The Vertical City, Nar Shaddaa. They call it the Smuggler's Moon—an apt description based on the myriad of sentients shuffling back and forth with their illegal wares and hidden weapons. The narrow streets below criss-cross endlessly, soaring miles above the planet's surface. Exposed and uncovered, the streets offer a nearly perfect setting for someone with some skills with ranged weapons. From a vantage point on the ledge of a towering structure of glass and steel offers a dizzying view of the cityscape.

Simple shops and merchants peddle both legitimate and illegitimate wares. Storefronts are just as plentiful as open-market pop-up tents, and the cantina's adapt the same lowlife air as the rest of the Smuggler's Moon. Enemies could be hidden in plain sight, whether one of the Hutts’ gangsters or mercenaries-for-hire looking to earn some credits. The streets are plagued with violent gangs and the general riff raff of the poor and destitute. The streets may be an ideal place for blasters, but the winding streets are difficult to disappear from. An opponent would be easily boxed in and simple to finish with a few quick slashes of a lightsaber. The moon is dangerous—even for one gifted in the Force.

Kordath Bleu was having a great time. It’d been too long since a mission had taken him to the Smuggler’s Moon, his old stomping grounds. Not that he wanted to look up anybody from his past life here as most of those folks would be more likely to slip a knife in his side than greet him. Still, the bustle and life of Nar Shaddaa did his soul good, especially when he had an expense account and had found a lovely cantina not far from the docks they’d left the shuttle at. If anything was more important than having an exit plan on this moon he’d not heard it yet.

His companion on this venture stood stiffly in his ornate armor, bristling with weapons and clutching a glass of water. The Sephi was sporting his odd mask, a light glow coming from the inverse triangle patterned across it. Kordath had desperately tried to convince Tamashi to leave all the high end stuff back on the shuttle, this was an intel gathering assignment, he didn’t need artillery. Instead, he’d gotten a lecture about being prepared for anything, that he was a noble warrior and should look the part. A glance around the seedy spacer bar brought an even bigger smile to the Ryn’s already glowing face. One guy with a sword strapped to his back and dressed in shades of black didn’t really stick out in a place like this, though the mask did draw some attention.

He gave it even odds that somebody would either scuff one of the Sephi’s boots and end up in an honor duel, or that Delat would get jumped the moment he stepped outside by some erstwhile muggers. Either way the prideful young Sith would be leaving a body or two on Nar Shaddaa. That didn’t matter to the Seer who’d been sent along with Tamashi as some sort of partner, though Bleu viewed him more as a trainee with this style of mission, to gather information. Go find out about the mercenary bands the clone Erinos was fielding in his bid to wipe out the Dajorra system, not a bad plan as plans went. Wiping out the debt or capturing the wife of a mercenary captain could remove entire armies from the field for Teroch and give Arcona a chance to minimize damages.

With a jubilant shout, the Rollmaster slammed an empty glass on the bar and waved at the bartender for another. He slapped Tamashi on the shoulder to get his attention, having to reach up to connect with the taller man.

“Oi! Lighten up, yer stickin’ out like a sore thumb with that bleedin’ water. Have a proper drink!”

“I do not see how this pertains to our mission, Bleu. We should be tracking down associates of the mercenary captains and interrogating them!” the Sephi yelled over the noise. Kordath wondered how well the man could hear with his head in that helmet as several people glanced over at them.

“Ya learn more by keepin’ yer ears open and sharin’ a few drinks than you’ll ever get through torture, lad. Sure ya get some tall tales, but ya strap a bloke to the rack and he’s just as likely ta tell ya what ya want ta hear. This is cleaner,” nodded the Ryn, taking up his fresh mug of ale as the barkeep placed it in front of him. Kordath’s eyes wandered as one of the servers passed by with a tray of drinks and a set of swaying hips in a dress that was questionable in size. Somebody knew their clientele very well. “Oughta ask her for some info, lad, ya might learn somethin’.”

Even with the mask on Bleu could sense his clan mate’s annoyance. “We didn’t come here to, how do you say it? ‘Chase tail’, I believe is the term. This is a waste of our time!”

A particularly well dressed and inebriated Human shoved his way between the armorclad Sephi and Ryn, shouting at the barkeep and slapping a handful of credits on the bar. With little more than a glare for the shorter Arconan and completely ignoring Tamashi, the Human stumbled off with a pair of drinks in hand.

