Session export: Clan Taldryan - [ Operation: Opal ]

Shanree flipped through his datapad idly. It passed the contents of the screen to his cybernetic implant so that he could parse the information, lacking any eyes with which to read it. He’d already been over the dossiers several times but it never hurt to study some more. The profile of the first individual was familiar to him. It was hard not to know who the Kingpin of the Caelus System was, the self-proclaimed “Joker”. It would be interesting to learn if Jorm Na'trej would remember him… The other individual was new to the Colonel– a Togorian named Barafu Endrin who apparently had a military background. Good, at least someone along on this mission would understand the importance of orders and discipline.

“Do we know what resistance they have? It is easy to assume general ma power but do they have droids, turret emplacements or traps? Anything like that.”

Barafu was soft-spoken, yet confident. She met the gaze of the agent before focusing back onto the map. The tip of her tail swayed slowly back and forth where it was tucked behind her legs.

“Sneaking in would be harder, but launching a surprise attack from inside… It would be beneficial.”

“Tell you what, Mittens.” Jorm smiled at the Togorian from the open hatchway front in which he had anchored himself, showing way too many teeth to be mistaken for genuinely friendly.

“I’ll play a single game of Solitaire-Bacc. Once I finish, I’ll hit that site so hard and fast that their insurance will pay out for damages caused by Acts of God.”

He looked over at the blind spook. “What’s your plan, Bright Eyes? No scarousing Shank Skank to boss you around here.”

“Governor Tir’eivra wasn’t in my chain of command, much like yourself.” Shanree brushed the abrasive man off, “There will be no gambling on this mission. Fortunately, for you, my plans put you front and center. You like the spot light, don’t you Chancellor?”

Shanree tossed Jorm the data pad in his hand, “OSI and SAG believe we ought to go in as buyers. We case these jerks, some low level street pushers, and then follow the supply chain back to the source. They want YOU to be the buyer, we’re your muscle.”

The Colonel turned his head to the Togorian Barafu, “You got a ‘tough’ face there, Kiddo?”

Something flickered across Barafu’s face at the nickname. Confusion, perhaps. Offence, potentially. Either way it was quickly tucked away, only angled ears leaving remnant past a politician’s mask of grace. A polite smile.

And internal relief that there was an alternate plan to sheer chaos.

“Its more believable when I am fully armed, but yes. I can be part of the ‘muscle’.” She nodded, a gesture indicating where the rest of her gear was stowed above her seat, “I am Barafu Endrin, by the way. It is.. good to meet you both.”

Jorm very nearly lost his trademark smile, and had he been capable of feeling dread like normal people, he’d probably have recolored his urban camouflaged cargo pants.

“That’s a no on so many levels, and I’m bannin’ you from plannin’,” he emphasized and barreled on, forestalling questions.

“First, Solitaire-Bacc is a one-player patience game, and second… well I suppose you don’t have eyes, but anybody who does recognizes me as a major player in Caelus, in both my day and night jobs,” the Kiffar growled through a crooked grin.

“Showing my face raises too many questions. So either I’m gonna wear this swell bomber jacket and shawl I brought and look anonymously tough and sexy while Mittens fur-thers our goals, or it’s back to my plan.”

“We can always try the back door.” Shanree profered to Jorm, “We need these guys alive to answer questions, and not to alert the shipment that something has gone awry. ‘Hard and fast’ tends to result in dead marks.”

“What do you think, Ms. Endrin? Should we go loud or keep quiet?”

“I can pretend to be a buyer, you two as my guards. Cover your faces and there’ll be no questions asked.” She glanced at Jorm, her ear twitching at the jokes, “We get as far as we can, or to the weapons, then once the objective secure we can go loud. The further we can get the better.”

The Kiffar wrapped the grey shawl around his head in the manner of the Tusken and slid into the fur-trimmed leather jacket, adding fingerless gloves and golden mirror shades to completely obscure his identity. The monstrous silenced Slugthrower on his left thigh remained in plain sight.

He pulled his sleek frame ramrod straight and steepled his fingers over his stomach, then cleared his throat and let his head hang slightly off-angle.

“Very well. I shall attempt to not look or sound like myself for a few minutes,” he declared, doing his darnest to suppress the Huttese accent that colored his speech.

Shanree smirked at his companions in the air car, “That’s the thing, we don’t have buy anything. We just have to get close enough to see the material, and then neutralize the Syndicate goons. The ruse just gets us in the door without any loud explosions.”

He fixed an armored plate to the front of his helmet, obscuring the sightless visage underneath and nodded to Jorm, “You won’t have to behave yourself very long, I suspect.”

