Hoth's Open Terrain

Plucking a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket without breaking stride, Korum shook one loose and stuck it between his lips as he meandered down a long, poorly lit corridor. The guns on his hips, big archaic revolvers crafted from shining phrik, creaked in their leather holsters, and the snap of an ignited match brought a flare of orange light to life. Taking a long drag, the red haired smuggler halted and squinted at the chronometer on his wrist through a lazy curl of smoke. 

Time for his meeting.

Which door was it, though? He approached the nearest doorway and poked his head through inquisitively only to withdraw quickly from the sight of a burly Duros in plastoid armor sticking a blaster pistol in his face. The guard followed him out into the hall, pistol still raised and a sneer on his blue face. The smuggler's left hand dropped instinctively to the butt of one of his revolvers as he continued to back away from the alien rent-a-cop.  


"Who the hell are you?" Blue-face snarled, brandishing the pistol.

"Easy," a crooked grin stretched across the smuggler's face. "I'm here for work. Any clue where I can find the boss?"

The Duros' head snapped to the side as the voice of the newcomer echoed through the hallway. Korum took the opportunity to step to the side, out of the path of the pistol, only to sheepishly raise his hands again as the guard realigned his aim and gave the smuggler a dark scowl before turning back to the approaching sentient. 

"Caught this man wandering around the complex, sir." Rumbled Blue-face. 

Korum's mouth dropped open in a hurt expression. "Hey, I came here looking for a job!" 

At this latest indignity Korum dropped his hands and when the Duros brandished his pistol threateningly, the smuggler blew a great cloud of cigarette smoke in his face and turned to the man who had just now reached them. 

"I was told you needed pilots; that's why I'm here."

Maybe this was a mistake; what little he'd seen of the complex before the rent-a-cop had accosted him had seemed sketchy. Not that the smuggler had any problem with sketchiness, but...he'd rather avoid being shot during his interview. 

Korum smiled easily at the man, settling for a shrug of the shoulders as he referenced the Queen (who he did not resemble). Turning to regard the rent-a-cop as the Duros grudgingly holstered his blaster pistol, the smuggler waved politely. Scowling, the guard turned and ducked out of the hallway, back into the lab Korum had stumbled into. 

"Sure thing boss. 'Sno problem for me." He said around the cigarette in his mouth.

Taking a drag, the smuggler reached up to run one hand back through his unruly head of scarlet hair before blowing out a stream of smoke. This time he was courteous enough to direct it off to the side and away from the face of his new boss; the man really did give off a "don't fuck with me" vibe, and Korum was all too happy to oblige him on that account. Plucking the cigarette from his mouth and letting it dangle at his side, the smuggler gestured up the hallway.

"So I take it I'll be transporting cargo, not people. Illicite or legitimate?"


As if he didn't already know the answer to that one. 

A smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, Korum nodded. Despite the man's gruff nature he didn't seemed phased. There wasn't much that could dampen the smuggler's perpetual state of good humor, save an empty liquor bottle or being accused of cheating at cards. Otherwise it was almost impossible to offend him, as long as he had a good buzz going and didn't take to dwelling on the past he was always grinning. 

"Understood, boss."

Again the hand holding the cigarette came up, the tip of the thing glowing cherry red as the smuggler inhaled. Acrid smoke filled his lungs and curled up lazily from the corners of his mouth. 

"Discretion is my calling card. What do you need me to do first?"

Despite his easy going appearance and relaxed posture, Korum had settled into his role as an employee, and the hard amber of his flashing eyes reflected his new found seriousness. He was, for the moment, all business. 

He'd held back a moment to flick the butt of his cigarette into a nearby trash receptacle and was feeling around in his pocket for another when the boss barked at him to hurry up. With a clipped curse Korum hurried to catch up, finally managing to pull his pack free as he drew level with his new employer. Sithspit, the man really was a Class A asshole. But he seemed like the type of man that got things done. That knew how to make money and stay alive and out of prison long enough to enjoy it; those were qualities that he admired, even if the boss did make the hair on the back of his neck stand up. So in the silence that enveloped their treck through the corridor, Korum held his pack of cigs up in offering.


"Smoke?"

Regardless of the man's reply (personally Korum was expecting some rant about the poor quality of the cigarettes), the smuggler took one for himself, lit up, and let his eyes half close in pleasure as he took his first drag of the acrid smoke. Relishing the dull ache in his chest, he let his left hand drop to the butt of the revolver on his hip, fingertips tracing paths along the carbon foam grip. They passed a doorway, but by the time his gaze had shifted that way they were nearly past and he managed to catch a glimpse only of another guard in plastoid armor. 

