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  1. “What? Whose there? This is a restricted ar . . . Whoa now!” came the response and sudden shock as the technician answered the call at the door to be faced by a fluid-like stream of goons pouring into the entry hallway of the communications relay station. A blaster fired and there was a cut off cry followed by a body tumbling to the floor. The team spread through the entire facility dropping any body that crossed their paths. The building was not that large. In minutes, the entire facility was purged of anyone save for the raiders. The whole thing was done without a word. Professionalism came in many forms. Even criminals and murderers could be professional. All it took was a personal detachment, a bit of skill, and the willpower to want to do the best job possible. Nodding his head, Blimp keyed his mic, “Set charges and rendezvous out front in two.” Staring down at the control panel in front of him, Shim began to read the scrolling display. Nothing listed indicated any distress call. That confirmed it, someone on the inside had leaked something. How else were the rebels waiting for them? Still, there was a chance others on the planet would soon be placing calls and messages across the cosmos alerting the galaxy-at-large to the unfolding crisis. Bringing down the main relay on the planet would hamper if not severely limit any outgoing transmissions; especially as the fearful masses tried individually in unison to reach friends, families, and contacts offworld. Slapping a single frame charge with a timer to the bottom of the display against a supporting wall, Blimp smiled darkly. Turning Shimsinblimp hurried out of the room and building to meet with his fellows. Hurrying across the dirt-trodden street, Shimsinblimp slid feet first behind the cover of a half-tumbled duracrete slab that once held a sign for some long forgotten goods. All that remained was half a sun-bleached poster for GungaGlow. Holding up thirteen fingers, Shim looked at his fellows while Blimp stared around the edge of the toppled slab, silently counting down to zero. Suddenly a deafening kaboom and subsequent fiery roar drowned out the area in a plume of chaos, downing communication across the city and small planet as chunks of durasteel and duracrete rained down on the area. “Now on to the next one” Blimp added as the Troig pushed himself back to his feet, the dropsuit having provided more than enough shielding from the blast. Some old habits died hard. Waving the rest of the group forward, the eleven heavily armored raiders made their way down the street, sending blaster bolts towards anyone that dared to look out the windows at the cacophony of chaos.
  2. The Troig relished in the pull of emptiness on his suited body as he was wretched from the hold into the void of space. His entire body, tensed with excitement, was prepared for the inevitable. Countless times from the comfort of a hold to the void of space; his body knew what to expect. Very soon action was coming. Adrenaline and other endorphins would mingle and the Troig would feel alive. From the void, followed the thrill of conquest. Of course, all of this was cast aside in the moment as Shimsinblimp righted himself in the void and saw the chaotic approach and din of rebel-aligned star fighters. The spicejacker did not get an exact count, he didn’t need one; the signature X wings, Mandalorian and Hapan vessel were enough. Shimsinblimp knew someone had squealed. His mind flashed immediately to the droid, Xar, it was even easier to milk information from their computerized minds than it was to obtain sensitive secrets from a spice-starved addict. If not Xar, than had Nok betrayed them? He did not have time to ponder it further; however, there were more pressing needs at hands. First and foremost, he had promised these Raiders of The Reach a conquest, if he did not deliver . . . Shisinblimp shuddered, pushing the unpleasant thought from his minds. With a thought, Blimp activated his suit-to-suit comms and announced to the crew around them, “Change of plans. Get to the surface and disable defenses and communications. If Morliss has troops en route, we best make sure they get here. Morliss, tell your men to advance.” Almost in unison nision, the squadron of pirates, criminals, mercenaries, and low-lifes directed themselves towards the planetoid and activated their dropsuit-bound rockets, powering down through the outermost reaches of the thin manmade atmosphere. Like streaks of light, the dropsuits streaked across the vacant skies of Kessel, meteorites that burned with the intensity of friction. Inside the suits, the temperature was bearable, but uncomfortably warm as the whole of the suits took the brunt of rapid atmospheric descent. Visors had dimmed against the intense brightness of burning air and Shimsinblimp stared onward grins plastered across his faces. This was fun. The danger of it all made it so. As they neared the surface and the so-called city of Kessendra, with it’s mix of aged, worn military-style buildings and ramshackled lean-tos, and repurposed abandoned and disabled freighters, came into view, Shinsinblimp and company angled their bodies. Against the forces of inertia, gravity, and nature itself, with rocket powered assistance, the band angled their feet towards the rapidly approaching ground. The roar of their rockets drown the area in a cacophony of noise and dust as each raider braced for landing against the rocky packed soil of Kessel’s hub. Bending his knees with the impact, Shimsinblimp