“Like I said, ya need ta lighten up,” spoke Kordath in a quieter tone as he stood on his toes to reach Delat’s ear. “Now take this and go find yerself a nice lass with half an hour on her hands, eh? Before tha rude bastard realizes he, uhh, left his wallet behind.” Bleu shoved a wad of credit notes into the Sephi’s confused hand before turning and wandering off into the crowd. He spotted a young Mirialan lady headed to the bar from a table filled with what were probably her friends and moved to intercept, a grin on his face. “Ello there, luv, buy ya a drink?”

It’d been expected when assigned on this mission that Kordath, and Tamashi, would gather intel via the usual means. General espionage and social engineering were expected, so they’d been given a proper expense account. This was still a foreign concept to the Ryn, who was used to doing what he’d done to the rude Human earlier and pickpocketing his way through a job. As such he, and the nice young lady who’s name ended up being Karina, were just breaking into a very nice bottle of scotch when a gauntleted hand grabbed Kordath by the scruff. Dragged from his stool with a ‘I’ll be right back, luv, do nae go nowhere,’ the Rollmaster found himself turned to face his partner.

“What’s the deal, Tammy? Was gettin’ some, uhh, insider information,” he gave the masked man a glare, annoyed at being unable to read the Sephi’s features.

“You’re wasting Clan funds on some woman you met in a bar and tried to get me to, to…”

“Comeon, lad, you can say it, use yer words.”

Delat leaned in closer, the triangle on his mask a shade of red, “Tried to distract me from the mission by both stealing from someone, I returned his credits by the way, and attempted to convince me to purchase a young lady’s time!”

“Ya gave back tha credits!? Are ya daft? As for the other bit, well, hey, ya need ta loosen up. Speakin’ of, ya wanna let me neck go? It’s a bit humiliatin’ and I got a lady waitin’ on me, eh?” asked Bleu, trying to pry the man’s hand off.

Tamashi loosened his grip and watched the Ryn make an act of straightening his jacket before turning away from the armored man. If Kordath knew what was going on inside the Sephi’s head, he would have been more worried. Instead, he simply got a flare up from the Force before the taller Arconan grabbed him by the back of the coat and spun, flinging him out through the open door of the cantina and into the streets of Nar Shaddaa.

“What tha frack!” he exclaimed after tumbling across the duracrete. He’d been lucky not to knock anyone over, that sort of thing could lead to a fight on the Smuggler’s Moon. Not that one wasn’t about to start, between the Sephi, now wielding his strangely designed vibrosword, who came stalking out of the bar and the drunken Ryn, who was watching his night go down the drain. “Ya do nae like me methods than sod off, but this is crossin’ tha line, Tammy.”

“My name,” spoke the masked man as he readied his blade, “Is not ‘Tammy’. It is Tamashi Adaephon Delat and I am beginning to suspect you do not wish this mission to succeed.”

“Oh ya gotta be kiddin’ me. Put the bleedin’ sword away, boyo, quit wavin’ yer pride and honor about in public. Tis embarrassing.”

“Defend yourself, Bleu, perhaps after you’ve sobered up I will be able to determine the truth of your words.”

Kordath glared at the man, dredging up what he knew from his limited time spent with the Sephi thus far. He gave him a dark grin, eyebrows narrowing in to give him a devious visage. “No.”

“No?” the man questioned, confusion in his tone.

“Ya wanna cut me, cut me, but I got nothin’ ta answer ta you about nothin’. So go ahead, gut me, an unarmed Ryn, in tha street. Won’t be tha first one to die like that on Nar Shaddaa.”

He won’t do it, too much ‘honor’ and fair fightin’ in him, thought Bleu smugly, secure that the Sephi would get caught in a moral quandary. Maybe he could go back in and find the lass again. It didn’t take as long as he’d hoped, Tamashi set his shoulders and started to approach with his sword in a battle stance.

Oh, kark.

With slow, methodical, and deliberate care Tamashi strode forward. His gaze locked on to the rapidly backstepping Ryn and with a cold grin behind the mask, he murmured a command on certain special frequency.

The shadows surrounding the street exploded into action - and armed and armored warriors tumbled out from a speeder that careened across the corner and then spun to a halt. A little red dot skittered it’s way across the shocked Ryn’s chest before settling over his collarbone.

