PBP roleplay 2 - (name coming soon)

(Our as of yet unnamed Hutt's 'business' headquarters - Nar Shaddaa)
--Jarl Tyr--

Jarl Tyr stepped quickly into the windowless chamber, fixing a bitter stare on the captive kneeling between the two Twi'lek guardsman. The captive's eyes widened as his gaze met Jarl's a feat, Jarl mused, he wouldn't have thought possible. The human's eyes had already been two white discs plastered to his pale face. Jarl wondered fleetingly what they would look like if they popped out and dangled at his cheeks, and made a mental note to find out later.

The Human opened his mouth to speak, molding it into a sickening O, then shut it just as quickly. Jarl watched as the Captive darted his eyes around at the grey metal walls, the guardsman at his flanks, back to Jarl's face and finally - predictably - to the floor. Jarl grinned inwardly. It was a display he was quite familiar with, the dance of terror.

"Listen up, you disgusting worm of a creature," Jarl said and took a step towards the Captive, motioning to the guards. "I'm going to ask you a question, just one question, and the answer you give me had better be the answer I want, because I do not intend to repeat myself." The guards moved swiftly to opposite corners of the room and Jarl came to a stop three feet from where the Captive knelt (bowed, Jarl thought. He's bowing).

"Look at me and tell me: who sent you?" The Captive lifted his head slowly and with great strain. Jarl saw he had begun to cry, and that inward grin grew into and ecstatic roar of laughter. The Captive mewled timidly and finally croaked: "They'll kill me-"

The guards would later ask each other if they had ever seen Jarl move. One second Jarl was standing still, towering over the cowering man, the next his whip cracked inches over the captive man's head. The sound was amplified in the small chamber, and the barbs on the cruel weapon flashed playfully in the glaring light.

"Do you think I care?" Jarl bellowed as the whip retracted. The captive's face was frozen in another disgusting O of shock. "Do you have any idea what I have planned for you? I can assure you that you do not. I can assure you that you will experience pain and terror far beyond anything you can imagine. I can also assure you that death is not a part of this plan." Jarl stated dryly. This was a lie of course, he was a busy man and unfortunately could not be bothered to torture every rat they discovered skulking around their territory. If he didn't give anything up soon he would most likely be shot. Quick and clean and on to other business.

"It was the Order!" The captive cried. "The True Sith sent me, just please, please let me go!" He wailed and broke down into loud gasping sobs.

Jarl was stunned by this reply. For one he hadn't expected the man to come clean, hadn't cared actually. Every so often they stumbled on some lowlife mercenary hired by one of their competitors sneaking around. It was always the same, bring them to a room, shake em up a bit and put the blaster to their head. Ho - hum another day gone. This, however, was unexpected.

The True Sith? What are they after? Jarl pondered.
He had heard the name, an Imperial extremist faction that had splintered from the Empire after the treaty some years ago.

"Keep an eye on him, I'll be back." Jarl said to the guards as he fixed his whip to his belt once more. The captive simply continued to weep.

They should have filtered their agents a bit more thoroughly. Jarl thought as he made his way down the winding corridors to the communications center. The Boss would need to hear about this.

Perhaps there would be some torture to administer today.

(An Imperial Communications centre)

Jace Fel stood over a communications officer as he punched away on the console, he wore a black tunic that hung loosely on his thin body and baggy trousers that tightened an inch off his shinny black boots, their was no doubt that he looked out of place; all that displayed him to be a Sith was the saber-staff that hung at his belt.

The communications officer had been monitoring communications on Nar Shadda after one of their agents had dropped of the radar, well they say agent but from the description he seemed to be nothing special; at informant. Jace's master had 'suggested' that he acquire some field practice while she pursued goals of her own. "You got anything?" Jace asked impatiently.

"Nothing more than his last known location sir, but even then thats to out of date to be any use. With all due respect I can't speculate with out knowing more specifics."

