Barga

Barga returned to his family home on the outskirts of Bilbousa, the planet's capital. His mother had died several months earlier, a combination of stress, old age and being shot in the face by an assassin. The old Hutt had grown careless, and her son, not wishing to see the House of Vermiliac fall any further than it had under the incompetent administration of his mother, had arranged an accident. When that failed he simply arranged for her to take several blaster bolts to the face instead; there was nobody else to challenge his power in the family, and so no need for secrecy. Paternicide was a time-honoured Hutt method of climbing through the ranks, and the only real fallout was mild approval, though the other Hutt families still looked down on Vermiliac Kajidic, if they thought of them at all. Barga slithered into the modestly sized estate, and was greeted by his stand-in majordomo, his mother's old protocol droid. "Sire," said the droid in Huttese, "the spice operation on Sevarcos II has produced their first shipment." "Have it distributed to our contacts on Corellia, Tatooine and Nar Shaddaa," he instructed in his deep bass. "And have some nala tree frogs brought to me. I think I've been losing weight with all this stress." "At once, Sire," replied the droid.

BARGA'S CHARACTER SHEET Identity [!ident] Real Name:Barga Vermiliac Inurie A.K.A: - Homeworld: Nal Hutta Species: Hutt Physical Description [!dscrp] Age: 60 Height: - Weight: 700 lbs Hair: none Eyes: one red, one milky white (damaged) Sex: hermaphrodite (male personality) Equipment [!equip] Clothing or Armor: none Weapon: generic blaster pistol on occasion Common Inventory: a datapad of which he is fond of fingering, an entourage of guards. Faction Information [!factn] Force User, Force Sensitive or Non-Force User: NFU Alignment: Himself (The Hutts) Current Faction Affiliation: Vermiliac Kajidic (not technically a faction at the minute) Current Faction Rank: History: [!hstry] Force Side: - Trained by: - Trained who: - Known Skills: - Background: a young, offensively THIN new Hutt on the block, Barga is working his way up the food chain. Ship Registration [!ship] Name: the Bacchanalia Class: yacht Model: Minstrel Manufacturer:Ubrikkian Industries Length: 160 metres Armaments: 6 hidden turbolasers Armor: shielded Anti-Personnel Defenses: Appearance: Modifications: none

CHARACTER SHEET Real Name: Zebediah Caracus Nickname: N/A Age: 33 Species: Human Height: 5'10 Weight: 165 lbs Hair: Brown with streaks of grey Eyes: Brown Sex: Male Homeworld: Nar Shadaa Alignment: Lawful Neutral Clothing: Stained lab coat, hazard suit Weapon: Usually none, can use chemical concoctions if necessary. Non-Force User Inventory: Scientific apparatus (syringes, test tubes etc.) Possessions: Droid assistant "EV-66".

*The scarred man raises one eyebrow and looks down at the hideously mutilated corpse. The boy had died badly. It was as if the Governor himself had murdered him.* 'You're quite vicious, my friend.' *He gestures at the lightsabre.* 'We can rest assured you are not one of our Jedi friends, at least. Now, destroy the lightsabre.'

*Silas is led into the arid cellar of the cantina. The pelt of the cantina's former proprietor, Chalmun, hangs forlornly over the doorway. The floor is dusty, and sand beetles scuttle across it. The bartender closes the door behind him, and another man, a large, burly individual with a scar closing his left eye shut, steps forward. There is a plaintive whimpering from behind him. He looks at Silas impassively.* 'Getting the Jedi weapon was a warm up.' *He stands to one side. A small street urchin, an orphan with no family and few friends, lies whimpering on the floor, runners of mucous dangling from his nose. The burly man gestures.* 'In SEED, morality is a luxury we can ill afford.' *He looks down at the child.* 'Loyalty, however, is paramount. As is obedience.' *The burly man gestures curtly to Silas.* 'Kill the child. With the Jedi weapon.' *The burly man stands to one side and waits.*

*The bartender motions to Silas to wait for one moment, takes Geki his Sunburn, and returns to the counter. He nods towards the door at the back of the bar, wanting for Silas to follow him, and opens the door. The bartender stands silently by the door, waiting for the potential SEED Agent to walk through...*

*The bartender leans in conspiratorially.* 'Friend, I don't care if you take it off the body of a Jedi or buy it in a deci-cred pawn shop, as long as you get it.'

*The bartender looks at the man for a long moment, his gaze unwavering, before he nods abruptly.* 'You seem like a man of the world. Tell ya what- I got someone who'll probably wanna meetcha. First thing's first though, friend. We need a little somethin' from ya, proof of where your loyalties lie. Bring me a lightsabre, and we can do some business.'

*The 'bartender' serves the newcomer his drink wordlessly and watches as the man gulps it down. As he watches the man he picks up a glass and begins to clean it with a dirty rag.* 'What brings you to these parts?'

*The bartender mutters something to the man at the bar. The SEED agent feigns incomprehension and cups one ear with his left hand.* 'I'm sorry, could you repeat that?' *The man leans forward.* 'Can't just come in here and-' *The blow is hard and fast, crashing into the bartender's open jaw and breaking it. His assailant vaults the bar and advances upon the hapless man, blows raining down. *When the SEED operative has tired he rises, his face speckled with blood, and gestures to some of his colleagues. Two men start forward, opening the hatch leading to the area behind the bar, and pick up the recumbent man. *Whilst he is being dumped outside the agent who attacked him wipes the blood from his face with the bar towel and favours the remaining patrons with a humourless smile.* 'Sorry about that, ladies and gents. The bar's back open for business. Enjoy.'

*Their leader suddenly returning from the dead, long-dormant SEED cells are quickly called back to active duty. Men who have lived normal lives for the past year, their dark past suppressed but not forgotten, receive the encoded transmission and take up the call to arms. *SEED has long been a clandestine organisation since the destruction of their home, Sanity's End, and the Mos Eisley cantina had been a SEED front. Since the death of Geki a year ago, however, somebody else had had the audacity to muscle in on their turf. *Several heavy-set, humourless men move into the cantina with a studied nonchalance. Two set up at the door, two sit at different tables, and the final man approaches the bartender.* 'This cantina is reverting to old management. Does anybody have a problem with that?'

*Finally, the vessels are completed. Engines are fired up and shields come online with a faint translucent shimmer. In the midst of it all, squatting like a sleek yet vast venomous spider, drifts the massive Super Star Destroyer christened Havoc's Folly. As the TIE fighter squadrons dock with their respective vessels, SEED's fleet is complete, and vengeance is coming for the Emperor.*

*Ship hulls and interiors are finished off. The final stage, that of installing weaponry, engines, and subsystems, is begun.*

*As slaves are worked relentlessly, the vessels begin to take shape. All craft are approximately 50% complete.*

*Construction begins to take shape on the fleet's flagship, a Super-class Star Destroyer with a modified bridge built closer to the hull, making it less of a target. The skeletons of eight Victory-class Star Destroyers and an Interdictor are erected, and slaves and SEED labourers swarm across the panorama, the lush and verdant Dathomir hanging in the background and providing a stark contrast to the harsh, cold black and whites of the shipyard.*