Ambush in the Merchants Warren

Merchant's Warren -- Orum's Bastion

If commerce is the lifeblood of a thriving space station, then the Merchant's Warren is the beating heart of Orum's Bastion. Small shops, some within the protection of the bulkheads, others beneath makeshift tarps and tents, choke this section of the station, offering nearly any good or service a customer might desire, whether it be legal or otherwise. From the looks of some of the merchants, there is no shortage of "otherwise."

--

Malideus

A few fingers below the average height of a human male, Malideus still makes for an imposing figure, with his broad chest and workman's muscles. Carrying himself with a stalker's grace, Malideus appears lithe in spite of his pronounced musculature. At a glance, he leaves an impression of health and fitness, save for his eyes, which glisten red, likes tears of unshed blood.

Every centimeter of Malideus is covered in leather, once black but now faded gray. Boots rise to his knees, secured with thick, primitive laces, tied and retied. A well worn coat with a broad collar adorns the upper half of his body, and articulate leather gloves cover his hands. A hood and mask cover his head and face, leaving none of his skin visible, save for a narrow band of flesh around his eyes.

Kalden

Kalden Vale is a Human male standing just slightly over 1.8 meters in height. He appears to be in his late 20s or early 30s. His build is light although apparently no stranger to the outdoors and physical activity. Strength is not lacking even if deceptively packaged on his frame. Brown hair feathers across the head yet it is trimmed along the sides and back to prevent it from becoming wild. One would hope that the hair has been fashioned this way and is not simply the result from spending too much time in the field and not taking enough showers. Hawkish light hazel eyes peer out into the world behind well defined ridgelines of a gaunt face. Few details escape their notice. Kalden's nose is on the thinner side, a sign that his ancestors hail from a warmer climate. Full, dark brown, bordering and black facial hair looks to have been unshaven for about a week.

Kalden appears to be a scout or tracker by trade. He wears a suit of light scout armor that offers little in the way of protection but quite a bit in utility. The base of the armor is a thin, dark tan hide with camouflage patterns dyed into hide. Extremely thin plates line the torso, back, shoulders and major portions of the leg and arms. They are painted in the same camouflage patterns and have plenty of scrapes from use. The plates are only thick enough to protect from random cuts and the bites of small animals or perhaps even an angry Ewok with a club. Protection has been fully traded for mobility and stealth. What the armor lacks in protection it makes up for in utility. Survival gear lines the armor. Everything from grappling hooks to fire sticks line the various pockets and attachment points of the armor. The only visable weapons are a vibrosword sheathed on the back and an rim world manufactured pistol in a hip holster.

Izara

Tall and lanky with long limbs, the woman moves like a predator in calculated steps. A mass of black curls flow in spirals framing her carmel complexion. Her face is oval but long with a strong jaw, prominent chin, exquisite cheekbones, and a slightly high forehead. Her nose fits her face perfectly and her lips are full and plump. Large eyes of aquamarine take in every detail of her surroundings, with arched brows shaped perfectly. That being said, her natural beauty is somewhat challenged by her attitude and unrelenting gaze. This near-human is an Epicantrix but her connection to her culture was severed long ago.

Clad all in black, her long reaching arms are bare, a loose fitting black tank top over a black bandeau is tucked into leather-belted black canvas pants that are well worn-in. A blaster holster is strapped to her right thigh and a large knife is displayed at her waist on the left side. Her feet are clad in worn black combat-style boots.

On'Tina

When not hidden behind her dark-tinted pilot's goggles, the first thing noticed on this feminine figure is likely her piercing sanguine eyes. A rich, expressive blood red iris floating in a field of snow white that contrasts against the smoky, charcoal grey of her skin. Dark reddish-black lips sit under a slightly wider-set nose dotted with a single piercing stud on one side. Deeper onyx markings decorate around her eyes, though whether they are natural variations to her skin tone, tattoos, or some applied cosmetic is difficult to exactly tell. White dots highlighting along the corner of her eyes and her cheeks creates a canvas of her visage akin to stars twinkling in the deep of space.

Her lekku when free from helmet or veil seem similiarly decorated with dark markings and binding ribbons that rotate to coordinate with her outfit, defaulting to black for casual day to day wear. On the taller side for her race, she has a scrappy look edging towards lean with the ramshackle appearance of a spacer who takes things as they go. She doesn't seem to easily sit still and constantly fidgets with one thing or another even when otherwise sitting and standing still.