blinked reflexively as if trying to keep the billowing dust out of his eyes. “Always nice when we don’t splatter like a bantha on the tarmac.” Shim grumbled as he shook out his arms. Blimp just smiled, gripping the grenade launcher to his chest. Plumes of dust clouded the area around them, so much so it made it next to impossible to see their fellow raiders. Even the sensor suite built into the dropsuit was scrambling to catch up and make heads or tails of the residual energy signatures, charged particles, and dust that clouded the air. Stretching up to his full height, the Troig grimaced. Hard impacts always left one feeling a bit jarred. He would muscle through, keying the comm unit, Blimp called out for a roll call. After determining that all ten raiders had made it planetside relatively unscathed, they were able to locate each other as the brisk wind swept away the billows of dust. Ahead of them by about two city blocks lay their first target, an aged Imperial communications relay station. Even if it was not manned by Imperials anymore, it was they key communications hub to connect Kessel to the galaxy at large. With rebels already here, it seemed, there was no need for them to be calling in any more help. With an array of weapons amongst the group all held closely or clipped to belts or shoulders after descent, the squad set off at a low trot. The streets were empty as the pale natural light that bathed the world paled further as an upcoming wind / dust storm sent the locals seeking cover, leaving an eerie ghost town feel across the cityscape. With his EMP launcher held tight, Shimsinblimp lowered his long neck and heads into the fierce wind that was picking up and muscled his way with the others towards the closed double doors of the relay station. Slamming the back of his suit against the wall next to the door, the Troig let out breaths he dis not realize both had been holding. Just out of the wind, he had a moment as his team assembled behind him. Once there and an all good thumbs up was given, Shimsinblimp tried the door. It was unlocked, much to everyone’s surprise. Pushing the door open, Blimp switched to external comms, his voice radiating from the suit in an unnervingly playful hiss, “Knock knock. Does anyone want to come out and play?”
  3. “Ahh The Maw,” spoke the slimy green head Shim of the duo Shimsinblimp as they dropped out of hyperspace within galactic spitting distance of the monstrous anomaly, “Like the galaxy took the biggest spice hit in history. We’ll skirt it and try to keep the element of surprise on our side” “If, of course, it doesn’t distort our insides and give us all cases of space madness whilst slowly tearing apart our ships and bodies over the next million years” Blimp added with a dark twisted smile that exuded all too much pleasure at the thought. The battle-worn GR-75 was nothing spectacular to behold, a transport like countless others plying the hyperlanes. Inside, the hold was spacious and roomy with piles of gear scattered about in a haphazard manner. Still, of the 40 pirates, for whet else could one call such a lawless band of miscreants, aboard to Tortuga things were as orderly as one could expect. Haphazard to the untrained eye, but carefully organized none-the-less. Built to hold copious amounts of cargo and armored enough to drop a load of battle hardened soldiers or mech in the midst of a chaotic battlefield, the Tortuga was a beast of burden and a beast of war. Still, that was only one of the reasons Shimsinblimp had contacted the self-proclaimed Raiders of The Reach. The ruthless band of cutthroats had also been employed by the Hutts and the Troig had worked with them before. That was before they parted ways after the fall of Nar Shaddaa, but relations remained warm when spice and treasure were on the table. Truth be told, the Troig had worked hand in hand for years with the ruthless pirates. Had he not ventured out on his own, they had a place for him. So when he had come calling, the Raiders knew the prize was worth the risk. Angling their trajectory towards the misshapen prison world, the Tortuga plowed towards the inevitable. A safe haven from which to carry out their nefarious deeds and unmapped tunnels guarded by terrifying energy spiders was a perfect place to store the ill gotten gains. Approaching high orbit the massive transport creaked as it began to slow. Shimsinblimp turned to face Nok and Xar. Twisted smiles of glee painted on each of his faces. Smiles that glittered darkly in his four eyes. “Time to suit up.” Blimp chuckled before making his way out of the cramped bridge leaving the pilot and copilot to man the ship; Kessel filling the viewscreen. “For those of you uncomfortable with high velocity orbital entry, or scared of burning up, The Lady Legionnaire is in the back of the hold to ferry the more delicate of you.” The Skipspray blastboat sat in the shadowy rear of the hold, fit for deployment only if the entire hold was opened to the vacuum of space. The hold was a flurry of activity as some of the filthiest most vile scum to trod the universe talked softly amongst themselves as they donned their pressure suits and checked their weapons. Two nondescript suits had been set aside for Nok and Xar, albeit well worn and patched with a single blaster rifle lying atop the pile. The state of the gear combined with the distrustful glances and general refusal to make small talk with the outsiders spoke clearly of the pirates’ thoughts of the retinue of non-affiliates. Of the 40 spacers aboard the ship, 10 each were