Log:Clan Kora: Uninvited Guests

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Uninvited Guests

OOC Date: January 6, 2022
Location: Taris
Participants: Valeska Kora (GM), Hadrix Kora, Khalim, Bizz Bliptettjupp, Hahtavi Kora, Sumi Kora, Hapvarnna, Clan Kora

Taris. A planet in abundance of two things: a continuous, sprawling city blanketing the land masses and a deep, once-polluted sea. The city, like many other known ecumenopolies, is home to a built-in caste system based on wealth and verticality where the closer one is to the surface, the more desperation reigns. Whereas at the top of countless spires live the ridiculously privileged; so far up into the clouds that even looking down their noses does not burden them with the sight of the faceless rabble below.

It is in at the crown of one of these highrises that the target, Nash Solimar, is the host of a soiree of exorbitant excess. Fine wines literally run through fountains and exotic foods are nibbled upon idly while those far, far below starve. Those in attendance -- aside from heavy security presence -- are some of the biggest, local movers and shakers such as nobles, politicians, and magnates along with the throng of wealthy party-goes who do little else but.

The Kora Clan know Nash by another moniker: 'The Architech.' And that is what will soon see his monthly shindig crashed. But he is unaware of that as he currently sits in a large, black leather chair with his grey hair combed back and a brightly-coloured cocktail in his hand as he waits the next guest to be shown in.

"Ah. Mr. Nim," he notes aloud as Khalim is being shown past the pair of guards. Nash doesn't even pretend like he's going to stand; instead offering a nice yet smaller seat across from him. "What can I do for you?" Asked in a tone and with a grin of an unspoken 'what can you do for me?'

On the roof, above the party. Hadrix, Sumi and Hapvarnna are positioned over the apartment where this VIP soiree is occuring; waiting for an indicator of where they need to 'make their entrance' from. The big man hunkered to keep himself from being fully skylined while waiting.

<<"Hahtavi, keep close to Bizz, Lady Fae is there as well. I have your signals on tracking, give me distance between you and the target once you have him in sight.">> det-tape cutting charges held in a roll around one arm while he looks to the others up top with him. Helmet lifted enough that he has to use his bionic for HUD readings while he puffs at a cigarra, one hand up and cupped around to hide the ember; one can't be too careful even up here.

"Sumi, Ori'Hap, you have charges I assume?" hefting his in a curious gesture.

The history of Taris is that of control. From the eternal clash of great galactic powers, to more subtle powerplays by individuals and criminal empires. Today's Taris resembles that more subtle means of mastery. Subtle, at least, from the perspective of armadas and legions, because to those living in desperate poverty there is nothing subtle about the war that surrounds them every day. Occasionally one finds an unexpected champion.

Here, within the highest reaches of one of Taris's most notable towers, Khalim finds himself within a den of the world's worst. Smartly dressed, a well-fitted space tuxedo displays an antiquated (and yet more stylish for it) cut. His right eye is concealed by a snugly taut eye patch, its oval surface graced with crimson and black geometry similar in shape to that Mirialan artistry worn upon his face. Running behind the patch is a wicked looking - yet healed - scar, driven by a weapon that had left a bone-rending trail of damage from brow to cheek.

Khalim smiles, though it's an expression that doesn't quite meet his remaining good eye. A hand dips to adjust his jacket as he takes the offered seat. "I appreciate your invitation, Mr. Solimar. Your hospitality is famed, and to bear personal witness is a feat I'd not thought to accomplish in a lifetime." Buttering him up. Khalim's a smooth one, and that smile continues to rest easily. It even manages to touch that one good eye, if only for a moment. Effort. "I come with a simple request, and an offer of reasonable compensation." Khalim leans back; to /look/ relaxed is at times more important than to feel it. "You own a property in the lower levels." Several, they both knew. "A den I have to say I quite admire. And you hold an... acquaintance's... bill of servitude. She is unlikely to ever pay it off. I would like to pay it off for her, or otherwise acquire her bill for myself." A pause, and Khalim's gaze fixes with the man opposite him.


Khalim had just spoken a name synonymous with fortune. And profit. A Twi'lek dancer of reputation. Owned by one Mr. Nash Solimar.

Bizz has disguised himself as a waiter in a formal tuxedo-like getup that is popular among the upper class Tarisian butlers, footmen, head butlers, and valets. He is pushing around a multi-tiered hover-table stacked with fancy hors d'oeuvres. "<<I'm, uh, looking for the target,>>" he mumbles into his hidden ear-com-piece. He's also looking for a computer port that isn't too obvious, so he can slice into this fellow's systems.

Among the party goers, Hahtavi has already arrived, shown his classy but well forged ID passing himself off as 'Mr Shilheim Nassau' of an old noble family lineage of Coruscant. No doubt one of the many who have since fled that troubled world. As long as the Mandalore born man keeps his faded but native accent muted, it might even pass since few know his home world well enough to pick it out.

Music is playing and 'Shilheim' slips through the various rooms. Mostly chatting up the ladies of course, carrying a goblet of very nice wine that he's barely touched. All the while his pale grey eyes are sharp and watchful.

The very discrete ear bud produces Hadrix's muted voice. Hahtavi has currently arranged himself in a quiet-ish aside where he can keep an eye on the guests being ushed through security in to see Mr. Nash. Quietly he acknowledges, "Bizz I can locate. Easily done." Lady Fae he hadn't seen yet.

Detaching himself from an older gentleman and two ladies with whom he'd been listening to discuss Coruscant, 'Shilheim' starts moving leisurely in the direction he'd last seen Bizz... along he way Haht's set his wine glass down and pretends to be seeking another drink.

