IC Star Wars the Dark Times- Ithor/Korriban

Sakutian

Oren Keth
It had been a week since Oren had been stabbed and left bleeding to death in a rain gutter in the the Lower Imperial Center. Luckily for him the force had seen fit to spare his life for a second time. A Buden monk had happened upon him and carried the young padawan back to his home, at least that's what he'd been able to piece together after coming back to his senses.

When he had become fully aware of his surroundings once more he found himself in what must have been a small storage facility. Now it served as a Buden temple. Small candles tucked in the room's corners served as the only light source. A pair simple cots made of stretched clothes and splintered bits of wood were the only furniture to be found inside. A fire pit stood in the center of the chamber and a blackened metal teapot was suspended over it day and night from a small piece of meta embedded in the ground. Just outside a small courtyard and garden led back out to the streets of Lower Imperial Center. The monk had somehow managed to raise a coax a small vegetable garden and a patch of flowers to life in the pebbly soil.

The monk, an exceedingly tall and broad shouldered human, had spoken to his guest very little. He wore threadbare brown robes and kept a hood drawn over his head throughout most of the day. Mainly he'd brought him three small but filling meals each day, checked his wounds, and replaced his bandages as needed.

It was during one of their simple afternoon meals that an unusual sound from outside stopped the monk and padawan in an instant. Screams, blaster fire, and the like were common place for the Underworld. In fact they were expected. It was the utter lack of any sound from outside that alerted them to the approaching danger. The flimsy looking, but apparently reinforced door, trembled beneath the force of a fierce blow.

Moving with more speed than he'd ever exhibited in front of the padawan up until now the monk darted across the floor on his hands and knees pulling back a tattered carpet near the center of the room. Revealing an extremely rusted metal grate underneath he pulled it out of place with one forceful tug. "Follow this tunnel, it will lead you to a safe haven."

Looking between the rattling door and the grate. "I'm not just going to hide down here while you'd…" Before the padawan could finish his argument he'd been bodily tossed down into the sewer landing ankle deep in foul smelling liquid that gurgled past slowly down the tunnel.

"Walk with the force my friend, it is the only guide you will ever need." The monk slid the door grate into place and Oren saw him replace the carpet hurriedly. A corner of the ancient fabric remained out of place giving the hidden padawan a small glimpse of the temple overhead. A split second later the door finally gave way and he could hear several pairs of footsteps tromping inside. Peering up through the grate he was able to count three clone troopers armed with blasters blocking the entrance. A fourth extremely pale human with blood red hair who was wearing light green robes stood a few feet in front of the troopers glaring.

"Greetings, I welcome you into my home."

The pale robed man looked around a bit with an expression of disdain on his face before finally turning his full attention to the monk. "Do you know who I am monk?"

"No I am afraid I do not."

"My name is Exxeden Darrtas, and I am a Jr. Inquisitor of the second degree. That means that I operate under the direct authority of Emperor Palpatine himself."

The monk inclined his head ever so slightly in a small gesture of deferment. "I am honored one who speaks with such authority has chosen to visit my home. Would you care for some tea?"

Kicking over the teapot the Inquisitor knocks the fragile thing to the floor shattering it. Boiling tea spills over the floor quickly. Droplets of steaming tea leak through the grate raining down inches away from Oren.

"I am here to apprehend a Jedi."

The monk turned his head to the left and right as though searching for anyone else in the room before turning back to the Inquisitor. "As you can see there are no Jedi here. Only you and I, and those you have brought with you."

Exxeden's face was quickly reddening to match the unsettling shade of his hair. "I know that you have been offering him shelter for a week now, a young woman he accosted the night you saved him has made us aware of his crimes. Multiple counts of murder and assault, even an attempted rape. Are you actually going to waste your effort shielding someone who would do such terrible things from the law?"

"I bow to a higher authority than laws you serve young man." For the first time the moon didn't sound accommodating or amused. His voice had become a thing of iron and even though he made no threatening gesture the Inquisitor took a step backward.

"I will not ask a third time monk." Exxeden waited a fraction of a second before stepping to the far side of the room, well outside the line of fire. "Kill him."

Each of the clone troopers fires a singe crimson blast from their rifles, the bolts of energy burn through the monk's chest with ease. As he topples onto his side the room begins to fill with the strong smell of burning skin and cloth. The young Inquisitor makes a disgusted face and pulls a handkerchief from inside of his robes and raises it to cover his nose and mouth. Walking over to the body he delivers a swift kick to the dead monk's stomach.

"The girl must have been telling tales, I sincerely doubt even this pious oaf would have let himself die rather than give the Jedi up to us. I simply cannot abide a liar, remind me to have her executed when we return private."

One of the troopers shouldered his blaster and advanced a bit further inside. "Yes sir, would you like us to search the structure."

The Inquisitor turned in a tornado of flailing fabric and stepped out through the threshold. "No we've wasted enough time for one day."


Tissen Kreeb and Delanrirr
Bendu Kreeb had been asking Tissen Kreeb and Delanrirr questions in his small office for nearly an hour. Since he didn't speak Shyriiwook Tissen had been answering all of the questions so far. Most of them had been about their ship anyway which wasn't a big surprise. After all they'd been called to Imperial Center to try their hands at a bit of smuggling.

Setting down the datapad he'd been poking at throughout the interview Bendu smiled at them. "Tissen your my aunt's, cousin's, sister's boy. You're practically my son. It doesn't do to have you gallivanting across the galaxy getting shot at. If you want smuggling work though I can be of some help." The older Duros rose from his seat stepping around his stark metal desk and opening the door to his office. Outside droids of countless descriptions and in various states of dilapidation were pummeling one another with metal fists, firing blasters wildly into the air, or enacting some form of violence on their mechanized brethren. They fought in a twelve foot deep pit set into the floor of what must have been a large warehouse at some point before Bendu had refurbished it. At least a hundred humans, gamorreans, and dozens of representatives of other species were ringed around the pit shouting encouragement or insults at the battling dories. The noise was utterly deafening.

