Slimy slugs... - Star Wars RP: A Galaxy At War Forum

Date: Monday, 09 Nov 2009, 7:28 PM | Message # 1

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"Nar Shaddaa... why do I have a feeling someone's going to die?" Havoc questioned as he closed his eyes a little. He always hyperspace, as it bored him drasticly. However he needed to see a certain someone, and the only way to get any attention to himself to this someone, was to cause some utter chaos really. Just as Havoc was about to open his eyes, the sirens in the cockpit begun to go off, forcing the rogue to shoot open his eyes and grip the flight stick. With a pull of a switch, the engines begun to slow down and the fighter came out of hyperspace. In front of Havoc... was his destination. "GP, request permission to land... and if they don't give up a spot for us... they will have a really bad day..." Havoc said coldly as he begun to pilot the fighter into the planet's atmosphere. A few seconds later, GP put down the comm headset. "The landing strip is pad 40. And the flight control guy said for you to try to give him a bad day." Havoc's anger grew. Some piece of garbage wanted to mess... fine by him. "I hope he is ready for a real nasty surprise." The x-wing's speed suddenly kicked in as they got closer to the planet.

The x-wing swerved in and out of the other fighters. In his sights was the target; the flight control tower. Havoc dipped the nose of his x-wing all the way down, going far down then lifting the flight yoke up and getting close to the building. "Master... they want to know what you're doing..." GP shot from in front of Havoc, whom had a very big smirk across his face. "Tell them to look straight." Havoc shot back as he kicked it into full speed. He was getting close and both his feelings and the view confirmed it. "Master, they really..." Before GP could finish, the x-wing flew by the screen and all Havoc could hear, was some sort of horrified yell. Once this was accomplished, he lowered the speed and pulled the x-wing down into the designated flight spot. "Tell them no need to thank me, GP" Havoc commented as he brought down the flight gears of the x-wing and landed it. Powering down, GP muttered. "They appreciate it... and the crack to their windows... and the drinks on their shirts..." The canopy opened up.

After removing himself from the x-wing, he begun to look around, taking a sniff of the air. "Ah... Nar Shaddaa... smells of traitors, thugs, and smelly hutts around... like a day at the beach, eh GP?" He turned to look at his robotic friend whom had just climbed out of the x-wing after fulling securing it. "I've never been at the beach." Muttered GP as they started to walk. Havoc kept his eyes straight as he put up his hood. "Maybe one day I'll take you... find you a nice vending machine to impress." Havoc whispered under his breath, but GP heard it. "Cute..." They walked towards a small walkway then pulled off to the side. "Now according to the files I managed to 'aquire', Njon owns a local cantina somewhere..." Pulling the datapad out from his pouch, he begun to look at it. "The Crabby Lady, apparently." Showing the name to GP, whom begun to look around. "What's the plan then?" GP asked, as Havoc put the datapad back in the proper place... "Well first I'll ask, and if I get nothing, I'll have to breakdance for them." GP pointed behind Havoc. As he turned around, there it was... with some of the lights out. "Hutts are cheap..." Havoc commented as he begun to walk towards it. "Not really, I hear Alies' mother beats up people for cookie dough outside a local courscanti market..." Havoc shurgged. "No wonder why he is out most of the time." They proceeded towards it.

Entering the establishment, Havoc looked around as he turned to GP. "Get ready" GP nodded and stayed close to Havoc as they proceeded deeper into the cantina. Going up to the bar tender, he took a seat and barely looked the man. As this was in progress, the force surrounded Havoc, acting as a radar to him. GP was close by, but also if anyone came around towards him, he'd know. And then he would decide whether or not to take them as a threat. Placing a calm hand on the table and sliding his hidden hand towards his lightsaber, he spoke. "I want to see the Hutt... now."

Njon_the_Hutt

Date: Tuesday, 10 Nov 2009, 9:14 PM | Message # 2

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The bartender, a large, muscular and poetically ugly Trandoshan—even for a Trandoshan—stared down the newcomer through narrowed eyes and the smoke from his cigarette (the regulars had never seen him without a cigarette, and considering he worked about 12 hours a day, that came out to around three packs during business hours alone; if Havoc didn't kill him, his smoking would. One would just take longer than the other). He looked from the newcomer to his droid, then back again, while cleaning a stein with an old dishcloth. "Don't know what you're talking about," he said in Basic with a thick accent, "This is a fine dining establishment" (yeah, right, it smelled like motor oil and so did most of the drinks) "So have a drink or else leave."

"And there's no droids allowed in here," he added, "So tell that thing to wait outside. Maybe it can get in a little action with the trash compactor out back? I hear she's easy."

