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Post by Deleted on Sept 13, 2013 8:34:03 GMT -8
Terra shrugged a little, though it did seem odd that they had spent all that time in the beach and she hadn't done any swimming. Of course, she didn't actually know how to swim, but the world she had grown up on didn't have many opportunities to learn. Of course, she had yet to actually mention this to Ralph, and it hadn't come up in the discussion yesterday.
She sighed softly. "Um...well I don't know how to swim..."
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Post by Pearce Zigher on Sept 13, 2013 8:52:18 GMT -8
Hey, smile hun, it's not a big deal that you don't know how to swim. There are a lot of people who don't. *Ralph smiled and let got of her hand, picking up his fork to start eating again.* You know, if you want Terra, I could teach you how to swim. I doubt we would be hiking all day, and I would love to be able to take you out in the water with me. It's really nice. *Ralph smiled at her again, finishing off his breakfast and leaning over the table, giving her a quick kiss* But it's up to you.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 13, 2013 9:01:37 GMT -8
Terra couldn't help but giggle a little when Ralph told her to smile, and she had been about to ask if he would teacher when he offered to help her learn to swim. She smiled brightly. "I'd like that. Thanks..." She looked at the ground again, blushing. "We...could go right now...if you wanted to." Yesterday he had been quite excited to get to the beach, and he seemed to like it a lot over there. She did too, and if he really wanted to go there like she thought he did, she wouldn't mind changing their plans. Swimming was exercise too after all...
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Liam Blood
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Affiliation: Mandalore
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Post by Liam Blood on Sept 22, 2013 6:43:03 GMT -8
A reasonably busy fueling station frequented mostly by cargo haulers and their drivers - Corellia, 55 kms from Coronet City
Liam and his protocol droid C4-Y0, a dark blue protocol droid entered the cafe located across from the fueling pumps and took a table. Liam had the droid order for him while he located a list of potential contacts, crossreferencng for local information on reliable contact details. It took more time than the food and drinks took to arrive, Liam took a sip of his Corellian whiskey while he finalised the search. He was looking to find available mercs. Not the local scum, but a more capable sort. The sort with a reputation. The sort who cost extra, but were usually worth the investment, because they would get the job done. Usually, that meant dealing with Mandalorians. Liam didn't have a problem with Mandos, indeed he had a healthy respect for their culture. But they could be trouble if not handled correctly.
Sending a text comm to the address he had bought from a local security company that had access to civilian holocams, and the resources to link comm transmissions to facial and profile recognition, Liam contacted a man called Darian Beviin, according to his source, known to recently have been on Corellia.
Fouryo Liam said to the droid Do you speak Mando'a?
Oh yes, Master Liam. It is one of over three hundred thousand four hundred ninety five complete dialects that I am converse with. I can give you an example if you wish, or.. Liam curtly cut the animated droid off with a wave of his arm.
No, that's all I needed to know, Fouryo. It was a known quirk of protocol droids that they took an overt pride in their work, affable when sentients showed an interest, and, as now, almost sulky when rebuked for said animated passion for their work.
Liam sighed, feeling sorry for the droid, despite knowing how ridiculous it was.
I would be lost without you Fouryo. He grinned, not being able to resist a dig. Guess I won't sell you to the Mandalorian after all.
The droid would have had to have moving facial features to look more alarmed. Then its manner shifted back to huffed sulking. Well really!Liam sat back to see if the Mandalorian would come.
He was hoping to secure a contract for the Mandalorian to provide security. Here on Corellia, it wasn't necessary, but it would be on countless other worlds, especially out on the Rim. A Mandalorian at your side meant people took you seriously, and for the Sons of Bounty to succeed, they needed to be taken seriously. A working relationship with the Mandalorians made sense.
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Darian Beviin
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Post by Darian Beviin on Sept 22, 2013 7:50:19 GMT -8
The ungodliest hours of morning were the best time, Darian reflected, for those with mischief in their minds and manners to weave their webs.