Was that a hint, or a question Jace wondered... if it was then he couldn't help anyway, he didn't know much more than the coms officer, "Alright, i'll...." he paused, and walked away before finishing the sentence, he wasn't sure what was the next task to take, he ran his hand through his shaggy brown hair pulling it momentarily off his face. He glanced around the room, dozens officers sitting at consoles, muted chatter only silenced by the repetitive beeping, he strolled up the exit rank towards the door, he took notice as the two soilders standing either side saluted, he wondered if their respect had anything to do with his Master.

Jace had decided to inform the Moff, a Sith Lord named Turik Khan, of the situation, he probably had nothing new to report though but he entered a chamber up a flight of stairs and knelt, My Lord.

"My Lord." The young Sith in front of spoke as he knelt.

Turik supposed it would be a long time before being called that began to feel any less awkward.

He was still unsure of just what he had done to acquire such a position of trust within the Order, he had only been playing the part. It had began with Belsavis, he observed his new found allies and mimicked them. He went about his tasks with emotional detachment, inwardly detesting the bulk of them.

He had foolishly thought that gaining trust and respect would be the key to the kingdom, that once in such a position he could begin executing his goal of passing his beliefs on. It didn't take long for him to realize the truth was much harsher: now that he had made the climb playing the part was all the more important. Any personal agenda he had would have to be put aside until Empire victory was achieved.

He was stuck. To lose it now would be to start over from scratch, this was not an option, not after the price he had already paid. He was in deep and the only way out was to dig deeper.

He frowned at the young Sith in front of him, Darth Romana's apprentice Jace Fel. He went through his mental preparation for playing the part. A process, he observed with a dull sort of foreboding, that had been becoming much easier to perform with every promotion.

He had been tagged to supervise operations around Hutt space, most related to intellegence. It was a job he did not enjoy, he would have preferred being placed somewhere in direct confrontation with the Republic and the Jedi. Still, playing the part demanded that he go along with it.

"Rise." He said firmly to Jace, "Do you have something to report?"

He rose slowly at the command of the Sith Lord, he felt the slight discomfort Turik Khan seemed to have in being in addressed in such a way. He observed the rather mundane garb Turik donned, quite the opposite of the elaborate and ornate robes favored by his master. He steped forward cautiously, he had not long been chosen from slavery to become a Sith and it had taken weeks before he got use to the disconcerting aura from Darth Romana, how ever this felt different.

"A coms officer has located the 'agent' sent to Nar Shaddaa, um.." he broke momentarily "er.. his last known location before he dropped of the radar. The stills of security footage is not helpful." he took a break in the conversation to become level with the Sith Lord, as he paced around the chamber, Turik was only a few inches taller but the scrawny Jace couldn't help but feel like a child along side him.

"He's probably dead. If he's an agent, he won't break, they'll assume he's from a rival gang and just kill him" he said with confidence in his voice.

Turik listened to the young Apprentice's report, placing a hand to his chin.

"He shouldn't have been captured in the first place." He said after a moment of silence when Jace had finished. Turik crossed the room and hunched over a terminal mounted at the far wall.

Let's see who it was. He thought to himself as the monitor's light splashed out and surrounded him, lighting the dim corner he was in. And what's with the Sith and these gloomy lights? He mused as he punched at the keys.

He stared at the readout after the data had been punched in, a sense of unease filling him as he read it.

The agent, little more than mole really, was named Kevor Arat. He was little more than a rookie.
So are you. His mind added, but Turik pushed this thought away. This was no time to start doubting his abilities.

Kevor had been just another thug before he had been recruited. His past experience with the underbelly of Nar Shaddaa's crime outfit had caused him to be chosen over a few more well rounded agents. He had been deployed to keep tabs on one of the Hutt bosses activities and make periodical reports.

Why are we so interested in this Hutt? Turik wondered, as he accessed more detailed information on the assignment. He blinked at the results of his query.

Confidential? This is not good.

He would have been inclined to believe Jace, that the informant would simply be shot and they would have to bill a replacement, but the combination of his relativity small intelligence experience and his involvement in a mission that was classified beyond even his clearance was enough to make him worried.

He turned back to Jace, "Keep an eye on this situation, I want it kept under a magnifying glass. The second you hear anything bring it to me." He instructed him.

Why did this have to happen? He thought sighing inwardly. I'd much prefer to be liquidating some Jedi.

