Opening Crawl

The Shadows Mark

As the EMPIRE suffered it's first major defeat at the hands of the REBEL ALLIANCE with the destruction of the DEATH STAR, which could only be taken down in a one in a million shot, the hunt for those attuned with the FORCE has increased dramatically and the dreaded INQUISITION has never been more active. Meanwhile the SHADOW BROKER ORGANIZATION schemes and plots their way through their leaders unknowable plan, but they too are looking for FORCE SENSITIVES and taking them to someplace supposedly safe. Our band of Heroes sits in a bar on the planet Vendaxa.

You all got a holo-message to sit at this particular private room in this modest tavern made out of the Cargo Compartment of a Wayfarer Medium Transport and at the center of the table is a holo-projector. What do you do?

Khit is edgy, too many people, too close. Why have they all been brought together here. Standing to one side she scans the room, trying to recognise faces. She is also looking for an exit, thinking of the quickest way to get out to her Gup.

Saladin slowly enters the tavern, keenly on the lookout for anything out of place as he makes his way towards the meeting place.

WW-413 will approach with his weapon (a E-11 Blaster Sniper rifle that has been heavily modified) drawn but loosely carried his white Scout trooper muddied from the surrounding swamps but still sticking out like a sore thumb. He has his helmet in his other hand, leaving his highly tanned skin open for all to see, other than this, he was highly unremarkable but the only Imperial looking folk around on the planet. "What in all the Hells am I doing here, if someone knows about my bounty, I'm screwed" He thinks to himself as he takes a seat. "I assume you are all here for the same thing?" he asks those already in the booth.

"Message with no details to meet in a seedy tavern in the back of a broken transport container? Yeah same thing. Who ever needs us look like they have a big problem to deal with, there are some stories to tell in this booth if you ask me"

Khit is noticing the way everyone seems to carry themselves quite well, with a level of confidence about themselves.

"So what's your story Imp, or is that just something of a trophy your wearing?"

"First off, I ain't short, ugly and got wings, secondly I'm on the run from some Inquisitors, just for being Sensitive to some energy field, crazy right?

Saladin heads for the back corner of the room, casting a wary glance at the man in the Imperial armor. "All I know is that I was contacted by this 'Shadow Broker,' instructing me to meet here."

Lalam roars up to the bar on his speeder bike, a new purchase courtesy of the last job. There's some kind of riding beast tethered to a pole, he's not sure what kind.

The message was strange, and he didn't understand most of it. People talk too fast. But they had his contact, so maybe it was work. He enters the bar, keeping his hand near his telescoping stun club, and looks around for the bartender. Might as well order a brew. He sees some people in a private room and overhears the words "shadow broker"...same as in the message. He heads over.

"You the ones I'm supposed to meet? Who's this 'shadow broker' fella?"

Larik and Naught arrived at the tavern a couple of hours before the prescribed meeting time. Given the trouble they got into on the space station on the way to Vendaxa, it was best not to take any chances. Though they'd only been partnered up a short time, Larik felt better having someone watching his back. He assumed the feeling was mutual, but it was kind of hard to tell with the Gand.

Several beings started trickling in and heading over to the right booth. An interesting mix to be sure. Larik nudged Naught and made a slight nod toward the booth.

"Well Naught, looks like the booth is filling up. Should we join go join that lovely band of miscreants or wait a bit longer? Make sure it's everyone before we go meet our new, ah, friends?"

Lama walks in slowly and ducks to the side. before making his way to the meeting place.

"Well then, this booth is getting crowded, from the limited information I got I thought we were gonna have a small group of like minded individuals, not this mess of people," WW-413 thinks aloud as he looks around the room. Upon spotting the Gand, he feels an attraction he has never felt before, something that gave him butterflies in his stomach and it was just as alien as the Gand he was staring at, he sat himself next to her out of compulsion, "So, uhh, what's your name?" he struggles to get out.

Naught's vocoder crackles to life, "Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to assemble what appears to be a group of perfect strangers. Most likely, this is a trap, but that can only be known after the trap is sprung."