While most of Corellia was lit up by unnatural lighting, even well after sunset, some things remained unseen even when you had superior vision. Deals like these, deals made between Bounty Hunters and their employers, these were meant to be kept quiet. At least, until the credits rolled through and the deal was closed. The speeder bike slowed to a halt outside of the filling station and up to one of the pumps, where a droid set about topping off the Tibanna supply and cleaning the pock marked surface of what was more than evidently a battle-scarred swoop. Mandos, by reputation, were generous when you offered them the same hospitality. This Droid was well programmed to know that, Darian noted.
He kicked one leg over and dismounted, surveying the surrounding area without moving his head all too much- an untrained eye might have made the mistake of not realizing he could probably see them- and his HUD prompted vital statistics for the immediate lifeforms and droids. There was a Protocol model standing not too far from another man, several mechanics plowing through old parts and rickety speeders, and even one ship in a bay, waiting for diagnostics. But this was, by all rights, a small time operation. It flew well under CorSec's radar, and by that same virtue, he would more than likely not risk any encounters of the Jedi variety.
While not altogether afraid of dealing with Jetiise, they certainly complicated things. And this was a meeting that needed to run smoothly.
Darian checked the Mandalorian Ripper at his right hip, and the Verpine Shatterpistol hanging precariously next to it- both weapons only imposing any more than a normal blaster if you had an eye for arms and ammunition. Gorehound remained, as ever, idle at his left, and his Khyber knife was slung over his back, the sheath mag-locked for obvious reasons. Today- while his "beskar'gam" was on par with glorified shit rather than proper Mandalorian Iron (he would work on getting a proper suit fitted and crafted when he had realistic funds)- he was still better off than anyone standing nearby. A walking armory, covered in protective metals, with advanced computerized technology giving him a readout of his little corner of the world. This was why Mandos were feared. And while it did give a man a sense of power, it was one they had learned to humble. That kept them alive.
He glanced toward the man standing with the droid, giving him the impression that he'd just noticed him. Maybe the man would know better, and maybe he wouldn't. But this was a good a way as any to get negotiations underway, especially since Darian had no idea which of these men had contacted him.
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Liam Blood
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Affiliation: Mandalore
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Post by Liam Blood on Sept 22, 2013 8:18:56 GMT -8
The walking armory gave away the almost certain identity of the man Liam had been expecting. Not that many Mandos in truck stops. He noticed more the reaction of the others in the room than the man himself, a kind of hushed reverie. Certainly no one seemed to wish to draw his attention, which seemed sensible. A barely audible sigh of relief ran through the room as Liam raised a hand and waved to the man. "No, thank the Force, he's not here for us" was the common theme of the muted comments. Oh yes, Mandos had their reputation. Well deserved.
Liam's nondescript black civilian clothes were smart, cut slightly in a military fashion, with no visible insignia. Black shirt, trousers, belt, blaster pistol and vibroknife, well-worn boots, black. His short cropped brown hair topped a young looking face that looked six or seven years younger than it was. His blue eyes were calculating, always catching details as they darted around. When the Mandalorian approached, however, Liam would meet his opposite's eyes with resolve, but no malice. Show strength, but also respect, that was the way to go.
He turned to the droid after waving to Darian No talking unless I ask you to. Record anything he says in Mando'a for translation later. Still annoyed from Liam's earlier rebuke, the protocol droid simply gave an affirmative beep, in astromech. Liam cocked an eyebrow, but said nothing more, and awaited his guest's approach. When Darian approached, Liam said;
I'm Liam Blood, of the Bounty. This is my personal assistance droid C4-Y0. I'm glad you decided to come, please, sit down. He waved to the bench opposite himself and the droid, directly across the table.
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Darian Beviin
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Post by Darian Beviin on Sept 22, 2013 8:36:07 GMT -8
::I prefer to stand,:: Darian's voice was reconfigured by the vocalizer unit into a mangled, toneless thing bereft of emotion. Unless this man was some sort of Jetii, he would be talking to a man who had the feel of little more than a machine. That was the sort of feeling he- and most other Beroya, for that matter- preferred to exude. It kept business more impersonal, and kept it flowing more smoothly. ::It's nothing personal,:: he assured the man, ::it never is.::
He did, however, take the spot across the table from Liam, in order to minimize the distance- and therefore the level of voice- that either of them would have to use to communicate. That would ensure that there would be a decent amount of privacy between them. He glanced sidelong toward the others in the room, who carefully (and wisely) avoided his gaze, before looking back to the man who had called on him.
