Tysabaar
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Death shall be your ultimate reward.
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Post by Tysabaar on Apr 30, 2014 14:17:02 GMT -8
Bateman took Mr Augereau in his office, and read the contract. When done, he read it again and handed it back to Mr Augereau with a smirk of distaste on his face. He explained how this contract doesnt fully support what he and lord Tysabaar had come to agree upon. He reminded Mr Augereau that the agreement was the materiel support of the military under him untill Lord Tysalbaars lifetime, and in return Bateman would reap the profits from the companies under his own lifetime.
Bateman also proclaimed his dislike to whoever wrote the contract, claiming him/her to be "Either a lieing bastard, or someone with a faulty memmory.
While the contract was rewritten and unsigned, the mobile command centre in the shuttle was to stay there. Especially since the deal did not include such a center in any way or form, the ten man command crew found their shuttle surrounded by nasty looking gamorreans whielding missile launchers, two handed heavy axes and maces, just standing there. Bateman claimed it to be a "Honor guard" but it was clear he meant it as half a threat because of the contracts faulty nature and the fact that the command crew was not included into it.
he wasnt happy, especially because he couldnt get the Mistress on comms. Neither Admiral Blackadder. Not a good sign. Whom he DID get on comms was General Malchett, and that REALLY deprieved Batemans calm-circuits. The fleet was one standard day from the planet, and he really didnt want these people seeing it. At least not untill the contract was signed.
However, Captain Mardotte had not revised his decision to leave a mobile command centre on Juvex. He was certainly not going to return for such a small hurdle. He had told Augereau to remind Mr Bateman that although it had not been conclusively agreed that he could leave a command centre on-planet, it had not been disallowed. Furthermore , Captain Mardotte felt that however Mr Bateman might see it, it would be ridiculous to be threatened by such a small building filled with nothing more than diplomats and communication officers. He told Augereau to tell Mr Bateman that he should view it as nothing more than mobile embassy that was there to improve and maintain good relations between the two parties.
Mr Augereau was a highly loyal man to Mardotte, but the Sith Tysabaar had also managed to create slight channel of influence over him and some of Mardotte's men. After receiving his instructions from the captain, he was also notified by Tysabaar of the immense importance of this mission and that if carried out as instructed, Augereau would certainly find himself in a more influential position amongst Mardottes men. With all this in mind, Augereau confronted Mr Bateman and awaited his response. |
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Post by Theophania del'Arte on May 1, 2014 18:24:16 GMT -8
Leeza watched the exchange between Adrien and the newcomer with a quiet easy smile on her face. It didn't bother her that he used alias for all of them, she lived under one anyway. There wasn't a spacer out there worth their weight in gold that didn't have at least two or three up their sleeves. She flashed a winning grin when Adrien said she could acquire supplies on her own, demure yet charming at the same time. One big happy family. She didn't like the look of the businessman or the fact that Adrien was being left alone with Claws, but there was little she could do about it now.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on May 1, 2014 21:19:32 GMT -8
Fenrir had moved to the side of the ramp, staying back a bit so that if anything went down, he could launch into action from the high ground. He had retained a fairly passive look throughout the conversation, knowing that in this situation it was better to let Adrien do the talking, he was just here to be the muscles.
Much like the Gamorreans were for Patrick, the only difference being, Fenrir was not in some slavery servitude, he could leave when ever he wanted to. For now though, he would do what was asked of him, and if that meant keeping an eye on these two slaves, he would do it. But first, he waited to see whether or not Patrick would agree to these terms, since he didn't seem like the kind of man who would go anywhere without is slave lapdogs
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Atia
Member
Posts: 1,232
Affiliation: Nightsisters of Dathomir
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Post by Atia on May 5, 2014 7:52:45 GMT -8
As the man spoke Adrien moved his hands from his hips and crossed his arms, he was quick to want to board the Shadow and that didn't sit well with Adrien. Of course Adrien didn't like anyone who was overly anxious to board his ship, especially if they haven't been vetted, it made him wonder what the guy's angle was. He also didn't like the idea of the pigs stinking up the place. He looked the Bateman character up and down with a slightly raised left brow, he then glanced to Leeza and back to Bateman, "Alright, but your boys here have to stay out here, Irwin will stay with them. We have some supplies to get while we're here, but I think Nira can handle that herself. Just me and you go in. That's the only way this goes down, take it or leave it." He grinned confidently. He wanted this guy to know that so long as they were on his ship that he was in charge and he called the shots. -Bateman- "No need with the hostility, My good sir. Your wish is my command." He signalled to the pigmen and walked in after the man he knew as Daklan.