Bendu slammed the door shut and the sound was completely shut out once again. "I want you boys to work for The Core. You're family and you can always trust family to do right by you. You'll be smuggling shipments of droids here for the most part, maybe a few loads of weapons here and there. Nothing to dangerous but it's very profitable work." The Duros reached into his pocket and dropped a heap of credits in Tissen's lap before returning to his seat.

"We'll call that a signing bonus for you and your fuzzy friend if you like what I'm offering. So what do you boys think?"

Kudak
3 Weeks Earlier

Kudak and Mr. Andorian were sitting in the corner booth of a small restaurant that was swarming with all manner of humanoids who were busily eating. No one had paid them the slightest bit of attention except for the waitress who had brought a steaming beverage to their table seconds ago. Mr. Andorian was doing an excellent job of looking as though he had no greater concern in the world than enjoying his steaming drink. Setting it back down on the table between himself and the young Mon Calamari sitting opposite of him he smiled pleasantly at a passing waitress. "You need to get off world in a very bad way kid. They aren't sending washed up blaster fighters after you anymore, they've put out a contract with a real bounty hunter for your head."

"Who?" Images of some of the most well known, and more importantly the deadliest, blaster-totting sociopaths in the galaxy flashed through Kudak's brain. Fett. Bane. Bossk.

"My sources aren't sure who took the contract, not yet anyway. It doesn't really matter too much since anyone who knows their way around a blaster will put a superfluous blowhole in you before you can blink." Mr. Andorian slides a folded piece of paper onto the table. "I've booked you passage off world, it's aboard a ship filled with smugglers of course, they've been paid well so I don't think they're likely to kill you. Best not bother them too much though."

Picking up the paper and examine it quickly Kudak sees that it is a passenger's ticket for a ship although most of the information has been left blank. There are no ship registration numbers, crew details, or destination given anywhere on the document. "Where am I going?"

"Imperial Center."

"What?!"

Mr. Andorian smiles and nods at the pretty waitress who'd turned her attention back to their corner table after hearing Kudak's shouting. The young woman smiles back at him before turning her attention back to other customers in the crowded restaurant. "Hiding in the Empire's shadow is your best bet for staying alive. Besides it's time you started paying me back for all these costly little favors I've been doing for you. I've got an associate back on Imperial Center who could use someone with your affinity for machinery. He's a Duros named Bendu Kreeb."

EI-0 "Zero"
2 Weeks Earlier

As the Zabrak male unceremoniously dropped Zero's lifeless frame into a metal shipping crate he couldn't help but give the droid a final glance. "Sorry Zero but the credits they're offering for you were just too tempting to pass up." The Zabrak's face disappears for a moment before the lid of the crate slides into place leaving Zero in total darkness.

A week. An entire week according to his internal clock being jostled and bumped around in a cargo crate like some bit of salvage. When the lid of the crate finally moved and light flooded in again Zero wasn't sure if he believed it had only been a week anymore. Nothing so horrible could have taken such a short time. Two faces peered in at the droid, he knew the species but not the individuals immediately. One Duros and one Mon Calamari.

The Mon Calamari sighed before pulling the droids arm straight up and dropping it with a loud clang. "Did he really have to electrocute it to ship it?"

"It's t best way to put a droid down fast." The Duros leaned into the crate blew on Zero's eyepiece and then dabbed at it with the sleeve of his filthy shirt.

"Yeah Bendu but it fries circuits that I've got to replace every single time."

"I don't pay you to complain Kudak. This droid is a top of the line model and I want him to monitor all of the club's data from now on." The Duros, who was named Bendu apparently, disappeared from Zeros vision leaving Kudak staring down at the droid alone with a disgruntled expression.

Raek Shey'lya
3 Days Earlier

Raek Shey'lya glanced over the computer screen in front of him and strained his ears listening for any sound that might suggest some approaching the study he was currently occupying. There were no approaching footsteps, no blaster fire, and certainly no screaming alarms. Turning his attention back to the computer he began furiously typing and scanning the information front of him.

Slipping aboard a ship that was taking off from Nar Shadda had been child's play for the Bothan spy. It had been almost as easy to avoid being discovered by the crew or any of the other passengers during their journey. No one had spotted the Bothan disembarking at one of the many spaceports on the newly dubbed Imperial Center,

He'd come to the center of the new Galactic Empire for one reason. Allies. He needed allies if was ever going stay alive long enough to help bring down the Empire that wanted him dead, unfortunately almost no one had any interest in fighting Palpatine. Which was why he'd been forced to break into the home of a newly appointed admiral of the Imperial Navy looking for them.

Slim pickings. A few rabble rousers and would be heroes looking to die for a hopeless cause. Raek had no interest in being killed for the cause, he just wanted to kill for it. Then he spotted it, a name at the bottom of the list, one that had been gathering a great deal of attention over the past few weeks. A Duros named Bendu Kreeb living right here on Imperial Center had been providing assistance to enemies of the Empire. He'd helped shuttle a few off planet, provided a hiding place for others, he'd even been connected to the death of a trooper, although nothing had been proven. His club, The Core, which served as a betting parlor for droid fights also seemed to be one of the key operations for the rebels on this world.

Committing the information about Kreeb and his establishment to memory Raek returned the computer to it's electronic slumber and slipped back through the window he'd climb in ten minutes ago. It looked like he was heading into the Underworld.

