Name: Braylan W'ray
Gender: Male
Race: Shistavanen
Age: 41
Discipline: Hunter
Rank: Elder I
Affiliation: MercenaryTop Skills * Miscellaneous Weapons
* Slugthrowers
* Blunt Weapons
* SlicingOther Data
* Non-Force User
* Well Connected
* Leadership Skills
* Strong Against Mind TricksSpecies Feats * On The Hunt: Shistavanen are natural predators and their biology reflects this fact. As a result of his keen senses, Braylan W'ray can more readily track a target once he has found their scent without the assistance of tools or technology.
* Part Of The Pack: Known as isolationists, it can be hard for even an ‘outgoing’ Shistavanen to escape the natural inclination to stick with their own kind as a pack. Combined with being such an uncommon sight in the Galaxy, Braylan W'ray is often painted by the stereotypes of his bestial appearance, and is frequently treated by others as the predator he resembles.Discipline Feats
* On The Trail III: Braylan W'ray has tracked down quarry from one side of the Galaxy to the other. He will pick up on clues to a target’s trail or whereabouts that even those gifted with the Force would miss. This awareness triggers instinctively and consistently without having to rely on his **Investigation* or Perception skills.*
* Tools Of The Trade III: Braylan W'ray has become a master of using various gadgets and tools that fall outside the range of conventional weapons training. Braylan W'ray gains a +2 Skill Point bonus to **Miscellaneous Weapons* when prepared and a +1 Skill Point bonus when improvising on the fly (Up to a maximum of +6).*
Situation Report
Braylan W'ray is the owner of the “Devil’s Dandy” Nightclub on **Corellia. Along with his crew — the **Devil’s Fangs* — W'ray is a Hunter and Entrepreneur found to be dealing technology and weaponry to the resurging Collective. This alone would not be worthy of interest, but the Devil’s Fangs have also been double-dealing with the alleged remnants of the Severian Principate, which is in violation of the accords between the Principate and the Brotherhood. Despite their best efforts, Inquisitorius Agents have failed to apprehend the Mercenary as the security around the Devil’s Dandy is tight. It will likely require more than brute force to gain entry.*
The Envoy Corps has been tasked with bringing him in *Alive** for interrogation.*
The loud thrum of the bass, the erratic stacatto of the music’s main tempo, the bodies, the sweat. The small Human, clad in the white silk top and flowing pants of the same shade, had grown to enjoy the club scene. She swayed to the music in the middle of the dance floor.
Still looking too young to drink, Mihoshi had taken more to dancing over the drinking.
THOOM THOOM THOOM
The beat of the music seemed to speak to something deeper, something primal. The men and women crowded around the Proconsul, all moving to the music, some of them in a drug-fueled haze, some drunk, some sober as judges. A small chine sounded from somewhere on her person, but she ignored it. Too much fun was being had by the young woman to stop now without her being more than a little upset.
Even from several blocks away, the thrum of the bass could be felt vibrating within the duracrete beneath their feet.
Celevon Werd'a and Aryn “Jade” Erinos-Magnuri were on their way to the Devil’s Dandy nightclub, though, for a change it was not for the partying atmosphere. No, they had been alerted to an Envoy Corps bounty contract whilst visiting the Seeker’s mother (Jade’s mother-in-law via her wife, Celevon’s twin sister Rowena) during their time off after the latest incursion with the Vauzem Dominion.
The pair could not have looked more different, which helped with their situation. Whilst they had a schematic layout of the club, along with the intel that their target was an avid Dejarik player, it did not tell them how many of the gang members frequented the club or acted as security. Thus, they would be entering separately, then getting the information they needed before acting.
The Mandalorian wore her relaxed casual wear, consisting of a comfortable shirt that was cut off to expose her abdomen with a jacket thrown over, cargo pants and black leather boots. If it weren’t for the veritable armory — a matched pair of WESTAR-35 Blaster Pistols in shoulder holsters beneath the jacket, a Maxalan Firepower FWG-5 Smart Pistol holstered at her hip, the Mandalorian beskar Vambrace on her left arm and a Sapphire Blade sheathed on her back — she carried, Jade wouldn’t look all that far out of the ordinary in a nightclub.
The Shaevalian-Umbaran, on the other hand, wore a tailored black suit with a royal purple tie and matching pocket handkerchief. It helped with the image he wished to portray, which was technically the truth, as the son of a deceased Lieutenant of one of Corellia’s most infamous crime families. His conversion hilt lightsaber was in two parts, concealed beneath his coat in a cross-holster on his lower back, with the Sith Dagger he crafted and the Inquisitorius Sith Dagger sheathed on either side of his belt.