There were several reasons why the old man wanted to get inside. The tracker was one. He also wanted to see how these people live. He wanted to see if they had junk laying around, if they drank beer, if there were deathstick fials laying about or other narcotics accessories. He wanted to see if the small gap between the door plates and the wall gets cleaned, if the toilet smells or the kitchen is greasy. He wanted to get an idea of the people he was about to deal with. A policing agent may come in a greasy ship but the real details of living on a space-boat can not be duplicated. A spacer can be recognised and analysed by the state of his or her ship.-Bateman- "Can I ask for a drink while we speak, Captain? I always charrish business talk over a glass of what the house has to offer." People like what they know. Spacers were once planet living children, planet living teens, and planet living young people. Teens and young people have a tendency to party, drink. The middle aged people that become the product usually keep the taste of the food and drinks from their planet rooted life. Bateman wanted an idea where these people came from, or at least where they had bought their last bottle of spirits.
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Atia
Member
Posts: 1,232
Affiliation: Nightsisters of Dathomir
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Post by Atia on May 5, 2014 8:04:22 GMT -8
It had taken sometime for Augereau to contact his superiors and notify them of Mr Bateman's displeasure. After some careful consideration it had been decided to comply to some of Bateman's requested alterations. He would also be assured that however had sketched up the contract had been 'adequately reprimanded' for their failure.
However, Captain Mardotte had not revised his decision to leave a mobile command centre on Juvex. He was certainly not going to return for such a small hurdle. He had told Augereau to remind Mr Bateman that although it had not been conclusively agreed that he could leave a command centre on-planet, it had not been disallowed. Furthermore , Captain Mardotte felt that however Mr Bateman might see it, it would be ridiculous to be threatened by such a small building filled with nothing more than diplomats and communication officers. He told Augereau to tell Mr Bateman that he should view it as nothing more than mobile embassy that was there to improve and maintain good relations between the two parties.
Mr Augereau was a highly loyal man to Mardotte, but the Sith Tysabaar had also managed to create slight channel of influence over him and some of Mardotte's men. After receiving his instructions from the captain, he was also notified by Tysabaar of the immense importance of this mission and that if carried out as instructed, Augereau would certainly find himself in a more influential position amongst Mardottes men. With all this in mind, Augereau confronted Mr Bateman and awaited his response.
Also, he went into Human Resources questions. He explained that Juvex prides itself in training the best bodyguards and soldiers in the mid rims, and offered one such bodyguard to Mr Augereau as a gift of good business. He said it was a sample they could test and see if they want to buy more such services later. If Mr Augereau would consider to accept this gift, the bodyguard would be waiting on him in the lobby.
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Spectre
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Post by Spectre on May 5, 2014 10:36:55 GMT -8
*Unmoved from the bar stool, he sat like a statue. His buy'ce still on the bar. Several rounds later, and what seemed like months, he finally began to lose himself. He couldn't feel what everyone around him felt. Lost in a haze. A nice change of pace. Since being saved on Pantora, everything had a feeling and a vibration to it. Goddess knows what happened. Since he can barely remember anything. Amnesiac Mando. Whatever that means. Well, he knows he's a Mandalorian, but beyond that he doesn't know much more. He knows he's skilled. A few people tried to take him on thinking he was an easy target. Thinking they'd get some easy renown at his expense of lost memories. It didn't turn out too well for them. Low level scum enforcers of the planet. Whatever planet this was. He didn't care. He was just passing through anyways. Hoping to find something. Not just something. A purpose. Whatever that would be. Anything. Might help him remember why he forgot almost everything. Maybe. Only time will tell. Until that time, he just sits. Drinking to remember.*
*Time continues to pass and people come and go. Oblivious to them as they are to him. Obscure, well as obscure as a Mandalorian Executioner can be in full Beskar'gam. He could tell something was about to unfold. It nagged at him, no matter how much he drank.*
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Adrien Draykon
Retired High Councilor 
The Smuggler King
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Post by Adrien Draykon on May 8, 2014 19:00:47 GMT -8
-Bateman- "No need with the hostility, My good sir. Your wish is my command." He signalled to the pigmen and walked in after the man he knew as Daklan.