Nazshassi

An Eight-legged creature, the size of a small Nexu. Its long eel-like neck and head is set with reflective eyes and a wide mouth of needle like teeth. Its Thorax and abdomen are covered in a fine thick black fur. Around its thorax is worn a traders harness covered in pockets and openings for its palps. Running from the top of its head along its neck to the back of its thorax is a segmented gold colored crinet, the bottom edges decorated with fine hanging netting.

--

The merchant's warren of Orum's Bastion pulsates and writhes like an exposed organ, the shopkeepers and patrons slipping about each other, sizing each other up, looking for weaknesses to exploit. It doesn't matter what one person is selling or what another is buying. It doesn't matter the legality of the deal, or the nefariousness of the wares. The conflict is on full display, predators hunting other predators in the absence of prey.

Malideus of the Wood, embracing his role as bounty hunter, moves through the warren trailed by a handful of load-lifting droids. The droids carry bodies. Some clearly dead. Others injured but bound and unconscious. The macabre nature of Malideus's haul is sufficient to create a small stir in the warren. A begrudged opening is made in front of the bounty hunter to haul his catch.

Malideus's hands are empty today. No staff. No weapon visible. He opens and closes his gloved hands as he makes he way deeper into the warren, his eyes flicking this way and that, looking for something. Or someone.

Word of the hunter's macabre parade through the warren reaches Izara as she takes a meal inside the Cantina. She and Dez, her lieutenant Devaronian, and other crew members with them finish up quickly. Their meals are left on Izara's tab which she always make good on and in a timely manner. With only the crumbs of their meals left, the Epicantrix fence and her muscle walk out of the Cantina and into the wide corridor that is the merchant's warren. As the load lifters begin to pass by, Izara leans on the cantina wall and watches. Seeing the hunter Telgossian amongst the procession she cracks a wry grin. "Guess he's gonna be able to pay his repair bill now, huh?"

Nestled up in a dark niche of pipes and cables rests Naz, the Ne'ogih was a regular of the station. Though usually looking for trinkets and the like, to date little has caught its eye. The flesh tracker was interesting, a bit on the stylish side. Not too bad, the Ne'ogih mused mentally. The crinet made soft scraping noises as its long neck flowed out of the shadows to observe the goings on.

Kalden is here for his own reasons. Some time ago he had been involved in an incident in a cantina here. Those in power deemed it necessary to continue searching for more answers about one known as the Envoy and those he represented. The scout peruses a weapon stand, looking over the wares with mild interest. A modified blaster pushing the boundaries of the magnitude of energy its magnetic fields could contain and push down a barrel. A melee weapon which looks like it was created by a sadistic tribe of brutes. The jagged edges seem to be designed to inflict maximum pain at the expense of a swift kill. Not something that the Agent needed in the slightest nor were he strong enough to use it for its intended purpose.

By chance Malideus is parading through with a fresh catch of victims. Poor souls who likely chose a life of crime over order. It made no difference on this station. One bug is squashed and it just feeds five others looking to scurry higher up on the ladder. Too bad, that the Lord Marshall deemed interfering in the operations of this station to be off limits. It would be good training for the gunners of the Regency's newest warships. Kalden sets down the weapon he was looking at and moves towards the parade of corpses. Malideus was always up to something interesting and they still had much to go over.

On'Tina steps out next to Izara and looks to a few people milling about the busy market, her lekku flicking at them as a few stop and murmur things in low tones before moving on. One of them brushes by and then she stuffs her hands into her pockets in one smooth move. The woman who had been dressed for so long in some formless mechanic's jumpsuit seems to have recently come into money or... had some sort of inspiration to rather suddenly update her wardrobe. She shifts around, working her arms around in the new leather duster and then she breathes in as she seems to spot Kalden through the crowd.

If Malideus didn't need the credits, he might have chosen a different time to deliver on the bounties. With so many people in the warren at this time, it's nearly impossible for him to keep an eye on everyone. Too many variables to consider at one time. Anything could happen, and Malideus was unarmed.

Still searching for the person with the other half of the pucks, Malideus looks into the faces of several people in the area. Some, he even recognizes. There is the shop owner of Paradise Garage, for example. She would want her droids back soon, and Malideus was all too eager to be rid of their presence. After giving Izara a long glance, he moves on to On'Tina, and the bounty hunter wonders quietly to himself if Maccus even had authority to loan out the droids. If they tried to charge him for their use, Malideus would not be pleased.

Then there are those Malideus does not recognize. The eight legged creature near the trinkets, for example. There is something about Naz that makes the hair on the back of Malideus's neck rise, and it's not the arachnid like qualities of his species. Something in the being's eyes, perhaps.