::You're a man who knows what he wants,:: Darian guessed. ::Else you'd never bother calling a Mandalorian. Especially not on Corellia.:: He tuned down the reverb on the vocal unit so that his voice would be muffled, and only project as far as Liam. Most of his speech thus far had been posturing, anyway. It kept the riff raff from getting involved. His aural enhancer flipped off the sonic dampeners, and he dialed in his hearing in the direction of the comm unit nearest the wall. If anyone tried to contact some undesirables, he'd be the first to know.
He let his arms hang at his sides as he watched Liam, gauging his expression from behind his T-visor. ::Tell me what you need, and I'll tell you if I can help you.::
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Liam Blood
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Affiliation: Mandalore
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Post by Liam Blood on Sept 23, 2013 8:00:43 GMT -8
Liam already liked the Mandalorian. Professional, and straight to the point. He had no reason to trust Liam, but was willing to talk business. Liam nodded. Straight to business, then.
I'm looking to put together a small armed force, capable of either raids, or pulling operatives out of sticky situations. I'm willing to pay you fifty thousand as a start, and as a fortnightly fee. I'll pay you another twenty five thousand bonus for each other Mandalorian you can recruit, and they'll get fifty thousand a month. So you'll be on a hundred thousand a month, to run herd on the men you can bring in, up to four others. Is that a job you think you can handle?
Liam had no strategic reason to hold back, if the Mando had questions, he'd get honest answers. Best to get business off on the right foot. Liam took a drink of his whiskey, his expression even, no hostility. The Bounty had sent a warning earlier that criminal elements linked to the Hutts had put the word out that Bounty crew were on Corellia. After ripping off several Hutt transports, the Cartels had had enough, and Liam's crew had racked up a string of bounties. Liam himself was clean, but a few cohorts had had to remain aboard Bounty for the stay in the Corellia system. Even so, his known association with a few of them meant he'd still need to be on his guard, in case the Hutts' scum came looking for him. Even though he'd picked the location for the meeting with care, it would be best to get business concluded quickly.
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Darian Beviin
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Post by Darian Beviin on Sept 23, 2013 10:58:46 GMT -8
::We're not pack animals as much as we used to be, Mr. Blood,:: Darian drawled, though his vocal unit did not pick up the inflection. ::Mand'alor makes a call for galactic scale genocide and closes up the market for MandalMotors and the Beskar trade, and money starts getting a little tight. It's divisive politicking. You want Mando'ade, might be I know a few people looking for work, but you're going to find your wallet pretty depressed if you're looking to put all of them on salary.::
He watched the man sip his alcohol in stoic silence after he finished, silently taking stock of the veracity of this man's offer. ::As for my own participation, you can consider me an asset, pending the proper initial deposit finds the way to my account. And thereafter, all subsequent payments should be rendered promptly. Protocol dictates I warn you that my policies are a bit more hard line than most other 'hunters. I don't beat money out of men who snub me. I give them to Kad.::
His eyes moved along the outline of his HUD, tracing the form of one of the men behind him with a scrutinizing glance. The movement toward his weapon was probably reflexive, or just nothing of import, but it paid to be aware of everything. Maybe that would have earned him the title "paranoid," but this was a business that did not offer many luxuries like trust.
His voice raised several decibles and croaked out mechanically. ::Next shabuir to fondle a blaster eats the barrel of my Ripper. Got it?::
Stunned silence. Gawking glares. Darian both felt the eyes on him and saw them now, and his lips turned up into a smile benesth his buy'ce. Now this feeling, he remembered. This feeling felt good.
His voice lowered again, lifting his right arm and opening a panel in his gauntlet. Keying in the coordinates and opening a docket of authorization for the transfer of funds, Darian pulled up an interactive holo-display in front of them and gestured for Liam to key in all the necessary evils. Business as usual.