assigned to accompany each Nok, Xar, and Shimsinblimp. Their first targets: the few still functional satellites in orbit above the so-called-city of Kessendra. The derelict military outpost served as the de-facto capital of the planet by means of being the only truly established settlement of non indentured servants or slaves. Once the command of occupying forces that sought to control the world and with it the precious control of the bulk of the spice market, the roughshod town stood as a testament to the voracity of the world and it’s small unwilling population, a testament to the iron imposition of greed upon others. They would be heading there as soon as the satellites were disabled. From there they could shut down any planetary defenses and enable Nok Morliss’ shadowy allies to descend upon the world en masse. Sliding into his customized dropsuit, Shimsinblimp looked like a deep sea mine with his four arms, two heads and legs and one tail, and was just as deadly. Clasping the EMP launcher to his chest, Shimsinblimp turned to survey the armored sentinels who stood at the ready. All that was needed now, was for the chosen few to board The Lady Legionnaire and they would be off. Those in the blast boat would circle the world in an expanding spiral taking out more and more orbital threats whilst also providing surveillance alongside the Tortuga for any incoming unfriendlies. Once everyone was settled, Shimsinblimp offered a brief statement, “Gentlemen and vermin alike. Glory and riches await!” Several muffled shouts of praise and aggression reverberated out of the armor-enclosed suits to fill the hold. With that, Shimsinblimp slammed a fist into the large red button behind him, signaling the emergency hold override. In mere moments, the entire hold would be voided into the vacuum of space. The takeover had begun!
  4. Sensing the conversation was over, Shimsinblimp stood, the chair scraping the floor beneath him. “It has been an honor Mister Morliss. A few days time will allow me to ensure that things are prepared.” Removing a single computer chip from a pocket in his sleeve, the Troig places it on Nok’s desk. “Just plug it in when you are ready.” Shim smiled secretively as he turned towards the door. “Then we’ll find you.” Blimp added, his voice low and cold. With that they made their way out the door, summoning the vanguard to pick him up and whisk him away as soon as the two-headed saurian stepped outside. ___________________________________________ Returning to the abandoned shop where he had started his rebirth of a life of crime, Shimsinblimp quickly descended the hidden stairway down to the lower levels. There it was hotter, the sweet smell of spice barely tangible over the odors of numerous offworld servants, workers and slaves carefully cutting, crafting, weighing, and packing the spice; all under the careful eyes of the pit-boss, a lithe black-skinned female twi’lek. The glint in her emerald eyes was cold and she barked orders at any that hesitated or fell behind. The energy lash at her belt testified to her brutal methods. Having come into money, Shimsinblimp had been able to track down Elsiene and convince her to join his little enterprise. Cold, cruel, and conniving, the woman was few beings that Shimsinblimp trusted at all. Thankfully, she had been willing to assist in overseeing the day to day tasks of the Mon Cal operation. After all, it was a far cry better than hiding from the Imperial Remnant and their blasted wanted posters. With a knowing nod from Blimp, Shimsinblimp passed Elsiene without a word. The eyes of every servant and slave diverted to their work. In the midst of the spice and sweat, fear tinged the hot air. Making his way to the end of a hall in the labyrinthing underground lair. Painstakingly it had been pieced out from the shop, ensuring dead ends were sealed and new avenues and escapes opened. Flickering lights and the buzz of low-grade electrical wires completed the seedy feel of the place. If one did not know any better, it would have seemed every bit a Hutt’s setup, save for the stairs and carefully nailed down thick rugs and carpets. One could never be too careful. Shimsinblimp had even seen a Hutt with a caved in skull recover from what seemed like certain death. At the end of the hall, Shimsinblimp quickly and methodically keyed in a mutlidigit passcode and then completed a palm scan before a vault hissed open to reveal hundreds of pounds of unprocessed ryll. Several shelves were already empty. It was amazing how quickly the Mon Cal and Quarren people took to this new form of pleasure; especially when everything else was looking so bleak. Using his fingers, Shim whispered to himself, taking tally of the remaining spice. “We gotta get the crew. This won’t last us the month.” “We really do not have a choice if we are to keep this up. I shudder to think what may happen if we fail Mister Morliss.” “That is simple. You worry too much.” “You’re right. Even with his metallic murderer we can end him. Then what though?” “We keep on making money and buying whatever and whoever we want. More powerful than . . .” “The Hutts. More powerful than the Hutts. We will be like a god.” “Lets call the men.” Stepping out of the vault, Shimsinblimp sealed the door back shut with a hiss. Making his way back through the labyrinth, he found Elsiene, “Going for another shipment.” The midnight hued woman smiled, her white pointed teeth an unsettling visage against her skin. “Bring me back something that smells better than this place.” Blimp winked, “Anything for you deary.”