“I suspect not,” Jorm agreed, still affecting an air of civility.

“These gentlefolks of less-than-lawful business acumen are planning an auction, in which case a buy-in for admission is not uncommon. Let us hope Miss Mittens has the necessary sangfroid to convince them of our stated intentions. Oh, and the money, of course.”

“You do not need to worry about that.” Barafu noted without hesistation, leaning forward to look over the map. “We just need to get far enough in they can’t remove the weapons before we can get to them. That will be the minimum margin before… going loud.”

She eyed them both, seemingly accepting fate as she leaned back in her seat.

“The landing pad seems sufficient.” Barafu answered. “Unless these two have any final remarks, that will be all.”

Shanree said nothing from below his featureless faceplate, nor did Jorm under his shawl. Their silence confirmed her decision, so the hovercar began to descend towards the target area. It set down on a landing pad beside an atmospheric freight hauler whose best years were decades behind it. The hovercar’s door slid open. Shanree put a hand on Barafu’s shoulder to indicate she should exit the vehicle last. He stepped out and with a hand on his holstered weapon, he scanned around the landing pad looking for obvious threats. Satisfied, he stepped aside allowing Jorm to exit and then their pretend boss. They had to look the part if the ruse was going to get them at all near the door.

They weren’t dead yet. The guards were still spinning up. And they were still talking.

Amateur hour, Jorm concluded and shook his head.

“No, no, this will not do,” he declared.

“You are about to sell,” he elaborated and focused on the Mon Cala, his shrouded head snapping on his target in a birdlike movement.

“We are here to buy in.” Snap, the Zabrak became his focus.

“So I suggest you take a look at our coin” - a flat-ground jewel appeared and danced between Jorm’s fingers - “and open negotiations with the Mistress. If you insist on a name, ‘Mittens’ will suffice.”

He snapped around on the hidden sniper and thumb-flicked the gem in his direction.

Mittens.

Oh for crying out loud, why of all the things-

“Is this really how you greet guests out here?” Barafu clasped her paws behind her back, letting her shoulders relax despite the immediate use of force. There was a turret back there, they had maybe seconds to get them to calm down.

She smiled, despite her annoyance, tilting her head slightly. Barafu tried to embody her mother, poised and pristine with every movement and syllable. “I can only cut you so much of a special offer if the customer service continues to lack.”

Shanree was concious of the heavy weaponry being leveled their way. He was confident that Barafu could stand on her business, so he concentrated on the two men behind the heavy blaster. He kept one hand on his holstered weapon, mostly for show. He wanted these goons to look at him and believe he was nothing more than this Interloper’s heavy muscle. At his side however his fingers flexed, waiting in anticipation.

He placed his body between that of Barafu as the Zabrak woman and Mon Cal thug approached, their weapons in hand.

“That’s close enough.” His voice carried years of command behind it, “Lady Mittens has come with her paws open, she’s here to do business. I suggest you get on the horn with someone with some rank, because clearly its not you two.”

“Lady Mittens.” Barafu spoke, with a delicacy as if the name wasnt entirely ridiculous. Damned stars-

She smiled, her ear flicking as she registered what the droid said. Interesting…

“Whispers on the solar waves, if one knows where to listen all sorts of things become within reach. I hope your boss has more of an understanding of these things.” She raised her chin, looking over and past them. It let her spy the turret without it being so obvious.

At least it wasn’t immediately about to open up fire…

Shanree used his body to cover Barafu’s smaller frame from the direct line of fire from most of the goons. If it came to shooting his light sabers would come to life in a flurry of emerald swirls, but for now he played the part of The Muscle. His right hand remained firmly planted on his holstered saber hilt as a sign to the Syndicate thugs that he was prepared for violence, but not looking to provoke anyone. He didn’t react when his headset’s coms blipped, a recognizable sign that someone was jamming the signals in the area. Judging by the confusion elicited by some of the things he surmised they weren’t the ones doing it. Was there someone else casing this location? A third party?

Shanree expanded his awareness seeking additional signatures in the force that weren’t immediately obvious. Sensing nothing, for now, he made a mental note to keep a metaphorical eye out.

“We should move this discussion inside”, he suggested to Barafu, as if the new comers dictated such things, “I don’t like how open it is here, My Lady”

If they pushed the thugs in the right way they could bully their way inside the warehouse. Shanree allowed the Force to carry his thoughts to his two companions knowing that even if they didn’t know it’s exact meaning, they would feel the intent– gently pressure them, they’re confused and disorganized. Now is the time to push.

“Yes, its quite cold.” She responded, playing into the truth of that stayement despite the fact she was likely the warmest one here.

“Where is your boss? I would much prefer to discuss this with him.”

