The Crown Affair

[Sjet]

Planet Indupar
System Sovereignty of Indupar
Outer Core: Imperial Controlled World.

“So, when I said ‘go to hell’, Dex,” Azaria murmured, cringingly pushed away the excessively lacey throw pillows which took up most of the couch she was trying to perch on, “I didn’t mean that so bloody literally.”

“Nobody likes a sore loser. I won the credit toss, so I get first turn around the running water,” came Dex’s voice from the open bathroom door, a fog bank of steam rolling out of it as his voice fought for dominance over the sound of shower. Though it was a tough call to say whether or not it was the sound or the decor it was fighting against, seeing as there was enough lace and frilly things to drown a dozen palaces.

“Still you have to admit, as safe houses go this isn’t all that bad.” the sound of the water cut off “And given the last safe house I slept in was a shelled out hole of a place in Imperial Centre’s invisible sector, I think I an authority on these things.”

Something tickled against Azaria’s lekku and she jumped out of her seat with a shudder. A fat, furry, and annoyingly docile looking thing looked up at her from the pile of cushions, batting a tiny paw at her dangling appendages.

“Eeewww, what is this?!?!” Azaria reached for her blaster, “there's some parasite thing living in this place!”

“It’s a katten. The small ones are usually harmless...usually.” the voice said from the shower, as Dexon’s toweled head popped out of the doorway. He took one look at the disgusted Twi’lek and then at the docile katten making a fortification of her lap “Ah...okay...give me a second to get decent and whatever you do: don’t move.”

He vanished back into the shower.

“I mean it!” he called out, the other room hiding his enormous grin “That thing will chewed you down to the bone if you startle it. Oh, and their blaster proof: the rich person's self defence weapon.”

Azaria glared at the ‘katten’. “Of course you’re a demon dressed in fluff... “

The thing ‘meowed’ at her, then curled up in a ball and started… rumbling? The Twi’lek carefully tried to slide it off her lap, when a few errant strands of its fur tickled her nose. She couldn’t contain the sneeze they brought about. When she finally opened her eyes, the thing hadn’t chewed her to the bone, if in fact was presenting its belly to be rubbed.

Chagrined, Azaria petted the thing’s pathetically soft belly. “You’re not something dangerous, wangerous, eh little katten,” she grinned as it began to make happy meows and batted playfully at her fingers. Alright, she may have overreacted about the furry parasite here, but this place was still a living nightmare of doilies, macrame, and decorative figurines of fat, winged babies in diapers armed with crude weapons.

She played with the katten for a few more minutes until the thing, with no warning, apparently had had enough of her affections, hissed, and ran beneath a hideous pink couch and not reemerged.
Azaria sighed, looking down at her crono, then sighed again as she saw her flight suit was covered with katten fur and dander.

“Dammit,” she muttered as she began stripping the suit off, “this is the only decent thing I’ve got to wear besides the stuff in the closets here…” she shuddered to think what kind of frilly nonsense she’d find there.

With only a quick knock to announce her entrance, Azaria barged into the shower room and tossed her fuzzy clothes into the laundry chute.

Jedi were famed the galaxy over for their quick reflexes: Dexon had probably out moved one of their grand masters as his hands found a towel and a loffer. Strategically placed for modesty's sake he glowered at Azaria.

“Should I have put a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door? Is there no trust between thieves?” he asked coolly.

“Oh settle down, princess, you’ve seen me in those ridiculous slave costumes I had to wear during the gig on Coruscant,” Azaria rolled her eyes at his prudishness.

“Myself and the entire Turvy Club. As well as the Imperial customs agents who was our mark for the evening. But that was work. This…” he said, slowly drawing the word out through his teeth “...has all the hallmarks of becoming trouble.”

Azaria grinned and leaned against the counter, “Aww, come on now, fair is fair, and you’re not half bad looking for a Human.”

“Considering some of the would be suitors and owners you and your family must have seen in their years, I’m going to hope I fall somewhere towards the top of the scale.” he snagged a bathrobe made from plush bather hide, and slipped it on.

He left her to shower and dress, running a hand through still damp locks of dark hair. He grinned to himself and approached the well stocked liquor cabinet, opening its glass frontage to admire the fine collection within..

“I know the local time is just nudging the morning, but I’m still on Kuati time.” he said to himself, before selecting a few bottles from the rack “And it is most assuredly cocktail hour.”

He began to pour himself a complex drink, which would have cost an arm, leg, and first born child to purchase in any establishment that might even possess the required ingredients. Rumor has it that it tasted something like being hit over the head by a lemon wrapped around a gold brick…

And look! There was a gold brick.

