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Post by Whill Shaman Erevis on Apr 9, 2013 11:50:39 GMT -8
The Theed Spaceport was the primary spaceport servicing the planet Naboo and its plasma-exporting industry based in Theed.
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Post by Derriphan'ari on Feb 6, 2014 6:11:41 GMT -8
EDIT: This post was actually made on January 26th, but I put it in the wrong location. Moved it today!
Connor stepped off of his ship looking like a totally different person. He wanted to blend in for the time being and scout out the planet. So when he had landed, Connor had exchanged his Sith robes for a simple suit. He wore pants, a shirt, and jacket with his shoulder length hair pulled back. His lightsaber was in the briefcase he carried instead of being clipped to his belt as usual. To anyone that saw him during his visit he would appear to be just another citizen of Theed.
It seemed like a good enough place to settle down and hide for the time being, but his mind could be easily changed. Looking around, Connor saw that this section of the Theed Spaceport was not very busy. This was a good sign for him. The reclusive Sith Lord did like visitors or company, his last home planet had maybe three visitors a year. He was willing to accept the higher population however for the luxury of not living in the wilderness any longer. He was increasing the chance of being found still alive, but to be honest he had been tired of living in a glorified cave. He saw no reason he could not live in an actual building once more, as long as he stayed inconspicuous and careful.
Of course he needed to see just how active the Republic was here. His initial queries into the planet showed that the Republic had mostly pulled out of this system. In fact their presence seemed to be minimal now. However a well equipped garrison, or a few Jedi advising the royal family, could still find him easily. The Republic was not stupid, their Special Forces divisions could find a Sith in hiding eventually. They could do it much faster if they had a Jedi aiding them. Connor needed to spend a few days keeping a low profile. If he caught the scent of a Jedi he would leave this planet behind and search for another planet to make his home. As much as the idea of killing a Jedi here appealed to him, he couldn't kill one on the planet he wanted to live. Kill a civilian, or even a battalion of soldiers, and the Jedi would sit in their temples and meditate. Kill one lonely Jedi however, and you'll have the entire Jedi Council breathing down your neck in two weeks.
The insatiable Sith took a breath and finally began to walk away from his beloved "Shadowfire." It was time to get his scouting mission under way. As he walked he took a look back and depressed a button on his datapad. To the naked eye nothing happened, but Connor had been making improvements to his ship for years. When he posed as a mercenary he heavily modified the freighter. Once such modification was an extensive security system. His shielding systems never fully shut down, they just ran in a low power mode. Strong enough to keep out anyone with a pipe or a blaster rifle. Obviously it wouldn't keep out aircraft or vehicular blaster fire.. but if someone wanted to discern his secrets that badly, the there was a last resort button. His datapad could send the signal to detonate his entire cache of proton torpedos. The resulting blast would turn the entire spaceport into a crater. His secrets were safe from discovery...
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Apr 27, 2014 13:15:31 GMT -8
Making his way into the spaceport, Jytar's caution rose. He expected guards to be around, searching for him. But as he made his way along, passing each bay by, there were no guards or soldiers other than the ones that kept Theed protected. They would have no business with him provided he kept out of trouble. He never liked making his presence known unless there wasn't a choice in the matter. Even as a Sith, it was only natural to want to relax and enjoy a little peace and quiet.
Finally making it to where his ship was located, he stopped and braced himself against the wall. He took a few breaths and reached down to his sabers. He had to be ready in case there anyone left by his suggested killers to ensure that the job had been done. Focusing his mind, he quickly moved from the wall and rounded the corner. His hands remained on his sabers, but he didn't remove them. Stepping up to where he could see everything in the area, his eyes darted around, waiting to see troops everywhere. To his relief, the area was vacant and quiet. He closed his eyes and focused, using the Force to find if anything was on the ship itself. After a few moments of feeling nothing, he let himself relax completely as he opened his eyes and gazed upon his ship.
There before him was the "Crimson Dagger." It was a MC-18 light freighter. It was crimson in color, accenting in black. While he didn't know many Sith who used Mon Calamari ships, he found it to be quite useful. He rather liked the fact of having a starship that could travel underwater. It allowed for other means of stealth. If one always expected an assault from the air, going in by water could allow for an enemy to get even closer before realizing they were coming. Not to mention, he found it quite comfortable. As a twinge of pain ran through his body, he progressed forward and up the loading ramp.
