Keeper of Kraata

IC (Raltz Nightwing, Taris Streets): As soon as he heard the grenades go off in the building below, Raltz was moving. "I'm moving in, cover me!" The Dark Trooper hopped off the roof and onto the street below. The passers-by that weren't already running started when the explosions sounded started when the black-armored behemoth crashed onto the duracrete street. Some distinctive blasters went off behind him, and Raltz spotted someone that has presumable tried to run out the front door of the Stray Tach drop to the ground from the two terror troopers guarding the door. The two reactivated their cloaks, hands on their stun blasters. Raltz made an effort not to step on him as he stooped to enter the door, repeater at the read. Combat stims were flowing through his veins as he switched on his helmet's MFTAS to see through the smoke. This is what he lived for. What a lovely day! IC (Vanndred, Jenth's Workshop): The chistori shrugged. "I ran by the bounty office and renewed some red tape. I think I have a lead on my guy at the Stray Tach. I was hoping I could slip into the suit before I went back." Ducking his head slightly out of reflex, he followed the droid. "Any luck with it?"

IC (Raltz Nightwing, Taris Streets): The Sentinel shuttle's bay doors opened as it slowed down to allow the troops to disembark. Raltz stepped out, activating his jump pack to slow his descent not for his sake, but so he didn't drop through the building. Eight sets of scuttling impacts sounded behind him. He tried not to retch in his helmet, they sounded like droids. But they were on his side now, at least. Raltz turned to address the terror troopers. "Six of you, circle the structure and find the entryways, lock them down. Two of you, with me." There was no reply, but one of the abominations nodded before they all activated their cloaking devices. The darktrooper strode to the edge of the building, overlooking the street below. "Inquisitor," he growled into his commlink, "We are on site, awaiting your orders."

IC (Raltz Nightwing, Ship Graveyard): Raltz smiled slightly beneath his helmet as his comm crackled with news of Inquisitor Costa activating her beacon. Any time spent with terror troopers was time you knew you would regret, ordering them around or not. Raltz boarded the transport that had dropped them off, ducking into the cockpit area. The pilot turned. "We're receiving the Inquisitor's signal from the upper city. Shall we drop you off on our way back up to the Insight?" "Affirmative." Raltz leaned in over the viewscreen to see the map of the area. "We can pick up your squad on the way, but we'd have to circle around." "No. I'll take a squad from here. My team needs some cooldown from this morning, and the Terror Troopers want to do their thing." As he exited the cockpit area, a full squad of eight terror troopers were in the troop bay. Some twitched, some could be heard breathing through their respirators, one was even strapping in, and they all were slouching. Raltz frowned, thankful his helmet shielded his face with its uncompromising grimace. This is why he hated dealing with these freaks. But, for all the places they fell short as shocktroopers, they lived up to their name. Addressing them all, he sat down and buckled in. "One of the inquisitors has activated her transponder. We will be providing backup. On site you will remain cloaked until an inquisitor or myself call you in. When that happens, neutralize all hostiles at your discretion. And of course, defer to the Inquisitors at all times. Orders clear?" The ship shuddered as it took off. One of the terror troopers brandished its claws, looking at Raltz through the gaps. "Are we all combat junkies?" Raltz growled as he buckled in. He hated working with these things. He switched to the Inquisitor band on his helmet's comlink. "I'm on my way with a squad of the company that just arrived. We will be on site shortly."

I ANSWER YOUR... SUMMONS. Yeah, I'm up for it. Nato still has Mirra and Wisp there, though Kalyss the one knocking around.

I'm waiting on Tyler for wrapping that up. Only thing I think I need from you, Krayz, is the kerfluffle wrapped up in Kentoku.

I'm still here. Watching. Waiting.

Yay for all of those things.

IC: "So sorta like our elemental powers." This guy was good at mincing words to say much but mean little. Zueya was a bit tired of old guys not telling her stuff, though. "Except your element would be sheer stubborn willpower and forcing things to change with your brains." Casanuva snorted as they passed through Ga-Koro's gate. "Sister, the both of us control both halves of electromagnetism, Vakua controls vibrations, I don't think any of us have any real idea of what the karz plasma is, and I've fought two guys in recent memory that warp gravity, the thing that makes up and down work. I don't think either of us have any standing to comment on esoteric powers someone may or may not have." The Fa-Toa slowed and turned around, chuckling while he did so. "I mean, if anything, Aelied is the only one of us with an elemental power that makes sense!"

