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#12602238 Aug 06, 2016 at 02:54 AM · Edited 1 year ago
55 Posts
[While the final chapter of the FITE Arc will be concluded as a story written by yours truly, what I present for those interested in the events that have transpired is a kind of epilogue. There are still mysteries to resolve, after all...]

A bald, heavily-tattooed man stands in front of a metal box, a jumpsuit rolled down to his waist revealing intricate weaving patterns of waves, horizons, and suns. He stands there, quiet, contemplative, an open metal box, cushioned inside, as if something precious had once been inside... A woman steps up beside him, lithe and noticeably shorter, but no less heavily tattooed, her hair shaved on one side.

"What do you think happened to him?" the woman spoke, her voice husky, but light.

"I am... unsure that it matters anymore. He is either dead, or he is not." the man replied, still looking down to the box.

"I guess that means we're free, yeah?"

"None of us are free. Not yet."

The woman sticks her tongue out at him, "Downer."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Three months have passed since the Dragon's Den was attacked and the Four Moons Mercenary Company's headquarters dropped out of the sky... Life has gone on... In particular, a mousy little engineer, last name of Krupp. After a long night of work, she finds her datapad softly blinking at her, patiently waiting for her attention to inform her of an incoming message. When she finally gets to it... It consists of only a few words.

"Appointment set. Need to talk. Bring a friend. Information attached."

A small file is attached, detailing a time and place, followed by the signature: "Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy". For the grease-lady, that could only be one person.
Homo Homini Lupus
For More Often Than Not, We Forget to Act Human to Others
But Still, Despite Our Forgetful Nature, There is Always the Next Day
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#12606622 Aug 07, 2016 at 11:06 PM · Edited 4 months ago
527 Posts

THE FOLLOWING WAS WRITTEN BY A VERY TIRED PERSON. DO NOT EXPECT IT TO READ WELL.

Thessia's expression quickly changed from delight, to confusion, to worry, and then to annoyance. The last time that she had really had a chance to speak to her old friend had been when she and Allynier had been looking to avoid capture at the hand of some Imperial with a bone to pick with a friend of her brother's. The loss of life on the part of the KJC and FMMC both had been surreal. Both organizations had risen to a point where they'd considered themselves nigh-invincible -- the key word here being 'nigh.'

(...)

"This'd better be good, Arellix."

What comes next is a montage set to the song "Rise" by Katy Perry, which begins by depicting Thessia Krupp remotely deactivating the artificial gravity to her Quartermaster-class supply carrier, all so that she can get from the engine room to the bridge as quickly as possible. Just as she's about to get into the pilot's seat, she removes the safety goggles that she'd slipped up to her forehead in order to read her friend's message and casually flicks them aside. At the same time she unties the arms of her pilot's jacket, which'd been done across her waist like a belt, and shrugs the jacket itself on. Switches are flicked, buttons are pushed, a throttle is pushed forward, and a stick is grabbed.

At this point the camera cut to the exterior of the Quartermaster and follow it in one continuous shot as it detaches itself from the hull of a Harrower-class dreadnought that is currently the site of a massive salvage operation. As the supply carrier gets further and further away, we'd see that the dreadnought isn't the only large ship covered in smaller craft; there's dozens of them, both Imperial and Republic. After navigating her way out of the old battlefield, the Quartermaster leaps into hyperspace. When the ship reverts into realspace a short time later, we're treated to a scene similar to this as far as pacing goes. But as far as the scenery goes?

Thessia sighs and runs a hand over her mouth. It had been so long since she'd last laid eyes on it. It was no wonder that she and her brother had taken so easily to places like Nar Shaddaa and Rishi. Davenport Gateway was...

"Home."

As the ecumenopolis loomed before her she flicked a switch off to her left, bringing up a quasi-holographic display tied directly to her ship's communications system. A few swipes and pushes of her index finger saw her in a particular section of her digital address book. For a few moments her hand hovers over her brother's name. She bites her lip. No. She couldn't call him. Not this time. This was something that she would have to accomplish without the aid of her sibling or his organization. There were others, though... Yes. Yes, they would do.