Wasting no time, he removed his belt and let it fall to the floor as he shut the loading ramp. He didn't bother picking it up but only progressed to remove his shredded shirt. Finally making it to a storage compartment, he opened it and pulled out two items. One allowed for direct bacta injection while the other was a bacta salve. He always liked being prepared. Any wounds he gained in battle he could heal from while in route home or to another destination. Closing the compartment he made his way to his room. His eyes were getting heavy as sleep threatened to take over once again. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he set the items aside and removed his boots and torn pants. Throwing them to the side he proceeded to inject himself and rub his entire body down with bacta. Setting them aside on a stand, he laid down in the bed. Staring at the ceiling, darkness soon fell upon him and he passed into the realm of sleep.*
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Apr 28, 2014 13:38:45 GMT -8
A day had passed as Jytar lay there. The bacta did its thing, slowly healing him and restoring him back to 100%. He didn't know what the future held for him. He didn't know where he would end up, who he would encounter. Whatever those things came to be, he wanted to be ready, whether to fight or to serve. In his state, he was completely useless, and if there was anything he hated, it was being useless.
He remembered feeling that way when he faced his wife. He was strength was at its best, but that didn't change his feelings. He had let himself get captured, only to see what Ferazan wanted from him. When he awoke next, he had been trapped in a sealed arena with Ash. It was then that Ferazan revealed a horrible truth. He raped and impregnated her. It tore at him, the knowledge that fell on him, something that he couldn't change. But that wasn't the worst of it. It was then that Ferazan told them that they were to fight, and it would be one to the death. The survivor would be forced to endure endless torture from him. It was the most useless he had ever felt. He was unable to attack Ferazan, and they'd both be tortured if they didn't fight. It was a no win scenario, and he wasn't about to let Ash face any torture, especially from him for he knew what would await her. And so the battle went on. There was nothing worse to feel than having to kill your own wife, no matter the reason. The torture he was left with was the those thoughts that would forever plague him.
Jytar awoke, his eyes opening slowly and tears running down his face. He just looked up into nothing for a few moments before he finally wiped the tears away. He sat up and rested on the edge of the bed, rubbing his temples.* "Get out of there."*He sighed heavily before standing to his feet. For a moment, he stood there flexing his arms and fist and stretching out the kinks. There was a twinge of soreness left, but nothing that truly bothered him. He could move easily enough and that would do. Making his way to the refresher, he stripped the last remaining clothes he had on and jumped into the shower.
The hot water did much to relax him. He let it fall down his body, letting it clean him through and through. Not only the dirt, but ever thought, every worry seem to melt and wash away. That was good. While it was good to think, thinking too much on the past and things that could change did nothing to help one press forward. Once the shower had done its work, he proceeded to dry himself and gather new clothing. His attire didn't have much of a selection, so he went simple with a black shirt, black pants, and a studded belt. He was being a civilian now, so dressing like one would keep attention off of him. Once dressed, he gathered up his torn clothing he had dropped the day before and trashed them. His saber he put away;there was no need to carry them around. Grabbing a credit chit, he departed from the his ship and made his way back into the main city.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Apr 29, 2014 17:19:16 GMT -8
*Jytar made his way back into the spaceport, his mind deep in thought. In those moments since he had started heading back to his ship from the salon, he had felt as if the world around him was speeding by. Another means of feeling disconnected. As much as he wanted to, as much as he wished Ash was still alive so that they could live a peaceful life, it was something he'd never be able to do. He was born into a family who followed the ways of the Sith. From the moment of his birth, he had been exposed to the darkness of Korriban and trained in the Sith ways. It wasn't until now, twenty-five years later, that he saw any form of light. But it was nothing but a glimmer, reflecting of moonlight. It had formed when the threat of the bloodline war began to take shape. That was a pointless war, one that had cost him so much. He might have been a Sith, but that didn't mean he didn't cherish family and love. Now both were gone, any hope of joining the light gone with it. He was a Sith, surrounded in nothing but the darkness of this universe. It would be all he ever knew. He'd never be one of these people.