  5. A cut for the goons that helped them take over. That seemed fair. Shimsinblimp pondered as he listened to Nok speak. It would not be hard to ensure that some of the ill gotten gains were unaccounted for when it came time to draw a percentage. A contract to supply slaves to mine the ryll in exchange for a small price or cut. This was sounding pretty good. Besides, if the hired thugs were in it for the pay, they could eat the first few salvos of incoming fire. It’d keep his spicejackers safer. Then they could get down to the more precise bits of pirating the criminal world. “You have a deal Mister . . . Is it Meer or Morliss these days?” “We’ll make sure our gunships are prepped and ready when your men are. Just keep them out of our way. Don’t you worry about us Mister whoever you are. We’ll have those mines controlled in no time.” “And while we are away, steps have already been put in place to ensure that growth continues here on Mon Cal. Even these fishheads seem to find the allure of twi’leks blinding to their senses.”
  6. Watching the neimodian eat was revolting. Still, Shimsinblimp took it in and the room about them. Blimp’s eyes scanning the room while Shim focused on the bussinessman. ‘Poultry? Such a strange fascination.’ Blimp noted silently with slight amusement. The obscenely rich always seemed to have idiosyncrasies. Still, when Nok mentioned a take over of Kessel, it caught the spicejacker’s attention. Hitching his wagon to someone like Morliss was almost a surefire bet to shoot upwards in power and fortune. Power and fortune begat more power and fortune. But even shrewd minds like this needed honed and nurtured. If that nurturing hand was to be be Shim and Blimp, then fate had aligned it so. All he had to do was bow to the megalomaniac’s desires and temper those against his own so as to ensure this house of cards was transformed into a durasteel fortress. Both heads turned to look at Nok, their eyebrows raising in unison, surprised by the suggestion. The two heads looked to each other momentarily; the unspoken volumes that passed between them in an instant confirming their course of conduct. Turning back at Nok the troig’s gaze focused on the blind nemodian. The shock and surprise was gone. It was replaced by grim determination and a wicked smile on both faces. “I have no doubt that my time could be split between Kessel and Mon Cal. Such an acquisition would send shockwaves through the underworld that would allow us to emerge a master amongst the chaos.” “The presence of an Imperial warfleet and jackbooted enforcers would put a dent in our income.” “It sounds like the start of a conspiracy theory fed by bad batches of ryll. Even, if we know it is true,” “Nobody outside this room must ever know that.” The words dripped with venom as Blimp menacingly fingered the weapon at his waist. “We need a less overt method of taking over the needed supplies. Unneeded attention and all . . . “ Shim’s voice trailed off, the consequences of the unfinished thought clearly conveyed. “What of your body-flinging bot that I saw exiting the offices last week before your name became synonymous with starship manufacturing?”