Wildly eyeing the whole ensemble in front of him, Kordath’s eyes shot up as he saw a few familiar forms facing him with grim expressions. Zakath Agronas lizard like, razor filled maw grinned at him mirthlessly from behind the barrel of a blaster rifle. The Barabel’s adopted daughter - a white skinned Iridonian Zabrak rested her hands on two wickedly sharp and deadly looking daggers. The human form of the Clawdite Riverche stared down at him across the barrel of her trademark Merr-Sonn Model 57 Blaster Pistol, as the slightly distorted voice of the newest recruit to the Tal’mahe’Ra came over the commlink channel.

“Target acquired, Sir”

The street became deathly silent, all the various gang members hushing in anticipation of violence and bloodshed, while other sentients scampered for cover or fled the scene entirely. The Ryn swallowed audibly, fear and confusion threading through his thoughts and causing him to go absolutely still as he contemplated the forces arrayed against him.

“Mr. Bleu, you are under arrest for subversion and espionage against the Clan”

So that’s what this was all about? Kordath thought to himself, This whole karking facade was simply a twisted scheme of those bloody Galerians? Bloody militant fanatics can’t let the past stay in the past. Eyes darting around, he saw no way out of the situation and if he was to simply go with the crazy Sephi, Kord knew that he’d never be heard from again - not if Zakath was in the equation. He had to create a diversion, something that will let him slip away in the confusion.

Thinking furiously, trying to come up with a plan - any plan at all! - Kordath plastered the most insolent smirk on his face and drawled out in his most carefree manner “Arrest?” he drew the word out, pausing for effect, “I don’t feel like I’m under arrest. What about you, Brian?” he asked the terrified Muun cowering under a broken down speeder next to him.

The Muun looked at him like he was the craziest person on the planet and then scampered off, turning tail, and running away as fast as his sickly legs could carry him. Tamashi looked at the Ryn standing before him seemingly at ease and felt a tiny smile play at the corner of his mouth. This ratman definitely had courage, no doubt about that.

“Oh, Just give it a minute, it will sink in” he replied.

Kordath looked at him a little more seriously this time, “I haven’t betrayed the Clan, ye’ should know that”

Tamashi slid his blade into its sheath and crossed his arms as he stared down at the Ryn. “I don’t care whether or not you betrayed the Clan, I’m just here to bring in a coward whose name hit my desk”

Without missing a beat, Kordath’s sarcastic reply sallied forth before his brain registered his answer “Sounds like a real honorable hero.” Dammit, he thought to himself, This isn’t helping things along. Think man, think!

The small amused grin wiped itself off Tamashi’s face and with a growl he walked forward menacingly. With a sudden burst of Force-assisted speed, the Seer found himself face to face with Tamashi’s blank mask, while a short bar of steel humming with the deadly kinetic energy of a vibroweapon hovered a centimeter from his throat. “That’s funny, coming from a rat who took the Shadow Oath and betrayed everything it stood for. Yeah, a real hero” he retorted.

Tamashi almost snarled his next words, but with a conscious effort of will he tamped down on his rage and his next sentence came out with almost no emotion tied into it. “Turn around and get your hands behind your back”

Kordath desperately looked around the large gathering around and suddenly inspiration hit him! If there was one thing that thugs and scum hated more than other villains and gangsters it was the authorities. And if he played this right, he might be able to leverage the entire crowd against Tamashi and his cronies. IF I manage to get them to back me up, and that’s a big if…

This time, the suave, smug and arrogant smirk was entirely real as he eyed the blank mask that Tamshi wore. “I don’t think so”

“You’re mistake is in thinking that you have a choice, scum,” the Spehi snarled.

The sharp clatter of assault rifles cocking and metallic blades rasping from their scabbards pierced the deathly silence. With perfect unison, the Tal’mahe’Ra soldiers suddenly oozed aggression - their stances fluidly shifting from languid watchfulness to lethal promise.

Perfect, couldn’t have said it better myself, the Ryn thought with delight. Then he straightened his back, mustering all his will, he ignored the blade at his throat and stared straight at the armored Battlemaster. “And ye’re mistake is in thinking that ya’ are in Dajorra.” he grinned and folded his arms with deliberation “Ye’ are a long way from home”

With the inborn theatricality that the Ryn were known for, Kordath threw out his arms and roared “This is Nar Shaddaa!!!”