"As you will, my lord" Jace bowed slightly before turning and exiting the chamber, he had noticed Turik searching the mole, Kevor Arat, on the terminal and had seen a notice blinking, he didn't see what it said but he could guess; 'Confidential', he was surprised that they had picked up something that even the com-stations' Moff didn't even have clearance.

Shall I monitor the situation or contact someone who has clearance and find out the identity, he pondered scratching his head as he walked along the dimly lit metallic corridor towards the corridor, being so new to the Sith he didn't have a list of contacts he could use to 'call in a favour'. He returned to the coms officer and lent on the console slightly, giving it another moments thought.

"Page Darth Romana, patch Kevor Arat's name, and the operations ID code" he said quickly, he felt it risky, and dishonorable-he had gone behind Lord Khan's back and seeked intelligence of limits to them both. "If she's interested she'll contact back, if not then ehh..." he was trying to convince himself as much anything. He pulled up a chair so he could continue monitoring, as ordered.

"Coded message sent, sir"

"Good. Lord Khan wants this put under a microscope, pull up everything... if you find anything more I need to know.


After about 30 minuets, nothing new had been found, he noticed a light blinking quickly in the corner. "Whats that" he pointed. The coms-officer pressed the button and a codded message appeared on screen.

"Sir, Darth Romana is demanding you speak with her." he read as the message decoded.

"Right" Jace responded and with out a moments thought he rushed up and power walked out the door and turned to the right to an vacant holoprojecter, he picked up a head set so only he could hear and punched in his ID and password and with in seconds the dark regal figure of his master appeared.

"Yes Master" he knelt.

"Jace, I'm going to assume that Turik Khan didn't request you to contact me?" she paused, and continued without an answer "no matter, I want to to inform Lord Khan that I wish to speak with him immediately"

"Yes Mas...." he began before communication cut off. He turned and to head back to Lord Khan's chamber - why didn't she request that in her coded message? he wondered.

Briskly he re-entered Turik's chamber, trying to to look to eager he slowed before the Sith Lord turned around. "My Lord" he knelt, "Darth Romana wishes you to contact her, in fact she's waiting on a coms channel now.... I think"

Turik had been sitting in front of the wall mounted console when Jace entered. He had turned in the seat to face him, and had begun stroking absently at his chin with his right hand while he processed what the apprentice told him; in his left he held a datapad.

I don't need any mind tricks to see what is going on here. He thought.

The apprentice had contacted his master and informed her of the situation. He considered being angry Jace had gone behind his back for a brief moment, but pushed this thought away. Would he not have done the same thing if he were in Jace's position? He had, in fact, been just about to contact Romana himself. He was liking the situation less and less as the time wore on.

He nodded and turned back to the console. He punched rapidly at the keys and watched as the contents of the monitor were transferred to his datapad.

He rose and crossed the room briskly, "You did well, Jace, I'd ask you to return to the monitoring station and keep your eye on our problem but I am starting to think it wont develop any further for the time being. Besides, Romana is your master, if she wishes to omit you from our conversation that is up to her. Follow me." He said without stopping.

He glanced down at the pad as he passed by Jace and through the doorway, ensuring the contents were correct before meeting with Romana.

On the Datapad was a list of names.

(Sorry this was so slow coming >.<)

Jace was surprised that Lord Turik wasn't angry, infact he didn't even seem annoyed that he'd gone behind his back to find out more about the operation. He followed Turik out of the doorway towards a hologram projector, he looked down at his shoes as he noticed Turik glancing at the data pad.

As they arrived at the hologram projector, as if responding to their presence alone Darth Romana appeared, arms folded and as always equisitly dressed.

"Turik Kahn..." she spoke clearly, "from what I've heard Kevor Arat has dropped of the radar, my Apprentice seems to think he's dead.?"

"That's correct, ma'am." Turik said, nodding.
"In fact," He added. "That is just about all we know. I checked Kevor's background out when I heard. He's a rat both literally and figuratively. Just another piece of garbage on Nar Shaddaa." Turik grinned a bit at the last.