She would select the names in alphabetical order; Iyo'tress, Mededayya, Qunai and Shade. Why bring one friend when she could have an entire posse watching her back? Because a Krupp never goes into a situation without several different backup plans, that's why. Once each name had been entered into the proper field, she would select the sub-option to send a text message. She'd keep things short and sweet, giving the others only what they needed to know; a date, time and place at which to meet her. Once the send button is pressed, she leans back into her pilot's seat with a sigh and looks back up at her homeworld. Her features change slowly back and forth from red to blue as the lighting around her shifts on account of her ship corkscrewing slowly, lazily, ever closer.
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#12609186 Aug 08, 2016 at 08:31 PM · Edited 12 months ago
328 Posts
A smooth, black brow arched itself. Amber eyes stared at a flashing red message across the screen.

'Active message...'

Slender fingers danced across her keys, the woman glancing momentarily over her shoulder. Thorne stood at the head of the bridge idly. Other on-shift attendees milled about as they did their work. Oblivious to her actions.

Shade shifted back to her screen and gave it a brief once over. Clearly something important. An itch stroked in the back of her mind. Silently, she rose, snatched up her coat and drew it over her shoulders.

A quick shuffle of her boots and she was out of the bridge.

---

"Heading out sis?"

Amber met amber as Shade looked to her right, Vale bounding up to her side, his trademark grin affixed to his face, hair still in the mangled mess of a mop it always was. His stride was a saunter as he fell into step with her, nodding and greeting everyone they passed.

To them it was a kind greeting. To her it was clear he was sizing them up, dismissing them all as threats.

As it should be.

"Don't fret brother. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"You're going full on stealth assassin for this one, aren't ya?"

"If I have to."

"Fine, fine." Vale paused immediately as they reached the threshold between hallway and hangar. Shade slowed shortly after, looking back at Vale. The message passed between them without a word, and his grin faltered for a split second.

"Bring me back a souvenir!"

A chuckle passed Shade's lips, a thin smile crossing her face for a second. Without a response, she turned forward once more and marched ahead, climbing with grace onto her personal ship and sliding in.

Davenport Gateway. A new destination. It wasn't ready for her.

---

A quick throw back, and the burning liquid went straight down his throat.

Qunai's face contorted for a moment as the whiskey went down the tube, and he coughed idly before setting the glass aside. Hands furling over his stomach, he slowly leaned back into his seat, staring out the glass at the idle space around him.

Eyes flickering, his head began to bob...

...until the lights on his "mail box" began to flash and he jolted awake.

Shaking it all away, Qunai raised his brows as he read through the message.

Chuckling, Qunai quickly keyed in the commands, then rose to go get ready.

Thessia needed his help it seemed.
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#12671870 Aug 31, 2016 at 02:34 PM
214 Posts
"Davenport," an old Echani woman whispered to herself.

It had been over a full year since Mededayya Kojhal left her post as monitor for the Four Moons Mercenary Company for a nomadic escape from her duties as the matriarch of her family. It had been just under a year since her daughter, Iyo'tress, joined her. At this moment, the snow-skinned pair of women were meditating cross-legged on an unknown field on Dantooine, with grass hugging their legs, ornate white robes adorning their torsos, and thrantas soaring above their heads.

Then, a beep. A low-frequency byte of sound was all it took to call them from their sleep.

Iyo'tress looked to her mother. Mededayya did not look back, only inspecting this one message they have received over the course of their journey. Mother stood, and walked to their ship. Daughter followed.

This was as it had been.

Of course, it was different, as well.

The freighter Mededayya had purchased through mercenary work across the stars hummed to life. Pilot and co-pilot, mother and daughter, sat in their respective chairs.

"We may not be able to leave again, you know," Iyo'tress said. Somewhat uncharacteristically, she smiled; a lasting mark her friendships had left her.

"I'm aware," responded her mother, in a much more regal voice, as was entirely characteristic. The old woman, a fierce fighter, fiercer mother, and fiercest of all, a matriarch, had come to the Four Moons to watch. Observe. 'Correct,' as she would say. She came with a disease; one that ate her left arm and shoulder, and one that she was too proud to heal. 'I will not heal my ailment with the unnatural,' she would say.

Mededayya Kojhal, Matriarch of the Kojhal family of Clan Mercea, left the Four Moons as simply 'Dayya,' a new woman with no sicknesses and a softer heart. While she abandoned her post as matriarch, handing the duty of family protection to her husband, she was still a mother. It was this instinct that took her towards Davenport Gateway now.

