Warriors of chILL Repute (smugglers, pirates, mercs, bounty hunters, etc)

Jacen hadn't been here in a long time. He'd come to this place to hide out once, when a Special Op for the Empire had turned sour. He'd spent nearly four days here...that was more time than he liked. He'd gotten to know this place pretty well...stronghold of a long-lost, pre-Clone Wars power. But since the Seperatists had attacked the old military base, it had lost something important...the structural integrity of its walls. Snow had drifted through, flooding the corridors and rooms with waves of ice-white. He stopped, and scooped a handful of soft, dusty snow, and let it fall through his fingers.

This frozen wasteland had seen more than its fair share of battles. It looked like it had been abandoned in a hurry...when he'd come the first time, he'd found gun turrets ready to fire, soldiers lying in the spot where they'd fought. The clone wars had changed the galaxy. And now this planet, Xaav'n VI, was about to play host to another major event in history. Or at least, thats what he hoped. "I sure hope someone shows up," he muttered to a frozen, lifeless Battle Droid, and shifted a little in his Clone Trooper armour, feeling and looking strangely at home within the alien walls.

Jacen took another step, the snow crunching under his foot. He had heard about someone trying to rally the smuggler's and mercenaries and others of that nature. He figured he might as well give it a try. After all they were trying to hurt the Empire, and if there was anyone he ddn't like as much as aristocrats, it was the Empire.

The young teen saw a fresh set of tracks and decided to follow them. Prehaps the owner would know which way to point him.

Jacen grunted as he strained to shift the fallen girder from the operations table. The command center was now little more than a big round room. But now there was nothing left. Blaster scorches peppered the walls. Consoles lay smashed. Rubble scattered everywhere, punching craters in the snow beneath where it had fallen. He ran a hand across the table, brushing off the dust, snow, and lumps of duracrete. Below lay a dark, smooth surface. Something was missing. Power.

He reached over and picked up the heavy, boxy construction that he'd slid off his back as soon as he'd got "home". Opening the top, he uncoiled the wires inside, and streched them out. It was a portable generator...one of the gifts from his uncle, the owner of Dantarno Engineering. It was supposed to kick out enough power to allow him to get basic systems on-line.

Crouching beside the ops table, and prying off the side panel, he hooked up the generator to the main power conduit that ran into the command center. If he got at least one computer working, he'd be able to get the batteries to power the rest of the systems.

With a hum and a pop, the darkness on the ops table was replaced with a schematic of the base. A few of the previously dormant screens burst into life, flashing up useful bits of information. He sighed, and slipped out his comlink. "I could use your help, Kay."

* * *

It took nearly half an hour for the little droid to get power on-line, but that was a lot quicker than Jacen could have managed. He now stood, with his arms crossed, watching the yellow dots that wriggled around on the screen. The internal sensors had detected unknown targets moving in the base, but they couldn't identify them - there hadn't been enough to bring the databases on-line. Kay had said something about a cold start, but Jacen hadn't understood much more than that. He could understand the droid fairly well, but there where times when having Trey around was necessary. Unfortunately, having only come in his X-Wing, the Sharpshooter, there hadn't been the space.

Jacen tapped a few controls on his visor, which he'd exchanged with his helmet a while ago. The helmet now sat in the center of the ops table. With one final tap, the world around him changed from white to a deep, dark blue. The inner workings of Kay showed up in a pleasant green, the heat they threw out enough to register. He looked down at his hands, a pale orange, even in this cold. His hand brushed over the straight-hilted, icy-blue lightsaber of his grandfather, which he always wore with his armour. It wasn't that he liked the two blood-red, crescent-hilted sabers of his great-grandfather any less...but his suit lacked the mobility to do those blades justice. But he still had a lightsaber. He felt vaguely safe.

His senses sharpened as he peered over the top of his visor at the ops table. One of the unknown targets was moving...and it was heading this way.

Jacen heard a quite sound of droids moving around and though he was getting close, but he'd had enough experience to know when to call out for someone and when not to. Now was deffinitely not the time to. He continued around, moving slower to reduce the noise his boots made aganst the ground. He came around a corner and saw a man with a visor on. Well no hiding now, he thought as he stopped to look at him. he had a lightsaberand some kind of armor on which was probably keeping him warmer that Jacen's black cloth outfit. "You the one that called?"

(** OOC: Just to make it a tad easier, I'm gonna be referring to Jacen Dantarno by his nickname - Jace **)

Jace eyed up the new arrival. He was a little shorter than him, dressed in black, and he looked young...too young for what he was looking for. He was just...

Jace stopped himself, and slid the visor down. He looked at the kid again, evaluating him with his real eyes. The kid was a fighter...that was clear. Jacen could see it in his eyes. He looked familiar. The way he held himself...the aggression inside...Jace realised. It was like looking at himself.

"I'm Jacen Dantarno," he confirmed. "Jace," he added, holding out a hand.

Silvo trudged through the snowy landscape of a barren planet which had never heard of and came upon an X-Wing. He walked around it and noticed a trail coming from it. He muttered to himself as he slipped slightly,

"This had better be the guy..."