For a second, there was complete silence and Kord started to sweat as he watched the shreds of his hope disintegrate slowly in front of his very eyes. But then, as if on cue, the entire street just took a step forward and pulled out whatever weapon they had on hand. Suddenly a veritable forest of weaponry was pointed at the Galerian operatives and Tamashi narrowed his eyes at the scene around him.

“I’ll see you soon, Mr. Bleu” he whispered and then stalked off into darkness.

Crimson Road; Red Light District

The Smugglers Moon (Nar Shaddaa) Hutt Space, Y'Toub System

Loud thumping music blasted throughout the twisting alleys, shopkeepers hawked their wares from open topped stalls and the massed throng of sentient life twisted its way across the massive metropolis without pause. Everywhere the eye rested there was unceasing movement, constant action and an almost strange, subtle feverishness to the vibrant life that permuted this tiny city-moon. However like a half dead, disease-ridden snake there could be seen upon a closer look hundreds of tiny pockets of filth and mucus.

Gaudy palaces rose from the - sometimes literal - pools of sludge, gambling dens infested the city like the cancerous parasites that they were and whorehouses and other infernal pits catering to even worse tastes spilled out from every nook and cranny.

I hate Nar Shaddaa… Tamashi thought to himself with distaste, as he stalked down the street and entered one of the hostels there.

Loud laughter echoed down the hallway, preceding three staggering humanoids as they walked towards the exit of the hostel. The pearly laughter belonged to two females - a lovely looking Zygerrian and breathtakingly gorgeous Twi’lek - who draped themselves shamelessly across a third figure, a Ryn.

The Ryn in question met the blank stare of the resolute Battlemaster and bolted back the way he came and dived headfirst into a room. Tearing after him, Tamashi focused his will and with barely a thought channeled the Force through his body. Time seemed to slow down for the Sephi, objects blurred and then seemed to nearly stop in midair as Tamashi streaked after the fleeing Ryn and flashed into the room ahead of him.

To the poor Ryn it almost seemed like the Sephi flickered abruptly and then vanished, before reappearing in front of him. He could almost feel the stern glare radiating from behind the mask as the blademaster slowly advanced on him.

Kordath raised his hands in a placating manner and said with alarm “What are ya’ doing here? I thought we chased ye and yer’ goons away!”

Tamashi stared straight at the Ryn and slowly lowered his hand to the pommel of his sword “See, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about”

Kordath swore to himself and slowly inched his hand towards the flashbang that was lying in his coat pocket as he attempted to stall. “Ok, ok. I give up, ye got me ya crazy bugger”.

Tamashi eyed the Ryn and eased his hand off the blade “On your honor, do you yield?”

Kordath couldn’t believe his luck, the stupid warrior was actually going to believe him? He grinned and nodded “Yes, I yield” and then tossed the flashbang at the warrior and dived through the window and into the streets once more.

Kordath tumbled across the pitted surface of the duracrete streets, glass raining around him as he did. The Ryn wondered how intoxicated he really was, he’d been having a good time, but he could have sworn he saw Tamashi teleport. Unlikely, he decided, probably the booze.

Last time I roll with a Zygerrian, party animals it seems, he thought with a grin as he did his best to put some distance between himself and the bar. Bleu was pretty sure the Sith would get over the flashbang pretty quickly, and frankly Delat was about as good of a tracker through the Force as he himself. Except Tamashi wasn’t halfway to the gutter with booze already, which was made more obvious as Kordath stumbled and nearly plowed his way through a Dug drawn rickshaw.

“Sorry,” he muttered as he twisted out of the angry little alien’s way. Another near misstep caused him to dive to the right, only as he reached the hard ground did the Ryn realize he’d been reacting to a warning from the Force. Pink bolts of plasma zipped through where his chest had been just moments before, prompting him to glance back to see his darkly armored hunter holding a strange looking bow. “Bloody pink? I’m not goin’ out like that.”

Pushing himself up from the ground, Bleu took advantage of what could be considered a classic sprinters pose, if said runner had a blood alcohol level that would make a middle aged single mother of six blush on her one night off from the kids. Despite an urge to empty his stomach’s contents in a bid for greater speed, Kordath gathered the Force to himself, channeling it towards his legs as he grunted and began running. Trusting in the warnings that were whispered in the back of his mind, he ducked and weaved as he ran, watching pink bolts flash past him.