And so, grass that was hugging the pair's legs just moments ago bent away from the ship as it fluttered off of the ground and soared to the stars. Then, as if they were never there, that same grass resumed its natural position as the ship zoomed into nothingness, the hyperdrive taking Iyo'tress, Mededayya, and the Ivory Star to Thessia Krupp.
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#12709823 Sep 15, 2016 at 01:24 PM
55 Posts
"Confirm, pilot. You're cleared for entry. Please proceed to hangar..."

-------

Davenport Gateway is a terraced city, not unlike Nar Shaddaa. Massive columns of metal and machinery providing a place for all manner of infrastructure. Neon lights crafted from the noble gasses litter the walls and adorn the blank spaces, but did almost nothing to dispel the air of excitement and danger that is so common to the many "free" ports across the galaxy. The shadows of a place such as Davenport almost seem to beckon you within them, offering the promises of adventure, of profits, of companionship, even as many glinting knives peer back at you, their promise one of swift and immediate death for those unwary.

Anything can happen in these places, and often does.

It was here that a man sat in a high-rise bar, one of the more secured locales, and thus more expensive. It was worth the extra credits, in his mind. Davenport may be home to halfway decent folk just looking to get out from under the yolk of the tyrannies of government, but Arellix needed to see hands before he considered not killing someone.

Weapons were allowed at this locale, so long as they were tagged by the guards at the door, so Arellix had holstered a heavy BL-28 blaster pistol, not the weapon he wanted to use if he was expecting trouble, but it would suffice. This rested in a shoulder holster that sat over an entire suit of heavy-plated armour. And over that, a heavy dark cloak. Had he often been mistaken for a Jedi or Sith, depending on the witness, but Arellix was simply a man of interesting tastes. His armour was custom-designed by himself, though it drew heavily on his experience as a Republic soldier; the cloak was simply a matter of aesthetic. Though a small part of his mind told him that the cloak obscured his silhouette, he knew it was a crock. The fact was, a small part of him enjoyed being confused for Force-users, and in dealings with those he did not know, he let them think the worst.

Arellix downed the contents of the small shot glass in front of him in a single gulp, before pulling out a datapad. He tapped away at it... Then put it away as he noticed a familiar face walk in...
Homo Homini Lupus
For More Often Than Not, We Forget to Act Human to Others
But Still, Despite Our Forgetful Nature, There is Always the Next Day
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#12717880 Sep 18, 2016 at 04:48 PM · Edited 11 months ago
527 Posts
As soon as Thessia had taken a seat across from Arellix she held up a single, solitary finger, forestalling any words that he might've had for her. "My brother was drawn into the world of cloaks and daggers the moment that he began fooling around with the woman who'd become his wife. So this old trope about contacting a trusted associate to help you out of a jam that you've found yourself in, while familiar? I can't say I much appreciate it. Especially when you pick this planet of all places to host a tête-à-tête. That having been said... Hold on a minute."

Her eyes cut to the serving droid that had shambled over to the table. At three-foot-nothin', it looked like a walking trash compactor. What might have been its head came with no neck, so it had to move bodily every time it tried to address a particular individual. In this case, it was looking directly at the Krupp sister. It spoke something in binary to her, to which Thessia responded by placing an order for somethin' that would probably double as weapon lubricant in more civilized parts of the galaxy. Once it had hobbled off, Thessia's gaze returned to Arellix. Her lips adopted a sardonic half-smile. "That having been said! What's going on, and how can I help?"
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#12718943 Sep 19, 2016 at 03:22 AM · Edited 11 months ago
328 Posts
"You mean how can we help." The voice of Qunai Duvallin reached out before he appeared, the man clad in black cloth covered by well-placed blue armor. The lightsaber on his hip dinked now and then as he made himself at home beside Thessia - giving the woman a brief shoulder hug - before he planted his wrists on his knees and leaned forward.

Vibrant emerald eyes drifted up to Arellix, smiling a little as he held out a free hand.

"Qunai Duvallin. Nice to meet you...well, more officially, this time." His smiled shifted into a simple grin, and he nodded once.

The air shifted as another presence made itself at home, standing upright behind Qunai and Thessia. The Assassin - Shade - had her arms hooked around her middle, amber eyes inspecting the three for several seconds at a time. A vibro-staff sat on her back, long black leather dangling over her mutually black body suit.

She didn't speak up, however. She merely opted to listen...and hold up a hand in greeting.
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