There were several reasons why the old man wanted to get inside. The tracker was one. He also wanted to see how these people live. He wanted to see if they had junk laying around, if they drank beer, if there were deathstick fials laying about or other narcotics accessories. He wanted to see if the small gap between the door plates and the wall gets cleaned, if the toilet smells or the kitchen is greasy. He wanted to get an idea of the people he was about to deal with. A policing agent may come in a greasy ship but the real details of living on a space-boat can not be duplicated. A spacer can be recognised and analysed by the state of his or her ship.-Bateman- "Can I ask for a drink while we speak, Captain? I always charrish business talk over a glass of what the house has to offer." People like what they know. Spacers were once planet living children, planet living teens, and planet living young people. Teens and young people have a tendency to party, drink. The middle aged people that become the product usually keep the taste of the food and drinks from their planet rooted life. Bateman wanted an idea where these people came from, or at least where they had bought their last bottle of spirits.
Adrien turned with a lasting glance at Leeza as lead this Bateman character into his ship. Once they were through the airlock and into the common area Adrien pulled a chair out as he walked past it and then pulled his jacket from his shoulders and tossed it on the bench, revealing his holstered weapons for the first time as he walked around to the other side of the table. He wanted to make sure that he could see the door at all times and he had pulled that specific chair out for Bateman to sit in because it would give him the most direct view. He gestured to the chair for Bateman to have a seat, then turned to the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Dorian Quill and two glasses, set the bottle on the table and opened the freezer and put a few cubes in each glass then returned to the table and poured just enough to cover the ice before he slid a glass across the table to Bateman. Around the room Bateman might notice a very basic set up, the dining table they were sitting at took up the center of the room and directly behind Adrien was the kitchen area, there were a few fresh dishes in the sink and the counters were wiped clean. It wasn't spotless, nor was it dirty, it was simply lived in and well maintained. The Dejarik table had a game that was left unfinished and there was a thin layer of dust covering it as though it had not been played in quite some time. The rest of the ship was closed off to the common area though Bateman could see clearly down the main hall to his right. There was a mixture of smells that you would expect to find on a transport ship such as oil and sweat masked with the musk of cologne and the aroma of food. If you were to examine the cabinets further you would find several easy 'man meals' and a healthy dose of spices of the cooking variety. On the bench next to where Adrien tossed his jacket down was a small stack of books and resting on top was a worn copy of Of Droids and Men, something that had obviously been read several times over. Adrien sat across the table from Bateman and crossed his leg over his knee, one hand resting on his ankle the other around his glass of Dorian Quill. He looked across the table at his potential employer examining the man for a few moments before finally breaking the silence. "Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot, I didn't mean any hostility toward you, I just didn't want your pigs stinking up the place is all. This is my ship as well as my home." Perhaps before he had broken the silence Bateman may have gotten the impression of irritation or even an attempt at intimidation from Adrien, neither was the case of course, he simply liked to get an idea of who he was dealing with and he got that though examining them. "Now, you mentioned immediate work?" He took a sip of his drink, making sure not to break eye contact with his client. |
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Tysabaar
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Death shall be your ultimate reward.
Posts: 58
Affiliation: The Force
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Post by Tysabaar on May 12, 2014 1:45:34 GMT -8
The answer came. Now that Mr Bateman was getting what he wanted he signed the contract with a smile on his face, offering very expensive drinks to Mr Augereau. He commended him and his command on the quick rework on the contract and drank a toast for their very lucrative future. He then went over the Command Centre question. He explained that yes, the pigmen soldiers outside their ship was a honour guard, since he wanted to make sure nothing unhappy happens to them while they stay on Juvex. He also concluded his previous misspleasure to actually be a missunderstanding. What he meant was that diplomaths and their staff should not stay on a ship, but a highly commended and service oriented hotel. With no expense of course. Also, he went into Human Resources questions. He explained that Juvex prides itself in training the best bodyguards and soldiers in the mid rims, and offered one such bodyguard to Mr Augereau as a gift of good business. He said it was a sample they could test and see if they want to buy more such services later. If Mr Augereau would consider to accept this gift, the bodyguard would be waiting on him in the lobby.