  7. Shim’s eyes narrowed as the case was opened. This blind man was more than he let on, knew more than he should. His companion, likewise, appeared to be the bot that had accompanied the dead bodies outside the Shipyard’s corporate HQ. Trading a brief sidelong glance with Blimp was all that was needed. A physical-metaphysical-biological-telekinetic connection between the two heads and personalities of the same body made anything more superfluous really. Though the two did enjoy the tactile ability of talking things out, it was an extra and not needed here. Blimp’s eyes returned to scanning the room, doors, windows and points of entry. The death dealing bot was probably not far off and it did seem to share the joy of throwing people from high places with Blimp. Still . . . the offer was intriguing. If it was a trap, it was an expensive one. A case like that was enough to set up the Troig for life on some far-flung world without ever having to worry about making another sale again. If this kind of wealth was the opening offer though, there was surely more to be had. Who was Shimsinblimp to pass on such a thing? In a matter of a year, he could be living as kings. If it truly was not bugged. It seemed an odd guarantee to make. Shimsinblimp knew a fellow who’d be able to ensure that was true and if it wasn’t to make it so. Until then, dropping the case in a lead-lined box inside a stasis field ought to be enough to ensure that this slick blind lizard was not pulling a fast one on him. If he was, Shinsinblimp could take the wealth, liquidate it, and vanish into the cosmos. Reaching one of his four arms across the table, Shimsinblimp clicked the case shut and pulled it towards himself. Standing, Shim offer Nok and Vizier a suspiciously coy smile. “Looks like you’ve hired yourself a Troig. Provided these check out, my people will be in touch.” With two hands loosely resting on the handles of his DL-44s, Shimsinblimp slid out from the table and walked out. It took the better part of a week to confirm that the nova was real, pure, and untainted. As soon as Shimsinblimp had the confirmation in hand, he set about making several drastic changes. Not just working, but thriving, under the oppressive thumb of the Hutts had taught him quite a bit. So when Shimsinblimp arrived at the recently deceased suite of the once-head-of-Mon Cal Shipyards, it was with a retinue of some of the most menacing looking thugs money could buy, aboard a LuxurPort Zisparanza. Regaled in a custom shellspider silk suit, Shimsinblimp’s weapons hung openly about his waist, the guns swaying gently back and forth with each swaggered step. Walking in, the sunglasses wearing, suit clad thugs toting high powered weapons, split to create a pathway for the aspiring drug kingpin. Stopping before the doorman, Blimp offered the nervous Mon Cal a cool smile. “Tell Mister Meer or Morliss that I am here to discuss our business arrangements.” The Mon Cal bellhop nodded nervously as he reached for the intercom, “And who should I tell him you are exactly? “How many two-headed aliens does he know?” Shim continued, seemingly anxiously and loudly tapping a finger against the leather holster of one of his four visible weapons. “He should be expecting us.” The doorman nodded rapidly, keying up the comms, “Uhhh... please tell the boss that there is a, um, two-headed alien and company here to discuss a business deal?” Blimp nodded slowly never taking his narrowed eyes off the young Mon Cal; offering a reassuringly dark smile as the boy spoke. “Well done,” he whispered. As the elevator doors opened, Shimsinblimp waived his retinue off to wait back at the speeder. Shim tossed a small bag of spice on the desk in front of the doorman with a warmer smile and a wink as the two-headed Troig made his way to the elevator. As the lift doors closed, Shim and Blimp shared a knowing glance before the red headed Blimp turned to stare directly into the security camera. They were not share what would be waiting for them when the doors opened, but of the blind Nemodian wanted to do business, there were certain aspects of the job that needed discussed; certain off-world ventures that, if not handled delicately, could draw unwanted ire. In the galaxy they lived in, doing business face to face was a luxury; but it afforded a level of security that holofeeds and communique could not. As the doors slid open, Shim plastered the warmest smile he could muster on his face. Taking a page out of the Nemodian’s own playbook, the spicejacker turned dealer was visiting Nok in his place of power. No fear. No respect. Like the Hutts of yore, Shimsinblimp carried himself as the inevitable overlord of an underground empire. “I believe that we have business to discuss Mister Morliss. Unless we want to keep jacking spice off incoming shipments, we need to find a better supply line. I suspect that your master would not be pleased if things went awry and brought unneeded attention on your little fiefdom.”