Inside his helmet, on a secure frequency, he put out a singular call to one Mando that he absolutely knew could use the credits. As well as the experience. His voice did not escape the confines of his helmet for the duration of that conversation, and it appeared as if there were not a conversation at all. In fact, to their audience, it would appear he were just waiting on paperwork.
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Liam Blood
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Post by Liam Blood on Sept 24, 2013 5:21:12 GMT -8
Liam scanned the crowd as Darian gave his warning. He saw no immediate threats, but Darian must have seen something, so he kept himself alert. Turning most of his attention back to the Mandalorian, Liam continued.
He reached forward and authorized the holo display to transfer the agreed sum from a Sons of Bounty drawing account to Darian's preferred account. Your first payment awaits you.
While he gave Darian a moment to confirm the transfer, Liam set up an authorization on the drawing account in Darian's name, so that the Mandalorian could draw on the account at need. Flicking a switch on his datapad, he sent the account code to Darian's HUD.
And this is an account you can draw on when you need creds before, during or after a job. There's plenty there, but it's not an unlimited supply, so no aurodium-plated weapons if you please. He added the last with a slight grin, to show it was not meant too seriously.
Joking with Mandalorians could be like playing hopscotch in a minefield. So long as you didn't impugne their honor or their family, most Mandos tended to have thick skins, and even respect you for showing guts. Still, it didn't pay to toy with them. Liam resolved to keep the discussion more businesslike.
I'm not going to make any long-winded speeches about what I'll do if you cross me. Suffice it to say that working with me will always be more profitable than fighting me. The credits dry up when I do. So long as there's mutual benefit, and we need each other to succeed, trust becomes a non-issue.
That being said, Liam stood and offered a hand for Darian to shake. This motion also revealed the illegal Tenloss DXR2 disruptor Liam had hung at his belt. A deadly and dangerous weapon, banned on most civilized worlds, though small and compact, it was a weapon worthy of respect. I look forward to working with you, Beviin.
Liam hadn't seen it yet, but there was a small commotion outside, as if a group was trying to force its way inside and being denied entry by the door guards. Perhaps the Hutts' enforcers had found Liam after all...
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Darian Beviin
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Post by Darian Beviin on Sept 24, 2013 12:40:09 GMT -8
Darian's HUD identified the weapon before he would have ever seen it himself- bringing a smirk to the Mando's grim face beneath his helmet. The implied trust speech was always an entertaining one. Even with gestures of good faith. He brought his right arm up (which revealed a better view of subtle indentations and faults in the armor, where might have been concealed weapons or other surprises), and firmly shook the man's hand.
The holodisplay closed almost reflexively after it had been completed, leaving no room for tampering or identity theft from the outside. Let it not be said Darian was an unprepared man.
When the disturbance came outside the door, Darian heard a small proximity alarm in his inner ear, and he glared sidelong at the display. His hand dropped from Liam's, and his left hand snapped Gorehound from his hip. Anyone with a trained eye might identify the Mandalorian Iron composition of the tomahawk- unpolished, keen, hilt wrapped in leathers. He turned slowly toward the door, his fingers curling around the hilt involuntarily, a byproduct of years of training. Anticipation.
::Friends of yours?:: He asked the man offhandedly, now looking directly toward the guards holding off the commotion.
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Liam Blood
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Post by Liam Blood on Sept 24, 2013 19:04:09 GMT -8
Liam saw the commotion a few hearbeats after Darian, his eyes hadn't missed the beskar of the tomahawk. A fine looking weapon, if an unusual choice in the modern age. A dozen smart replies ran through his head in response to Darian's query, but he resolved to play it smart.
Liam answered first by dropping his right hand to his pistol and pulling it free, thumbing it to full power as he did so. The almost indistinct whine of its power charge would have given it away to any trained ear. He made sure when it came up it wasn't pointed anywhere near the Mandalorian. He thrust his other hand under the table's edge.
No friends on Corellia. My guess is scum working for the Hutts. As the first of the group shouldered his way into the cafeteria, Liam almost groaned. A Whiphid. Behind the hulking brute were three Nikto, two Weequay, a Gammorean, and three nasty looking Bothans. Some friends of mine offended them. The three were all carrying unsheathed vibrodaggers, while the rest carried an assortment of blasters and edged weapons. Liam had managed to catalog the nine while upending the table he'd been standing behind, then crouching behind it, disruptor in hand.