With no further fuss, Mr Augereau thanked Mr Bateman, shook his hand and left the building threw a back door. Walking swiftly away from the building and making sure he was not followed, Augereau then headed towards his base of operations. He sent a radio transmission to order on of his communications officers to fetch the bodyguard who awaited him in the lobby of Mr Bateman's building. |
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Post by Theophania del'Arte on May 13, 2014 7:40:19 GMT -8
Leeza met Adrien's gaze then sauntered off past the guards and Fenrir into the open expanse of the spaceport. She had to present her ID, sign some customs forms and then she was freed from the bureaucracy. First thing was first, she took care of business, finding a supply company to deliver a crate of nonperishables and ready meals which were charged to the ship's port account. The supplies would arrive in an hour or so, and with some time to kill before she escorted it back, Leeza wandered into a bar and took a seat next to a armored Mandalorian, her comlink on. She ordered a sour, her gaze out the window back towards the spaceport, watching for more guards or anyone who looked suspicious.
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Atia
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Posts: 1,232
Affiliation: Nightsisters of Dathomir
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Post by Atia on May 19, 2014 5:48:20 GMT -8
Adrien sat across the table from Bateman and crossed his leg over his knee, one hand resting on his ankle the other around his glass of Dorian Quill. He looked across the table at his potential employer examining the man for a few moments before finally breaking the silence. "Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot, I didn't mean any hostility toward you, I just didn't want your pigs stinking up the place is all. This is my ship as well as my home." Perhaps before he had broken the silence Bateman may have gotten the impression of irritation or even an attempt at intimidation from Adrien, neither was the case of course, he simply liked to get an idea of who he was dealing with and he got that though examining them. "Now, you mentioned immediate work?" He took a sip of his drink, making sure not to break eye contact with his client.
The HRD known as Bateman nodded in appreciation.
-Bateman-
"I need someone who can take packadges through customs. These packages would be sized from small boxes to maybe even several crates and could range from five kilos to hundreds of kilos even. The packages would be taken from one specific system to many other systems in neutral, republic and imperial space. The point of origin would be kessel."
He believed he had conveyed everything he needs to without actually saying the words 'Smuggle' and 'Spice'.
The HRD-s eyes didnt miss the book. Of Droids and Men. At that moment, something went wrong in the processing algorythms in what it called its brain. For some reason, the book was classed as a priority, and the knowledge it contained was classed as top secret Alpha 1 Protocol. This fought all ounces of logic, because the books contents could be found everywhere on the Holonet for download and the HRD wouldn't have to bother with the entire book thing... flapping about paper pages and holding an archaic information storage device. But still, for some reason, the droids protocols set it to high priority, and the droid already started to process ways to get his hands on it.
Augereau accepted the drink graciously. It had shown great initiative on Mr Bateman's part to secure friendly relations. However, Augereau was shrewd enough that he was not going to meet the bodyguard outside by himself. Be it a gift, it could just as well be a death sentence. One could never be too careful in his line of work. Political diplomats and businessmen always seemed to have a hidden agenda. Instead, Augereau said he was most sorry, but he had to leave immediately to inform his superiors of the success in their new found trading alliance with Mr Bateman. He did however find Mr Bateman's offer most generous and would be happily accept it. He could not meet the man immediately but instead would send another on of the staff working at the information post to collect the bodyguard. On the point of transferring their base of operations to a hotel, Augereau declined and said that they were instructed to stay where they were. He added that they were most comfortable at present. He did say however that the declination was not final, rather, he would inquire with his superiors if the move was acceptable to them.
With no further fuss, Mr Augereau thanked Mr Bateman, shook his hand and left the building threw a back door. Walking swiftly away from the building and making sure he was not followed, Augereau then headed towards his base of operations. He sent a radio transmission to order on of his communications officers to fetch the bodyguard who awaited him in the lobby of Mr Bateman's building.
Many banshees are already used to slavery, many are lifted from terrible sadistic masters and thought skills and had their talents elovated to benefit the Crucible, and Juvex Import Exports. Some had known freedom before becoming slaves through a painful process. By Batemans standards, the Banshee Product Line was faulty. It was riddled with the faulty psyche that sentience is prone for, like mental breakdowns, insanity and emotional trauma. Some banshees may be chatty, flirty and well... normal. They accept the rules of slavery set upon them and make the best of their lifes they can while serving their Mistress, the nightsister Atia, or any Master they now may be serving. Some others had a hard time adjusting to slavery, and thus they were conditioned physically and psychically to adhear to rules, orders and a submissive life. While sentients may like the more normal Banshees to interact with, for this "Product Marketing Gift", Bateman chose a more secure choice, one of the more heavily conditioned Banshees, the silent, controlled and obedient twilek woman named 17.