  8. Along the back wall of the dingy Knotted Keelkana, the two-headed Shimsinblimp sat alone. Spread about in front of the being were old-fashioned hand draft charts, tally marks in varying colors, lists of seemingly odd unconnected words ranging from animals and species to planets and constellations to obscure fizzled political movements and prominent historical galactic figures. Alongside many of these clearly codified indicators were scrawled numbers some smaller annotations and some quite large. The two-headed Troig made no effort to hide what he was working on. He didn’t need to. Lurking amongst the uneasy shifting crowd were several well-rewarded jackbooted thugs. The kind of muscle who would like nothing less than to crush the skull of any would be junky betwixt their palms in exchange for a hit of the boss’ super special stash. The approach of the solitary Nemodian, blind and ornate, might have raised a few eyebrows, but not enough to warrant anyone stepping in the way. He was harmless and the Troig was already known to handle certain situations on his own. Without a sound, Blimp caught sight of the approaching individual. A telepathic-like link between the two autonomous heads alerted Shim to what Blimp saw. Without raising his head, Shim glanced up at the approaching Nemodian before three of the four arms of the being carefully overturnEs several specific pages on top of one another. Templing his two fore-arms in front of him, elbows on the table, the green head of Shim took in the Nemodian. The red head of Blimp squinted as he scanned the room watching for any surprises, keeping an eye on the Nemodian formany sudden movements. One of the bonuses of two heads and two sets of sensory organs on one body was an acute sense of one’s surroundings. So while Shim sat, arms temples taking in the Nemodian; Blimp sat, head held high and arms carefully resting on the butts of two heavy blasters beneath the table. With his eyes flicking from the out-of-place businessman in a seedy cantina to the briefcase and back, Shim offered a delightfully coy and creepy smile. Undoubtedly the man expected some lowlife monologue about his power and abilities to obtain that which may not be obtainable. Shimsinblimp was better than that. He had worked under the Hutts. He had survived. He had even survived when the Imperials and rebels had laid siege to Nar Shaddaa. So whatever it was this ornate blindman desired; whatever cash his case tempted, Shim was sure he would not be showing his hand yet. Who knew, maybe he was a cop! “Go on,” he gestured with a hand to Nok before returning his hands to their templed position. Everyone knew how hard it had become recently to get anything from anywhere that did not meet official market standard. Shimsinblimp had the beginnings of a healthy underground spice empire beginning to take shape. In addition, to supplement his cashflow, the Troig had taken to offering a few other discrete services alongside inbound shipments of his usual supply. If this Nemodian had heard of him, he would need to find out how and silence them. Spice-addicts were so unreliable sometimes.
  9. Mon Calamari Shipyards was, in a word, decent. Much cleaner than many dockside space-faring construct sites, but yet not as militaristic as nationalized military production entities. Given the recent military incursion, the shipyards still looked halfway decent. It was clear that they valued infrastructure when it could be salvaged. Amongst this, across the bustling street from the Shipyards corporate office, sat a somewhat portly two-headed Troig. The species tended to draw looks wherever one went, due to their unique biology. The only thing that stopped the glances from becoming outright stares were thebfour DL-44 heavy blaster pistols hanging from the being’s waist. Ordinarily, plabetary law enforcement would have been summined at the sight of the leather clad heavily armed civilian; but since the take over, laws were a bit more lax. The Sith clearly had other matters to attend to before worrying about a being carrying about a few guns and not getting violent. The disruptor pistol tucked carefully out of sight on the other hand, well, that might still draw some unwanted attention. That was why it was hidden away, only to be used as a last ditch ploy to ensure imminent survival or to destroy any evidence should the need arise. The red and green headed being sat, somewhat lounged on the sidewalk-porch area of the cafe across the street from the corporate offices. 2 minds, 4 ears, 4 eyes all taking in the surroundings; clandestinely monitoring the comings and going of people up and down the street. Shimsinblinp had been coming here daily for about a week now. Capital enterprises meant money and money usually meant a few greased palms, shady dealings, and the need for high dollar pick me ups for those late night meetings and rendezvous. It had not taken the underworld entrepreneuring duo long to realize that the servers at this particular cafe hailed from the other side of town. It had taken even less time to persuade several to undertake some off the books employment to supplement the paltry tips they made. Shimsinblimp had come today for his usual cup of coffeine and to exchange some goods and funds. Still, there was no reason to not take pleasure in the small joys of one’s work. Right now, that was sitting in the warm sun enjoying a complementary beverage to the cafe’s new favorite customer. All was at peace. . . . or so it seemed. The red-headed Blimp’s eyes were narrowed as he silently took in what seemed to be an overly tense bit of commotion across the street; much more, it seemed, than usual. Some people even looked panicked. They were too far away to hear what was going on or ascertain much though. That all changed as a trio of bodies fell from the cloudless sky with sickening crunches that could be heard up and down the street. If that was not enough to draw people’s attentions, the cacophony of screams from innocent passerbys was. Setting his beverage down, Shim turned his attention to the commotion as well. Not rising from their seat, Shim and Blimp both watched with suspicious concern on their faces. Crime was not good for business; at least crime that was not associated with their business. Bodies inevitably brought attention and attention brought questioning. Hopefully the local talent they had recruited could keep their yaps shut and stashed stashed, but it was inevitable, someone would be caught up in the dragnet to follow. All the Troig could hope was that their decidedly specific and grotesque threats of pain and mutilation were enough to quell any fear of the local law. That business gutting a Quarren had not been particularly pleasant a few days before, but had served the purpose, hopefully, of instilling what happened to those who cost Shimsinblimp time or money. The appearance of droids at the front entrance across the way would have not raised any alarms; however, the bodies lying mangled in the street had upped the ante. One of the droids decidedly didn’t belong. Standing, the Troig whispered to itself, “Assassin droids” “Definitely a bad sign. Terf war?” “Probably. Doesn’t seem to be Sith design or style that one.” “Ugh. We do NOT want to get caught in that.” “We’d leave too many bodies to enjoy your precious coffeine if we did.” Standing the two-headed being was in unison, whatever was going down across the way was none of their business and they’d like to keep their business out of it. Exiting the sidewalk cafe, they turned to hurry down the street, one of their four bare arms slipping beneath their leather vest to the bare chest beneath as if feeling one’s own heart rate due to all the excitement. Of course, it didn’t hurt things that the small disruptor pistol lay concealed within the vest in the same spot. “Think it’ll be that bad huh?” Shooting a glance across the road at Xar, the red-headed Blimp nodded, “Rather we not find out.”