Naught saunters over to the private room, tucking her arms into her sleeves and making no attempt to appear inconspicuous. "This Gand is used to being the strangest and most suspicious sentient in the room, but it seems this assortment will provide competition in that regard," she says, inclining her head towards the scout trooper. "So. Who else expects this to be a trap? Perhaps we should compare notes."

(Edit in response to killakan while composing response): "This Gand has no name of importance, but Naught will suffice for the sake of politeness."

"I won't go causing any trouble for you, unless you want me to. I, probably like all of you, am on the run from the Empire and this system, however dangerous, is remote enough to remain inconspicuous. You still haven't told me your name miss, and I feel inclined to keep persisting, in fact why don't we all introduce our selves to each other. I am WW-413, at your service." He calmly and quietly introduces himself, interest still piqued on that pretty looking Gand.

Welp, that settles that then, Larik thinks as he follows Naught into the room, grinning.

Surveying the completely full booth, he instead stands at the front of the table and clears his throat.

"I assume you all know why I brought you here," he says an octave lower than his normal speaking voice, one eyebrow raised, expression stern.

"OK, I can't keep that up," his expression breaking into a smile. "Anyone know why we're here? It can't be a coincidence."

"People are leaving," Saladin intoned in response to the Gand, "and those guards don't work here." He inclined his head in their direction.

Kemenril enters the tavern, hood raised. Noting the ragtag band of people gathered for what is obviously a shared purpose, he uncomfortably walks openly towards them. He slides up to a wall near the projector, keeping to the shadows, but not explicitly hiding. He keeps his hands inside his long, dark robes.

"I brought you here for a business opportunity," the holo-screen on the table flickers to life as a Zabrak woman appears on it, she is dressed in a silver hood garment that conceals her face and appears to be somewhat distracted. "I know what you all are, underneath all that armor and skin, and don't worry about the guards, I removed their tongues personally. What I offer is service and training in your special abilities and protection from the Empire, to get this, however, you have to prove your worth. Get me off this godsforsaken planet I'm babysitting and find someone to replace me and then we'll talk," she sends you coordinates to the planet of Ribaxa, in the Mid Rim via the bodyguards handing out circular datapads and then ending the transmission when human kids burst into the picture.

Naught studies one of the datapads for a long minute, pondering just what the extent of the "abilities" of those around her might be, before looking up, "I suppose this means we'll need to book passage to Ribaxa. Anyone know a reliable captain on planet?"

"I stole a Lambda class shuttle, if anyone wants it," WW-413 reports, "and you still haven't told me your name."

"Too obvious," Saladin objects. "If anything, we should sell or trade the ship off. Use something that will not draw the attention of the Empire."

A Kel Dor walked into a bar. Usually the start of a bad joke, but this time hard and cold reality. The individual carried himself with confidence. Dolar, as the Kel Dor was named, gave himself a good look around at the people, more or less, present.

First there was a youthful female blue Nautolan looking around with similar confidence in her large black eyes.

Then there was a red-skinned Zabrak.

Both the Zabrak and the Nautolan were talking to someone who looked like an Imperial Stormstrooper, a Scout to be precise. His armor was tainted by mud and goo.

Then there was a Weequay who carried himself like a pirate, like all Weequay did who Dolar ever encountered.

There was also a duo consisting of a human and a short green skinned Gand. They were in deep conversation and Dolar decided not to bother them.

A Kaminoan also joined the company. The large creature carried himself with pride.

"That would be most useful," Dolar said to the Imperial clad person. "But I'm barely a pilot myself,"

"You missed the party, I'll catch you up to speed..." and WW-413 goes an explains the situation.

Naught passes her datapad to Larik and folds her hands back into her sleeves. "The Zabrak raises an excellent point. However, I am doubtful about our ability to exchange our ship on such a remote planet. Especially given that we require a ship that can carry several passengers," Naught observes, "But I agree that this is a concern if our collaboration is going to be both long and successful."

"Well then, I guess I need to invite you into my home, in the middle of the jungle, anyone interested in a lambda ride?" WW-413 offers, "I've asked you three times now, and my interest has just gotten higher, please tell me Gand, what is your name?"

Larik powers down the datapad and levels a stare at the Scout Trooper:

"I believe she's told you a few times now she goes by Gand. It's best not to push a lady's good graces upon first meeting, friend ."