He trudged for a while and finally came upon a sort of Military Base which surprisingly was still being powered, despite the state that it appeared in. Walking in, he felt a respite from the lashing wind and heard a sound from the inside.

"Maybe a droid, or a person..."

He moved into a slight crouch and stealthily made his way down a few corridors. Walking deeper into the base, he turned a corner and saw a droid and a man in Imperial-like armor. He removed his pistol and slowly walked towards him, keeping the gun pointed at the ground. He then said to him,

"You the guy who sent the message?"

A line of six parka-muffled figures topped a nearby ridge, and paused almost as one to grip the edges of their hoods and hold them closed against the altitude's bitter wind. They remained there for a moment, then began descent.

The biggest one came first. Minion S. Alghieri (S. for Stanley, although he considered his first name fully strange enough to justify merely using the initial for the second), a Varundana multiple-crossbreed, AKA an 'orc'. Six-four, two-forty. Possessor and controller of a large fraction of an Outer Rim system's crime.

Next in line was Baracc Olra'en, a human and one of the smallest at one-seventy, five-eleven. His slide down the ridge was accomplished with the aid of an ornate but really quite unbreakable staff. The thing might even stand up to a lightsabre for a few seconds. More than any of the others, the glow of the Force surrounded him. A Dark Adept.

Taking point was a sly, thin man about six-one, with dark hair and a goatee. He carried a similar staff. This was Michel Torentin, Olra'en's apprentice.

Rear guard was another mongrel, almost Alghieri's size save for an inch or two and maybe ten pounds. Guillame Merchall. Another staff wielder, and actually the more promising of Olra'en's demesne.

The last two hurried to catch up, having missed the signal to go. One was very small, a young teenager, and although the parka muffled form it was easy to tell from the way it walked that the kid was female. Choir Aztaroth, new recruit to Olra'en's body of apprentices, forsaking a staff entirely.

The other was nervous and non-threatening, an accountant or some other innocuous professional. He didn't move with the smooth grace of the rest, and his mind was open far enough for anyone with a modicum of Force skill to see that he was utterly harmless. This was Seren Irreantum. Known to only one other of the party, however, was the fact that Seren Irreantum didn't exist.

He was, in point of fact, the Sith Knight Je'gan Olra'en. He'd altered the contours of his own mind, had rearranged enough of his own psyche to make mental ID'ing utterly impossible; had changed his stride and his manner while in there; had made sure he could cloak his face in illusion for whatever period was required that he not wear his mask. He bore no weapon, as befitted an accountant...this was because, although his true identity was utterly, totally a secret - even Alghieri didn't have a clue - this was because any Sith Knight is a weapon unto himself. Without question, he could have slaughtered the rest of the party inside of thirty seconds.

He was backup.

They approached and entered the facility, playing glowrods around the walls as they moved farther in. Torentin was still on point, followed by Baracc Olra'en, Alghieri, Irreantum, Aztaroth and Merchall on rearguard.

Alghieri stopped at an intersection of corridors and bellowed loud enough that the walls shook. He had a powerful voice, Alghieri.

"Anyone home?"

Jace looked over Jacen's shoulder, as another man entered the room. He nodded in response to his question. "Welcome to Xaav'n." (OOC: pron. Zaar-vun)

Kay whistled at him, as six angry-looking yellow dots appeared on the display of the base. Kay managed to drag up an image from one of the security cameras. Jace had no idea what they were...but they weren't exactly the most gorgeous people ever to have crossed his path.

The base shook, and snow dusted down from the cieling. A loud cry of 'Anyone home?' echoed through the corridors.

Jace let out a sigh, and wondered if coming alone was such a good idea after all. Then an idea popped into his head. He stepped over to Kay, and whispered something quiet enough so only the droid could hear.

* * *

As the six new arrivals moved down the snow-filled corridor, a voice answered their call. "We are here," it said in a deep, authorative voice. "Beware: the eyes of the furious are upon you."

"Olra'en," Alghieri whispered, cutting down on the base tone in his voice so that it didn't carry. "Any danger?"

"None, boss," the boy said quietly after a moment. "They're testing us. I wouldn't recommend moving ahead without a reply, though...that doesn't feel terribly safe." His eyes refocused and moved to the mongrel's face. "There's a Force presence here, probably enough to take us on." He gestured, flicks of the hand denoting Merchall and Torentin. Aztaroth didn't look too pleased at being cut out, but the fact of the matter was that her training wasn't as advanced as that of the three Adepts.

Alghieri took a deep breath. "I should hope," he roared with easily twice his previous volume, "that we are not the ones with whom the furious take their offence. This building wouldn't hold up to that kind of a fight."

Olra'en winced.

Haven't they heard of a comlink? Jace wondered as he watched the movement of the six new arrivals, forming up into a more combat-worthy formation. He shrugged, and lifted the microphone to his mouth, preparing to speak in the God-like voice that had won him so many drinks from fellow Troopers back when he served the Imps. Those were the days...