As he reached his ship, he went in and closed the ramp behind him. What was he to do now? He hadn't the slightest idea, though while in the restaurant he heard talk of a new Empire growing. He cared nothing for the Empire and the Republic. His loyalty was always to the Sith. But in the midst of the talks, he had learned that the Empire was truly an expansion and new form of the greatest Sith order that had existed recently, the Dark Tide. To make the matter more interesting was the fact that Sinistra herself was running it. He had heard many great things about her and her power. He had never met her, but he figured perhaps now was a time to do so. After all, what else did he have? Making his way to the cockpit, he sat down in the pilot seat and powered up the systems. He went through all his system checks, making sure that everything was in working order. Once all was set, the ship lifted off the ground and began its ascent. Before he got to far out of sight, he circled Theed, taking in one final glance at the world he'd never know before taking them ship into Naboo's orbit.
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Kel'Al Raganella
The Jedi Order - Corellian Jedi Academy
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Post by Kel'Al Raganella on May 8, 2015 19:11:27 GMT -8
Everything was going swimmingly for the treasure hunter. His unauthorized dig among the ruins of the Council of Knowledge had been unbelievably successful, and by pure chance, he had uncovered a rare artifact: an ancient Sith holocron. The Weequay didn't know whose holocron it was, or how it had come to be hidden beneath the ruined Force temple, but he didn't care, either. He was a simple profit seeker looking to make enough for his next meal, and to repair his ship. The great struggles of the galaxy were of no importance to him. Jedi and Sith were equally useless.
Upon his return to Theed, he had visited his favorite cantina, which doubled as a center of the black market. From there, he had sent out a general call advertizing his find, and providing specific instructions for prospective buyers to contact him with their bids. After a few drinks, he was also persuaded to unwrap his find from its careful packaging and show it off to some of the patrons. But finally he had departed, knowing that he needed to get the item offworld before the authorities caught up to him, or a perspective buyer decided to come and steal it.
Returning to the Theed spaceport, he cautiously brought his treasure (including several smaller finds as some worthless but symbolic trophies) aboard his ship, which was an old, broken down HWK-290 light freighter. Then, securing the cargo hold, he walked through the ship, confirming that the supplies and fuel he ordered had been brought aboard. Satisfied, he transmitted his departure intentions to the traffic control tower, and warmed up his engines as he waited for clearance.
And waited. And waited. And waited.
Bullets of sweat began to form on the Weequay's brow as he waited his turn. Something was wrong. Why was this taking so long? They must be on to him already. Either someone at the bar had turned him in, or somehow the Naboo had already found his ad on the black market holonet.
His fears were irrational, but perhaps it was the alcohol, or a guilty conscience from committing such a great theft, or just general paranoia and a lack of tact. Whatever the reason, seconds later, when he heard a siren in the distance, fear and panic took over. Shoving the controls full ahead, he burned out of the landing pad and shot across the busy spaceport air traffic lanes, weaving in and out of oncoming traffic and violating signs and lane holomarkers.
He had to get offworld. Now. He knew the laws concerning trafficking in Force relics, and he could not bear the thought of living out his days in a prison.
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Adrianna
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Post by Adrianna on May 8, 2015 19:21:03 GMT -8
The unauthorized takeoff of a small light freighter was noticed almost immediately in the space traffic control center, and the unpredictable flight path of the intruder heightened the tensions. The man's panicked actions bore all the markers of an attack or other criminal act in progress. Which was strange, because the ship's transponder was clean and the Naboo had not had any previous reason to suspect the pilot or his ship. One of the controllers on duty located the craft in the queue on the spaceport computers, and hastily opened a comm channel to the fleeing craft.
HWK-290, this is Theed Control. Stand down immediately, and alter your course to sector 1-1-5.
The man's tone was harsh and commanding, leaving no room for doubt about his seriousness.
You will put down immediately in the overflow landing park and submit to a security inspection, or we will shoot you down.
Meanwhile, a pair of N1 Light Starfighters had been scrambled and were in hot pursuit of the freighter.
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Kel'Al Raganella
The Jedi Order - Corellian Jedi Academy
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Post by Kel'Al Raganella on May 8, 2015 19:35:52 GMT -8
The warning was proper protocol, but it was the last thing a man having a panic attack needed to hear. The Weequay leaned forward in his seat, coaxing every extra drop of speed out of his craft, and trying hard to ignore the creaks and groans coming from somewhere behind him in the engine compartment. Accelerating as he climbed, he finally cleared the top of the congested airspace around the spaceport, but what he saw next made his heart sink even lower into his stomach: two starfighters bearing straight down on him, and probably already targeting him to kill him. Inverting the controls, he executed a nose-dive, angling away from the spaceport and the city and heading out over open water.