One of the drunks laughed, and the bartender seemed satisfied that someone did. The bar was about what you'd expect. Despite what the Trandoshan had said, its only purpose was a front for Njon the Hutt, and it looked like it; no decorum on the walls, a poor selection of liquor, and a lot of empty tables and booths. Of the patrons present, almost all of them worked for Njon and almost all of them were packing heat (it was easy to tell who they were because they sat in threes around a given booth, making no conversation, seemingly doing nothing except staring at the newcomer). There was a second floor to the bar, however, and conversation could be heard from the balconies without being able to see exactly how many more henchman were there.

The odds weren't good for someone picking a fight, even a Jedi. Not that Havoc was known to consider the odds, of course.

Njon Anjiliac (alias "Njon the Hutt")
■ Owner and CEO of Anjiliac™ brand Spiced Wines, Ltd., known leader of the Anjiliac crime family, suspected leader of the Hutt Cartel.
■ Suspected of grand larceny, embezzlement, extortion, and trafficking in slaves, spice, liquors, and weapons.

Date: Wednesday, 11 Nov 2009, 7:25 AM | Message # 3

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Havoc grinned at the answer he was given. As the trash compactor was mentioned, GP was quick to raise a blaster rifle and blow a hole directly in the forehead of the Trandoshan. As this happened, Havoc's hand fully gripped the lightsaber, unclipped it, brought it into view as he ignited it, took a small step backwards with his left foot, and used it as leverage to spin around and decapitate the drunk man. Now Havoc was pissed. "Cover!" he shouted to GP, whom lept across the counter and would use it as cover, as he started taking random shots at the random patrons. (of course, GP had scanners that allowed him to take accurate shots at those WITH weapons) Havoc on the other hand, would use the force as his guide as he kicked a couple of bar stools across the bar as he used his free hand to collect some grenades and would cook them. He let them fuse up a little, then would throw them on the upper floor a few seconds before they blew. Obviously shots would be taken towards him, so he would use his reflexes to turn when needed to reflect the shots back. "Njon! Show yourself!" roared the enraged rogue jedi.

Message edited by Havoc - Wednesday, 11 Nov 2009, 7:27 AM

Njon_the_Hutt

Date: Thursday, 12 Nov 2009, 7:21 PM | Message # 4

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Nar Shaddaa was a tough place to live, and the bartender had never expected to live there forever. Whether he expected to die there, however, was another matter entirely. Although Trandoshans were usually associated with the slave trade (that is, as those responsible for it), this particular bartender had always found the practice immoral. Thus, he was discriminated against by his own people and, after his wife was captured and sold into slavery, fled Trandosha with his young children vowing somehow to find her again.

Even though it was a terrible place to raise children, he had gone to Nar Shaddaa for two reasons; 1.) he could disappear in the crowd, so to speak, and 2.) much of the slave trade (since the Empire had illegalized it) found its way through Hutt Space. That's why he'd taken a job tending bar for Njon the Hutt—to do his dirty work, yes, but also to keep his ears open for the whereabouts of his wife, since Trandoshan slaves were rather uncommon. Unfortunately, cigarettes weren't his only compulsion; he soon found himself addicted to spice, and this, too, kept him bound to the Hutt's employ.

But still, he was a responsible father. He refused to leave his children alone in the tenement while he worked, and so brought them with him to the bar under strict orders to stay out of sight. Thus, they tended to stay upstairs on the balcony and feed the gizkas and other small creatures that lived in the walls of the cantina and came out in the daytime to forage for scraps. In the meantime, their father toiled away downstairs, making drinks, thinking of his wife, of his spice addiction, and yes, occasionally having a short temper.

In the fraction of a second, however, this Jedi Knight had blown the children to pieces with his grenades and put a blaster bolt through their father's head.

One could only guess the stories of the other random patrons who now found themselves under fire from the Jedi and his droid. Perhaps an old spacer, passing through Nar Shaddaa and drowning his loneliness in a bottle of beer (who might have laughed at the bartender's joke, or might just as well have been laughing at the farce his life had become). Or, perhaps, a young Gran barely older than a child, who had just won 95 credits in street gambling and was looking to celebrate with a drink. And so on. All of them gunned down, too drunk or stupid or innocent to know how to shoot back.

The few surviving civilians dashed for the door, or window, or any escape. The rest of the bar did shoot back. Njon's men (those who survived the grenades, which had brought down a portion of the ceiling), turned over tables or hid around corners and popped off shots at Havoc and GP when they could. There were perhaps a half dozen remaining, three of them taking cover behind a large table across the room, another two firing down from the office upstairs, and the bouncer from outside, behind Havoc, shooting through the front door. More were on the way.