Liam sighted in on the Whiphid and fired, but missed, hitting one of the Nikto in the midsection, bisecting the thug as the area between his chest and his hips vaporized, not even letting him scream as the two halves of meat separated and slapped wetly to the floor. Consider these your first assignment! He punctuated that sentence with another shot that managed to take out a light fixture, then ducked as return blaster bolts of varying size and power began to whine past his head, some sizzling into the thankfully durasteel tabletop. Screams and yells told him that some of the other patrons of the cafeteria had stopped bolts with their bodies.
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Darian Beviin
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Post by Darian Beviin on Sept 24, 2013 19:30:46 GMT -8
Darian answered with action.
Gorehound whipped through the air in a clean spin, Darian's HUD mapping a bloody path to the juglar vein of a surprised Nikto. The dismay was evident on the creature's face as he let out a gargling scream, the edge of the weapon firmly lodging itself in his spine, leaving his head lopsided, hanging from thin sinewy strands of flesh. The pitiful creature was dead before it hit the ground.
Grim purpose had beset the High Priest of Kad Ha'rangir, and its name was duty.
He strode forward with his right hand slowly drawing the Mandalorian Ripper from his waist, shrugging off all but the impact of two blaster bolts, giving a grunt as his durasteel plates soaked the brunt of the thermal damage. The Heads Up Display gave him a timely update on armor integrity, which held fast in spite of immediate damage, and the plates showed dark scarring where they had been hit, but gave no other identifiers.
In a flash of death, Darian returned fire. The Ripper screamed twice, roaring through the personal shielding of the Gamorrean as though it did not exist. Two clean entry wounds, one in the forehead, the other slightly above the right eye socket. Both rounds cleared flesh and skull, and tore out chunks of brain in their wake. The beast toppled like a sack of dung, fat rippling as it bounced twice on the hard floor.
Darian lowered the weapon evenly, and stared directly at the Whipid. ::You get ten seconds to tell me who you're working for. Then, I'll send you to your god. In pieces.::
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Liam Blood
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Post by Liam Blood on Sept 25, 2013 7:19:22 GMT -8
Though the middle of a firefight was hardly the time for personal reflections, Liam was inwardly seething at the blatant disregard the Hutts seemed to be showing for the time honored tradition of a shakedown. He figured the crew on Nar Shaddaa that had pulled the job that had set all this in motion must have left something out of the report. Hutts didn't send kill squads out after ship thieves. Not even when they got away with a haul of creds and valuables along with one of the Hutts' freighters. No, they'd made it personal somehow.
Though Liam didn't know it yet, the four-man squad done more than just ripped off the freighter with the usual collateral damage. One of them had taken out half the security force and incidentally, the son of one of the Desilijic Clan elders, when he'd blown the power grid to the launch bay forcefield aboard the Hutts' ship, venting the bay to space, and flash freezing two dozen bodyguards, plus the juvenile Hutt, on their way to a starry grave. Hutts took such things personally, of course, and weren't the kind to forgive and forget. Kill a Hutt, and they were after you for good.
More blasterfire whined past Liam's makeshift shelter, and he fired back, melting the faceplate of one of the Bothans, and half the face and head behind it, leaving a standing form with a smoking ruin for a head, swaying for a moment before toppling to the floor.
Then Darian spoke, as the report of the Ripper's fire died away. The Whiphid made no move, so Liam covered the remaining Nikto, who was taking cover with the two remaining live Bothans, the Whiphid staying where he was, about two meters from Darian, three from Liam. Liam kept watch on the group in the corner, as a small part of his attention stayed on Darian and the hulking alien.
One thing was sure from this encounter, however it finished, the Sons of Bounty were going to have to arm up, soon and well, to deal with the menace of the Hutts. And Liam was going to have a few words with the four members of the Nar Shaddaa snatch team. Several million credits was nothing compared to the cost of a war with the Hutts. One moment, one wrong decision, could prove very expensive in this galaxy. Plots within plots were one thing, but random chance, or a lack of care or foresight, could be all the difference.