Sure enough, it didn't take long for hot flashes of laser fire to streak past his cockpit, and more angry words sparked from the com system, which he hastily muted.
But it was, ultimately, futile. Out over open water, there was nowhere left to run and nowhere to hide.
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Adrianna
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Affiliation: Grand Moenia Opera House
Traffic Light: Orange
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Post by Adrianna on May 8, 2015 19:43:51 GMT -8
The order went unheeded, despite the warning of potentially lethal action that had been attached to it.
Reluctantly, the traffic controller signaled the starfighters. Angry red bursts of laserfire tracked ever closer to the runaway freighter. At first, they fired warning shots past the bow, but when even this did not generate any sign of surrender or compliance, they were forced to shift their tactics. They were experts, and the Weequay never stood a chance in his unarmed craft. Seconds later, there was a bright flash of fire along the hull of the HWK-290, and then a second, and a third. The fighters backed off as the freighter disintegrated and crashed into the waves tens of meters below. The cargo hold was ripped open, and its entire contents sprinkled across the water, several miles from the Theed coast, including a triangular object that detached itself from some white clothes, shone red for a moment, and then vanished beneath the waves.
Hours later, a search and rescue team pulled the broken, unconscious form of the treasure hunter from the water and took him away. The transponder and registration of his freighter were also recovered, but with no sign or knowledge of valuables, the rest of the wreckage was left where it fell.
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Kel'Al Raganella
The Jedi Order - Corellian Jedi Academy
Posts: 530
Affiliation: Corellian Jedi Academy
Traffic Light: Orange
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Post by Kel'Al Raganella on May 8, 2015 19:50:48 GMT -8
The Royal Naboo Security Forces had no reason to suspect anything of value had been lost in the crash, and the Weequay himself was in terrible shape. He would not be answering any questions for many weeks, if he lived at all. But there were other witnesses who knew what he had: the patrons of the bar to whom he had bragged. Two of them, in particular, intending to plant a tracer beacon on the Weequay's ship, had shadowed him to the spaceport, but his abrupt takeoff thwarted their plans. Left in the dust to wave fists in the air and growl curses in ten different alien dialects, the pair of criminals were prime witnesses to the entire catastrophe.
As you might imagine, they were gleeful at the downfall of a rival and his failure to cash in on a big score. He was dead (they presumed), and only they knew where the holocron had gone. It was an unbelievable stroke of luck, aside from one obvious problem: they didn't have a clue where the holocron was. It was in the ocean. That was all they knew. They were going to need a lot of help, and that meant telling their story to whomever would listen.
It was inevitable that the word would begin to get around, and third parties would be attracted to Naboo . . . .
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The Shepherd
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Affiliation: Yavin IV Praxeum
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Post by The Shepherd on May 8, 2015 20:43:43 GMT -8
"...and I'm telling you, he said it was a holocron! Like, a genuine...Jedi...holycron...which is why I'm here, y'know?"
There were many interesting people to be met at a spaceport bar. In point of fact, if one ever wanted to find anybody worth talking to, all they would have to do is book a ticket somewhere and make a beeline for the dive closest to the gates. The proximity to the actual starships was important; the galaxy's travelers were weary after a long flight and in need of a drink, preparing to make the first step of a long journey and in need of a drink, or generally just hoping to make the hours - or even days - of their travels more bearable with the sweet release of alcohol. Despite the thousands of species and billions of individual souls crossing the space lanes every standard year, the almost overpowering need for booze was one of two commonalities across the spectrum. The other, as the Force would have it, was twofold; each person had at least one interesting story to tell, and a burning desire to share it with others.
When one had the savvy to send both inherent needs on a collision course, the results were rather informative.
"D'you even know what a holycron is, old man?"
The Nautolan laughed a hearty, mocking, drunken laugh as his hooded benefactor waved the bartender over, silently ordering another round.
"Not especially," the hooded man said with a gruff, almost gravelly voice, "but it sounds important."
"Arc-arcane knowledge. Secrets of the Jedi. All a bunch o' bantha fodder if you ask me, but hey, some poor kriffer's gonna shell out biiiiiiiiig money for one."