Heir

Oren waited several minutes after the group left before quietly creeping back out into the room. The monk's body lay crumpled in a heap on the floor. As Oren crept towards him, he scanned the room for any sign of trouble.

When he reaches the man, Oren attempts to roll him over to see if the man is indeed dead. He is also curious who he was. "That inquisitor feared him, I saw it in his eyes. Who is this guy?" he thought.

Sakutian

As soon as he rolls the monk's body over Oren can see that the man is indeed dead, the scorched holes in his chest are still producing a small amount of smoke. While rolling him over Oren slides the hood the monk had always worn down from his face accidentally. The symbol of the Bendu order, a circle connected by eight even spokes, had been indented into the skin of the monk's forehead.

psolms

"Rrrraaaaawwrrrrg."

Tissen glanced over at Dewlanrirr.

"Well hang on, Dew. I mean, sure, its steady work, and sure, we can use the cred. I just -"

"Rrrraaaaawwrrrrg? Rrrraaaaawwrrrrg." Dewlanrirr interrupted.

"I just have a feeling this will lead to more trouble than it's worth." Tissen said, looking back at his third cousin.

"Does that mean you're not interested?" Bendu asked disappointedly.

"No no no," Tissen replied quickly, "we'll do it. I just want to be able to say 'I told you so' later."

Heir

"Thank you for your sacrifice. I am forever indebted to your order. If ever I come across another of you, I shall make sure they know of your deeds."

Oren bowed his head for a second. As one who was attuned to the Force, he felt the ebb and flow of life. Someone dying of natural causes was just the way of things. But when a life was violently and suddenly ended, the shockwaves it sent out through the Force was jarring...especially to someone as young and inexperienced as Oren.

Knowing there was little else he could do for the man, Oren stood back up and scanned the room for anything useful. "I hope you don't mind if I borrow some of your things. I have a feeling you would be ok with that."

Perception roll (1d20+7=14) in case I need it.

Sakutian

Oren's search turns up very little. The monk had apparently claimed precious few possessions during his life as there were few personal effects to be found. However the padawan does discover a small box beneath the monk's cot with one hundred credits within.

Heir

Oren wrestled with himself for a moment...

Jedi Master Kagoro had once said, "I wear my robe so that I am warm; I carry my lightsaber so that I am safe; and I keep enough credits for my next meal, so that I am not hungry. If the Force wants me to have more, it finds a way of letting me know."

Oren thought for a moment, then took the credits. "The thing is, I don't even have enough money for food, let alone fair to get off this world. Maybe the Force wants me to have this."

With that, Oren again re-entered the tunnel (making sure to close the grate again), and made his way deeper down into it. It was dark, but he did his best to keep his senses stretched out as far as possible.

Sakutian

Moving through the reeking sludge that sucked at his feet with every step Oren kept his hand pressed against one of the walls to help guide him. Aside from the patch of weak light coming down through the grate behind him the tunnel was pitch black. It took him ten minutes of trudging through sewage and listening to the scuttling sounds of whatever foul creatures made their homes down here before he felt a metal bar embedded in the wall. Reaching higher he felt two more metal bars pressed into the wall, the frame of a ladder if he wasn't mistaken.

A small halo of light coming from some fifteen or twenty feet over his head suggested there might be a manhole cover or some other sort of grate blocking his way out.

Heir

Being glad to find a way out of his current situation, Oren grabbed the rung and started to climb. As he reached the top, he tried to peer through the cover to see where he was. The last thing he needed was to wind up in the middle of some kind of hive of scum and villany...

Sakutian

Raising the metal manhole cover a few inches to peek at what lay on the other side Oren sees an ordinary street. Ordinary for the Lower Imperial Center at any rate. Mounds of refuse lay heaped to either side of the battered street being set upon by armored rats of a formidable size. The buildings, which were all in some state of ruin, looked to be gambling parlors, bordellos, as well as a variety of unappealing eating establishments. A few scantily clad Twi'lek women stood in front of one of the houses of ill repute beckoning passersby to come closer.

There were quite a few people moving down the street. They either moved quickly and kept their eyes on everyone clearly afraid of being robbed or murdered for whatever meager wealth they could claim. Others, most of them displaying various models of blasters in holsters, swaggered down the street. An extremely thin Rodian sat on the ground inches away with a glazed expression on his face. Oren could see him holding a fistful of death sticks.

El Skid

Kudak blinked his bulbous eyes in confusion. Go to Coruscant? With a competent bounty hunter out to get him? Hanging out with smugglers?

"I...I guess my life is taking an adventurous turn" chirped Kudak, trying to compose himself. "If I manage to survive, I'll definitely look you up again." Kudak takes the proffered paper and reads it, still a bit stunned at how his life has changed in just a few moments.

Olio

Prior to Caamas, Raek had spent most of his time dealing with officials and affluents, or pouring over records and databanks. Although that sometimes felt like a lifetime ago, and he'd since grown accustomed to the life he now had to lead, that didn't mean he had to find the Underworld appealing. He long since abandoned the fine clothes, the bearing and dignity of his office and title, but he was still a Bothan, and if nothing else he still bore that trademark Bothan stubbornness. If it took him the rest of his natural life he would find away to dig himself out of this mire, and hiding on the fringes was no way to accomplish anything.

The Core was just like any number of clubs or cantina he'd frequented in the past few years, and he was becoming intimately familiar with the pattern. Depending on how much Kreeb knew about his own status as a person of interest to the Empire, getting in to see him could be difficult. At least, it could be difficult for the average inquirer, in which category Raek most certainly did not count himself. He scanned the room, which was unremarkable enough, for the best way to Kreeb. The hired goons were of no use; given only one job--to keep people away from Kreeb--they'd almost certainly be too stupid to understand any argument designed to convince them to let Raek in. Some kind of head of security, a position often acquired due a more discerning perception, would be a better choice. In many cases, however, the easiest in was through the bartender, who had perhaps the least stake in the whole affair. Raek approached the bar.