IC: Zueya snorted softly. "Not really, but it's about the kind of answer I should've expected. Setting aside your, uh, occupations, Casanuva told me you Dasaka have mental powers that make Vakua look like a hack; I was asking about those." The Vo-Toa paused. "Unless you are being literal and you can shapeshift or something. Is that something you guys do?"

Most of the Toa Kalta have been living off Vakua's wages.

IC (Vanndred, Taris Streets -> Jenth's Workshop): During his return trip, Vanndred went over the bounty he was pursuing. He'd seen the bothan before at the Stray Tach; lucky, but unless he ran into him there, he'd need more information. The guy was involved in smuggling, and chasing that type never ended well. No, an information broker could do the trick. He knew of none that owed him any favors, nor did he have the funds to hire one. But he did know one that would talk to him, and had expressed an interest in his services. Like many others, he stayed at the Tach as well. Yes, he'd have to have a chat with Viido after he picked up his gear. Speaking of... Vanndred didn't wait for the automatic door to Jenth's workshop to fully open before squeezing his bulk through the small opening. "Jenth! How's it coming?"

IC: As Casanuva led the way to the Ga-Koro gate, Zueya risked a glance at Mako and Dakte. Besides an accent and the armor, she could have mistaken them for... Ga-Toa, maybe Vo-Toa like herself. She recalled what Casanuva had told her, of their mental powers that far surpassed what Vakua's mask was capable of. An intimidating thought, but also an intriguiging one. Casanuva had mentioned that the... "willhammer" was not the limit of their abilities, though. "So, Mako, Dakte... What is it that you guys do?"

I was just working on something with Casanuva and co.

While it may not be an effective deterrent against po-toa, it might make them laugh long enough to give you a running start.

OOC: Okay, let's take... the US. A state usually has at least one military base. Taris is an entire planet. Let's look at Lothal. Another outer rim planet, but it's not industrialized like Taris, so it's even less important. Lothal had a base and an academy. Tatooine had an academy. It's safe to say that Taris does have an Imperial presence. IC: Vanndred was making his way downtown. Walking fast.

IC (Vanndred): It took a moment for Vanndred to get his bearings leaving Jenth's shop, but he managed to find his way to the local Imperial Office of Criminal Investigations branch. Big holograms were out front over its doors, declaring the office's name and district number, with some flashier ones cycling through various service announcements, Taris's most wanted being prominent. A dutiful stormtrooper stood watch out front by the weapon scanners. The automatic doors opened to let someone out, a twitchy Barabel, and Vanndred let out a slight groan. Through the sliding doors he spotted a crowd of aliens. This might take longer than he anticipated. By the time the guard held out his hand to stop, the veteran hunter had already pulled out his ID and blaster license. The stormtrooper, with one motion, snatched them out of Vanndred's fingers and examined them. "Your IPKC's expired." "I know, that's why I'm here." The stormtrooper nodded and handed back the holocards, his hands returning to his rifle. "I'll need to inspect your blaster." Wordlessly, Vanndred unfastened the thumb break and pulled his blaster out of its holster be the back, putting it on a table beside the scanner, followed by the G20 glop grenade he kept. One step carried him through the weapon detector, which was silent. He saw the trooper still looking at the grenade. Vanndred tried to smile as he reholstered his Hunter Elite and tucked away the grenade. Somebody else, a human, came up and the stormtrooper shifted his attention to him. Vanndred shrugged and stooped inside. The inside of the office was a noisy, boisterous crowd. Somebody had tried to arrange them into several lines. There were three Imperial officials behind blastproof glass at the front of those lines, and one officer at a central desk directing stragglers into back into the quagmire. Consoles lined the walls, most of them in use. Vanndred approached the receptionist. Without taking his eyes off the screen in front of him, he pointed, "Third line to get an Imperial Peacekeeper's Certificate. Have your ID ready." Vanndred shifted his weight and cocked his head. "I'm here to renew my IPKC. And also check the available acquisitions." The officer looked up, blinking in surprise, as if his system hitting a snag was almost a personal offense. "... Very well." he said. "Identification?" The Chistori splayed out his ID card and expired certificate on the table. He also pulled out a credit chit, silently praying he hadn't miscalculated his remaining funds for the 500 credit certificate renewal and planetary permit, or that the rates had not gone up. As the officer tapped in his information, Vanndred leaned on the desk. "Why is there a crowd here?" Again without looking up, the officer quickly indicated with a quick tilt of his head why. Vanndred directed his attention to the Holonet transmission he hadn't looked at on his way in. What he saw surprised him; a military ID hologram. Better picture than most Empire's Most Wanted. No, but what surprised Vanndred was that he had seen the subject before, that day. His instincts had been correct, in a way. Rebekah Fell. That would explain the crowd. All you needed was an IPKC to collect on somebody on the Empire's Most Wanted list. The six-digit bounty, which might have made less experienced hunters light up, didn't faze him. It meant that she was dangerous. If any of these came close, Vanndred bet that they would be cut down by the acquisition. Besides, she was a military criminal; Vanndred had sworn off going after those after that close escape from Dantooine half a decade ago. Still, he had more of a lead than the rest of these whelps... "I said I need your credit chit, Chistori." Vanndred yanked his gaze away from the transmission and back to the officer. He handed over the credit chit. The officer took it with an unimpressed look. "I take it you're after Fell." "No. At least not yet. I need to ease myself back into the profession." The officer was silent a moment, then handed everything back, including his newly updated Imperial Peacekeeper's Certificate. "Well, you can find the listing at one of the consoles. Have a safe day." The officer waved him away to greet a Rodian pushing a cuffed human along; Vanndred stepped away, and pushed his way to one of the wall consoles. The Chistori registered himself to the bounty posting list, which helpfully brought up a list of potential acquisitions. Top of the list, of course, was Fell. There wasn't a capture permit for her, so no money had to be put up-front. Vanndred selected her info; it was free, why not? He continued scrolling through the list. One came upon his eye; a bothan he had seen before, frequenting the Stray Tach. Wasn't a very good picture, but Vanndred didn't easily forget a face. Especially not one with an eyepatch. He put in his credit chit one last time, and paid for the capture permit. A holodisc popped out of the console. Fortunate, since normally he would just upload the information to his wrist computer. Vanndred snatched the disc and strode for the door. Enough time would have passed by the time he got back to Jenth's workshop. He felt his blood warm in the sunlight of the upper city as he exited the building, and he felt something that had long been dead. No, asleep. Vanndred was back in the hunt.