17 was wearing an imperial officers outfit lacking any indication of what empire she represents, or even any kind of brass that would dictate her position in any military organisation. A clean uniform, with an E-11 blaster and a stealth belt. A datapad working as a comm unit, cybernetic right eye, and finally, a slaves collar. She was the Bodyguard waiting to be picked up. When the communication officer was sent to get a bodyguard, he was presented with this twilek in imperial uniform and a dufflebag with cloths and few personal things, calling herself a number.
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Spectre
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Affiliation: The Moon Goddess/ Dha Werda Verda
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Post by Spectre on May 21, 2014 20:19:15 GMT -8
Leeza met Adrien's gaze then sauntered off past the guards and Fenrir into the open expanse of the spaceport. She had to present her ID, sign some customs forms and then she was freed from the bureaucracy. First thing was first, she took care of business, finding a supply company to deliver a crate of nonperishables and ready meals which were charged to the ship's port account. The supplies would arrive in an hour or so, and with some time to kill before she escorted it back, Leeza wandered into a bar and took a seat next to a armored Mandalorian, her comlink on. She ordered a sour, her gaze out the window back towards the spaceport, watching for more guards or anyone who looked suspicious.
The vibrations of the room picks up when the young woman enters. Spectre sets his amber gaze upon her to size her up for the threat she was, unlike most, and then goes back to focusing on his black ale to mind his own business. All eyes are upon her in the doorway. She dismisses them like a pro, but is disgusted nonetheless. Not exactly the cream of the spacer crop hanging around. What is more perplexing is she keeps getting closer until she takes a seat. Right. Next to him. Most people gave him a very wide berth. At least a two stool distance. None even dared to get that close him. But there she was, he could smell her. Even though she exuded confidence, she was distinctly female in the sense that she may have been feminine and smelled great but she was all business. Absolutely not to be trifled with in any sense of the word. He was impressed. He gazed at the bar and any reflective surface to get a look at her through his peripherals. She orders a sour and keeps a look out. Strong and confident she maybe, but this planet like to take females into custody. Many a rumor floated about Juvex being a slaver planet. Females were especially prized. This was perplexing to him. In his culture, there was no distinction from male or female. A ripper bullet to the head was just as deadly coming from a man as it was a woman. Only cowards make over-inflated distinctions about sex. At least in his mind. Which by normal standards wasn't much since he lost most of his memories.* |
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on May 23, 2014 18:56:35 GMT -8
Fenrir stood at the top of the ramp once Adrien and Bateman had both entered the ship, Keeping an eye on both Gamorreans, the pair seeming like some sort of duo out of a holomovie where the brothers had gone into service as guards for the antagonist. If that was the case, killing one would incur the wrath of the other, so if it came to it, he needed to be damn well sure he took them both down.
However, he had a feeling this situation would not resort to him having to kill the Gamorreans, instead it might very likely be someone else, who exactly was not quite clear, but Fenrir had a feeling something was about to go down. Like most predators, he had an inane sense of when something was not quite right, and this was one of those situations
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Adrien Draykon
Retired High Councilor
The Smuggler King
Posts: 720
Traffic Light: Orange
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Post by Adrien Draykon on Jun 5, 2014 19:56:12 GMT -8
Adrien sipped his drink, never taking his eyes from the man in front of him, though he couldn't say that his new employer was doing the same. Adrien knew he was sizing up the ship and this Bateman guy probably knew that Adrien was sizing him up as well. He seemed pretty straight forward and he had obviously done deals like this before as he made sure not to use incriminating words in case the place was bugged or this was some sort of set up. Adrien would offer the same courtesy in kind, "Sounds simple enough. Now let's talk prices, I charge by the ton, 10,000 7" is my standard rate and the low end of a competitive price at that. I need that divided up into four thousand Republic, four thousand Imperial, and the remainder in Peggat, Truguts, and Wupiupi." Bateman would likely understand the need for the division of credits, as a smuggler Adrien traveled throughout the galaxy and interacted with different governing parties, not all of which accepted the others currency. "That price includes my fuel, my time, my crew's time, man power, and hazard pay, pesky pirates are always looking to make easy targets of legitimate business men like myself. Also if you're going to need a man aboard for insurance purposes there is a passenger fee, 1,000 7" per day. That includes facilities, private room, and board." Typically he liked haggling, but this particular planet was one that he neither liked to spend an excessive amount of time on nor one that he wanted word to spread that he was on, hence the fake names and IFF.