Jade was looking over the intel that had been delivered for a final time and glanced over at Celevon as a small notice popped up. “Looks like we’ve got a friendly in the club, but they’re not answering their comms.”
“Considering the volume of the music, I’m not surprised in the least,” the Adept responded with a wry smile. “Does it say who it is?”
The Mandalorian shook her head. “Negative. Probably to be safe in case the message is intercepted. Does this change the plan at all?”
Celevon gave a shake of his head as he adjusted the cuffs of his coat. “Not at all. I’ll make my way in and make contact.”
“And I get to wait in line, then make my way to the bar,” Jade mock-grumbled. “At least with this blaster on my hip, there will hopefully be less idiots attempting to flirt with me.”
The Corellian native walked on, picking up the pace to arrive first at the doors, where the two security guards gave him a sweeping glance. “Name?”
“Tristan Magnuri,” Celevon drawled with a smirk, his birth name flowing easily from his lips. As he expected, their eyes widened at the surname, as his father had been well-known in these parts. He held up a hand, holding out two gold credit chips. “Relax, gents, I’m here for the atmosphere, not to infringe on your boss’ racket.”
The two nodded and accepted the bribe, stepping aside to let the Shaevalian-Umbaran enter, though one stepped back and alerted said boss, as both Celevon and Jade had expected.
Celevon walked in, a satisfied smile on his lips as his eyes flitted to and fro, appearing to take in the crowd. Meanwhile, he was reaching out with the Force, curious to see who the ‘friendly’ actually was. It would certainly make this mission easier with extra backup at hand.
Suddenly, he sensed someone who he had become familiar with during the events at Quermia. He reached out with his telepathy and sent a simple message.
‘Hello, Councilor Keibatsu. Nice to see you again. We should speak.’
The psychic communication slowed her dancing to a stop as she looked around. She knew that mind that had reached out to her. Not very well, but enough to know it was probably important if he was addressing her so formally.
She wiped a bit of sweat from her face with a smile and gave each of her dancing partners a quick kiss with a promise she would return before she headed over to the bar.
The man behind the counter filled a glass with a clear liquid as Miho approached with a smile and a toss of a few credits on the counter. Taking a sip, she leaned against the bar beside Celevon, her violet eyes cool. “You interrupted my dancing. All of them wanted to fall in love with me tonight, you know.”
She took another sip and set the glass down on the counter beside her. “Any particular reason for that? Did the younglings get lost in the Archives again and you came all this way to get them a guide back to reality? Perhaps someone got another padawan killed?”
She looked around the room, almost with disgust. “Every one of these people would be mine for the taking and I would even have to try very hard. You could have them too.”
She waved a hand through the air in front of her. “You can feel the desperation, the loneliness. Anything to kill the pain for an hour or two.”
She turned and looked at Celevon full in the face. “So what did you bring me?”
The Corellian native had taken a moment to glance at the crowd in the nightclub when the Councilor of War had indicated them, but otherwise remained silent beyond ordering himself a drink.
“You might have noticed your comlink ringing earlier this evening,” Celevon began without much fanfare, taking a moment to pay for the glass of amber liquid before taking a sip. “That was the Envoy Corps attempting to contact you regarding a bounty contract to be brought in alive. Our target happens to be in this very bar, the Shistavanen in the corner watching the Dejarik match. Jade should be joining us shortly to assist in the takedown, though it will certainly prove… interesting. Our target is a gang leader, and quite a bit of the gang are serving as security, not counting the ones just here for the hell of it. Perhaps staff members too, though we’re prepared for that possibility.”
The Human raised a distinctly unimpressed eyebrow, continuing to sip her own drink. “So, you’re here to ruin my evening in a way. Dare I ask why the Envoy Corps wants the owner of the club, gang leader or not?”
“Our target, Braylan W'ray, has been found to be dealing technology and weaponry to the Collective. Additionally, his gang has been double-dealing with the remnants of the Severian Principate,” the Shaevalian-Umbaran explained simply, looking equally bored at the prospect. “Either way, the pay is good and we’ll get a good fight out of it, hopefully. He’s trained in resisting Mind Tricks, so don’t bother with that. From what we know, W'ray is skilled in Blunt and Miscellaneous Weapons, as well as Slugthrowers.”