"There's always one."
The drunken Nautolan let out another laugh, clapping the brown-robed stranger on his shoulder as he took a deep gulp from the newly-arrived mug. It had taken two of them to really get the conversation going, and another two for the Nautolan to broach the subject of the lost holocron. Clearly, he had been hoping to keep that a secret, looking to get the bounty himself despite the fate that had befallen the original thief. But everyone in a spaceport bar had a story to tell. Everyone in a spaceport bar had a need to get royally plastered on at least one leg of the trip. But even that had not quite been enough for the spacer to spill his guts about the Jedi relic.
Fortunately, one need amplified the other, and the cycle had softened him up enough for the hooded man's final move.
"Tell me where the holocron is," the hooded man said, gently waving his hand under the table, his voice suddenly carrying far more weight and authority as the Nautolan seemed to slip into a trance.
Suddenly groggy and quiet, the Nautolan blinked a few times and raised a webbed finger as he began to speak, the words just about to escape before he stopped, puzzling over some unknown thought. Rather, unknown to most, perhaps even to himself, but not to his new drinking buddy. Far-flung and scattered though his thoughts were, the spacer still had an idea of where to find his score, even if the words had not quite reached his mouth; it was all he had thought about since he himself heard the story.
"I-uh...I heard it was in the water somewhere. Not, like, far though. I mean, far, but more...down far, not sideways far..."
That was all the hooded man needed to hear; the brews had either done their work splendidly, or the gravelly-voiced man's ability to influence minds was far better than he gave himself credit for. Perhaps both. Either way, so far as the Nautolan could tell, he had told his benefactor truth. The holocron was in the ocean somewhere, and not especially far from Naboo's capital; the rest he could figure out from there.
With a curt nod, the hooded man stood up from the Nautolan's table, pushing his seat in. But as he turned to leave, the Nautolan grabbed at the stranger's scarred forearm.
"Wait, wait, you said you'd tell me how that horn o' yours got broke!"
"Take your hand off of me."
There had been no need for plying the spacer's mind with alcohol. There had been no need to reach out with the Force to get the spacer to comply. To those that knew him - and a good many that did not - Rutil Iorek was infamous for having a scowl that was etched in stone, and a glare that could melt through durasteel faster than any lightsaber. And had that been anything more than a metaphor, the increasingly inebriated Nautolan would have been reduced to a pile of ashes and cinders on the spot. Fortunately, that was to be avoided; the second the grizzled Jedi had stopped speaking, the webbed hand flew back to the wooden table as though Rutil's leathery forearm had been a concentrated inferno. Rutil held his glare for a few more seconds and turned to leave the spaceport altogether, walking at a brisk pace.
Rutil Iorek had been trained in the ways of the old Order, before the Great Purge. And in the days following the rise of the Empire, he had trained in a great many more ways to keep himself from being found out. And with the decades and the training came the experience.
And the experience told him he was not the only person in this spaceport looking for the holocron.
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Post by arokvalestrom on May 8, 2015 20:51:47 GMT -8
A slightly beaten up personal ship lands in one of the hanger bays, it has seen better days from wherever it came from. A man exits the ship as the landing strip comes down. he was wearing a smooth black silk robe with silver trimming and using a black cane with gold highlights, he was bit of a slow walker, as you could see his grayish beard from the hood. He headed into the bar and sat don, looking around as he ordered a drink.
" i would like a strong one "he said as he looked at the waitress with his silver eyes"i hear there is gonna be some fun in this sector, so an old man like myself decided to stop in"
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Post by Sakri on May 8, 2015 23:07:15 GMT -8
Rutil's intuition in this matter was not wrong. He was not the only person in the spaceport who was looking for the holocron; heck, he wasn't even the only person in the bar to have that goal in mind. As the Zabrak Jedi left the dive, a solitary figure in a black cloak turned its head slowly to follow his path. The figure in the cloak was glad that the Jedi had seen fit to gather the information she wanted. It was an unfortunate aspect of life that getting what you wanted -- be it information, a contact, or a job -- required some form of social interaction. And the golden-skinned woman was not one to waste her words on such meaningless and empty activities. She was accustomed to shadowing behind those who sought the same things she did, leeching off of their interactions, a parasite stealing from both parties: she stole one's words and the other's intentions. There was no honour to be had in the way she did things, but neither was there any to be lost.