Before Malideus has a chance to spot and recognize the wise man that is Kalden, a pair of Weequay make their way behind the bounty hunter, their interest taken up entirely with the beings the droids are carrying. Malideus's bounty includes a Klatooinian, a Trandoshan, and three Weequay. One clearly dead, one unconscious and bound, and the last somewhere in between, with blood staining the captured alien's shoulder.

Malideus doesn't see them in time. He's caught by surprise when one of the free Weequay steps forward and puts a blaster at the back of the bounty hunter's head.

"You will not be taking Quirrl, hunter," the Weequay says. "Not today!"

The garage owner watches the progress with interest, meeting the hunter's look without waver. Izara lifts her chin in an up nod of respect. She briefly acknowledges On'Tina as she stops beside her. She gives a low whistle of respect. "That's a lot of bounties. Practically a small army!" she says as the parade passes by them and begins to move along from them.

When the Weequay pulls a blaster on Malideus, Izara gives a look to Dez. The Devaronian lieutenant moves forward swiftly to stand behind the armed Weequay, pulling a long blaster rifle from within his robes, and backed up by two humans and a Lesat, also heavily armed. Through his pointed teeth Dez says, "Fair catches, my friend. Better to back off than join them."

Nazshassi watches the parade of life and death, their images mirrored in the tiny universe his silvered eyes reflect. The entire parade and then coming confrontation sparked no true interest or concern in it. This was the way of things....creating consumption...it is the natural order of things.

Maccus arrives from the Cantina end. His hands bloodied from some work that he had to urgently take care of. Urgent enough to have left Izara and On'Tina. On his way back to the garage and his pocket richer with credits, he notices the Trandoshan, or at least what he thinks is and wanders toward that foray.

The arrival of the Weequay is not surprising given the nature of the station. Kalden had witnessed first hand the power contained within the hands of Malideus. Those two posed no threat, especially when backed by Izara's men. The agent has dealt with this sort of scum plenty of times. They were cowards and fought without honor. He knew that when two exposed themselves there was likely more hiding in the shadows, waiting to jump in should they find themselves in a fair fight.

Well trained eyes spot another Weequay waiting in ambush and a Trandoshan. The Weequay was much closer and so he becomes the target. Kalden moves silently, a hand silently snapping the leather strap off of the blaster contained within his holster. Using the cover of fleeing bystanders, the agent manages to put himself only a few feet away from his target. If it were not for the Lord Marshall's words he would have already fired. Instead Kalden's need to kill an undesirable alien is sedated by orders. Even then, Malideus was not of the Regency and he could not interfere on his behalf. Only a direct move against Kalden's life would do. A hand made pot rested harmlessly on the table in front of the Scout. The barrel of a blaster pistol slowly applies force, pushing it towards the edge so that it falls off, creating a loud clang as it hit the durasteel floor next to the ambushing Weequay...sure to startle it.

On'Tina flits her lekku up at the ends as she watches people start to pull blasters and she tilts her head to spot Maccus over her shoulder. She pulls her own blaster and it warms up with a run of Celestine light down the sides and she looks out at the gathering of Weequay and seems to work on counting the ones she can spot. She shifts her stance on her feet and calls out across the Square in half-hissed Huttese, "** Not worth it boys... there's loyalty and then there's suicide... missed the boat on finding a pair... better luck next time **"

The Weequay that got the drop on Malideus freezes when the Dez brings his rifle to bear. The other Weequay, shorter than the first, and wearing an old battered Regency breastplate that's 2 sizes too large for him, makes a play for his weapon, but is stopped when On'Tina calls out to them.

That could have been the end of it. But sometimes matters take on a life of their own. The bit of pottery pushed by Kalden is the bell that cannot be unrung. It falls, and for Malideus of the Wood, time seems to slow.

He sees a momentary slice of a possible future. The crash is followed by blaster fire, everywhere. Not just those involved in the immediate scene, but other vendors and patrons, already on edge, draw their weapons and begin firing. It is too much for the Weequay behind Malideus to handle, and he squeezes the trigger. The vision ends with Malideus dead on the ground. It is a bell that cannot be unrung. The bit of pottery will smash and guns will go hot. There is nothing Malideus can do about that.

Malideus snaps back to the present. His eyes flick to a food vendor. The True Source flows through him, connecting him to a length of wood smoking with meat and vegetables, a Telmarian Kabob. Malideus focuses. The Kabob takes flight.

The pottery hits the ground, a startling crash of sound. Fingers tighten on triggers.

The wood from the Kabob jams under the trigger, just as the Weequay squeezes to fire. Malideus ducks.

The chaos opens up. Whatever happens next, Malideus has no vision. He has no weapon. And there are a lot of nervous and angry people with guns all around him.