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Darian Beviin
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Post by Darian Beviin on Sept 25, 2013 15:23:23 GMT -8
The Whipid was irate. Within seconds, he'd watched several of his contingent wiped out, and two of them with cold precision. The Mandalorian standing in feont of him now threatened to finish the job, and he demanded answers. Pulling a thermal detenator from beneath the confines of his shabby clothes, the hulking menace replied to the promise of death in kind, grunting in a low octave and gesturing toward the armored man.
::Eight seconds. Don't waste my time.:: The scream of metal scraping out of the magnetically locked sheath on his back quickly faded as the Khyber knife rained down into the path of a vibroknife, seeking one of the weak points in Darian's armor. The weapon never probed close enough. The armored assassin danced, and in fluid time, his blade sang.
A wicked chorus erupted; the oversized knife slapped away the deadly, shivering metal, and the offending Weequay stumbled forward, surprise evident on his face. The cold bark of metals clashing came from the creature's midsection, where it had wisely chosen light armor, but abruptly ended when his chin exploded. Blood sloshed forward and peppered Darian's armor in arterial spray, and the metallic god of Death pulled the blade free, letting the body sink to the floor.
::Five.:: Fire had concentrated on two fronts; on the durasteel table covering Liam, and on Darian himself. The Whipid cocked back his arm to throw the Det. And screamed, in a higher pitch than it had ever conjured in all it's time. The Khyber knife ripped viciously into flesh and tore through the shoulder joint, and just kept going. The creature reached across his body, fighting tears, clutching at the wound where Darian still forced his weight down, concentrated on severing the limb.
And the entire arm, hand clutching the thermal detenator and all, clattered to the floor. Darian kicked the arm to one side, and pressed the Ripper to the massive crybaby's ribcage. ::Still feeling brave? You have two seconds. Cherish them.::
The beast made some pathetic blubbering noise that sounded nothing like an answer, and Darian let out a breath. And fired.
The Whipid toppled, a bloody mess, voiding it's bowels, and the foundation of the building shuddered beneath it's weight. Darian turned his gaze to the Bothans, and cocked his head to the side. ::One of you Chakaar'se want to give me a proper answer? Or am I going to need to make a bigger mess?::
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Liam Blood
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Post by Liam Blood on Sept 27, 2013 11:16:42 GMT -8
By now, Liam had worked out that this was a kill-squad, though obviously a cheap, local one. That changed the rules. It was time to give Corellia the flick, ahead of schedule. He could work things out once they were aboard Bounty once again. Risking a blasterbolt, the Nikto moved to raise his rifle. Liam almost sighed, and shot him in the throat, essentially decapitating the alien as his neck and upper torso disintegrated under the energy blast, the severed cranium with its facial spines clunked to the floor, joined momentarily by the Nikto's bulky headless corpse. He risked a word to Darian.
Don't waste your time. Theyre local scum, and right now those two Bothans are considering a change of career. One of the Bothans must have heard him, because they both threw down the blasters they were carrying and ran for the door. Liam tracked them with the disruptor, but held fire, doubting they were going for reinforcements. The Bothans were doing a good impersonation of a spooked prey animal, darting for the door. If they'd had tails, they would have been between their legs, such was the blind panic of their flight. They didn't want to go out the way the Whiphid had.
Cowards.Liam said. He would have admired their good sense, but if they'd had good sense, they would never have taken up working for the Hutts by choice. I think it's time we made a discreet exit. He looked at Darian and nodded the way the Bothans had gone.
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Darian Beviin
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Post by Darian Beviin on Sept 27, 2013 13:16:36 GMT -8
::I don't do discreet well,:: Darian mused tonelessly as the group dispersed in a sad display of pathetic cowardice, dropping his Ripper and thumbing replacement rounds into it's chambers. After a few moments of pause, the Priest tucked the weapon away, and reached up, thumbing at the locks fastening his helmet. There was a series of quiet clinks, and the buy'ce slid free of his head.