Serpentine, serpentine, serp...good lord how do people do this everyday? Gonna be bloody sick. Right, just don’t run in a straight line, Bleu, only an idiot runs in a straight line.

Bright lights up ahead at an intersection gave the Ryn hope, the glow probably meant people. People meant cover, as crass as that deduction was the Arconan wasn’t above using civilians for cover at this point. This was Nar Shaddaa, after all, wasn’t like any of them would be particularly innocent. He glanced over his shoulder to take in the jogging form of Tamashi, bow still spitting energy arrows at him.

No wonder he can’t bloody hit me. Wonder if that thing ever runs out of power?

Kordath practically skidded as he turned the corner, heading for the bright lights. A drunken, gasping ‘whoop’ came out of him as he found himself faced with a well lit marketplace, bustling even at this hour. One eye squinted as he glanced around for a chrono, places like this usually had one. He’d no idea how long he’d been celebrating his escape from the Galeres goon squad, this could be mid-day in the depths of Nar Shaddaa for all he could tell. With a shrug the Ryn dived in, slipping between the market shoppers and people simply trying to make it through the area. The already short man stooped lower, slumping his shoulders and bending his knees to better hide himself in the press of lifeforms.

Drunk as he was, the Rollmaster’s path was not marked with grace, jostling and bumping into people as he tried to creep along. For Tamashi, it likely broadcasted his presence, the crowd glaring at the epicenter of pushiness and awkwardness that was disrupting the flow of the marketplace. The conversational din and the sound of hawkers grew quiet around the sneaking Ryn, causing him to straighten and look around as the crowd parted around him. The air on the back of his neck bristled up, his tail lashing in irritation and the Force giving him another clear sign of danger. Kordath turned, presenting his left flank as he did while sneaking his right hand back and under his jacket.

He allowed the Force to guide his movements, trusting his instincts and the innate danger sense that had kept him alive for so many years of vagrancy. This was apparently a wise move as his right arm came around, Sith dagger tucked up against his forearm in a reverse grip to swat away the plasma arrow that nearly skewered him. It ricocheted off the cobalt blade, leaving behind the smell of burnt Nerf hide and hair as it grazed his arm, and into a nearby market goer. The Bith woman let out a scream and fell to the ground, clutching her leg. Kordath gaped at the scene, his inebriated brain trying to catch up with everything going on.

“Mate, ya can nae be firin’ those things about like that, ya see what happens?” spoke the Ryn, his tone filled with horror.

The Sith lowered the weapon, his masked head cocked to the side, focused on the Bith he’d inadvertently wounded. With careful movements, the Sephi reached back and hung his bow on his back once more, drawing his vibro katana out on the return.

“You caused this injury, Kordath, not I. The guilt for this action will not be my burden,” stated the Sith, his voice distorted through his mask.

“Oh, that’s lovely, yeah, cause you’re not firin’ pink bloody arrows inta crowds o’ people! I didn’t do nothin’ ta you or your jackboot mates, kark off and leave me be. One of us still got a job ta do fer tha Shadow Lady, ‘less ya forgot.”

“You are a traitor to Galeres and a shirker of duties, now come put down your weapon and come quietly. I will not ask again,” Tamashi quietly spoke. He lifted his weapon above his head, hilt over the shoulder and blade pointed towards the Ryn.

Kordath was tired of this, twice in a single night...day...whatever, the Sephi had thrown a wrench into his fun times with ladies of questionable virtue. He stumbled forward, dagger in hand and liquid courage burning through his veins. The Seer tried to slash at the taller Arconan, who casually sidestepped the attack. Bleu sensed amusement from his would-be captor, further adding fuel to the fire. He tried again, this time going for a stab as he came back towards Tamashi.

The Sith batted the sloppy attack aside and spun past the Ryn, bringing the hilt of his vibro katana up and slamming it into the back of Bleu’s skull, near the base. It was a precise blow, causing Kordath’s eyes to roll back and his body to crumple forward, dagger skittering away from his limp hand.

Tamashi sheathed his blade and crouched over the form of his target. He policed the body, taking the Ryn’s other weapons as well as his ever present bottle of liquor. Later on, Kordath would probably call him something uncouth for the confiscation of both that and his lighter, leaving the cigarettes on the unconscious man. The Ryn had given him too much trouble not to cause some kind of inconvenience for him when he awoke. With a shake of his head, Delat commed in for pick up.