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Atia
Member
Posts: 1,232
Affiliation: Nightsisters of Dathomir
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Post by Atia on Jun 6, 2014 3:45:23 GMT -8
Ten thousand per ton was a ridiculous price. Not too high, too low. Bateman quenched his eyes. Too low a price, and the man will be bought easily. Lets see if he can wiggle it a bit.
-Bateman-
"20 000 per ton, Half in imperial, half in republic. Whatever other means of currency you want you can go to the currency changer down the corner outside the spaceport. Republic part now, imperial when you return. 800 per passenger, one room for all passengers, even gammoreans. They will bring their own food, and interact very little with your crew. Finally, I want to barrow that book."
He pointed at "Of Droids and Men", the used copy laying around. The droid sipped his drink as the old man would, whom he impersonated. In his mind, he was already planning the inventory that will have to get on-board.
-Bateman-
"As for pirates, while you work for us, you will be given an encryption. This encription can be used on our Transport Comm Network, and there you can report in your status and ask for help and assistance. Our patrols help out all our transporters."
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Atia
Member
Posts: 1,232
Affiliation: Nightsisters of Dathomir
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Post by Atia on Jun 6, 2014 3:51:47 GMT -8
Fenrir stood at the top of the ramp once Adrien and Bateman had both entered the ship, Keeping an eye on both Gamorreans, the pair seeming like some sort of duo out of a holomovie where the brothers had gone into service as guards for the antagonist. If that was the case, killing one would incur the wrath of the other, so if it came to it, he needed to be damn well sure he took them both down.
However, he had a feeling this situation would not resort to him having to kill the Gamorreans, instead it might very likely be someone else, who exactly was not quite clear, but Fenrir had a feeling something was about to go down. Like most predators, he had an inane sense of when something was not quite right, and this was one of those situations
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Adrien Draykon
Retired High Councilor
The Smuggler King
Posts: 720
Traffic Light: Orange
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Post by Adrien Draykon on Jun 7, 2014 9:06:42 GMT -8
Adrien wasn't entirely sure why this guy upped the price, perhaps he was just bad at haggling or maybe he thought that with a higher price Adrien wouldn't be bought so easily by competition. In either case Adrien wasn't going to argue with being paid double what he was asking, though in the back of his mind he wondered how much more this guy would pay. The thought intrigued him but if this guy was willing to pay too much then perhaps the job he was wanting done wasn't the spice run that Adrien thought. Of course if Bateman was simply paying for loyalty then it was sort of like a free bonus for the crew since once Adrien agreed to a job he honored his word and the contract regardless of whether someone else offered more, but Bateman didn't need to know that.
He thought it was peculiar that his employer refused to pay in Huttese being that Juvex known for slave trade and all, and that is a very lucrative business for Hutts, but he supposed that credits are credits and Hutts will accept them regardless of where they come from.
He furrowed his brow as his new client asked to borrow his book, he was slightly confused as to why he wanted to borrow an archaic book that was worn to the spine. Still, the book had value to Adrien that couldn't be measured in credits or material goods and it wasn't leaving this ship. I'll accept the prices even without the Huttese currency, you'll have one room for all passengers but they'll need to check all weapons at the door, the safety of my crew is my top priority, you understand. No pigs and no book, but I'm sure there's a library around here you can borrow it and in better condition than my copy, failing that there's always the holonet."
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Atia
Member
Posts: 1,232
Affiliation: Nightsisters of Dathomir
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Post by Atia on Jun 8, 2014 4:14:59 GMT -8
The huttese currency was actually a problem. THe companies policies regarding slaves were very very strict, and the way hutts treat their slaves are largely considered pagan. Unsatisfactory. When the trade to hutt space was closed off, so was their currency. None the matter, soon the Company will wade in hutt currency, hutt slaves, and other hutt wealth. Maybe even hutts as slaves.
For a moment, the logical circuits in the "man" known as Bateman had a small strike. What the captain said was totaly logical, but for some reason the priority settings concerning that book were set above logical parameters. Bateman the HRD and his seven little brothers were a prototype. Their release into this world was premature, since the Phoenix Imperium fell long before their beta testing had subsided. This bateman was experiencing a... bug.
-Bateman-
"I suggest a trade of trust. You borrow me the book, I will read it, and give it back just as I found it. It is worn, read many times over I bet. It has sentimental value for someone in the crew. The fact that you dont want to part with the book even for a week or two brings me to this conclusion.