Date: Thursday, 12 Nov 2009, 7:42 PM | Message # 5

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As the blaster bolts begun to get heavier, Havoc resulted to some more advanced moves that he had picked up on in stories and what not. With his right wrist, he would focus and enhance with the aid of the force, his endurance and would spin the saber faster then ever. Assuming a good stance, Havoc would begin to reflect the bolts back. The force was ever present around Havoc, alerting him to dangers as well as the little things. "GP!" Shouted Havoc as he used his free hand to force push one of the bouncers outside and possibly over the edge of the catwalk into the dark deeps. "I think we may be in some trouble!" another blaster bolt was reflected back towards those that were shooting back. GP looked at him. "This is nothing!" GP shouted back as he continued to shoot. However Havoc noticed a bouncer coming from behind, and Havoc grew annoyed. As he rolled over the counter, the lightsaber was thrown from his hand and would spin until it connected with the bouncer's heart, killing him as he stood. Ducking and extending his hands, he would call upon the force to fetch the lightsaber from the man and back into Havoc's hand. Then from where he was, he would jump on the bar counter, while blocking more bolts, and would look at the rubble caused from the roof. He would use it as a weapon as he used the force to pick them up and throw them at the patrons. The pieces of rubble would hit with hard speeds and solid impact, exploding as they made contact with the body parts. "GP, cocktails!" he commanded as GP picked up a bottle, and would use his lightwrists to light the bottles on fire. Havoc hopped in front of GP and the droid would throw the bottle. Using the force, Havoc caused it to explode, which would cause sever burns to those shooting.

Havoc grew tired of this and this time called upon the full power of the force to enhance his speed, endurance, reflexes and all of the same nature. He would dash towards a few patrons, leaped over them, land and quickly slice off their arms individualy, then pushing them to the side. Then extendind his hand he would call upon the furniture in the room and send it crashing into them. Looking up at the ledges, Havoc ran towards the pillars supporting the second floor and would slice through those, hopefully able to cause a crashing of the second floor. Turning to face the inside of the room, he turned to GP whom threw another cocktail at a group of patrons. Simply by glancing at it, Havoc caused the bottle to explode, causing it to become a death from above situation. From where he was, Havoc was able to block more bolts. Glancing at a corner of the bar, Havoc would cock another grenade as he kicked a chair towards the patron hiding there. Behind it, he would throw the grenade cleverly so that the grenade was covered by the piece of furniture and would no doubt explode at the patron. Making a full dash for the bar counter, Havoc would leap up and make a backflip, while in air throwing his lightsaber towards a patron with a heavy repeater on the second floor. As the Jedi landed on his knees, the saber had made contact with his head. Extending his right hand, he again called upon the force to reclaim his weapon.

GP would continue to grab alcoholic bottles and light them on fire. He would throw them and depending on Havoc's mood, would explode them in the air. Havoc would cover GP in the direction he would fire, using his senses to reflect the bolts and directing GP on where to throw them. "Njon! I grow tired of your games!!!" shouted the Jedi.

Scaithe

Date: Saturday, 14 Nov 2009, 9:33 PM | Message # 6

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The sprinklers came on even before the droid started lighting the bar alight with its improvised cocktails; the room was soaked in moments, making short work of the flames (contrary to popular opinion, liquor--that is, drinking alcohol--wasn't especially flammable anyway). Water continued to drizzle down from the ceiling as the rest of the guards were killed by debris, flames, explosions, blaster bolts, or the Jedi's lightsaber. He was quite ruthless, for a guardian of peace and justice in the galaxy and, especially, considering that there were just as many methods that a skillful Jedi could have used to dispose of the guards nonlethally as Havoc had used to kill them. The sprinklers shut off at last and, then, silence.

An hour went by.

No police ever came (the concept of police on Nar Shaddaa was laughable anyway), and the fire service either wasn't aware of the incident or didn't care. Occasionally, a bystander and his friends would come to the front door, laughing at some joke that had just been told, and then stop suddenly as they saw the smoldering, saturated wreck of debris and corpses that the bar had become. When they saw Havoc and his droid, eerily alone, they left them that way and didn't ask questions.

Eventually, a door could be heard hissing open somewhere in the back of the bar and, a moment later, the repugnant, exposed and hulking musculature of Njon the Hutt's enforcer and right hand "man"—referred to only as Scaithe—moved deliberately through an entryway and into the room (ducking his head through the doorway as he did so). The creature was a Gen'Dai, although there was no reason Havoc should know this considering how seldom seen the species was, and how little known even its most famous member, Durge, truly was. Scaithe—like Durge—appeared to have one physical form and yet also, simultaneously, did not. Standing over 2 meters tall, he was a tangle of nerves and muscle that assumed whatever form it needed to, all with an ugly, tusked face.