“No, this is sober up and figure out what the hell we are doing in this sith pit hour, Dexon!” Azaria grabbed the bottle from his hand and returned it, her own fluffy bathrobe clad form doing nothing to hide the toned muscles beneath. “Because if I stay here with all of this.. fluff… for any longer I will not be responsible for my actions and the injuries you sustain!”

“Hey!” he snapped at her, a genuine heat to his words as he snatched back one bottle of gold coloured liquid. He looked at it, stroking a hand down its side “There is no need...NO need, at all, to lay violent intentions down before a bottle of Zukian brandy. This stuff costs as much as some small starships, and some mid sized ones as well if you don’t mind skimping on the luxury features.”

He spread his arms wide and gestured around the suite, the golden fluid sloshing dangerous within the bottles interior..

“Are we being shot at?” he asked, leaning forward “Have the Imperial authorities come to shove needles under our fingers? Are we at this moment being slowly digested over a thousand years within the gullet of the great and powerful Sarlaac? No you say? No we are not?”

Both were surprised when Azaria’s hand reached out and slapped Dexon across the face.

She overcame her own surprise quickly. “Get ahold of yourself, man! This isn’t a safehouse - this is Othar’s third wife’s country home! Just because he says it’s okay to go to town on the pantry, doesn’t mean we don’t have a job to do. You can’t keep putting the meeting off, we are going to have to get to work before those bounty hunters sniff out where we are and catch us in this tactical disaster of a home.”

“I have successfully put this meeting off for three days,” he snarled, stepping up to loom over Azaria as his cheek burned, “ And I have every intention-!”

+++

“-of meeting you in person, had not more pressing business kept me away.”

The man he was addressing had been introduced as Mr Red, and his female companion had introduced herself as Ms Blue. Neither was coloured that way, but both were dressed similarly to the point it looked like they were in uniforms. Tight trousers, form fitting tunics, dull coloured sashes and ceremonial swords bedecked in gold: if he didn’t know they were members of the Royal Guard of Indupar he’d have pegged them as hired security.

But today these two Royal Guards were sat in the lesser sitting room of a country mansion, surrounded with tat masquerading as finery, being apologised to by a professional con man and his team of neerdowells.

“That's quite alright. I was lead to believe that your previous mission had left you in a precarious state of extra legal affairs.” Mr Red said as tactfully as possible. Krusk had either commed ahead to warn his contacts in the Indupar rebel movement that his hired help had hired helped hunting them, or word of their not-quite-a-death-mark had raced ahead of them.

“It is so good to meet a fellow sentient who understands the realities we work in. Now I interrupted you whilst you were talking to my associates. You want us to rob this...let me see that data pad.” Dex reached out, pulling the device away before reading “Her Imperial Highness, Holder of the Founding Orb of Shikanti, Protector of the Swords of Justice and Liberty, Defender of...and the titles go on for another full paragraph!”

“We just call her the Grand Duchess Maurasyl.” Ms Blue said, not quite stopping herself from spitting the name.

“I can see why!” Dex said with a chuckle, holding up the data pad full of honorifics “Get halfway through her name and drop dead from oxygen deprivation.”

“And you need us to steal this ‘whats it’?”

“The Found Orb-” Mr Red began to say, before Dex cut him off with a barely audible ‘Soon to be lost…’

Azaria looked over the data with a frown. “I’m confused, is this an actual orb or what? I see pictures of orbs in the royal gallery, but is it just some bauble? I thought it had some sort of tech element?”

“It is a repository of a great deal of our history. From its contents the Orb has steered Induparian society through its darkest days. Without the Orb there is no right to rule, no governing body with which to stand as a single people.” the more errenst of the two ‘Freedom Fighters’ said, speaking in the tones of a true believer “But ever since the old dynasty was supplanted by its current Imperial leaning cadre of royals, the Orb has not been allowed out of the grounds of the Grand Duchesses estates. If we, the true free people of Indupar cannot look the Orb in the eye-”

“Er...sorry, what?” Dex said, frowning.

“The Orbs eyes: it contains the severed head of our ancient founding king, from whom all blood lines of noble birth arise.” Ms Blue said, looking to her compatriot in the tight pants with a look of confusion. Did other planets not remove the heads of their leadership and put them in decorative vases? Was Indupar ahead of the curve?

“What… why would some sicko cut off their King’s head and stick it in a friggin bowling ball?” Azaria couldn’t keep the disgust out of her voice, or from her face. “And some old bat keeps it in her drawing room?”

