where he was today by being a fool. It might be in his best interests to get out of here while he could. But some part of him didn't want to abandon the Jedi. After all, they were getting pretty scarce these days.

There! A dark robed man on the other side of the room, observing but not taking part. Gar' Kur knew he wasn't a Jedi. A Jedi would have leaped in to help their comrades, like the two obvious ones were doing. The lightsabers hanging off of his belt gave the smuggler a fairly good idea of what the man truly was. A single Sith by themselves could do a lot of damage against the Republic. He had to do what he could. The Zabrak whispered into his comlink, "T3, warm up the engines. I may need to make a fast get-away." He pretended to drop something and pick it up. He settled back into his seat. Then as quietly and unnoticably as he could, Gar' Kur used his foot to roll a flashbang grenade as close as possible to the Sith and shut his eyes as he put his chin to his chest.

11/9/2011 . Edited 11/10/2011 #42
The Counter-Point Man

Through the chaotic tumult, Mordin raised his blade - not ready for any kind of fighting, but simply out of pure reflex - and lazily spun it at his side, skimming the floor with white hot sparks and molten-looking slashes. Upon being addressed by one of the stronger Force signatures in the room - a Jedi, by the blatantly obvious looks of it - Mordin raised an eyebrow, coughed, and disengaged his lightsaber.

After a long, if not awkward pause, the dark sided Kiffar began to speak.

". . . man, kriff it. I'm not in the body or mind for this kinda crap. I'm out."

The Kiffar hadn't even the chance to turn away from the Jedi before being utterly disabled by the sudden hundred candela light and high decibel ringing in his ears, the flashbang grenade having gone off right at his feet. Mordin cursed in every language he could remember in his current state, one hand over his watering eyes while the other activated his red saber once again, swinging limply at . . . well, just about everything, really. A table was sheared clean in half by one vertical slice, while a wall-mounted lamp sparked and exploded from a wild slash through its base.

Today was not a good day.

11/10/2011 #43
King Under the Mountain

Gar' Kur exploded into motion, drawing one of his pistols while simultaneously chucking a frag grenade at the other Sith. He didn't check to see if the grenade landed where he wanted it to. He fired a quick burst at the Kiffar and dived behind the nearest table, flipping it on its side to serve as cover. Drawing his other weapon, the smuggler whistled as he recognized some of the words the now blind and deaf dark jedi was shouting out.

Popping out, he fired six shots from each pistol and moved to another flipped over table.

11/10/2011 . Edited 11/10/2011 #44
Michael The SyrJirk

Masan saw the flashbang and although he had enough time to turn his head to avoid any effects on his eyes, it left quite an irritating ringing blaring in his ears. The frag grenade he repelled with the force also added to the pain in his eardrums, however no time could be wasted whining about such things when one has blaster bolts heading toward them.

Deflecting one volley and dodging the next he knew this nuisance would be very annoying if not dealt with immediately. He used the force to shove the table the man dived behind further across the room and worked to keep eyes on the Jedi and the annoyance.

11/10/2011 #45
King Under the Mountain

Gar' Kur tumbled out of the way as the table started to move. Suddenly finding himself in the open, the smuggler tossed another flashbang grenade and rolled as far back as he could. He slid back behind cover again, popping out to take a potshot at the Kiffar again. Then he focused fire on the other Sith, and rolled a poison gas grenade near him.

11/10/2011 . Edited 11/10/2011 #46
Jacen blinked, surprised by how easy the Sith was to take out. Nonetheless, he glanced over at the engagement between the Smuggler and the other Sith and quickly raised as hand to lift the table that had hit the previous Sith into the air and sent it at the new Sith. The Smuggler didn't know what he was getting into by trying to take on a Sith alone, he thought with a frown.
11/12/2011 #47
King Under the Mountain

The Zabrak smirked,Now that Sith is in for it...Alone, he'd been able to hassle the dark jedi, and without getting seriously injured to boot. Now with the Jedi deciding to help out, it was going to get a lot easier. The smuggler popped back up and peppered the Sith with more blaster fire.

11/13/2011 . Edited 11/13/2011 #48
Michael The SyrJirk

Masan quickly dodged and gripped the table that was sent at him with the force. Facing toward the smuggler, he used the table as a shield to move in close and then sent it flying at the man. Jumping over the man's cover afterwords swung down at him.

11/18/2011 #49

Jacen frowned, his the lines on his forehead creasing as he reached out with the Force once again, this time to set the table down gently before directing as strong as a Force Push he could muster under such short notice at the Sith to prevent the Smuggler from being dismembered by the his lightsaber.

11/19/2011 #50
King Under the Mountain

Gar' Kur kicked through the table, cracking it in two. The Sith's lightsaber descended towards the smuggler, to which he raised both of his arms in an instinctive block. Instead of slicing through flesh and bone, however, it simply burnt away part of Gar' Kur's coat. Beneath the fabric on both forearms were a pair of dull metal bracers. He planted another kick towards the man's crotch in retaliation.

The Zabrak grinned, "Weren't expecting pure cortosis bracers, now were you?" He looked at his sleeves and frowned, "Now you've ruined my favorite coat. I hope you have the credits to pay for it." A flick of his wrists sent a pair of vibroblades jutting out of his sleeves, slightly scraping against his knuckles, "Let's dance."

11/21/2011 #51
Michael The SyrJirk

Masan was pushed aside from the man's strike by the Jedi's force push and rolled a little ways to the side. The fact that the man had somehow come across the cortosis bracers thoroughly annoyed him. He was tired of this man's games and lifted him by his throat with the force "I don't do well with partners." He replied snidely to the man

11/22/2011 #52
King Under the Mountain

Gar' Kur's eyes bulged slightly and he started clutching at his throat, gasping for air. This wasn't the first time this had happened to him, but at the distance the Sith was at there wasn't much he could do.

The smuggler clicked his comlink and choked out, "T3, fire now!" After that, the dull thump-thump of a laser cannon being fired could be faintly heard before the wall behind the Sith blasted inward.

11/22/2011 #53
Michael The SyrJirk
Masan was quickly engulfed amid the smoke and rubble as the rubble and metal collided around him. He found himself in a small clearing with shrapnel all around him and felt the pain of metal lodged in his body. He felt his head spin as blood trickled down his body but kept his composure and stood ready to dodge another volley if needed. He pushed a remote in his robes, in the hanger his ship started priming itself.
11/27/2011 #54
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