He forced his way through the door (which might have been a funny sight, were Scaithe not so repulsive and ominous a creature), then stood to his full height and looked from Havoc to his droid and back again with a blank, almost disappointed expression. "Njon will see you," he said simply, "This way." He moved aside, again deliberately and slowly, to indicate for Havoc to go through the door through which he'd come. Once he did, Scaithe (having told Havoc "the droid stays here") would follow the Jedi down a dim and decrepit corridor, crawling with gizkas and smelling of spice and old, spilled liquor. There was no conversation along the way.

Eventually, the corridor branched into another, which led up a stairwell and into what seemed to be a lounge; the lights came on automatically as the two of them entered, revealing a clean, carpeted room with two couches, as many chairs, an empty coffee table, and not much else. There was another, larger blast door, closed and partially concealed behind a curtain, on one side of the room, and a large holo screen on the opposite wall. It was the sort of place Njon did business with his clients, although whether or not he would be in a mood to do business with this Jedi after he'd destrroyed his bar and a considerable number of his employees, remained to be seen.

Scaithe said nothing, merely gestured for Havoc to sit and he, too, waited.

"Scaithe"
The Hutt Cartel

Date: Saturday, 14 Nov 2009, 9:47 PM | Message # 7

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Havoc would stand there... his robes stained in blood, alcohol, and water. The mixture left a very strange oder as he stood there. Observing his distruction, Havoc leaned against the counter and turned off his lightsaber, sensing no more danger. Jedis around the galaxy now would have to clean up both this scene and how Jedi accord themselves. Because as it stood, Havoc took the rules and threw them out the window into a sarlac pit. Sighing some, he clipped his lightsaber to his belt and turned to face his droid, whom put down the bottle and nodded. "Impressive..." he commented and Havoc sighed... "I'm not proud, GP." but in his eyes, it was needed to be done. However GP tapped Havoc and pointed him towards the... thing that entered the bar. Going back on alert, Havoc noticed the man was not threatening.

When he was told the droid was to stay, Havoc turned to him. "Get back to the X-wing... very discretly." GP nodded and would leave first, proceeding out the back way. Once he was gone, Havoc would put up his hood and walk out of the room, keeping his head very low, as to block out his face. The force would guild his path as he followed this messanger of Njon.

As he entered the room, he proceeded inward a little bit then stood there, removed his hood, and lifted his head up. "Njon... I know you can hear me, so I will make it simple... I want Jamie the Hutt."

Date: Monday, 16 Nov 2009, 5:38 PM | Message # 8

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][ Nar Shaddaa - Y'Toub System - Hutt Space - Mid Rim ][

Ignoring the chime from his craft's communicator informing him Ambassador Stomwell was trying to get a call through to him, Cale left his ship at the docking station and continued into Nar Shaddaa proper. He wore gray robes reminiscent of those he wore as a Jedi, save these had hand made to replace those he'd worn for so long. He was no longer a Jedi, after all. Instead, he'd become something different... more advanced. He'd evolved.

Now, slipping through the crowds of people and beings, Cale focused on the objective at hand. The Hutt he wanted to speak to was a powerful being. If there was any such thing as luck, he'd have the opportunity to speak face to face without having to deal with flunkies. Such creatures annoyed Cale greatly. It was always easier to have face-to-face meeting. Glancing at signs, Cale tried to remember the correct bar that served as a front for the Hutt's operations.

Rath Deschain
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Date: Wednesday, 18 Nov 2009, 10:12 AM | Message # 9

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Having been following Master Skywalkers orders to probe threats to one Jamie the Hutt, he had headed straight to the biggest hive of scum and villany he could discover. He was sat in a bar about a mile away talking to his old friend, Marcus Hamilton (a trader from Alderaan originally) from Njons bar when a youth ran in "Someones torched Njons place!!" the young man screamed.

Paul Oriel reached out with the force, sensing the fear in the man, and knowing an atrocity was underway. Time to investigate, he thought, nodding to Marcus before heading directly out... as he moved quickly and un-noticed through the crowd he noticed a face also moving.. the former Jedi Drasek Cale.. he observed him from a distance, taking care to hide his force signature and quietly followed the man.. one whos planet who had just openly made a racist attack on the Hutts... a link perhaps, to Dantooine.