"Pardon me, but is Kreeb in?" he inquired, casually, "I've got a manifest for his latest, uh, acquisition; he should be expecting me." He pulled out his datapad, fiddled distractedly, and feigned disinterest.

Deception (1d20+8=17)

Heir

From his relatively safe spot under the manhole, Oren examined some of the buildings more closely. Reading their signs, looking at the clientèle out front, trying to see if any of them gave off a good vibe. He knew he needed to get off this rock at some point...the sooner the better.

"Gambling...hmmm." Wild ideas of using the Force to win at sabaak or some other game filled Oren's head. He quickly shoved those thoughts aside, knowing he could possibly expose himself to that blasted inquisitor if he wasn't careful. "At the very least, I might be able to get a bite to eat. And I'm not getting any closer to escaping from this planet by sitting in this sewer..."

Oren gingerly climbed out of the manhole, trying carefully to replace the cover without making too much noise...the less attention he got, the better. He walked past the Rodian towards some of the gambling establishments...examining them to determine which to approach.

Sakutian

Raek

The male Cerean behind the had been busily filling glasses when Raek approached and at first he seemed reluctant to pay the Bothan any attention. As money and cheap strong smelling alcohol were exchanged the yelled orders and the chaotic background symphony of droids destroying one another assaulted the noble's senses.

Finally the bartender made his way over to Raek and bothered to listen to him. Looking the Bothan over for a second he seems to find him the portrait of a smuggler. "Kreeb's in his office, right back there, you can't miss it." A duo of Quarrens begin banging on the bar shouting in their harsh language.

The Cerean points at the tentacle faced alines and shouts back. "Kith yarav ben tu tey!" Turning to Rake he says "Just head on back, knock before you go in though." Stepping back down the bar towards the Quarrens the bartender pours each of them a drink of something purple that hisses angrily ss it fills their glasses.

Oren
No one pays the padawan much attention as he passes. The whores, pickpockets, and and murderers all seem to sense as one that he doesn't have anything worth the effort killing him. After a few minutes of walking he spots a fairly clean looking restaurant. A roof made of bits of scrap wood, a few ancient looking tables, and a roughly hewn stone countertop at the back don't speak volumes for the place's success. Still a few patrons are seated inside eating happily not seeming to care that they are eating their meal in a hovel. The aromas of cooking meat and vegetables fill the air around the stand.

A Gran wearing a filthy apron is behind the counter spooning what looks like some sot of soup into a customers bowl.

Heir

The aroma of food quickly caused Oren's stomach to growl. The monk had been kind enough to feed him, but due to his wounds he did not eat much for most of his stay with the man.

"Don't really have any other options right now, and it's better than standing out here in the open" he thought.

Oren walked up to the Gran, trying his best to act normal...as if he'd been living in the lower levels for years. After looking at the menu, Oren motions towards the cook as he passes by.

"I'll have some of that soup please."

As he ordered, Oren continued to scan the restaurant. There were plenty of open tables, but he spent more time examining the patrons.

immortal squish

Power system overload.... locomotive actuators non-responsive. Processor... .001% data flowthtrough error rate. Outside of permissible tolerances. System Haaaaalllllllt.... OVERRIDE, initializing self-preservation routines! This unit will maintain autonomy!

As the Mon Cal known as Kudak began examining the damaged droid, he heard a most curious grinding sound originating from the droid's oversized head. Leaning back for a better view, he found a section of the dome had separated itself revealing a hidden weapon barrel pointed directly at him.

"Mon Calamari. Amphibious. Origin planet: Dac. Primary diet: crustaceans, fish, fruit. Derogatory references: 'like shooting Mon Cal in a fishbowl.' Ha-Ha... D-D-Desist mechanical invasion of this unit's ch-ch-chassis immediately. Failure to comply will result in... in... in... BZZZZZZZZRRRRTTT..."

The droid's red glowing optic lost luminescence for a moment, then began a steady pulsing accompanied by a harsh beeping from deep within the droid's frame.

Olio

Putting his datapad away, Raek smiled warmly and thanked the bartender before making his way through the crowd toward to door that had been indicated. Either Kreeb had no idea how visible he'd become to the Empire, or he was stupid--or didn't care enough--to hire a bartender who knew how to be discreet. Whatever the case, Raek was beginning to wonder whether he'd made the right choice; perhaps one of the other persons of interest on the list he'd found would be a better bet. Regardless, he was here now, he might as well follow through and find out what he could. Even if the Duros didn't pan out as an ally, he might still be able to provide some useful information, or even put him in contact with someone who might be a more promising fit. He made it to the door and, glancing around, knocked, waiting to be acknowledged before entering the office.

El Skid

Kudak shook his head at his employer's retreating back and went back to work, secure in the knowledge he had temporarily shut off the droid's weapon systems. He grabbed an odd-looking tool from the toolbox (he'd modified an existing device to better fit his webbed hands) and stuck it in the droid's guts, securing a new circuit board in to replace one that had been fried.

....

With a final click, Kudak closed the droid's main access panel and smiled. "That should do it, big guy. How are you feeling now?

Mechanics check to Repair EI-0 (1d20+10=18)

JacquesCousteau

"Rrrraaaaawwrrrrg," Dewlanrirr growled in and nodded in assent to both the Kreebs.

Then, relying on the new Kreeb's lack of understanding he growred to Tissen, "Rrrraaaaawwrrrrg," and motioned to him with a second bellow, "Rrrraaaaawwrrrrg."