Fierce, violent green eyes pierced the world and found Liam, the hardened face of Darian Beviin like chiseled stone, practically devoid of emotion. His messy hair fell in ragged strands, sweat mottled from the heat of his HUD being constantly online. For the first time, he spoke to his new benefactor in an almost genuinely human voice.
There was a somber, reverent tone in the way the man crooned, almost soothing, yet firm. Commanding. "But you've probably already noticed that. I don't know what delusions you have about Mando'ade," he told Liam, "but they're all true. We eat babies and piss lightning bolts. And there's booze in our veins instead of blood."
He brought the helmet slowly down to his side, walking toward the door with no fear of any sort of retaliation. In fact, if there was anything to the monstrous man besides stoicism, it was not visible. His stride remained steady, and he called back to Liam. "I don't know what the HoloNet told you about me, Blood, but I am a Shekemire. A Priest of Kad Ha'rangir. I lead by my example. If I walk in shadows, what impression do I give my Vode?"
Leaning down, he ripped Gorehound from its resting place in the neck of a dead creature, prompting a deluge of blood to coat the floor in crimson. And in one fluid motion, he resumed his walk. "Bring your ship around. I'll cover you."
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Liam Blood
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Post by Liam Blood on Sept 28, 2013 7:41:11 GMT -8
Liam listened to the Mando describe himself, and almost attributed the man's confidence to bravado, but then he considered that it wasn't bragging if you could walk the walk. Despite his outward combative demeanour, Liam saw that the Mandalorian standing before him with sweat caking his brow was the sort that was very good to have as a friend, clearly very very bad to have as an enemy, despite this, Liam found himself warming to the armored warrior. No sneaking, no skulking. Yes, he could live with that.
Liam clipped the disruptor back to his belt, and nodded in response to Darian's suggestion that he bring the ship. He turned to a shadowed corner where a faint metallic shuddering noise could be heard. Fouryo, you can come out now, and comm the shuttle.
Creaking and whirring announced the protocol droid's emergence from where the terrified mechanical had been cowering during the firefight, protocol droids being notoriously averse to violence of any kind.
Very well Master Liam. The shuttle will set down outside. I thought a rapid exit might be in order.
Liam grinned. You thought right. Let's make a calm, dignified and... ah Fierfek, let's just go have a drink aboard my ship.
The droid in tow, Liam headed outside, where the whine of the descending shuttle's repulsorlift drives was getting louder as the pilot descended, the wedge-nosed personnel shuttle touching down in a blast of dust about ten meters from the building. Liam headed toward the craft as its boarding ramp descended. A Wookiee appeared on the ramp and bellowed at Liam in Shriywook; the Wookiee language.
Gerlani was a female, taken from Kashyyyk as a slave, freed by a SoB crew on Nar Shaddaa, she'd joined the group in lieu of a life debt, and was as fiercely loyal to the cause as Liam himself. Right now she was yelling about Corellian mechanics, something about a lack of standards, and how Liam had interrupted her chastisement of the ground crew with his call for a pickup.
Liam grinned and greeted Gerlani warmly, as C4-Y0 ambled past them into the ship. He spoke softly to the big Wookiee female.
You can sort them out next time, old friend. We'll be taking a new guy aboard with us. He's a Mando, so behave yourself, and make sure no one pisses him off. This one's a priest, and seems the touchy sort, so let's be on our best behaviour. He is on our side.
Gerlani grunted a response that meant something along the lines of "He's on our side as long as we pay him."
Yeah, thats true. But this one seems decent enough. I'm sure he'd kill the lot of us given good reason, but I highly doubt he's the type to cross us unprovoked.
That seemed to mollify the mistrustful Wookiee, and she headed back to the cockpit to bully the pilot. Liam turned to wave Darian to the shuttle.
Come on then, we're in the clear. Next stop, the Bounty!
As expected, the Bothans hadn't reported in, hadn't gone anywhere near their former haunts, and were at the current time hiding in a waste disposal unit several kilometers from the cargo hauler stop where the firefight had erupted. The Hutts wouldn't hear the story for awhile. This round went to the Sons of Bounty. Liam, however, had unfinished business with the snatch crew that had caused the attack...