“Do not speak of our kings nobles sacrifice-!” the ernest freedom fighter made to stand, pulling at the gold leaf encrusted vibrosword on her waist. Her compatriot reached out, placing a hand on hers to stop her from pulling steel.

“You are not Induparan. I would not expect you to understand our ways or traditions, nor would you expect me to know the depths of your own rituals Twi’lek.” Mr Red said that word without seeming to sneer, but it was implied: Indupar wasn’t Imperial to the core, but it was a short walk from here to Imperial Centre. “The Orb’s contents hold the genetic fingerprint of the royal family line. With the Orb any heir or claimant to the throne can be verified as being rightful in their claim. We performed this ritual centuries ago to ensure no computerised record could be altered or amended.”

“Unless you swapped out the skull.” Dexon thought aloud, stroking his chin before pausing to look at the two well dressed rebels “Er...you...don’t want us to-”

Azaria grimaced. She certainly wasn’t going to be playing with some human’s nasty leftovers. Though she had to wonder, how was Othar going to react to this? It’s sounding a lot like a coup against his family is in the works…

“Replacing the Orb’s contents would invalidate the entire process, there are anti tampering devices embedded in the Orb. We merely wish to have the Orb free for...third party verification.” the cooler of the two heads said.

“Ah huh. So you need us to steal this orb coffin thing from the cellar of the Grand Duchess of nick-nacks and give it over to you so you can have someone from off world verify that your ruling monarch is not who they claim to be?” Dexon summarised, looking out of a window at a cityscape full of spires “I assume the results will show that a monarch with known sympathies for the Rebellion is the one who should have the crown on their head, and not the current Imperial toady?”

“I couldn't possibly say.” came from a mouth grinning from ear to ear: so a coup by ancient dead skull it was.

Tag-The Team. Fancy sitting room, fancy guests, and you've had three days of leisure. Now we work for a living.

A JP Caleb and Azaria, the Kanan and Hera of this loony platoon.

[T-Prime]

Politics. Jarion hated politics. He hated politicians. He even hated people who voted. Chalk up one more reason to kill that Bothan prick.

On the other hand, the Orb held information. That was right up Jarion's alley; so was stealing said information. History though. Not much payoff there. Maybe some blackmail potential.

Yeah. Jarion could grow to like this gig.

He leaned casually against the wall. His head remained unadorned since they left Starforge. There was some sort of symbolism there.

"So you guys got any useful information?" He asked, "Building schematics? Security plans? Anything?"

[Amanda Rose]

[lucasausems]

[Sjet]

"What I could say...Miss...is gossip of the lowest sort." Mr Red said, his voice roaring up to a snarl before he corrected the word he was going to use. This close to The Core being Imperial was less about the logo on the credit chit and more about the mindset: the great manifest destiny of the human race uplifting all the poor critters from disorder to civilisation. Tav's usual seduce and pounce routine was just as likely to get her lynched here as it was to work out in her favor.

"As my colleague said, you are all strangers to Indupar and our ways. Even before the Orb was removed form public access there was a...liquid quality to the political process. Brinkmanship, the creation of favours and debts-" Miss Blue said, before with a coughing fit Dexon cut in.

"Monarchy by assassination?"

"Something to that effect. If not the noble in question, then their appointed champion. Honourable duels were for the lower houses, with appointed hunts for the nobles. It was a point of pride for some to let it known they were the object of an assassin's mark: a badge of honour." Miss Blue went on, sounding almost giddy with nostalgia.

"So what your saying about actual, actionable intelligence on this Duchesses vault of goodies is...? What? Gossip?" Dexon asked pointedly.

"What I am saying is it will take us time to gain you anything concrete." Mr Red said, before eyeing Miss Blue and adding "Though one of the assassins guilds might know more than we ever could find out through traditional means. They have records going back to the very earliest days of the System Sovereignty."

TAG-All

Caleb Dexon

[Amanda Rose]

[T-Prime]

Jarion listened carefully. Plans, plots, and schemes flitted though his mind.

"Assassins aren't too difficult to deal with." He cut in, "We could negotiate for the details we need, maybe even get them to throw in a hit or two for us, and if that fails I can get the data the old fashioned way..." By which he meant sneak in and steal it, of course.

[Sjet]

They were called the Guild of the Taken. According to the pair of Induparian rebels the Soggies had been introduced to, The Taken were the oldest of the assassin guilds entrenched in the capital. They operated from no none fixed abode, as their profession was highly illegal under the Imperial law. Instead, their representatives could be found through word of mouth, or gossip, placed into the right ears of the right people. That would take time, and with assassins of their own no doubt on their heels, Caleb had worked hard for a second option.