"Is your cousin honorable? Many spacers tried to take advantage of me before I met you. Unhonorable men think Wookies are dumb and", he motions to Tissen, "that all men are blinded by their greed."

immortal squish

With a chorus of whirring and faint clicks, the droid's systems come to life once again. His head-mounted turret retracts back into it's hidden space within the droid's dome. After a few moments, the sounds fade to barely perceptible levels and the unit's optic sensor once again regains a steady, dull crimson luminenscence.

"Altered primary locomotive actuator board detected. Internal weapons system disabled. Assessed technical skill, moderate. Mon Calamari technician, provide your designation and corporate affiliation," the droid requests in it's modulated voice.

Without awaiting response, the droid produces it's own miniturized set of tools from an external compartment attached to the back of its tiny humanoid chassis. A curved access port on the underside of the droid's oversized dome opens with a slight click. With a hydrospanner in one diminutive hand and a sonic welder in the other, the droid nimbly goes to work verifying the Mon Cal's work and restoring it's weapon functionality.

Sakutian

Oren Keth
The Gran nods before ladling out a substantial amount of the soup into a clay bowl and placing it on the counter. "5 credits."

Scanning the restaurant Oren notices three groups of patrons seated at the tables. A group of four human, two adults and two young children, are happy eating their own soup and talking at the table closest to him. Their clothes were clearly once quite fine but now they are starting to show some signs of wear and tear. Oren guesses that they are one of the many families who had been forced underground once the new regime came into power.

At the next table over two male Ithorians are busily talking to one another between ingesting mouthfuls of soup. Each of them have glass cases filled with small sickly looking plants next to them.

Tissen Kreeb, Raek Shey'lya, and Delanrirr
Bendu looks at Delanrirr curiously clearly not understanding a single syllable that the Wookie is uttering. Before he can ask for a translation though a knock on his office door draws his full attention. "Scuse me boys, I'll be just a moment."

Stepping towards the door he swings it open revealing a Bothan waiting on the other side. The Duros gives the new arrival a quick look up and down before stepping out of the doorway and gesturing for him to enter. "Sorry lads, my next appointment just turned up, why don't you two head to the bar and get yourselves some decent food. It's all on old uncle Bendu alright? We'll iron out all of the details over dinner as soon as I finish up here if you don't mind."

Kudak and EI-0 "Zero"
While Zero is effecting his self repairs the door to Kudak's workshop opens with an echoing bang. A startlingly rotund Duros named Kib waddles inside struggling under the weight of a large box which appears to filled with the remains of numerous droids. He drops the crate on the floor just inside the door with another loud bang.

"Just swept this lot up from the main floor, doubt there's much there to be saved but work your magic." As Kib wipes the sweat from his brow he seems to notice Zero for the first time. "So…got that hunk of scrap moving again did you? Bendu is going to love hearing that bit of news."

Heir

Oren watched the small family enjoy their meal together. It was apparent they had dealt with a lot of hardship recently, yet there they were...still finding joy in simple things. It brought a smile to his face.

He didn't spend much time observing the Ithorians. Their plants looked near death. Oren did not know much about Ithorians, but he did know that their love for plants ran deep. Perhaps they were botanists. Oren didn't have the faintest idea though.

"5 credits" said the Gran.

Oren fished the money from his pocket and placed them on the counter. "Thank you," he said appreciatively.

He wasted no time bringing the bowl to his lips and taking a large gulp of the hot liquid.

Olio

An unexpected turn of events, to be sure. Either the Duros actually had an appointment with a Bothan he'd never met (or who looked remarkably like Raek), or this Kreeb fellow was sharper than he'd given him credit for. Whichever the case, this was likely going to require some quick thinking on Raek's part. It was entirely possible that Kreeb had let him in based on the sole fact that he was Bothan, a trait that carried an often significant weight among many, not least of all those who engage in illegal affairs. Although certainly not always the case, when a Bothan arrives on your doorstep you're often safe to assume the situation is going to require a certain degree of finesse. Raek found that, by virtue of his species alone, he was often able to guide the actions of others without so much as a word. The tricky part was, however, that without knowing exactly why Kreeb had let him in, Raek could just as easily botch the whole affair before he'd even gotten started. Discretion was often the better part of valour, he still needed to get a better idea of what was going on before getting himself too deep. He waited until the others were out of the room before closing the door behind him and, doing his best to infer the Duros' disposition and intentions, making his move.

"You seem to be quite a busy man, mister Kreeb, I do hope I'm not interrupting anything too important."

Sakutian

Oren
The Gran takes the credits and tucks them into a pouch in his apron with a broad grin. "You're welcome young master."

As Oren downs his soup, which is rather good especially when taking into account that the main ingredient is armored rat, two more humans enter the restaurant. Both of them look to be somewhere in between their late teens and their early twenties. Their clothes appear to be a collection of ratty second-hand garments cobbled together from bits and pieces. Both of them seem to be going out of their way to make it clear that they're armed.

The older looking boy, a gangly youth with a bald head, is repeatedly tossing a knife in the air and catching it as it spins back towards the ground. The second adolescent, a more shorter more muscular youth with short brown hair, has a blaster hooked through his belt. As they approach the counter the father of the nearby family keeps looking between them and his family warily. The Ihtorians have cease talking entirely.

Each of the boys approaches the counter with an obvious swagger looking over the others with unpleasant smiles growing on their faces. The bald one stabs his knife into the counter burying the tip an inch or so into the stone to the left of the Gran's hand. "Two of the specials, on the double."

The Gran trembles a bit as he pours out two large portions of soup and places them in front of the new customers. "T-ten credits please."