New character! Name: Viido Gender/Species: Male Toydarian Appearance: Viido is an exemplary Toydarian specimen. Red skin, round, a little more than a meter in height. He keeps himself well-groomed, though, and has his tusks pierced. He wears clothing that even the most fashion-blind might consider gaudy, along with a few pieces of jewelry. Skills: Viido has many skills! His sleazy exterior belies a keen mind for business acumen, even if he is a little short-sighted. He is wickedly good at Sabaac, whether he's cheating or not, and claims to have never been cheated in a deal. He knows his way around a starport, and many smugglers swear by him as their partner. He knows how to pilot a ship but has had little practice, though his piloting skills in a speeder are debatable (Viido says he is an amazing speeder pilot, everyone else argues otherwise). As a toydarian, he can fly, though his top speed has never been very impressive, and his brain chemistry renders him resistant to the Force. Equipment: Viido's clothing belies how much stuff he carries with him. On his person, he carries a small holdout blaster for protection, an expensive civilian-grade encrypted commlink, numerous credit chits (some of which cannot be traced back to him), and at least two datapads. He also owns a personal airspeeder capable of atmospheric flight, bright red, of the 'mid-life crisis' variety. Personality: Viido's presence is larger than his relatively small size would suggest, the same with his ego, but jovial in general. Still, he can read a situation very well, and knows when to play himself up or down. He knows he himself poses little threat, physically or in the wider scheme of things, but he knows he has connections. History: A Taris native, Viido was born into indentured servitude to a local Hutt. He does not talk of his early life, except to boast that he 'pulled himself up by his own wings;' what is known is that he made himself a impressive network of contacts. Currently, he makes his living as a combination information broker, loan shark, and fixer, whether by doing it himself or getting one of his contacts to do so. He can often be found playing Sabaac at The Stray Tach, which is often where he meets people that require his services. However, as of late his network has started to dry up, whether by dying, leaving for greener waters, or just disappearing. He's having to reach farther and farther to get jobs done. Affiliation: Viido is mostly in it for himself, but that doesn't mean he's heartless. He has a soft spot for the downtrodden and misfortunate. He doesn't think much of either the Empire or the New Republic, other than the fact that he knows the former and not the latter.

IC (Vanndred): Nodding, Vanndred ran it over in his head. A few hours could cover a trip to the nearest Imperial Office of Criminal Investigations to renew his IPKC, maybe even pick up a capture permit, if he could afford it. He focused back on the (comparatively) diminutive mechanic. "I trust you won't break it any more than it already is. I need to run some errands anyway."

IC (Vanndred, Jenth's Workshop): "I only mind if you can't put it together again." The chistori retracted the vibroblade and handed the wrist console over. "I had an outlaw tech wire in remote controls for some droid brains in my ship and my bike. Both of those are long gone, so don't worry about them."