Once he was nearing the limit of her visual range, she began to move. Her movements were swift and quiet, her profile minimized to shun active attention. It was a long-practiced and well-choreographed dance, one she had mastered years ago. The brown-cloaked Zabrak's path was mimicked and adapted by the black-cloaked shadow. She had no fear of being outpaced; her only concern was that of her own detection, and she was actively concealing herself in the Force, a tiny ripple in the turbulent pond of the spaceport. As such, her concern was mild yet not nonexistent. There was always a chance that something went wrong.
She prepared for that chance every morning when she woke.
The Zabrak would, one way or another, lead her to her prize.
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Yama
Member
'You didn't think I was just going to roll around on the floor going meow meow meow did you?!'
Posts: 61
Traffic Light: Red
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Post by Yama on May 9, 2015 12:14:29 GMT -8
Yama land the Sith Infiltrator inside the appropriate hanger which was a distance from the civilian, and merchant population. Punching I'm several more keys Yama stood up from his seat and made his way to the back of this ship where his 74-Z speeder bike waited for him. Placing a modified helmet (modified for his rather large head) on the speeder powered on, and the ships hanger opened granting Yama passage out.
Before his bike left the enclosure of the hanger assignment ed to the Infiltrator a small button is quickly pressed closing and locking down the ship. Gunning the bike Yama was gone in a flash making his way to the area his informant had instructed. Away from civilian and into the wilderness.
This would be a decent ride so Yama busied himself with logs of those small and single man ships not of Naboo that had arrived to the area in the last 48 to 72 hr. With any luck he would be able to discover the identity of the jedi and sith before they discovered him.
Licking his maw Yama scrolled through face after face on his hud. The sun was almost set casting long shadows upon the land, the shadows of the country side was where he would go, and maybe along the way find himself a few more sticks (lightsabers) to add to his collection |
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Krayton Jantsk
The Organization
down, and dirty.
Posts: 111
Affiliation: Highest bidder
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Post by Krayton Jantsk on May 9, 2015 17:00:31 GMT -8
Having received his clearance (a low-grade civilian clearance, but official permission nonetheless) Kay set the scarred Scimitar down and powered down her systems. He considered carrying some gear, a sidearm, something -- but to be honest, interactions on the ground were just one tedium after another. Nothing got the blood boiling. So he grabbed his guitar, threw it over his shoulder, and strolled out of the dock toward the Spaceport bar. If there was information to be had, that was the place to find it.
A quarter of an hour later, he was passing a few credits to the bouncer at the door, and slipped inside. The place was busy, but not terribly so. According to the bouncer, there was no scheduled entertainment for the next three hours. A quick word with the bartender afforded him all the permission he needed: 50% of any take went to the bar. There was no need for gear or amplification: Kay simply plugged into his comm unit, and dialed up a short range wide band signal. Anyone who had an open comm channel would receive the signal, and could turn off at any point they chose to.
He picked a stool at the bar, and spent a few minutes tuning up, and adding a few effects he had added to his comm unit. He could hear the sound of himself tuning up, from a number of nearby comm units, and smiled, knowing that he'd have at least a bit of an audience (and a better than average shot at gaining intel.) He broke into an old shuffle that would -- hopefully -- get the crowd on their feet.
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Darth Andor
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Affiliation: Order of Ruin
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Post by Darth Andor on May 9, 2015 20:45:57 GMT -8
Finally making its way to the spaceport from orbit, the unmarked Dynamic-Class Freighter sailed to its designated landing pad. It hovered above it momentarily as the pilot positioned it correctly, before it touched down, rocking gently with the impact. The roar of the engines began to drop in pitch and the pulsations began to slow in tempo. Finally, there was silence from the engines as they shut off.*
*Inside the ship, Andor stood from his seat and made his way to the exit. He wasn't clad in his usual crimson tunic with the overlaying black cloak. Instead, he was clothed in the simple attire of a low-class merchant. Beneath the bagginess of his brown sleeves, strapped to his forearms were his twin lightsabers. With a certain twist of his arms, they would fall free into the palms pf his hands, should he need them. On his belt, he wore a civilian pistol: a simple DC-15 blaster holstered at the small of his back, concealed by his grey traveling cloak that rested on top of his brown clothing. His weapons were hidden from view, and he felt confident he would blend into the crowd.*
*The Sith Lord took a deep breath as he focused once more on maintaining the suppression of his dark side aura. Although Andor could use Force Stealth to an expert degree, he was no master, He'd have to wait until he knew he was safe until he would drop the effect.*
*He had to confirm the rumors that had traveled to the heart of the Galactic Empire: Kuat. The rumor that a Sith Holocron had been found on the Republic planet of Naboo.*
*In a hiss of steam, the landing ramp extended and the exit door opened. Andor hunched his back, giving the illusion of being of an older age, and left the spacecraft. As he entered the crowd, his eyes glanced around him, taking in the sights and the sounds.