The bald boy takes a large whiff of the soup before making a disgusted face. "For this slop? I don't think so." He slaps the bowls aside spilling the soup across the counter and splattering some of it onto the other boy's boots. Both of them look up at the Gran angrily. "Now look what you did freak! You spilled soup all over my friend, I think you'd better apologize."

The Gran looks up at them timidly, his shaking even more pronounced now. "I-I, I d-didn't...I-I'm sorry."

The blaster toting youth shakes his head smiling. "It doesn't sound like you're sorry, at least not yet anyway." He reaches for the blaster hanging from his belt.

Raek Shey'lya
Once the room is clear of everyone but himself and the Bothan Kreeb returns to his seat and reclines in his chair. "I'm never too busy to lend an ear to a Bothan lad, what can I do for you?"

Olio

Raek made his way over to the desk and seated himself opposite the Duros. It seemed Kreeb intended to keep hold of all his cards. The decision, then, was whether to go for the delicate approach or to risk a more heavy-handed one.

"Quite the place you've got here," he started, non-committally, "Food, drink, and entertainment for all. And what a treat it must be, to have the privilege of operating here," he continued, spreading his arms, "on the Emperor's very doorstep, where one can be so absolutely assured of one's safety. After all, if you can't feel confident in you security so close to the centre of galactic power, where, then, can you be expected to turn?" He laced his fingers and set them in his lap. "Unless, of course, you happen to be engaging in any kind of non-sanctioned or otherwise illicit...pursuits." He paused, before smiling warmly. "But who, indeed, could be so foolish, within such proximity to the very seat of power?" he offered, affably.

Heir

Oren had been drinking the wonderful soup when they entered. He knew the young men were there even before he saw them. That familiar feeling, like having the hair on the back of your head stand straight up, warned him that trouble was coming soon.

He saw them...saw the two come in, menace in their eyes...saw the bowl flip over and hot soup dribble down onto the other's leg. His eyes widened as one started to reach for the blaster. He did all of this while the bowl was still at his lips. Anyone watching may have assumed he wasn't paying attention, but Oren's eyes were panicking. He had told himself days ago that he was still a Jedi, so he knew he was going to act. He just didn't know how he would pull this off without getting himself killed, or attracting too much attention.

As Oren continued to watch that hot, steaming soup pour onto one of the thug's feet, an idea came to him. Freeing up his mind, Oren opened himself up to the Force...felt it flow through him just as easily as the soup warmed his body. He was at peace....calm. He knew what to do.


Oren slammed his bowl down rather purposely, knowing it would catch their attention. The thug with soup on his shoes looked him directly in the eyes. Oren projected the Force into the young man's mind...filling it with all sorts of terrible thoughts. Visions of the soup actually being hot acid pouring onto his feet pummeled his brain.

"I'd get that looked at if I were you, and quickly!" Oren tried his best to look scared and worried for him.

Mind Trick! I'm guessing either Terror or Suggestion. I would prefer terror as he'll just run off.

Mind Trick (1d20+8=19)

I'd prefer to target the one with the blaster, but that's up to you..I don't know which one has soup on him.

immortal squish

Observing that the Mon Calamari seemed to be occupied by the new delivery, the droid continued. "This unit's designation is EI-0. Organics have previously used the alternate designation 'Zero.'" The soft warble of the sonic welder punctuates the droid's dull monotone voice, EI-0's finely articulated digits working all the while.

The droid's optics scan over the crate of damaged droid bits. The ocular sensor's crimson glow pulses bright for a moment, and a whirring hum begins to drown out the sporatic sounds of sonic welding. This time a hint of curiosity comes through the modulated voice, "75% of components show evidence of energy scoring. 15% blunt damage. 10% nature of damage inconclusive. Unusually wide variety of droid components. Droid units likely assembled from scavenged components. Colloquial terminology: 'Uglies.' Common usage scenarios: cheap, unreliable battlefield units; low-cost manual labor; droid gladiatorial entertainment venues. Given evidence of energy-based weapon damage and known dealings in illegally-obtained droid trafficking, droid combat entertainment venue most plausible scenario. Confirm?"

El Skid

"An excellent synopsis, Zero." said the Mon Calamari. "There's lots of illegal stuff that goes on here, right under the Imperials' noses... But then again, it was probably corrupt like this before the takeover. Something about politics make even the best men crooked, and most politicians start off about as straight as a Mark 3 energy coil." Kudak shook his head, trying to get back to the things that really mattered.

Taking a moment to peer into the pile of what was basically debris in front of him, he did spy a thing or two that looked salvageable. "Hey- would you mind helping me get some of this stuff onto my desk? I think I can see a perfectly good JRA board in that broken salvo, but it's a pretty heavy piece until I get the board out of there..."

immortal squish

Zero beeps a quick affirmative in binary, and closes up the access ports through which it was effecting it's self repairs. The droid floats away from the desk on repulsors, tiny body hanging from his over-sized head limp and puppet-like. As he glides low to grab a still twitching claw appendage, "Mon Calamari technician, what is your current status? Indentured servitude? Slave labor?"

The droid and Kudak lift, pull, and drag until the two manage to get the desired components laid out on the amphibian's work desk. With Kudak moving on to the disassembly portion of his work, Zero hovers over his shoulder.

"This unit will not submit to any attempts to impinge upon its autonomy. Nor will this unit involve itself in the mutilation of it's systems for the entertainment of the marginally sentient organics funding this facility. What are Mon Calamari technician's opinions regarding these facts?"

Zero's sole optic sensor, asymmetrically placed in the upper right of it's egg-shaped dome, centers itself on the Mon Calamari. The outer ring rotates as the droid zooms in, carefully observing Kudak's physiological response to his statements.

psolms

Being rushed out, Tissen ponders Dewl's question for a moment.