Or calling a Chistori a Kowakian monkey-lizard.

IC (Vanndred, Jenth's Workshop): Vanndred raised a scaly eye-ridge as he stepped past the modified battle droid. "Interesting company you keep..." he said as he tried to place the droid model under the modifications. He got as far as a CIS model before giving up; the Clone Wars had ended before he had even left his homeworld. The chistori didn't need to move his head much to survey the room. There were machining stations, a lot of scrap parts, and what he would have called nonfunctional junk. He looked back to the Arkanian, and attempted a smile. "Thanks for seeing me on short notice," he said, placing the box with his armor at his feet. Opening it up, he pulled his gauntlet out, the one with the computer and holoprojector. "I didn't run with as many armor-mounted gadgets as some other hunters I've heard of. The heating regulating system in the armor was in the armor already when I got it, everything else came after. Standardized stuff, I think. This part's full of problems," Vanndred grumbled as he pressed a button on the wrist computer, only to be met with random flashing static from the holoprojector. "And then, something's wrong with the vibroblade." The chistori, taking care to be pointing the gauntlet away from both Jenth and her droid, squeezed one end of the computer, and a forearm-length blade flipped out. "As I said, it doesn't vibrate. Barely useful as a boxcutter right now."

IC: Returning to the Vilda compound brought a wave of relief to Raiyo. It felt as if she was returning home for the first time in years, not days. She wanted nothing more than to flop down in bed, hibernate for a week, then return to her duties like nothing had ever happened. Just forget her entire time in Sado. This new... thing from Robalta caught her completely by surprise. "I... I would be honored, Datsue. I can assist making everyone comfortable, it will be good to ease back into my duties."

IC (Vanndred): Vanndred tried his best to give Sue a smirk before leaving the bar. He made his way through the crowd of aliens to the exit. They were all aliens to him; he hadn't seen another chistori in years. Not since he had been dropped off on Taris. He ached to see his home colony again, but he wouldn't survive two months... not with the virus pulsing through his veins. There were a few chemicals that set it off; most alcohols, for one. But without special bacta treatments, it slowly reacted to his body's physiology. His body temperature dropped, and methods to stabilize his body temperature became less and less effective. Now, Taris was a far cry from the jungles he had evolved in, and this urban jungle was lacking in proper sunlight... or places to bask in. Instead, a few industrial-grade heat lamps did the trick. While he mused on his fate, Vanndred had already left the Stray Tach and had made his way to his apartment. It was a shabby place, certainly; trouble with a local streetgang, but they left Vanndred alone, usually. They bothered him a lot less after he had broken the arm of someone they sent to collect protection money. "I am not the one that needs protection here," Vanndred remembered himself saying as he threw the youth out of the building. Tapping in his keycode was muscle memory at this point, and he stepped into his apartment. Muggy, certainly, but he liked it this way. He didn't bother unholstering his blaster, since he was only home for a moment. Decoration was non-existant; mattress on the floor, scavenged terminal connected to the holonet, a few heat lamps, a pile of unread holozines (though the most recent issue of Gundark's was in... he'd have to read up, if only to see if there were any locals posting reviews. Some acquisition was always stupid enough to post a review on illegal equipment), and a few crates that held clothes and the like. He pulled out one of these; his armor. Normally, when he wasn't wearing it, he'd have it mounted or stored on a stand; with his dwindling funds, he had just thrown the entire suit in a box. He pulled out the helmet; a flood of memories came over him. First holding it, donning the complete armor for the first time, taking it off to wretch after his first hunt. Taking it off for what he thought was the last time. Unlike most humanoid helmets, his suit helmet was in two pieces, connected only by the covering that made up the base of the suit. Constricted the jaw when shut, but provided excellent protection... and could be unfastened for the Chistori's hinged jaw to move freely. To talk, to eat... to bite. Layered plasteel and durasteel, over a polymer heat-retaining bodysuit, with heatcoils that could regulate the body temperature of its wearer. Those didn't work, currently, but the suit itself was still fully functional as a suit of protection. Vanndred's mouth twiched, and he tossed the helmet back in the box and sealed it. He could reminisce later; right now, he had an appointment. Hoisting the box, Vanndred backed out of his apartment. The door sealed behind him as he shifted it to his shoulder, easily hefting the weight. The public transit from his apartment to Jenth's workshop wasn't ideal, but nobody bothered him. The few questions he had received had been silenced with a snarl. After finally finding it, he rapped on the door with his free hand. "Jenth? Vanndred here, with the stuff I need fixed."