Dez doesn't hesitate once the Weequay begins to squeeze the suddenly jammed trigger. But it's too late to stop the load of blaster fire that comes out the end of the rifle. Luckily Malideus ducked as the head of the Weequay explodes in a flash of burning carbon and gore. He swings the rifle around at the other two Weequay that came up to Malideus with the now headless one.

Izara meanwhile ducks behind a table, tugging at On'Tina to join her behind cover even as she sees the Twi'lek pulling her blaster. Izara generally only carried a knife around the Bastion and she pulls it from her boot to be ready should brawling begin.

Maccus doesn't seem to notice much about what's going on at first. His eyes turn and gaze about everywhere and when the first shot is fired his blaster is drawn and his left arm is brought up and steadying his bloodstained hands. Maccus rushes to the over turned table seeking cover behind it.

There was no master plan behind Kalden's actions today. No plan to test the abilities of Malideus to see if he was worthy of the plans dreamed up for him so many weeks ago by the Agent, since meeting the outcast. It was nothing more than pent up frustration and disdain for the particular alien in front of him that caused his actions today. The need to lash out when his hands have been tied by those who seem to lack the vision he possesses.

The pot falls slowly, stilled in time by the heightened senses of others. It is more than a pot to those who can see the future, those who might call themselves prophets. Adorned across the skin of the pottery is the galaxy of Cresh itself. Star systems lining the walls as they do in space. For so long they have known stability and peace. Soon, the galaxy would be shattered. Just as the pot shatters in slow motion when it hits the ground.

The Weequay does startle, his blaster pistol turning in the direction of Kalden as his attention is drawn towards the noise. In the background, blaster bolts echo from star systems far away. In front, the Regency stands tall, ready to strike those who refuse to submit. Kalden's boot crashes into the chest of the alien, pinning him against the crate of wares he was hiding behind. His blaster follows in short order, casting a crimson bolt into the head of a man who's name he would never know. The boot falls light and the body slides to the ground.

Kalden studies the corpse with interest while ionized air wafts from his barrel into the air. Just as this one alien was crushed under the heel of the Regency, so too would the rest of the Galaxy. Those here did not know it but soon, the pot and their reality would be one and the same.

On'Tina seems to try and half protest as Izara drags her down behind the turned over table but then the shots start to fire and she hunkers her shoulder against it to brace herself and presses inwards. She peeks over the top of the table her lekku tipping up at the ends in curiousness as she tries to consider the lay of the battlefield. There's a moment, just a moment where she goes stock still and she seems to concentrate on which target she might be considering might not be obvious given her flat expression.

But then someone else decides to set fate moving forward and another of the Weequay feels he'll somehow be the one to win the odds and steps forward and fires into the growing fray and she fires a streak of Celestine light that hits him in the knee and topples him to the ground, "<>" she half sighs to herself in Ryl.

There is little Malideus can do to calm the storm. But then, as Kalden puts down one Weequay and On'Tina decommissions another, perhaps all the bounty hunter has to do is weather it.

Covered in gore from the blast by the Devaronian, Malideus pivots, twists, and throws himself back to take cover behind the lifter droids. One shop vendor nearby pulls a blaster the size of Malideus's leg from beneath a counter and points it in the bounty hunter's direction. Malideus ducks. The vendor squeezes the trigger and a Nahrahm patron standing on the other side of Malideus is cut down screaming. Other personal vendettas play out like that. Tensions in the market had been building for some time. All they needed was the excuse.

Those ambushing the bounty hunter for his prize dwindle in numbers. But there is still the female Trandoshan, mate to one of the corpses sitting in one of the droids' arms. This Trandoshan is not interested in anything but vengeance. She charges forth, drawing a massive vibroblade. Her target is the bounty hunter, the one she believes killed her lover.

Malideus reaches towards the weapon vendor Kalden had stood near before, the True Source latching onto the large, impractical weapon the Regency Scout had been admiring. It twitches. Shifts. And then it's in the air.

Malideus's leather gloved hand catches the hilt and he brings it up to parry the vibroblade in the last possible moment. The bounty hunter doesn't have time to counter attack. It's all he can do to hold the larger Trandoshan at bay, and perhaps only for the moment.

With the first assailant put down, the tall, muscular Devaronian swings his long rifle up and around watching for who to hit next. He watches Malideus roll away and stalks towards his direction. The rifle held to his shoulder as he uses the sight to pick his next target and one vibroblade wielding Trandoshan comes into view. Not long after Malideus parries, Dez squeezes off another round, spewing carnage all around the area as he blows a hold in the Trando woman's torso.