*As the cold harsh icy winds blew across the snowy landscape of Hoth, busy continued as usual within the confines of secret underground base of the Hoth Cartel. In the area of the base where the hanger bay was located, a lone Firespray-class interceptor called Tal'din was being brought down into the confines of the base via freight elevator since access to the underground facility was only available through the icy caverns of Hoth.

Once the interceptor was secured, its loading ramp was lowered and the doors to the ship open to reveal a man crafted in red/black Mandalorian Armor. The Mandalorian; known as Kraval Ordo, walked down the ramp onto the cold metal floor of the hanger. He looked around for a bit to get his barrings before setting off into the base. Like any known Mandalorian, Kraval was armed with his basked(on his left hip), two Zabrak Tystel Mark III heavy blaster pistols(worn in tactical holsters on the outside of each thigh designed for quick draw), a Beskar Mandalorian survival knife(in right boot), and a JT-12 jetpack on his back.

Kraval walked into the main corridor of the base as he made his way towards the main office. He kept his sights forward; while his left hand rested on the hilt of his beskad, as he walked by the many Duros security guards that roam the base. He glanced at sum of the labs and noticed the laborers hard at work in processing many varieties of spice. Spice was a known illegal substance in republic space and knew of only one man; actually a former vode, that would have a tight running operation and would need someone in Kraval's line of work to make sure everything ran smoothly.*

*Kraval found his way into he main office and noticed two men in the room. One was a smuggler that was in the process of smoking a joint while the other one he personally knew quite well since he was currently snorting spice up his nose.*

Greetings EX, I see that you been keeping yourself busy over the years. How's busy these days?

Avidus extinguished the expensive stub of a cigar he'd been thoughtfully puffing on and pulling his hood off closed the door behind him as entered the complex. He had a feeling Exchequer was looking for him. He pulled out his comm link and spoke through a channel with multiple levels of encryption.
::Complete that research for me Vic. I need to know what the status of that facility is.::
-Vic-
::Yes Master.::
Vic spoke dispassionately. It was a miracle he could still speak most of his vocal box had rotted away now leaving him with a raspy grating voice. He turned to the data pad he was using and immediately began researching.
-Avidus-
He made a right, left, left, right, went down a staircase, down the hall, took the third door on the right and then got into a elevator. On the uppermost floor he exited made a left turn a right, past the harem of girls Exchequer was most likely looking to sell off, and then knocked a special code on a hollow door, heard the replying knock. Tossed the doorman a pack of cigars, made a right turn and found Exchequer.
"You requested my presence. . .Exchequer?"

No need for apologies EX, things never usually go according to plan like they suppose to.

Kraval noticed another person that entered the main office and EX's tone...he was expected to be here at this time. He listen in on their conversation about hunting wild, dangerous, exotic creatures that would sold on the black market. Certain creatures would fetch a fine price and would make excellent amusement in illegal gladiator events.

Those rare and dangerous creatures would fetch a fine price in the black market EX but could also serve for amusement in gladiator events where bids are placed on which creature is the most deadliest as they fight to the death or how long a slave can last against said beast.

Avidus smiled a little his metal right hand clicking as he tapped the fingers together.
"I suppose we could head to Falleen. Although if i remember right, the facilities we are interested in haven't been used in over a decade."
-Vic-
He would have squinted if he had the flesh to. As it was he dragged a bony hand across his skull. A bad habit from before he'd been twisted. Then he commed Avidus
::Master, I believe to date no one is running the facilities you requested me to look into. If you make a move quickly you should be able to secure them.::
-Avidus-
As soon as Vic's raspy voice crackled through the comm Avidus put it on speaker comm so that everyone in the room could hear Vic's news.
::Excellent Vic I suppose you should alert my staff. We'll probably move soon either business or pleasure.:: Then he killed the comm.
-Vic-
He didn't need to say anything further so Vic immediately signaled the crew of the ship Avidus used. In very short order the crew was working on the ship making sure Avidus's favorite cigars were stocked, favorite whiskey, favorite foods, and the special servants entered the meditation room where Avidus communed with his first master and cleaned it taking care not to touch anything that need not be touched.
-Avidus-
"You heard Vic, Exchequer. The decision is yours."
Avidus said nothing further he carefully watched Exchequer's body language. He had already guessed that Exchequer had fixed himself up already before he'd arrived.