"I went further and pulled up the mission info, or rather I attempted to. I know that they are classified." He shrugged. "I won't push that issue. Frankly, it doesn't matter to me. What does bother me, however, is that I don't think Kevor is dead at all. Rats like him, they always find a way to scurry away just before the flood comes." He grinned again, but this time with clear bitterness.

"I would have thought he was a double agent, but I doubt he has enough brain cells to think in that many dimensions. No. I'm betting he was captured and did what all rats do best when you get them in the corner; he squeaked his little head off." Turik's grin had faded by now, and he had begun pacing the length of the hologram chamber.

"I put this together." He said pulling his datapad up, his fingers skittering across its interface.

Seconds later the list appeared on the hologram's projection, the words scrolled down next to the ghostly image of Darth Romana.

"It's a list of agents I would like to send in to recon the situation, with your approval of course." Turik explained. "I was just about to contact you with it, but it seems your capable apprentice was on the same wavelength as me." He added with a nod towards Jace.

He had stopped pacing now, and fixed his eyes on the list now appearing in the air. It wasn't how he had planned this little report to proceed, but he hoped his preparation would pay off. His hand stole up to his chin and began to stroke it as he read off the names.

Agent Apollo

Kalith Praxen

Mayshar

Jace Fel

*Hologram conversation at communications outpost*

"It seems so" she replied coldly, "Your correct, Kevor Arat isn't dead.... not yet." She took a pause and brushed her fringe of her face "He was placed as a sleeper onto Nar Shadda after a series of mental conditioning, should they torture him then he may reveal more than is considered safe. If the Hutts atain who sent him then they will want to know more" she had sped up considerably, leaving no time for a reply.

"You have clearance to dispatch agents for reconnaissance. I want them to find and kill Kevor Arat, he's no longer any use alive." the choice in killing an asset was never an unplanned one, unlike most Sith Romana refused to kill many who fell at her feat- if their useful dead then their more useful alive- was one of Romana's deeply held belief - one reflected by her secret complex which is prison to tens, if not hundreds of thousands of those she ordered captured.

"Lord Turik" a cruel, disconcerting smile fell upon her face "you will know more when necessary..."

Turik nodded gravely, and followed with a respectful bow.

He had figured it would come to this. Silencing Arat seemed the best course of action. He felt a strange sort of excitement at the thought of this. He tried to convince himself it was all part of the act, but he just wasn't sure.

Frowning, he turned to leave for his chamber, motioning for Jace to follow him.

Jace, looked at his feet as Lord Turik motioned for him to follow, he hesitatingly held back before quickly shuffling forward to keep in line. From what he had heard it sounded like he would be amongst the party sent to locate and silence Arat, and he was nervous to say the least, this could be his first engagement where he has been alone from his Masters influence; since he never trained at the Academy nearly all his combat experience had been undertaken under the watchful eye of his master and his kills when she ordered, so very little independence- she intended him to become like her, he wasn't sure if he could, especially since her beliefs are unconventional to say the least, she was defiantly his ticket to gaining power but the path was unlike he had imagined.

As they headed down the corridor he stopped and bowed his head slightly "My Lord may I have permission to return to my quarters before I am to engage in any action?"

(not very much, but I am ready to add regually if others can too, please if you signed up could you join! Its still fairly open, if you want help with an opening message either me or i'm sure Turik will help too.)

Turik turned to Jace, a brief look of concern flashed across his face and he nodded gravely.
"Very well, I'll need some time to contact the others on my list." He said. "It will be a short while before we are ready to make our insertion."
After a pause he added, "Just remember Jace, as I'm sure your master has already told you, you must control your fears. Do not let them own you, use them as you would any other tool. Consider this assignment a lesson in control."
He flashed a grin, and continued down the hallway to his private chamber.