Paul Gemmell

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Date: Wednesday, 18 Nov 2009, 3:04 PM | Message # 10

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Cale felt something briefly through the Force, a faint tremor. Shaking his head to clear the echoes, he continued on down the street. There was a large amount of civilian commotion; snatches of conversation picked up spoke of an attack on Njon the Hutt's establishment. That wasn't too far from where Cale was now. Odd, it might be, but he felt compelled to go forth and investigate. There was nothing to keep him from it, after all. Turning his path, he followed the outcry to where he at last stood in front of the establishment, and oh, what ruins in was in.

Bodies, char, wreckage. It seemed as if a large explosive or a small, deadly whirlwind had gone off inside. Perhaps it was a mixture of both. Stepping into the cantina proper, Cale glanced at one of the nearby bodies. Lightsaber burns were hard to disguise. There had been a Force user here, or someone had wanted to blame it on the Force users. Odd indeed, that Njon the Hutt had been the being that Cale had come to see.

"Anyone left alive in here?" He called out.

Rath Deschain
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Date: Thursday, 19 Nov 2009, 12:57 PM | Message # 11

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Paul, dressed as he was in a rather "unconventional" manner for a Jedi, simply appearing in clothes which would not look amiss on the streets of any outer rim world, looked on from the edge of the small gossiping crowd watching the outside of the building, watching as another man went in before largely returning to the bar on the opposite side of the street.

The young Oriel did not follow him, but simply watched as he stepped into the doorway, curious as to why a Duke of a New Republic affiliate should be here, he still watched, ceasing to hide himself with the force and approached Cale with a smile on his face, recognising the academy "Hey Drasek! Long time no see! What brings you to this wretched crime lord's bar, you old devil you? I was greviously sad to hear about your family."

Paul Gemmell

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Message edited by Paul-Oriel - Thursday, 19 Nov 2009, 1:33 PM

Date: Thursday, 19 Nov 2009, 2:19 PM | Message # 12

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Well, this was unfortunate. Unfortunate in the extreme. Hearing his name called, especially so loudly, was quite upsetting. Almost as upsetting as being recognized here on Nar Shaddaa, seemingly at random as well. In all honesty, Cale wouldn't have been surprised to find that Skywalker had set someone to watch him. Nobody wanted another Dooku on their hands, Cale mused as he turned slightly. Ah, so that was who it was. Paul Oriel, a younger student of the Academy. He'd done a few large deeds that resulted in him making Knight long before most achieved the rank. A respected young man... and a nuisance to Cale in this particular case. Cale, after all, had been before Oriel's time and as such, did not know the young man that well.

"It has been a while, Paul. A long while indeed. I thank you for the apology about my family's untimely death; it was indeed an unfortunate thing to have happen, yet I persevere. As for this place, well, let us simply say I felt a call of sorts. You know as well as I that when the Force instructs, it is wise to listen closely."

This wasn't to say that the Force couldn't simply be grasped and wielded as a tool either. The Jedi though, were more fond of surrendering than using when it came to the Force. A quick touch upon it would serve to hide the darkness that had come into Cale as of late from Oriel's senses.

"So, what can I do for you, my young friend?"

Rath Deschain
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Date: Thursday, 19 Nov 2009, 2:36 PM | Message # 13

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Oriel smiled warmly, not showing a hint of what went through his mind quietly, even if there were no signs of this former Jedi turning to the dark side, it seemed at least likely his intent was, if not dark, criminal.

"Mind if I tag along? I am currently investigating a racket of slave dealers operating out of Tatooine, ive been looking in the bars around here for some clues but im turning up nothing, so might as well catch up with you. One thing I am curious about though, why are we going to see Njon?"

He looked around the bar a little "My my, this is a mess."

Paul Gemmell

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Date: Thursday, 19 Nov 2009, 2:40 PM | Message # 14

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"I'm not here to see Njon," Cale commented, half-distracted as he sifted through the rubble. He wasn't about to clue the younger Jedi into his real intentions, after all. That would never do, for Oriel would have to disappear then, which was something Cale was loathe to do. Needless bloodshed was not his aim, after all. The only deaths that had to occur were those that furthered his aim, and Oriel, at this time, would be an unnecessary death; one that might well draw Skywalker down upon Cale.

"You're welcome to look around here with me. Look at the bodies. Some of these are blaster burns, which would go well with a bar fight, or perhaps a scuffle that went bad or even a rival Hutt. These burns here though," Cale said as he pointed to a different body, "These came from a lightsaber. There was a Jedi hr recently... dark or light, I cannot yet determine, but I have the feeling that we may not find Njon whole and healthy. Either way, my curiosity was piqued and so... here I am."

Rath Deschain
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