"The furious take offence to only two kinds of men - those who still serve the Empire, and those that befrend it. Unless you are Imperial, or a friend of such, you have nothing to fear."

"Got it," Merchall murmured, looking up from his 'scanner'. "Here ya go..." He rattled off a string of numbers - one added to each digit, making the assumption that they were under surveillance, and not trusting even his highly muted tone not to carry. Alghieri nodded, pulled out a comlink, typed in a set of numbers, and roared into it. He had to appreciate the humour; the smaller mongrel had tapped the transmission from Dantarno's comlink to the speakers.

I'm a businessman. The voice came from Dantarno's comlink loud enough to blast his eardrums wide open. Some of the people I do my business with work for the Empire.

Jace shuddered at the volume that burst forth from his comlink. It took a few seconds for his head to clear. He gave up on his God-like voice, and spoke as normal. "A businessman...then perhaps you are in a position to negotiate." He unclipped his lightsaber from his belt. "Follow the tracks into the base. I will meet you on route."

He flicked off the comlink, and slid it into his belt. "Wait here," he instructed the other mercenaries, and advanced from the room, Lightsaber held ready, his thumb, over the activation stud, itching.

Hope you're proud, Arden, he thought to himself, speaking (he hoped) through the Force to his grandfather. I know who I am, and what I can do. I am the last descendant of the Jai...and the Eldest Son of Dantarno. I have chosen our enemy. You shall be avenged.

"Of course, friend. Would I be here otherwise?" Alghieri's eyes sideslipped to where Merchall was gesturing frantically.

The source was moving. And getting closer. This looked less and less like a trap.

"You know," he said conversationally, turning his gaze to Olra'en as they walked on, "some of my people are of the opinion that one or more of your men can feel the Force." He cocked an eyebrow; the senior Adept was considerably less capable with gestures than his apprentice, but he seemed to merely be copying the larger man.

Ah.

He cleared his throat after perhaps a second's pause. "Or perhaps you yourself...?"

Merchall's arm shot up and down, pointing to the bend in the corridor ahead just before a man appeared, brandishing what the gangster instantly recognized as a lightsaber.

Alghieri shut off the comlink and approached. The three Adepts flanked him.

"Hail-fellow-well-met," he said genially, extending a taloned hand.

Silvo followed the man through the corridors, keeping his pistol withdrawn as he watched the man's sides, they came upon a few strange looking creatures who must have been the ones they were talking to. He waited with the Stormtrooper man and let them do the talking.

Jace clipped his lightsaber back to his belt, and took Alghieri's hand, shaking it firmly. "Welcome to Xaav'n," he said with a slight, professional smile. "And yes, I can feel the Force, but not to any great extent. My grandfather was a Jedi. His father was a powerful Dark Jedi. His father led a monastary of Jedi monks." He let out a slight sigh. "Under the Empire, my father denied his heritage. I grew up as an Imperial...my Jedi talents were opressed quite heavily." He shrugged. "It'll take me a while to perfect them."

He released the Orc's hand, and wiped the smile from his face. "If you'd like to come through to the command center...we have much to discuss."

"Of course."

Alghieri's party followed the two men through the maze of ice to what the gangster assumed was the command nexus. They stopped just inside the door, and Alghieri finally nodded, acquiescing to Olra'en's silent request of the past minute. When the time was right, his head Dark Adept would speak. For now the boy seemed content to take stock of the personnel at work here.

Jace punched the control to open the door, but nothing happened. He sighed, took a step back, and punched his foot into it. The door opened. "Servos must be getting frozen," he muttered, stepping through.

He nodded to Kay, who's head had spun round as the door opened. Kay let out a droid-speak equivalent to a shrug, and returned to his work. Jace looked around the room, and spotted the other person who'd arrived so far watching one of the unbroken screens, looking a little cold.

"This is...uh..." he said, pointing to Jacen, suddenly realising that he didn't know anyone's name. He paused, took a breath, and started again. "How about we start by introducing ourselves. I'm Jacen Dantarno...I summoned you here. I lead a band of mercenaries...they'd be here, but they're on a mission."

"The name's Jacen. Sorry, but I don't really have a last name." He nodded to Silvo, having worked with him before.

Silvo said casually,

"Silvo Arkhan."

"Minion Stanley Alghieri," he grated, more out of disgust for his middle name than from any feeling towards the others present. "This is Seren Irreantum of my administrative branch..."

"...h...h...hello." While being a not inconsiderable physical specimen, the accountant looked terrified.

"...and these are my pet Darksiders. Baracc Olra'en, instructor."

"Hey."

"...Guillame Merchall and Michel Torentin, apprentices..."

"Hi."

"Hi."

"...and Choir Aztaroth, Strike Force Lochabar's newest recruit. She's our lightsaber expert; everyone else uses a staff."

The small figure tossed back her fur-lined hood, revealing an utterly indifferent but modestly attractive, very pale face.

"Would it serve any purpose to tell you that that visor is the worst fashion choice imaginable?"

Alghieri chuckled. "Yer still a schoolgirl at heart, Aztaroth."