--

Turik sat at the console, rubbing his chin contemplatively as he had seen his former Jedi master do countless times. It was a habit he picked up from him and one he would unconsciously mimic, probably for the rest of his life.
He clenched his brow in concentration, a vertical line formed between his eyebrows. He stared absently at the console in front of him, laboriously preparing his message in his mind. As he stared into the illuminated keys he found his mind kept wandering to that cryptic message that had appeared when he attempted to retrieve the files on Arat's assignment. Confidential, it had said. He tried to tell himself it was irrelevant, that the only thing that mattered was confirmation of Arat's death, either by the hand of the Sith he served or that of his captors. Yet his mind continued to toy with this thought, it rolled around in his head like loose stone, bumping into his other thoughts and breaking his concentration.
He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Time was a factor now, and he was wasting it trying to chase ghosts. Finally he placed his hands on the console and punched in a message:


Turik frowned. It was sloppy but it got the point across. It always came back to the same thing: he felt as though he was rushed into this position before he was prepared.
His thoughts drifted back to the confidential file, and Jace's nervous disposition after their meeting with Romana. He felt like an imposter giving the kid orders and advice when he was in the same position as Jace not so long ago.
Enough. Did you forget what you just told Jace minutes ago about mastering fear? If you start falling apart like this and can't follow your own advice you might as well be giving up. This is where you wanted to be, in time everything will come together. He thought to himself.
Turik sighed, and sent the transmission out to the three agents he had picked.

((I'll get something up for Jarl soon as well. If nobody comes in to take the part of the Hutt boss I think we can give him NPC status. We can always relegate him to the background, but I'll give it a little more time.))

Quesviss, Quarren Vigo and Overseer of the Nar Shadda secotor , paced up and down the observation floor of a skyrise building dominating Nar Shadda's skyline, the Exchange had never regained what they lost 3 centuries ago when a concerted effort by the Republic, Hutts and other crime cartels lead by a Jedi wiped out Goto's command yacht, back then the Exchange were undisputed in their rule Nar Shadda; now Quesviss is forced to never appear in public and to contact with many of his associates via hologram. He could see the Exchange's rule just crumbling away by the day, which is why he had done the unthinkable and went in search of allies. The Sith Empire, they had presence in the sector how ever he didn't know where and how much. He sighed and slumped into his chair. "{T}"

(Sorry for the inactivity, i'll add regularly now. This post is still under construction, it'll be edited and finished later. )

Jace smile and took a slight bow, "thank you my Lord", controling his fears was something that his Master had touched apon, often. Because he lacked the experience that most Sith go though, that being the harsh testing ground of the Sith Academy on Korriban and had only received training in the force from first some Force using nomads, and then Darth Romana he often found him self short of the confidence he needed, and maybe the anger required to progress his abilities in the Sith. As he parted ways with Lord Turik and followed a corridor lined with soilders cabins - he shock his head slighly and cast the thought aside, it was counter productive and Darth Romana had tought him the dangers of doubting in his abilities. He took a right and headed for the cabin at the very end of the corridor, as he neared the door he touched the Force, opening, then closing the door behind him.

His cabin was slightly larger than the average ones, containing only one bed - though it would still be considered tiny, measuring no more than 2 meters wide, but it was fully fit for purpose, sleep and meditation. Jace turned and faced the tiny slot of a window opposite the door, he slipped of his tunic and took a mediative stance. He knew it wasn't necessary but he felt even less of a Sith the less he wore, the loose black tunic clearly marked him as an acolyte of the Sith, bellow was the thin, pale and fragile looking body of a youth. Towards the top of his chest branching onto his neck was a distinctive tattoo of a two headed eagle. His master was a perfect example of how appearance meant little to the Sith. She wore, lavish robes and ornate head dresses, making a point of highlighting her attractivenesses - all this disguise, or power flaunting meant very little when an opponent dares to confront her, none of is subtracted to the fact that she was a dangerous, deadly women.

He'd been in mediation for no longer than 5 minuets before his portable console lying on his bead started beeping, with help from the Force he glided to his feet and walked over and picked it up. It was from Turik, the first line read:

Agent, this is a message of utmost urgency..

Mediation could wait, he wasn't about to miss his first dangerous and challenging mission. He lifted a new robe from the draw under the bed, and sliped it on, this one was loosly fitting, he straped durosteel epulets onto his sholders, and cortosis gauntlets on his wrists, around his waste he tightly secured a dark red sash, he cliped his plane curved lightsaber hilt onto the sash, higher than most Sith keep it and then swiftly headed for the door.