  10. Bypassing the quarantine had been no easy task. In fact the acquisition of some unnamed second rate crew for hire and the recent take over of Mon Cal had made it all but impossible to slip by unnoticed. Throw in such a heavily armed ship as The Lady Legionnaire and there was no way the armored attack craft should have been docking at a seedy out of the way space port on the outskirts of the floating city. Yet, here it was nonetheless; with a half dozen rough-looking vagabound-esque group of spaced out spacers, two-thirds human: three men, one woman; one sixth scantily clad twi’leki slave and one sixth an extra glassy eyed gammorean boar trying their darnedest to nonchalantly unload the clearly designateD Hutt Cartel owned crates onto a waiting grav sled. Amongst them stooped the strangest member of the group, like something out of the collective imaginations of a group of prepubescent boys hopped up on sugar and B-grade adventure holos: a two legged, four armed saurian with varying shades of green and red skin branching off into two distinct heads. Tucked at it’s belt were four worn heavy duty blaster pistols that poked the being’s slightly protruding gut as it expertly and roughly jammed box after box into the awaiting arms of one of the above. “Careful with that! We didn’t offload a box of spice to those Imperials just to have you drop the rest in the sea,” one head snarled at one of the humans as he almost lost his grip on the burdensome crate. “The contents of that are worth more than your ryll-addled life!” “You were the one that suggested we save ourselves the funds and hire from the local buyer’s circle. We had the money for . . . professional . . . help after all.” Picking up another box and jamming it into the waiting arms of the blue skinned twi’lek the red skinned head retorted, “Ah, but who was the nuna hole that suggested we beat feet off Nar Shaddaa and make way for this world sized swimming pool? Don’t worry,” he mocked, “Sources say that change is afoot on the squidface homeworld. Change where we can make our fortunes back overnight! Last time I let you listen to one of those bloody fortune telling mystics.” “Trust me brother,” the calmer half of the duo responded, raising an arm to point and silently mouth the numbers as he counted the crates on the sled, “Nobody will suspect us here and with our reserve supply” a hand patted the crate just handed off, “We’ll be back in the black in no time. These fish won’t even know what hit them.” “They best not or else we are going to go find that flowy sheer wearing priestess of future sight and make sure she doesn’t read any more palms. I *predict* it.” The duo continued to banter back in forth with a hostile edge as the last of the crates were offloaded from their Skipray. Once clear. The two-headed being quickly secured their ship in the ramshackle and decimated landing bay before hurrying off with their drug-addled retinue down the back streets and winding alleys of the Mon Cal city of unpronounceable origins. A bombed out building that appeared to once have been a small boat and submersible repair shop was their next target. It had not taken much persuasion for the lock to give way. Once inside, the cavernous and still mostly structurally sound facility was deemed acceptable for the time being. Water and under street tunnel access with decidedly heavy locks cemented the location of the out of the way business. Chances were that the owner was dead as it did not look anyone had returned since the Sith had bombed the neighborhood. Setting to work, the band of rough and tumble offworlders began sealing holes and patching over broken windows. Some simple splicing saw the facility’s power returned and a holonet connection piggy backed off a neighboring apartment complex. It was heavy work. The fact that a good five of the seven (or eight depending how you counted two heads on one body) were higher than the proverbial kite did not help speed things along. Still, for the time being, it was all the Troig had. New help had to be found and trained and in some cases broken. The freedom of being without a Hurt overlord did present a few issues; bothing Shimsinblimp weren’t prepared for though. The chaos of the city combined with the quarantine all but guaranteed their little operation would go unnoticed as they set up setting up. Soon little black bags of yarrock wouldnbe flooding the less than Imperial markets of Mon Cal. After that, it was onky a matter of time before the rich and powerful consumers of Polstine Spice began to appear. Right now Shimsinblimp and company would ensure their products safety and discrete sales. The Troig knew just how little it took to turn the low level junky into a fanatically loyal follower.