See, I dont know you. You dont know me, but you are the one being paid, and get my merchandise into your inventory. You will have something of mine that is of sentimental value, profits. An equal trade should include sentimental value on both sides.
And you do intend to return, dont you?"
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Jun 20, 2014 17:49:09 GMT -8
Fenrir almost smirked as the future bacon portion of his breakfast stared him down, it what was seeming to become one of the more interesting staring contests around. Each side mentally siezing up their opponent and strategizing ways to take their opponent down, something Fenrir was quite adept at. Whilst it was true they had the weight advantage, it was quite common in the animal kingdom for the somewhat lighter and more agile predator to take down the sluggish prey.
It was all a matter of wearing one's opponent down through dodging, and placing enough cuts to drain 'em dry. Or alternatively, placing a blade up through the gaps in the armour into the opponents skull. Fenrir also had the advantage of his healing, meaning that his wounds would heal even whilst he was fighting these pigs, whilst they would continue to bleed out. But Fenrir had a stranbge feeling that these two would not be his opponents, at least, not today anyway
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Post by Erin Darkwell on Jun 21, 2014 11:06:25 GMT -8
Erin stifled a yawn with the back of her hand as she brought the Tryst gliding down through Juvex's atmosphere. Her comm crackled with irrelevant chatter between the space ports and orbital control as she descended. Despite the scarce air traffic the assassin kept strictly within the confines of her broadcasted flight path, unwilling to attract any measure of attention. Her landing in the Juvex City spaceport was just as cautious, though she could've landed her ship with her eyes closed. Ah, but that was the price you paid for anonymity.
Halting at the top of the freighter's ramp just long enough to light a cigarette, Erin descended into the crowd milling about the spaceport and disappeared instantly. Her olive-toned jacket, loose fitting jeans and combat boots were hardly noteworthy, not to a group as varied as this. There more aliens than humans meandering about the massive structure, most of them likely non-natives. That was typical for any major city's spaceport, which, in her opinion, made them one of the best hiding places.
Sylvia hugged her ribs in a cross-draw holster beneath her jacket, but otherwise she carried no weapons. Everything else, aside from her carbine, had been lost on Aargau, and the rifle wasn't exactly the most subtle piece of gear. She felt almost naked without her blades, but while replacing them was a priority, it was not her first. No, before she looked to securing new gear Erin needed a drink. Her nose crinkled as an impish smile bowed her lips. 'After all, I've been working hard.'
The sleepy human male guarding the spaceport's exit shot her a distracted glance and waved her over. As she approached he withdrew a metallic wand about thirteen inches in length and ringed with flashing lights.
"What's that for?" She asked, raising one eyebrow suggestively. That earned her a chuckle from the guard, and she smiled in response. He wouldn't give her any trouble.
"Just a routine scan, miss. Arms at your sides please." She obliged him, standing immobile while he traced the wand along her outline. The low frequency hum never wavered, and when he finished the guard gestured toward the exit. "Okay, you're good to go. Enjoy your stay in Juvex City."
"Mmm."
Erin swept past him without another glance. The sun was low in the sky as the assassin stepped out onto the paved sidewalk, the sky pregnant with oranges and blood-tinged streaks of purple. Night would fall soon.
'Perfect.'
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Atia
Member
Posts: 1,232
Affiliation: Nightsisters of Dathomir
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Post by Atia on Jun 26, 2014 5:10:02 GMT -8
Fenrir almost smirked as the future bacon portion of his breakfast stared him down, it what was seeming to become one of the more interesting staring contests around. Each side mentally siezing up their opponent and strategizing ways to take their opponent down, something Fenrir was quite adept at. Whilst it was true they had the weight advantage, it was quite common in the animal kingdom for the somewhat lighter and more agile predator to take down the sluggish prey.
It was all a matter of wearing one's opponent down through dodging, and placing enough cuts to drain 'em dry. Or alternatively, placing a blade up through the gaps in the armour into the opponents skull. Fenrir also had the advantage of his healing, meaning that his wounds would heal even whilst he was fighting these pigs, whilst they would continue to bleed out. But Fenrir had a stranbge feeling that these two would not be his opponents, at least, not today anyway
The two seemed to finds their confidence in numbers, now that the lone fighter was staring them down with equal or greater confidence. This was the confidence that got the first one to start "Honk-Honk" to his other pork mate. |
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