He stopped a young woman who passed by him "Excuse me, Ma'am. But could you please point a visitor in the direction of the spaceport's bar?"
The woman smiled and her right arm raised and pointed in the bar's direction.
Andor thanked the woman with a nod and a smile and made his way to the bar. If there was any chatter to be had about a holocron, the Sith Lord knew he'd find it there.
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Post by arokvalestrom on May 9, 2015 20:54:31 GMT -8
" and thats how I escaped the beast" Arok was sitting talking to some pretty little thing as he spoke gibberish to her So i was curious, my old ears have been hearing of something that might be happening here, any ideas?" the lady explained to him that someone lost something of value and seems a few people are waiting it, she has no idea what it's about, but it's worth checking out " well if you hear anything then let me know" he gives her a nod as he watches around the bar, noticing the man with the guitar and watches him play. he also noitces around the room some people are trying not to look at him, like as if he gave off of some kind of bad vibe. he rememberedd his days as a young sith, power hungry as the rest, but then he was trained by a jedi who believed in changes. Arok Valestrom never went jedi, it was too boring for him, he started off sith, and would die one
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Darth Andor
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Affiliation: Order of Ruin
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Post by Darth Andor on May 10, 2015 8:03:02 GMT -8
Andor entered the spaceport bar and meandered his way through the crowd, taking caution to bump into the occasional person to hide his usual keen reflexes. In order to fully blend in, he had to have a perfect performance. Making his way to the bartender, he brushed shoulders with a departing Zabrak (Rutil). He felt the presence of the Lighside in him, and Andor concentrated as he maintained his Force Stealth. He swiftly apologized, smiled and kept walking, doing his best to get away as soon as possible to decrease the chances of his true nature being compromised.*
*Taking a seat at barstool at the far right of the bar, Andor ordered a glass of Corellian Ale. Taking a sip of the cool drink, his ears immediately tuned in and began to decipher the cacophony of chatter around him, searching for keywords alerting him to the whereabouts of the holocron. Peering around, Andor noticed that the Zabrak had left and cautiously let his aura come back to life, relinquishing control of the Force Stealth. He still focused to keep his presence low, as not to make people feel uncomfortable, or for any remaining lightsiders to sense immediate danger. He still had to blend in, but his concentration was needed elsewhere, not hiding in the Force.*
"Oh yes, I recently heard that something called a holocron was lost somewhere in the seas to the East of here. There's been a lot of increased traffic too: treasure hunters, Or so I've been told. Do you know what a holocron is?" Andor's attention immediately focused on the near human speaking to a Twi'lek dancer, sitting just a few seats over.*
*Andor rose from his seat and approached the male, the Twi'lek disappearing into the crowd to continue her work. The male near-human looked at Andor and barked, "What do you want?"
Andor answered with a wave of his hand from right to left, "You will tell me everything you know of the Holocron." The man's green eyes glazed over and he fell still. A second later, his mouth opened, and he began to talk.
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Syren
The Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Syren on May 10, 2015 16:50:14 GMT -8
*She disembarked from the shuttle and set foot slowly onto the surface of Naboo. Taking in a deep breath, slowly let the scents of the planet waft over her. She smiled a little and took a tentative step into the flow of other persons leaving the shuttle from the core. They would have to be processed of course and Syren ever did so love processing.
While it was an irritating measure, it had to be done properly. She rooted around in her long coat for her papers. Her hood was pulled up over her green hair so that anyone passing by would not recognize her. But she was far from inconspicuous in the red, reek hide long coat. Theed was nearing summer and the garment would soon be sweltering. Luckily the innards of the spaceport were cool . Syren slipped through the doors and grasped her traveling papers with a gloved hand simultaneously.