In one smooth motion Shanree drew the sheathed lightsaber hilt his hand had already been resting on. Essentially without noise an emerald blade of light emerged from the Wroshyr Wood hilt and intercepted three of the Mon Calamari’s blaster bolts redirecting them back to their origin. The bright red bolts rebounded with a screeching hiss and then buried themselves in the amphibious Alien’s thigh, dropping him to the ground with a gasp of pain. 

“Jorm! Time to go loud!” The Colonel shouted as he took a defensive stance with his saber in his right hand, his left contorting itself into a claw-like pose common to Teras Kasi.

“Okay, amateur hour,” Jorm cursed upon hearing his name. It really wasn’t an experience he loved while trying to stay incognito.

Which means: no witnesses!

His hand shot under his jacket and emerged with a priming thermal detonator, enough contained thermonuclear hate to burn a sphere ten meters across into fine plasma regardless of what it contained, and Force Railgunned it into the droid…

Except in his annoyance, the device slipped from his fingers and landed between himself and Shanree.

Merp.

The detonator clanged once against the plasteel. It rose up in a disjointed arc, the red blinking light spinning haphazardly as it began to descend again.

Footsteps padded across, Barafu drawing her electro-bisento and thrusting it forward. The blade caught the underside of the detonator, taking the momentum initially. She twisted it, coming parrellel to the bomb and then lifting it in a underhand throw. Barafu had turned away from the two standing in front of the trio, her eyes on the sniper across the way as the detonator became airborne with actual intent this time.

“Bold to complain of another being a amateur!”

The Force whispered to him. Shanree’s shielded face snapped to where the Droid Sniper lay hidden. His free hand reached out just as the Droid’s weapon retorted three times. The streak of three red glowing blaster bolts froze in the air, one after another in the sequence they’d been fired off. They hung there for only a few heartbeats though. With barely a movement his hand sent the bolts flying in reverse, returning to the location from where they originated. The distant squelch of melting circuitry was the Droid’s only dying noise.

Dropping the pretense of acting as Barafu’s body guard Shanree raced off to the left, his feet blessed with preternatural swiftness. He sought to flank the Mon Cal and the other Thug as Barafu and Jorm continued to draw their attention.

…who would have none of it.

With the sangfroid of prescience, his left hand calmly fell onto the monstrous piece of hardware holstered on his thigh and lifted its muzzle in line with the woman’s face.

With a dry cough, the Enforcer spat a soft metal projectile as thick as a finger into and through the Zabrak’s head and toppled her backwards, into the pink mist that had been her brain just a split-second ago.

The vibrosword slipped from her lifeless fingers, stilled by its dead man’s switch, and tumbled forward, edge-on into the Kiffar’s shoulder, where it spent its momentum impotently on leather and synthweave.

“Who’s next,” Jorm mused and took stock of the situation.

With a few scant steps forward, Barafu readjusted her bisento, not even bothering to activate the electrified element of the weapon, not with so little left to worry about. She closed the gap with the mon-calamari, piercing his chest with the blade through the stomach. Barafu quickly withdrew it, stepping back on one paw with a grim gaze.

She straightened up once the now-corpse fell. Eyes locking onto a droid.

“Droid. Stay alert.” Barafu stated gruffly, side eyeing Jorm, “We did not get very far.”

“Duh. You suck at infiltration, Mittens,” Jorm scolded the Togorian and shoved the gun back into its holster.

“Can’t leave witnesses now thanks to Bright Eyes here either” - he nodded towards Shanree - “so let’s switch to Plan B as in bloodbath, hmkay?”

He did not wait for her incoming outrage and instead tapped into the Force. For an instant, he became speed, hurling towards the so-far passive droid.

The machine sqawked and got out a pair of blaster shots, which Jorm ran past with contemptous ease. Then the Kiffar buried the dark blue blade of his lightdagger in the droid.

The weapon was one of a kind and purpose built - twelve inches of flat, angular hard light shaped by an electronics-disrupting Pontite crystal. Shoved into any organic guard, it would have prevented radio calls for help. Brutally torn upwards through the complex machinery of a droid in the blink of an eye, it caused carnage incomprehensible to the living in the split-second of awareness left to the positronic brain before the ascending blade nicked it too.

Shanree took note of the lone presence he’d sensed. They were frightened, hurt, and disoriented. Of all of the sentients he could sense around him they stood out. A victim of the mobsters, no doubt, he thought to himself. Another presence stood out, but because it was alone and approaching the landing pad.