  11. Real Name: Shimsinblimp A.K.A: Shim and Blimp Homeworld: Troig Species: Troig Physical Description: Age: 29 Height: 6’4” Weight: 240 lbs Skin: green (Shim) and red (Blimp) Eyes: brown Sex: male Equipment: Clothing and Armor: customized Dropsuit complete with magnetized boots, thruster rockets, self-contained air supply, targetting array, sensor suite, and modifications for ShimsinBlimp’s unique figure OR Bantha leather trousers, vest, and duel cross-chested bandolliers Weapon: Suit mounted: retractable vibrosaws in each foot, Upper arm mounted laser cannons on 2 rearmost arms, shoulder mounted mini-concussion missile launchers with a total of 6 missiles. Carried (when armored): 1 EMP launcher with 12 EMP grenades Carried (when not armored): 4 slung DL-44 blaster pistols, 1 concealed disruptor pistol Common Inventory: Spice, several money purses with a variety of different currencies, datapad, holojacking cords, numerous jeweled rings, signet ring Faction Information: Force User, Force Sensitive or Non-Force User: NON FORCE USER Alignment: neutral / lawful evil Current Faction Affiliation: Sith Empire Current Faction Rank: Affiliate - criminal entrepreneur and fringer (Knight rank) History: Force Side: N/A Trained by: The Hutt Cartels Trained who: crew of The Lady Legionnaire Known Skills: Piracy with an emphasis on spice-jacking, ship - electronic/computer hacking, zero-g combat, spice refinement, underworld entrepreneurialism, illegal/underworld spice and illegal narcotic trade knowledge Background: Shim and Blimp are the two halves of the Troig Shimsinblimp. They grew up in a rough rundown neighborhood of Nar Shaddaa. Quickly they fell in working for the Hutts. Their quick wit and reflexes, combined with their observational skills and lack of empathy for those who got in their way saw them quickly advance up the ranks to a point where they were tasked with acquiring and transporting spice for their leaders. Finding the smuggling life boring at best, the duo found a shortcut; they would prey on the shipping on non-Hutt smugglers. In this, Shimsinblimp proved their ingenuity and a criminal edge that would serve them for years to come. There were rules and there were better ways to do things. Spice running turned to spice jacking, which lead to the refinement of raw spice to cut even more costs. Eventually the Troig brothers became some of the most respected, reviled, feared, and trusted faces in the underworld drug trade. Shimsinblimp became synonymous with quality for end product users and with cuthroat business practices for anyone else. With the fall of Nar Shaddaa to the Empire and the Rebel Alliance, Shim and Blimp were cast adrift. Their fleet of ships, refinement facilities, and business fronts overrode by the forces of good. Set adrift in the cosmos, the brothers returned to what they knew, pirating the junior varsity of the drug world and connecting their closest underworld connections with hard to find resources and people. Where Blimp is much more willing to use violence to achieve their end goals and is the force of the team ensuring that the name Shimsinblimp is feared, Shim is the smooth talker that keeps the books and maintains the duos numerous relationships across the galactic underworld. Ship Registration: Name: The Lady Legionnaire Class: Defense/Patrol Blastboat Model: Gat-12h Manufacturer: Sienar Length: 25 meters Armaments: 3 medium ion cannons, 2 Tru-Lok laser cannons mounted in a turret, 1 starboard side mounted proton torpedo launcher, 1 port side mounted concussion missile launcher Armor: heavy plating, shield array Anti-personnel defenses: standard plus unauthorized access self-initiated self destruct mechanism Modifications: conversion of passenger compartment into a store hold Appearance: gunmetal gray Skipray Blastboat
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