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Darian Beviin
Member
Posts: 206
Affiliation: Kad Ha'rangir
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Post by Darian Beviin on Sept 28, 2013 8:16:46 GMT -8
As Darian waited for Liam to sort things out with his crew, Darian decided that there was one more call to make. The crew clearly had a wicked bedside manner, and there was a man who- under any other circumstances- Darian wouldn't even bother calling. Darian was one sort of monster, as far as Mando'ade were concerned. Ornik Vilka was another sort of demon altogether.
Lifting his helmet up, Darian slipped the metal dome over his head once more, and blinked a few times to reset the HUD. He muttered a few words as the system rebooted, and the link sought out Vilka. Darian left a short, concise message, uplinked his positioning system for the other man to follow, and closed off the comm.
As Liam gestured for him, Darian began walking once more, and he held up a hand. ::Give it several minutes. Skirata is inbound to these coordinates. Until then, update me on this crew of yours. How did you piss someone off this much, and how many hutuun'se is Gorehound going to eat before the week is out?::
The crew leader would probably be left uncertain of who "Gorehound" was, but the rest of the question was pretty clear. How much killing did he expect would need doing, and what exactly happened to cause this mess. Darian had a few old connections in the Hutt Cartel from the old days. If he could figure this mess out, could be he could make nice with the right Crime Lords.
Sure, it might cost the lives of a few crewmen, but Darian didn't have much to loose from that. He might as well at least offer.
But not yet. No, for now, Faust would come along soon, and Ornik would be along sooner or later. And then, the Sons of Bounty would have a nice little Kill Team of their own. Led by two Fanatics and a Psychopath. Oh, wouldn't Liam be thrilled when he realized that! Darian looked around at the crew as he stepped into the ship, and he slid the bloodied Khyber knife back into its sheath.
And then, he stood, pointedly waiting.
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Liam Blood
Member
Posts: 102
Affiliation: Mandalore
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Post by Liam Blood on Sept 28, 2013 8:45:23 GMT -8
Liam called up to the cockpit that they'd be holding position a few minutes. Loud Wookiee swear words came back, roared so loud they might have blown the operative off the ramp had he not had one hand holding a strut. He decided it might be safer to leave the conversation there, and stepped down to where Darian stood waiting.
My crew are all over the place. Cells, quiet operations, that sort of thing. There'd be several thousand Sons by now. Not all of them are in constant contact with Bounty. If they go rogue, they get no more support. I like my people to be self sufficient, and have initiative. I don't have time to hold their hands. I give them a task, and support, and leave the how up to them. If they make a mess, they answer for it, and that's where the Hutts have come into it.
To tell the truth, I can't give you much solid information right now on what set today's little party up. But by the time we've been aboard Bounty for five minutes, i'll give you facts, details, probably even holos. If you want my professional's opinion, i'd say one of my teams screwed something up on an op that their leader decided to leave out of his report. Probably figured he could fix it before I found out. I could take a guess as to whom, but I'd rather have ferrocrete evidence before I take disciplinary action. Given that the Hutts sent a kill-squad looking for known associates, I would guess the kriff up would have to be on the scale of forgetting to shield a small thermal exhaust port leading directly to the main reactor on a moon-sized battlestation.
Which Hutts are involved, and what kind of resolution this might entail will become clear once we're aboard ship. I don't expect this will be an easy mess to clean up. And yes, im sure there'll be a bonus in it for you. Hutts are free with their bribes, so remember i'll beat anything you're offered by the fat slugs to cross me. I don't like dealing with the Hutts period, and I sure don't want a war with them if I can avoid it, but be clear, if war it is to be, i'll bury every kriffing Hutt from here to the Ssi-Ruuk Imperium before i roll over for them. I play to win, Beviin, which is why I looked you up in the first place. You don't lose.
Liam took a breath of the reasonably clean Corellian air as he watched the cargo haulers pass. There wasn't much foot traffic beyond the usual yard techs, so any approaching Mandalorians would stand out like a pimple on a Bith's cranium. As would any Hutt scum that tried another attempt, though that was hideously unlikely so soon.
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