The SAG Operative moved up to the corner of a building to his north, sticking to the dark shadows so he’d remain unseen. There was no need to poke his head around the corner to see, he merely flattened himself against the wall and expanded his awareness. It was a Human male and his thoughts were focused on responding to the attack. Shanree remained where he was, waiting. He would pounce on the man when he ran past.

Barafu scoffed quietly, though gave the comment no genuine retort. It was not worth it. With Jorm going to ravage a droid and Shanree quickly disappearing from sight, Barafu took a moment to assess the area. A large building just ahead of them, with several rooms clearly from the external shape. A small singular building further north with another mid-sized block beside it. To her right, quite a long one.

She approached the door to the closest building, Bisento raised defensively. If they truly wanted no witnesses, they’d need to clear the whole complex properly.

The patter of feet grew closer as the Syndicate goon ran towards where Shanree lay in wait. Cloaked in darkness the SAG Operative readied himself. He was heartbeats from action when the plan suddenly changed– the man was not alone. Two animalistic life forms followed him at a trot. Their predatory intelligence was keen and focused, highly disciplined from a lifetime of obedience training and service.

Shanree spun out from cover, throwing the lightsaber hilt in his hand. The length of wroshyr wood spun out horizontally as an emerald blade is merged from it nearly without a sound. The first the good was aware of the saber was the bright green light of the sabers blade moments before it swept through his abdomen bisecting him top from bottom. The saber continued spinning, passing through the skull of one of the large creatures he’d sensed.

Shanree lunged, flying with preternatural speed, towards the second beast. His hand went for the second hilt stowed in its holster in the small of his back. Held in a reverse grip the emerald blade that emerged from it came from the bottom. He gripped the weapon with both hands, bringing it point down as he landed to impale the beast. It was a Nexu, he could discern now, and it moved with the lithe grace of a large cat. The light saber singed the creatures hide as it dodged out of the way of the attack, leaving a shallow smoking trail of singed flesh and fur down its cheek. It yowled and hissed in pain and anger.

The Nexu’s maw bit down into Barafu’s arm, drawing a hiss from thr Togorion as she jerked back and away. She got free, managing to maintain her feet and reposition.

The beast snarled, claws raking against the duracrete. Barafu watched the jitter of it, its eyes observing her yet.. it was still an animal. She feinted to the side, watching with satisfaction as it fell for the trick. The bisento was driven sideways into the beasts chest, embedding deeply. She held on as it struggled, trying to claw at her back in itd final moments.

Once the nexu stilled, Barafu yanked the polearm free, positioning herself to the side of the doorway.

The Nexu hissed at him as it swiped at the air between them. Shanree held his light saber out, pointed at the beast. Staying light on his feet he backed up slowly, trying to put distance between them as the Nexu prowled forward cautiously. Behind him Shanree could sense Barafu and the sudden emotional jolt of her pain. He needed to finish up here and rendezvous with the rest of his team.

“Here, kitty-kitty…” the Colonel growled under his breath.

He reached out with his off hand and pulled hard. The Nexu was pulled off its feet by an invisible hand that suddenly flung the cat-like predator towards Shanree. Spinning out of the way he slashed downward, severing the Nexu’s head from its body. Before the wet plop of body and head could be heard hitting the ground the SAG Operative was already bounding south.

He arrived just as Barafu finished off her own Nexu, “are you okay, I sensed your pain?”

He gently ignored Barafu’s shrug and insistence that she was fine. Taking her injured arm Shanree inspected the wound as they took cover behind some crates. Through the Force he saw that the puncture wounds the beasts teeth had left had gone deep, but thankfully no real.damage had been done.

“You’re going to be fine, wait here for one moment”.

Shanree took a deep breath as he placed a hand over the wounds. The warmth of his hand blended with that of her life blood momentarily before it began to spread into her flesh and through her sinews. His breathing became labored after a moment as his brow furrowed under his armored faceplate. The warmth spread through her arm as the wounds closed up and knit themselves back together. It only took a few seconds, but Shanree removed his hand with a deflated and exhausted cant to his shoulders.

Sensing her impending question he beat her to it, “I’ll be fine. I just need a moment to catch my breath”.

While the droid’s demise had been both thorough and slightly satisfactory, Jorm was certain more opposition was to come - after all, he literally felt its presence. In fact, his compatriots had just earned a few scars finding parts of it the old-fashioned way.

A quick glance around and upwards revealed no more foes lining up right this moment, but no criminal worth his ill-gotten gains would have missed the cameras mounted on the buildings, looking down.

Nope. Not playing that game, the Kiffar mused and fed the Force into his legs, catapulting himself onto the closest rooftop, out of sight.

Barafu’s shoulders relaxed as the searing pain dimmed into a dull throb. It still hurt but she smiled at the-

Oh right. Blind. It remained, though albeit nervously. “Thank you.”