The fact the second option had them walking into a brothel in the Red Crystal district of Indupar's capital was pure coincidence.

The house of ill repute they entered looks actual high class: crystal lighting scones, rare metal fixtures and the pelts of a dozen extinct species adorning the furniture. This was a place where serious wealth exchanged hands...and possibly other things as well. But they were not here for that sort of skin game: the Scarlet Rose Thorn was known for holding an entirely different full body contact sport in its lower levels.

The group was escorted from the richly appointed ground floors to narrow stairs that lead down into the bedrock of Indupar. Slowly the scents of spices and incense gave way to a more familiar meaty scent of sweat and spilled ale. Noises rose up the narrow staircase, until with a clang of an opening door the Soggies were lead into the large cavern beneath the Scarlet Rose Thorn.

And into the fighting pit of Indupar.

A crowd of locals jostled and flowed along the cavern's floor, gathering around large open pits fifteen feet deep and sometimes thrice that wide. Within combatants could be seen slugging it out with crude unpowered blades, or by their own bloodied fists. Nobels and commoners alike cried out in excitement as their champions were either sent to the floor or rose in victory. Serving men and women in the livery of the Scarlet Rose walked amid the throng offering libations and stimulants at what Caleb assumed was at cost.

After all, insensed minds tended to be freer with their coin when they came back out through the brothel.

"We're looking for people wearing robes of a purple material. Or maybe a sash." Caleb shouted over the din, looking at his small group of would-be revolutionaries. "They'll have a brass medallion or brooch with a stylized fist on it. We find one of them, and we can probably talk our way into an audience with their guild master. And from there the information we need on The Duchess. I beg, all of you, to remember we have a time limit on our heads: no brawls, no drunken escapades."

He looked pointedly at Tav: "No side business. We're here to steal a skull in a jar, not line someone's else's political war chest with gossip."


TAG-All. There is a plot point that will happen should one of you clever dicks do the right thing. It's pretty obvious, so I'll not spoil it.

Caleb Dexon
Con Artist
Leader? Maybe? Where's the bar?

[T-Prime]

Jarion almost felt at home in the rowdy atmosphere. A great deal of his transactions happened in places like this, or seedy cantinas. He scanned the crowd, zooming in and out on persons of interest with his cybernetic eye.

Caleb had said no side business, but Jarion was pretty sure that only referred to the whorish Twi'lek. He didn't immediately spot any of the people they were here to speak with, so he mingled. He mingled his way over to the betting booth and began to chat up the gamblers.

"So, who's favored to win the main event?"

[lucasausems]

Luke had heard of this Guild of the Taken. Back in Coronet they had their own holonet series and Luke had never missed an episode during his teenage years. So, it shouldn't be a big surprise to the reader that Luke felt a bit excited at meeting his childhood heroes in the flesh. Though, Luke figured, all of his knowledge of the Guild of the Taken had been based on a show made for kids, the real Guild might prove to be a bit tougher than the show portrayed them to be.

But so far everything checked out. Except for the entrance through the brothel that was, which the holonet series had converted to a dance club to keep the series rated PG. But the stairs down to the lower levels, the fighting pit, even the purple robes were all featured in the series. This made Luke wonder how on Earth, or better in this case, Corellia, the makers of the show had been able to get so many of the details right... Something suddenly smelled fishy about this favourite childhood series of his...

Anyways, he took in the scene. The crowds of people, a vibrant mix of the rich and poor, the serving girls and the fights and its fighters. No brawls or gambling the boss had said. But when he spotted the next fighter preparing to get in the ring, Luke felt that this was going to be an order that would be quite difficult to follow.

The fighter he was looking at was covered in ornate tatoos and wore a purple coloured bathrobe. The ring for now was empty, but to get to this guy he had to go through several rows of burly looking men, who seemed to keep away anyone who came to close to the fighter.

So how to get close enough to this Guildmember to have a talk?

The bell rang and another fighter appeared in the ring. The row of burley men opened a path for the Guildmember, who strode confidently into the ring. The other fighter was pumping adrenaline, the tattooed member of the Guild of the Taken expressed a serene calm. The bell rang again and the other fighter raced for the Guildmember, screaming and going for a full on attack. The Guildmember simply stepped aside and faster than the eye could see struck out at the other man's neck. The was a loud sound of something breaking, the fighter slumped dead to the floor. The bell rang once more, the fight was over. The Guildmember retreated back into the ring of burly men.

The stage had been set.

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