A droid greeted her and an official took a glance at the passport then at the fractured eyes beneath the hood. Syren gave him a brief smile, trying to show as little tooth as possible. The official was human, and she had seen more than a few of them unnerved by how wide she could grin and how sharp her teeth were. Despite the effort to seem unsettling, the officer shivered a little as he looked into her eyes. She gave a long blink as he looked over the papers again.
They were properly sorted out. All the T's crossed and the I's dotted as it were. The official gave a call on his comm, and Syren had to repress a sigh. *
"Business or pleasure miss?" *This came from the droid, as it could not really feel disconcerted. Syren turned towards it and gave a real grin.*
"Pleasure. Trying to get away from the business for a bit." *Syren had not been on real business for years, but she liked to pretend that she had been off doing something all together fascinating and daring. Chasing ghosts on Nar Shadaa and left for dead in a swamp on the Hutt home world were merely the beginning of the tale. She had decided to take a long look at her life after that and had decided it was time to work on her skills, alone, and stop working so ardently to be what she was obviously not -- a Jedi.
The Force flowed strongly through her, but not in the same way as through the likes of Obi-Wan Kenobi, Luke Skywalker, Vhin Qel-Droma, Dunta Coral, or Arcanus Sunstrider. And most assuredly, not the same as Adiemus Mantango. She was a different type of Force user.
She was not a Sith either. Though the temptation certainly was strong, she was not Reverance, Sinistra, Targus of the Hair, or the great Azrael of the Cucumber. She tried too hard to not be bad for that.
Instead she was merely Syren. An alien who thought that she was the last of her species and had also thought that no one knew what she was. But the droid did.
It had asked for her hand and with a sharp prick, had drawn a DNA sample from her blood. Syren watched the bead of life, greenishblue well up from her fingertip. As she brought the wound towards her lips, she glanced at a screen above her head. Plastered across it was a picture of her and a wanted scroll running beneath it. She quirked an eyebrow at this newest detail. The droid made a noise as if clearing its non-existent throat.*
"Please raise your hands and await for the authorities to arrive, miss. I am afraid that you are wanted for... well my files do not really explain why you are wanted. But nevertheless, someone wants you."
*Syren snorted, but these things were always easier when you cooperated. Especially on Naboo.*
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Darth Andor
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Post by Darth Andor on May 11, 2015 16:16:31 GMT -8
Sure enough, the man regurgitated all the information he had heard about the lost Sith holocron. But to the Sith Lord's dismay, it was less than pleasurable. It seemed that all that was known was that a smuggler had escaped the spaceport with the artifact onboard his spaceship. He had escaped the borders of Theed when Naboo Security caught up with him, shooting the plane down above the open sea.*
*The smuggler pilot's fate was unknown. Some rumors said he died during the explosion of his ship while others said he survived, but was captured and taken to a top secret maximum security prison to undergo questioning. Either way, Andor knew there was no way in reaching the pilot, and that he would have to rely on his instinct and prowess in the Force to locate the lost holocron, which rested somewhere at the bottom of Naboo's expansive seas.*
"You are free to go. Be gone from my sight." Andor order with another wave of his hand, pushing the man's consciousness with a tap of the Force. The man under the influence of the Sith Lord's mind trick gave a bow of his head before withdrawing and leaving the cantina, his destination who knows where. Andor sat at the bar, swishing the remnants of his Corellian Ale around in his glass. Even if he could find the coordinates of the location of the holocron, he had no way of calculating the distance below the surface at which it rested. Nor did he currently have access to a boat or some sort of submarine.
Anger bubbled up to the surface and Andor slammed his fist down on the counter in frustration, cursing the circumstances. There had to be a way. *
"Gungans!" He barked as a light in his head lit up. If he could get access to one of their underwater cities, his chances would all but increase in finding the Sith artifact. But time was not on his side. Andor knew others were here: Jedi, Sith, smugglers and treasure hunters. There was no time for loitering, he HAD to keep moving.*
*Andor rose from his barstool, placing the appropriate amount of credits on the counter as he turned to leave the cantina, heading in search of a speeder. He would take it out to the Lake Country of Naboo, where hopefully he could find a fisherman who would be able to point the Sith Lord in the direction of the Gungan city.
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