Cheers!
Aboard The Ibaka Envoy Corps Headquarters Arx Minor
Bril stood in silence aboard the deck of The Ibaka, his personal TIE/RP Reaper Attack Lander, as he looked over the dossiers of Sato Tarentae and Hugo Siphaar. Both men possessed skills that made them a good fit for this assignment; Sato’s knowledge of Sith Alchemy, and Hugo’s understanding of how to navigate the seedy business of black market trading would certainly aid Bril in his mission to retrieve the artifact that had appeared on his and the Brotherhood’s radar a few weeks ago. He’d never worked so closely with Naga Sadowans before, but Naga Sadow was one of Arcona’s allies who had come to their aid during the attack of the pretender gods of Selen, so he figured this was a good opportunity to continue to strengthen the bonds between their two clans. Once he had arrived on Arx Minor, he sent out an encrypted message to let both men know that he was ready for them. Now, he need only await their arrival, at which point they’d be welcomed onto The Ibaka by its onboard droid brain.
<@1325653672985886751> <@671903061827911683>
The Heretic’s Faith, in orbit of Arx Minor.
The vast black expanse of space stretched out beyond the viewport, with the planet Arx Minor rotating slowly below. Sato sprawled comfortably in the D-5 Mantis Patrol Craft’s command chair, his sharp features illuminated by the dim glow of the holoprojector. For the 8th time, Bril’s message played. Ostensibly it read like a carefully if blandly worded invitation. But two decades of life in the Brotherhood had allowed the Krath to read between the lines. After parsing words and nuance, Sato recognized the unmistakable undertone of a summons. That alone soured his mood.
He had been deep in research, decoding alchemical matrices from a ruined Dolgaraki temple. Yet, if this artefact held even a fragment of forgotten knowledge, perhaps the detour could be justified. However, he resented the interruption, and his fingers gripped the chair’s armrest tightly, knuckles whitening in mounting rage. He had been pulled away from what truly mattered.
An alert chimed, the tone cutting through his reverie. He exhaled sharply through his nose and glanced at the 0-66 pilot droid who ran daily bridge ops. “You. Droid,” he said, his voice low and cold. “Signal the Ibaka. Inform my host that I will be on the dirt shortly.”
“I hope you’ve done your homework Bril,” he muttered to himself. If this turned out to be a waste of his time, he would ensure that regret would follow his host like a faithful companion.
<@1056685516441006091> <@671903061827911683>
Artifacts were money. Glorious, heaping stacks of credits.
Hugo rocked back in the Captain’s chair of his Imperial Surveillance Vessel - conveniently called Locktulla which meant ‘Vault’ in Huttese. Not just because it held an assortment of acquired goods. But it also carried secrets.
“Should we cut the feed, sir?” one of Hugo’s crew stepped forward with a salute.
“At ease, boyo.” Hugo smirked, rolling a burning cigar between two of his bulbous fingertips. “I’d like to know what comms this… Ibaka is receiving. Call it paranoia.” He bit down on the Nal-Hutta simmer-leaf which seemingly bubbled from a repugnant moisture not suitable for humans.
“Klank!” Hugo clapped and in stepped an HK unit carrying a Verpine shatter rifle with a golden Bryar strapped to its hip rotator. A long duster fell to its ankle joints.
“You do know I hate that name: Sir.” It replied as it walked forward.
“Yeah yeah, Klank, as usual I need you by my side on this one. Make sure everything is in order before making the drop.” He said. “I wanna make sure this, Bril fellow, is on the up and up. If I get a bad feeling. You know the signal.”
“Affirmative.”
“Dobbins, patch me through as soon as we drop from Hyperspace.”
“Yessir.”
Hugo took a deep draw from his cigar and blew it out in a horrendous fog that made Dobbins, the crew chief, cough into his sleeve.
<@1056685516441006091> <@1325653672985886751>
It wasn’t long until the familiar chime of not one, but two incoming transmissions rang throughout The Ibaka’s command deck.
“Patch them through,” said Bril to the pilot droid currently operating the shuttle’s controls.
“Patching….”
The holotable fixed just a foot or two ahead of where Bril was standing flared to life, causing the images of a human and a besalisk to materialize in full color in the space above the table’s surface. Bril stood with his hand on his hip, his locs pulled into a high bun. Emblazoned on the waist belt of his robes was the symbol of the Mandalorian clan known as the Erinos.
“Thank you for answering the call, gentlemen,” he said, his voice carrying an air of formality that belied his relaxed posture. “I’m Envoy Bril Teg Erinos, and you’ve been selected for your unique skills that i think are best suited for this assignment. Once you land, meet me in Conference Room 13 on the second floor of The Flitz. We’ll receive the official briefing for our mission there.”
The zabrak paused for a moment to let his words sink in. “Do you have an questions for me in the meantime?”
<@1325653672985886751> <@671903061827911683>
The Heretic’s Faith
The soft blue of the holoprojector dimly illuminated Sato’s face as he considered what the Zabrak had just said. He lowered his head a fraction in assent, then stepped out of the holoprojector’s range.