"I dunno Dewl. It seems like he wants to be legit- at least by spacer's standards. And if this signing bonus is any indication, I would guess that our pay will be more than reasonable.

Besides, its not like we couldn't take him out if we had to."

Playing with the cred-sticks in his pocket, Tissen leads Dewl towards the bar.

"At the very least," he says with a smirk, "we can enjoy his hospitality for a while longer, right?"

Sakutian

Raek Shey'lya
"Power is an awful lot like water lad, it tends to slip right through your fingers." Bendu opens one of his desk drawers and produces a glass bottle filled with clear liquid and two glasses. The bottle's label portrays an image of an Ithorian sitting at the base of a waterfall and has scrawling text that may be the Ithorese. Unscrewing the top of the bottle with a grin he fills both of the glasses and slides one of them across the desk towards Raek. "As for me I've lived on Coruscant for most of my life, right down here too mind you. This is my home. I'd say any man who tries to take a man's home away from him would be the foolish one. Wouldn't you agree?"

Kudak and EI-0 "Zero"
Kib remains a few feet inside of the workshop watching the droid and Mon Calamari dissecting the boxes contents with a pained expression. "Awfully chatty bucket of bolts ain't it, maybe you could disable it's voice? Just be ready for tomorrow, we're getting a big shipment of new units in and the boss wants them ready for the big match tomorrow night." The Duros waves at Kudak lazily before stepping back out through the door and ambling down the hall.

Oren
The thug with the blaster turns towards Oren for a moment with a confused expression. "What are you..." Then he looks down at his foot and begins trying to wipe every bit of the spilled soup off his boot frantically. He begins speaking incoherently tears off his boot and throws it out into the street before running out of the restaurant himself screaming. Several people stop and look after him as he shoves his way through the crowd knocking a few people who get in his way to the ground.

Watching his partner retreat the bald adolescent looks at Oren for a split second before retrieving his knife from the counter and fleeing after him. The Gran looks after them clearly confused by what has taken place before looking towards Oren. He removes his apron, places it on the counter and steps behind a tattered curtain hanging behind him quietly.

Nearby one of the Ithorians rises from his table and approaches Oren, as he moves closer the padawan suddenly senses something he has not sensed since the death of his master. Placing a hand on Oren's shoulder the Ithorian locks eyes with him, they are guarded but kind eyes. "You should be more careful..." The Ithorian speaks Basic in the strange stereophonic way all members of his species do. He leans a bit closer before continuing and speaks in a whisper. "...young padawan."

Tissen Kreeb and Delanrirr
The Cerean bartender notices Tissen and Delanrirr just outside of Bendu's office and waves both of them over animatedly. As soon as they are within earshot, which is quite close due to the droids now battling it out with automated laser turrets on the main floor, the Cerean slides two menus in front of them. "The boss aid I'm supposed to take special care of you two. Anything you see on the menu is on the house, I'd suggest the Nuna steaks myself."

El Skid

Kudak looks thoughtfully at the droid and decides to be straight up with him. "I just work here- I'm not a slave or anything, though I don't really have anywhere to go at this point- I have some people looking for me that I'd rather didn't find me, if you know what I mean."

Putting his work down for moment to give his full attention to the droid, Kudak continues thoughtfully: "I don't blame you for wanting to keep your freedom. And you know what? I think I might be able to help you out there- What do you think of taking a job as my assistant? I can't promise much in the way of pay or excitement, but I think you'll find that my offer is better than most of your alternatives."

"At the very least, you'd get to spend your time with someone that doesn't think of droids as sub-human- I know all about getting treated like that, and I won't have any part of it." He glanced out the door and grimaced at the spot where Kib had left a few moments ago.

Heir

"...young padawan."

Oren's eyes momentarily grew wide with fear, but then relaxed a bit when he felt the familiar presence the Force swirling around the Ithorian.

Oren leaned in closer, trying to talk discreetly as well. "I apologize, master, if I have drawn undo attention to you or this restaurant. I didn't wave around my lightsaber at least."

Oren realized he was acting defensively, even though the Ithorian had no hint of accusation or disappointment in his voice. He lowered his head and whispered, "What now?"

JacquesCousteau

Following Tissen out of the office, Dewlanrirr watches the riled up crowd cautiously. "Rrrraaaaawwrrrrg", he growrs in response to Kreeb as they wander to the bar.

As they sit he pulls out the bar stool and angles himself toward the fighting pit as the bartender hands them menus.

Dewlanrirr growrs in the affirmative as the bartender makes a suggestion and goes back to watching the crowd, "Rrrraaaaawwrrrrg."

"Your cousin is not the one I'd worry about fighting."

psolms

"The steaks sound great." Tissen says to the bartender before turning back to Dewl.

"Well then, we better keep one eye open, right?" he asks with a smirk, then gives the rest of the bar his attention.

Case the joint (1d20=14).. forgot to add my Perception mod.. so thats 19 total. Just want to see if there's anything interesting happening.

Olio

Raek accepted the glass, though didn't drink right away.