Izara scowls. This wasn't good for anybody that lived here on the station, and the assailing Weequay and Trandoshan do not. "We gotta shut this down!" she calls out to On'Tina then looks to find Maccus on the other side of her. She stays down between the two and grumbles. Who knows if someone would use something that could breech a part of the station's hub and then they'd all be kriffed. "Dank farrik! This is ruining my day!"

Maccus looks up at the familiar voices and goes "Oh. Hey. Come here often?" As he more speaks at On'Tina than Izara. Maccus peaks over the edge, asking toward On'Tina, "Target count?" Before ducking his head back down.

With the first target dispatched in short order, Kalden takes a moment to slide into some cover. There were too many combatants to track every potential shot. Standing in the open was a good way to meet a similar fate as others. The Agent is about to throw his own vibrosword towards Malideus, only for that crude weapon to wind up in his own hands to parry the incoming blows. He is about to lay into the Trandoshan with his pistol when a Devaronian uses a powerful rifle to tear the creature apart. "Dropping like flies" Kalden muses to himself. Instead of shooting the shopkeep, Kalden fires his armor's grappling line at the large rifle he wields. Just as the line passes the weapon the line is locked and the end whips around several times. With a quick pull on the line, the shopkeeper is disarmed and there is one last combatant at play... unless he has more weapons.

On'Tina tilts her head as she keeps her gaze on things and she flicks her right lek four times, "Three... that I can spot... four if you count the one in the doorway who seems to still be debating if he wants in on this or not of if he's gonna pull a runner... " and she squints.

The nature of the fighting has shifted. The initial explosion of violence has dissipated, and what 's left appears to be more calculated and controlled attacks, the product of vendetta and scheming, the kind of animosity that can flare up and die down and linger for years, perhaps decades.

The freshly disarmed shop owner, having decimated their rival, looks in the direction of Kalden and the disappearing rifle, but makes no further move towards violence. They lower their head and begin closing down their shop, moving their wares into the protective custody of durasteel bins.

When the Trandoshan is dispatched, Malideus looks at the unfamiliar weapon in his hand, then drops it on the ground. It was not meant for his hands.

"Come," Malideus says to the droids. He keeps his head low and remains light on his feet, but the personal danger to Malideus is past. Those that remain fighting are not interested in the bounty hunter or those he's captured. The interested parties have met their fate.

Malideus begins to lead the lifter droids and the bodies back the way he'd come.

Izara looks from On'Tina to Maccus as they prepare to take action. The boss lady will stay right where she is, thank you very much. Though it seems the fighting is beginning to die down. The blaster fire is more sporadic and likely more precise. The moans of the wounded and dying begin to rise above the hum of the ever turning station.

Dev decides it's time to get Izara out of there. His rifle still hoisted to his shoulder, the Devaronian walks backwards, towards the overturned table and moves behind it preparing to cover the escape of Izara and anyone else under cover nearby who wishes to flee.

Maccus takes a deep breath. Noting where and which places On'Tina has referenced. In his head he counts the shots. One....two.....misfire... Maccus peeks up, aims and fires. Dropping one of the Weequay with a clean hole through its head. Another turn and another shot, aiming and hitting the Weequay at the door before finding cover once more. "Two left. I don't have eyes."

Kalden detaches the cord from his armor and holsters his weapon. Malideus was on his way out unharmed from the ambush which left him with no more reason to keep firing. The scout takes a moment to take a look around at the others gathered. On'Tina he remembers from the beach on Valentine's world. The others, Izara and Maccuss were faces he had not interacted within the past. He would have to make a point of checking them out while he was on this station. He had hopes that they were just the sort of people he needed for a mission he was putting together. For now he needed to make his own exit less once again the Lord Marshall get on his case for causing problems on this station.

On'Tina breathes out as the battlefield seems to mostly clear and she sets her blaster at her holster and buckles it back into place seeing that evidently the fun was mostly over and people weren't getting arrested today... at least. She scoots back as Dev starts to clear the way and she stays low to the ground to tuck out, tugging on the leg of Maccus.

The bounty hunter and his droids make there way out of the warren just as station security shows up, many wearing shock-trooper style armor and carrying stun rods and plasma rifles. The way of violence is not new on Orum's Bastion, and it has it's own way of dealing with outbreaks, like a body developing an autoimmune response.

For the most part, the fighting is stopped before the troops can do anything. One or two particularly passionate individuals, unable to quell their rage in time, or caught, disarmed, and hauled away, the potential of their danger snipped as a gardener might trim a hedge.

As the dust settles, a human that had been hiding in the shadows steps out, pulling a communicator from their armored jacket.

"I have eyes on the prize," he says quietly. "Tracking now."

It is unclear who this individual is looking at and tracking.