The Flitz, Con Rm 13, 1 standard hour later:
The doors to the conference room slid open with a soft hiss, and Sato stepped through, his robes trailing behind like a lagging shadow. He paused short, surveying his environs with a sharp calculating eye. Then his nose twitched ever so slightly at the same moment his remaining eye landed on the refreshment cart. There was the usual assortment of fizzing and gaily coloured beverages, but the table veritably groaned under the weight of the assortment of bite sized sweets. The Krath composed himself before he walked past his host to the refreshment table and popped a sweet into his mouth. Turning, he regarded the Zabrak as he popped another of the sweets into his mouth, the faintest hint of a smile tugging on the corner of his lips
“Exquisite,” he said before continuing, “you’ve done your work well Envoy, but I’d not expect any differently. Now, let’s see what was so blasted important that you’ve torn me away from my research.” <@1056685516441006091> <@671903061827911683>
The sleek mystique of Locktulla slicing through the abyss caused the crew of Bril’s vessel to gather at the viewport before quickly preparing for docking procedures. Hugo’s ship was adorned with communique dishes, scanning equipment, and a various assortment of high tech upgrades. Clearly, he kept his earflaps to the wind. There was great power in knowing. Leverage. It was all about leverage. How far you could bend another before they would break, hinged on the weight of your knowledge.
Nevertheless, Hugo was one to seek opportunity.
As previously instructed, the pilot droid patched Hugo through to the crew chief upon arrival.
“ISV-1386 - Locktulla. Are we clear to dock?” His wattle inflated with air as he rocked back in his chair awaiting confirmation.
“Confirmed, proceed with docking.”
Locktulla slowed to a crawl before stopping in line with the port. The recognizable hiss signified a clean seal. It didn’t take long for Hugo to board, his HK unit in tow.
chirp-beep
His comm went off just before entering the room for his meeting.
“Not now, I’ll call you back my love.” He said to Matra, his Hutt girlfriend as the door slid open.
As usual, as he stepped in, he made a grand entrance.
“Good day!” He swung his arms across his jiggly belly and bowed to whoever was there. Unfortunately the entrance was wasted as the room was empty. Just an assortment of various food items.
“Embarassing.” Klank responded
“Shut it or I’ll scrap ya.”
Hugo composed himself and was greeted by personnel that guided him to the proper location. Room 13 not 14. Simple mistake. But it allowed him to gather some ship intel on the way. His mind was already a catalogue of information. Most useful, some not so useful. Upon reaching the proper room. He stepped in to see two men standing there. He simply nod his head in greeting as he approached.
“Well met, friends. Governor Hugo Siphaar, at your service.”
<@1056685516441006091> <@1325653672985886751>
When the two men entered the room, Bril was already standing at the front of the room, leaning on a nearby conference table with his arms folded across his chest.
“Thanks for coming, gentlemen,” he began, “Hopefully the journey from your respective systems went smoothly.”
Turning to face the far wall while tapping on the digital screen built into Sur'eyir, one of his beskar vambraces. The holoprojector attached to the podium in the room’s center came to life with an audible beep, projecting the image of a large, crystal that was as black as pitch and jagged in shape.
“Let’s get right to it, shall we? This is the Obsidian Heart. You may have heard of it, but in case you haven’t, I’ll give you a brief summary of the details we have. It began as a regular kyber crystal that first came into the possession of the Sith thousands of years before the Battle of Yavin. Over time, it’s proximity to Dark Side users caused it to steep in their very essence. Today, the Obsidian Heart exists as a nexus of the Dark Side itself.
"It’s extremely powerful. And our mission directive is to either contain it or, if we can’t do that, to destroy it.”
Bril paused for a moment to let the information sink in, and to see if either of them had comments or questions. When no such comments came, he continued.
“We’ve learned that the Obsidian Heart recently came into the possession of Jorel Dorn,” the holoprojector image changed to show the face of a rugged pantoran man. The most striking things about Jorel were his cybernetic augmentations. Scarred periwinkle skin transitioned abruptly into weathered metal that covered all of the man’s eye socket and even stretched out into his cheek, temple, and forehead; the photoreceptor that replaced his eye seemed better fit for a protocol droid than a living being, and it glowed a deep scarlet that complemented the pantoran’s permanent glower.
<@1325653672985886751> <@671903061827911683>
“Jorel is a notorious crime lord whose cunning is matched only by his ruthlessness. After breaking away from a Black Sun contingent, he relocated to the volcanic moon known as Shyrr, where he runs his operation that is beginning to carve out territory in the sector.”
Sato sat sprawled in his chair through Bril’s briefing, but his seeming indifference was betrayed by the focus his lone eye paid to the flickering holoprojection. When the image shifted to the augmented face of Jorel Dorn, he spoke, his tone calm, but his curiosity would have been obvious to the most casual of observers.
“Containment is a luxury that can rarely be afforded in my experience. If this crystal is a nexus of the dark side, we can ill afford that power to be studied by unworthy minds.” The last was said with a sneer.
The Krath rose to his feet, and slowly circled the table in order to view the holographic images from all angles, before turning his gaze fully onto the two other beings in the room.
“If Dorn is in possession of the Heart, it is possible he is ignorant of the potential power it has. Or he seeks to harness it. Either way, I can see why this artifact has your superiors concerned, Bril.” Sato paused, as he considered…”I take it you think that I may be of some service in confirming the Sith origins of this object? At any rate, I think the sooner we act, the better.”
<@1056685516441006091> <@671903061827911683>
“… If this crystal is a nexus of the dark side, we can ill afford that power to be studied by unworthy minds.”
Bril, upon hearing this, emphasized another (and, in his mind, greater) point, "Nor can we allow it to be used as another tool in the oppression of the galaxy’s most vulnerable.
"And that’s correct. I’m an archaeologist, but my area of expertise lies in other areas. Having someone who can not only identify this artifact, but also aid in its safe retrieval is paramount.”