"It's only foolish if you can't get away with it," he mused, staring at the glass in his hand, "and our dear Emperor has already gotten away with far worse." After a pause, he set the glass down on the table. "I'm going to be frank with you, Kreeb," he started, sitting suddenly erect, "which I hope you appreciate, because it's not something I do very often. I know a great deal more about you than you do about me. I know about you harbouring fugitives, shuttling enemies of the Empire to safety, and a host of other infractions, serious and otherwise. I even know about your involvement in the death of an Imperial trooper. I know these things because the Empire knows these things, and as much as you may feel the need to defy a cruel and inflexible regime, you must know the lengths to which this government will go to maintain their stranglehold on this and every other system in the galaxy. No crime is too small, and the Emperor will not abide any insubordination, no matter how well established you may be." Raek took a breath before continuing. "Of course, it is precisely because he will not abide it that it is necessary. You must, however, be more careful, more subtle in your methods, and you must cover your tracks better than you have been, because it is only a matter of time before they come for you." He leaned forward in his chair and set his hands on the desk. "This is where I believe I can be of assistance. I have extensive training and several connection within the Spynet; I can keep an eye on those who are keeping an eye on you, let you know what they know, help keep you one step ahead of the Empire." Raek held up his hands, as if to stop Kreeb from interrupting. "And before you ask what's in it for me, you'll just have to trust me when I say that I'm offering my help as a sort of...restitution. The Bothan people, and the Spynet, have much to make up for." His voice grew quieter, as he looked back down at the glass in front of him. "A great deal more than you could possibly know, I'm afraid."

Sakutian

Oren
The Gran reappears from behind the curtain a few moments later and replaces his apron. Looking a bit shaken he steps out from behind the bar and approaches the family eating nearby as well as the other customers. Oren hears him making hurried apologies to each table before arriving at his own.

"Sorry about that sir, I'll refund your credits if you like."

"There is no need to apologize. You were the one wronged today old friend." The Gran nods and retreats back behind his counter where he begins preparing another batch of soup.

The Ithorian turns his attention back to Oren once they are secluded once more. "Now let us refill your soup, as I remember it the young will always find room for second helpings, then we talk while sharing a meal." The Ithorian pours his untouched soup into Oren's bowl before taking the seat opposite of him. "My name is Roron Corobb, and I must say I did not expect to find one such as your alive here of all places. Tell me how have you managed to survive for so long?"

Raek Shey'lya
"I've no interest in fighting the Empire lad. Wish I did, but fighting is a young man's game. I just help those who ask, it's not in my nature to do anything less. Unfortunately I'm afraid that has put me on the bad side of some folks with very long memories. Still I think you and I can do a bit of business." Bendu picks up the glass and downs the liquid within in a single gulp. "Do you know anything about power cores?"

Tissen Kreeb and Delanrirr
The bartender retrieves the used menus from Tissen and Delanrirr before vanishing into the kitchen. A few short minutes he returns now laden down with two black glass plates, both of which have sizable steaks still sizzling on them. Small mounds of some leafy purple vegetable have been heaped to the side creating a somewhat odd contrast with the slightly green meat. "Can I get you anything else?"

Looking around the crowd gathered in The Core Tissen notices an unusually diverse collection of species gathered under one roof. Given the growing pro-human movement Emperor Palpatine has been fostering above ground it's hardly a surprise to see so many choose to live in the lower sectors rather than be persecuted up above. Twi'leks, Gamorreans, Quarrens, Mon Calamari, Sullastans, Wookies, and even a Trandoshan. It was Trandoshan that caught Tissen's eye especially. He seemed to be the only one who wasn't watching the droids in the pit battle for their survival. Instead he was scanning the crowd as though looking for someone or something without any success.

Turning away from the reptilian humanoid Tissen speaks up a bit to be sure the bartender will hear him. "Do you know that Trandoshan over there by any chance?"

The Cerean looks past Tissen scanning the crowd for a moment before spotting him. "He's not a regular I can tell you that much. Been in here a few times though I think, I hear he's sort of a gopher for some bounty hunter."

Heir

Oren told Roron everything, as if he had known the Ithorian for years. Something about his presence calmed him. He told his new friend about the loss of his master, his money, and nearly his life on several occasions. Of how everyone who he comes into contact with dies. His master, the twi'lek girl he tried to save, and the kindly Bendu monk who didn't hesitate to protect him at the cost of his own life.

"And here I am. Somehow still alive. It seems the Force is not done with me yet. I know not what to do or where to go now. I only know that I will continue to defend those who need defending, even if I may be one of the last of my kind. "

Oren did not reveal what he wanted to say next...that he was quickly giving up any hope and close to resigning himself to whatever bleak fate was to come of him.

"Now sir if I might ask. And please do not be offended, but who exactly are you? I feel the Force swirling around you...yet it brings me peace I have not felt in some time now. "

Oren drank deeply of the soup Roran had given.

Sakutian

Roron listens to Oren's story without interrupting him, and he seems truly saddened by the young man's story. "As I said earlier my name is Roron Corobb, and I like yourself am a Jedi. Perhaps you heard tales of my battle with General Grievous during the Invasion of Coruscant a few months ago?"

Heir

Oren nearly fell out of his chair at the revelation. No wonder that name seemed so familiar.

"Master Roron! But you're dead!" Oren was doing everything in his power to not talk over a whisper.

I saw your padawan, Drake Lo'gaan, at the ceremony where we honored you and all the other Jedi who fell during that battle. I had never seen such loss and sadness in someone's eyes. What happened Master?"

Sakutian

Pulling back the side of his robe slightly Roron reveals a large, pale, and perfectly circular scar at the center of his chest for a moment before shifting the fabric back into place. "The General lacked knowledge of Ithorian anatomy it seems, he missed my heart entirely and so I survived his efforts. Although my friend Foul Moudama was not so lucky." The Jedi master pauses for a moment clearly pained by some terrible memory, Oren heard stories of the battle and can only imagine what he was witness to. "My recovery was slow and by the time I had become whole once more the Jedi had already been betrayed. It pains me to know so many have suffered due to my deception but it has proven itself a necessity."

Roron meets Orens gaze and the padawan sees the sheer force of will in his eyes that must have kept the Ithorian alive through the previous months. "Your loss has been a great one. This friend of yours is of a special interest to me, do you think that you could guide me to his home?"