She tested gripping the polearm, before stepping into the building, striking forward at the droid. She struck its chassis, though thr following stab was dodged. The element of even marginal surprise was quickly lost.

Shanree felt deflated as Barafu moved through the doorway and stabbed the goon. He was in the process of centering himself to replenish his reserves of the Force, an act that required very little effort from years of practice meditating and practicing, when he heard the blaster’s retort. In a flash he was on his feet, his light saber activated, and he was on the move. The Colonel was pushing 60 these days, but in that moment he moved with an ease and grace that seemed uncharacteristic for a man with more silver in his beard than brown. He spun into the doorway, propelling himself forward and under Barafu’s arm as she stumbled backward. The droid had no time to act. Shanree’s emerald blade severed its hands at the knuckle as he swept its beam of coherent light through the blaster held there. In a fluid motion he spun the saber and sweapt it through the droid’s shoulders. The machine collapsed to the deck with clanks and clamors.

Bararfu wasn’t injured again, he could tell. Her shoulder smarted, that much was clear through the Force, but he sensed no trouble. What he did sense however was the noise from up ahead and around the corner. That, and the injured, scared presence he’d sensed a few minutes prior. Lithely he padded his way up to the corner. There was no need to peek around it, obviously– there was the sound of three pairs of feet moving, though he could only perceive two of them through the Force meaning there was a droid with them. He felt an urgency for them to retreat and leave the building, seemingly forgetting the wounded woman. If they were going to leave her without a fight then Shanree was of a mind to let them.

He gave Barafu a hand sign to remain in cover. Waiting until he heard the hiss of a sliding door, Shanree moved out into the corridor and towards the wounded woman, “I’m Colonel Argentin, Taldryan Republic. Do you require any assistance?”

He looked her over very quickly and saw that she was in very bad shape. Her body was covered in evidence of physical assault, and she had an untreated wound from a blaster shot that was very fresh. Discovering the stun cuffs binding her ankles and wrists Shanree very carefully touched his lightsaber’s blade to them and helped the woman extract her limbs from their remains.

Among Force Users, dozens of specializations had risen over the eons. And no matter how highly adherents of other disciplines thought of themselves - when things went to hell in a handbasket, none were as aware and comfortable as a Marauder like Jorm.

Oh no, you don’t get to run, he commented the three presences beating an expeditious retreat from the building, highlighted in his consciousness like flares.

A short sprint over the rooftop turned into a lightsaber-bearing sommersault right into the group as they emerged from the door.

The man in front came apart under a figure-eight of citrine light, startling the injured Nexu, which lunged at Jorm and suffered a whipping slash for it, splitting it from the corner of its mouth down to the root of its tail.

The Kiffar used his momentum to pirouette under the raised blaster of his final opponent and slammed the plasma blade into him, fully intending to bisect the smuggler, but some kind of armor forestalled his immediate death.

Unlucky for him, it did not stop the momentum Jorm had imparted on the strike, or the kinetic discharge of his focusing crystal. The hit the smuggler in full sprint and not just doubled him over, but threw him back into the door from whence he came in a cloud of smoke and embers, remains of his armor.

“No running at the workplace!”

The woman’s panicked flailing caught Shanree by surprise. He tried to grab for her arms, to keep her from hurting herself further–or him for that matter. She fought him like a cornered animal and her balled fist connected with the soft of his wrist sending a jolt of pain and soreness down his arm. Focused on his task however he managed to grip both her arms in firm but gentle fists. She continued to writhe under his grip, seemingly unable to hear him as he tried to reassure her verbally that he was here to help. It became quickly apparent that her ears were not functioning properly, so in a reposte he tried something new.

I am not here to hurt you, I’m here to help you. Stop resisting, I’m trying to help you.

His thoughts, communicated to her as feelings through the Force, weren’t very effective however. He could sense her fright and distrust. His restraint wasn’t helping his case in convince her he was not a threat to be fought off.

Calm yourself, watch me.

He slowly released his hold on her arms and extracted himself from where she’d been restrained. He backed away from her a pace and showed her his hands. Shanree did his best to communicate through his body language that he was not a threat– despite his black ops gear and faceless mask.

“I am Shanree Argentin, Colonel in the Taldryan Armed Forces. I’m trying to help you.”

He didn’t know if his words were any more effective, but he reinforced them with positive energy through the Force hoping it might give her enough of a pause in her Fight or Flight Response to think more clearly.

Barafu crept forward, slow and cautious and keeping the doorways within her line of sight. She peered into the crate. The last thing she needed was a trap going off behind her.