As for himself, he is dressed in fine, soft black and grey leathers that have been cut and fit to his frame, well tailored. It almost makes Hahtavi look lean and elegant - except perhaps for the scars across his face and his missing finger.

Sumi Kora stands at the edge of the building looking down at the lights of the night city. At this height, there is always wind, and its what takes hold of her cape and keeps it forced to one side. Her cape isn't the only victim to the wind, the same could be said for her hair, and the smoke she keeps between her scarred lips. Sumi seems content to stare into the dark horizon until the core-world gravel accent of Hadrix beckons her back by calling her name.

She turns back, lifting her chin in a 'what?' fashion, but the question comes back to her and she pulls the smoke free to breathe out in one burst. "There, in the bag. It's behind you. -- I'm drek with explosives." Just like she was drek with sneaking. Sumi keeps her gaze upon her companions from then on, adjusting slightly with the firm jerks of the wind as it moved her cape and hair. She left the grunt work to the experts, she was a gunslinger, not a saboteur. "You think Fae got all dolled up for this? I bet she spent hours getting her hair done.." Sumi intones to Hadrix, chuckling.

Up top, there is a great figure, tall and /gleaming/. Oranges and reds. Flames. Ori'Hapvarnna, despite his height, has crossed his legs and is twisting live wires together. Shells. Old Czerka ammunitions. There's little sparks. <"Heeee! Charges, he says. Charrrrgesssss. Never seen firrr-rrr-rrr-rrre suppression before?"> The trilling of the Togruta's tongue can be heard over comms, while charged crystals from a rifle are connected: With det-tape.

-- It's a regular, down home hootenanny. A bastardized version of it with floating chandeliers and small pyramids of tiny foods. And not a single pig-in-a-blanket. The guests are dressed to the nines in their finest finery. And even more glitz on top of that. One particularly smart gentleman turns momentarily away from a haughty conversation in order to pick up a small torte or crack with fish eggs. What he gets is a faceful off Ugnaught. The man's nose scrunches up so much it looks like some invisible fist punched it and with a very audible and deliberate "Ugh" he turns away.

-- Hahtavi mingles with the crowd without much cause for alarm. He's caught the eye of an older woman. Silver-haired and expensive facelifts but still rocking it. Somewhere in her fifties, the cougar in a pantsuit weaves through; intercepting Hahtavi as he seems to be looking for another drink. "I don't see a date on your arm, young man." She's also not a shy woman, grabbing a goblet from a passing, human waiter and offering it to him. "I can rectify that."

-- Those on the roof have an amazing view of the quadrant. It's well into the night and the planet is lit up. Even the ocean is alive with the lights of boats and shoreside parties. And a wicked blowing wind. No one in their right mind would be. It's sloped. It's dangerous. It's downright insane.

-- Nash raises an equally grey brow to the proposition that Khalim lays out. "You're a man of taste, Mr. Nim, but I will admit I do not know the name. If you tell me the establishment, however, I am sure I can check the roster." There is a slight grin to his lips; as if feigning the idea that he wouldn't bother himself with learning the names of those under his boot. Only the properties and endeavours make him money, afterall. Not the poor sods slaving away at them.

Coruscanti lilt thickening as Hadrix rumbles, "Hapans. But how often does she get dolled up to dazzle the town?" then relaxing it again while checking his forearm mounted pad display, checking it against his bionic with a shutting of his left eye. "I'd have destroyed my suit when things got messy. Expensive." puffing again and checking the explosive roll,

"It's going to get very messy too, heavy guards... this sonuvabitch owes me, too, for time wasted on Bespin." head tipping to the side to get a crick out of his neck. Moving at a half crouch towards the edge of the building, to see the lights spilling out of the windows of the floor below, or what of it that can with likely boosted opaqueness settings on the transparisteel.

"Patrol speeders." pointing with his chin, for Sumi and Hap to see before he is edging back inwards, watching signals again, hunkering and mumble singing some odd snatch of some old tune that sounds suspiciously like Rom-Com holovid fare.

Khalim receives conflicting messages, that Nash may be willing to entertain what has been propositioned as a business transaction... but that subtle quirk to the man's grin is an expressed red flag. He smiles. "Vorn's Den, a lifetime lower in strata, and importance, than where we sit right now. It's an earner, and one I don't intend to compete with." That smile takes on its own quirk, and Khalim stares as if with two eyes. "You know who I am, and the circles I keep. This is not a demand, obviously. It's a personal request."

Bizz thinks perhaps he has spotted a secluded computer terminal, but he is blocked by a member of the saucy upper crust. "Oh, won't you try the Colo Clawfish caviar? Or perhaps some grilled sea-cucumbers-in-a-blanket? And the stuffed Plavonian starfish is exq-" The short Ugnaught's wares are ignored and the gentleman makes a face like a slapped arse. Bizz just moves along, pushing his hovering table with its overhanging drape nearer to the double doors. <<"I bet he's behind those double doors. 2 big guards. North side.">> he whispers into his hidden com-link. SUDDENLY, he spots a computer terminal behind a taller-than-Ugnaught-sized vase. He scoots his hover-table that way. Nonchalant.

Finding the slim, silver haired older woman attaching herself to his arm and offering him a drink certainly distracts him from what he'd been looking at - an ornate door down the side hall with two security personnel. 'Shilheim' turns his attention to the cougar and allows his gaze to slide all over her ere his mouth quirks into a lopsided smile, baritone low.

"She ran into an old friend, distracted." At his ease he allows his gaze to slip oer the area around them briefly as though looking for her - Lady Fae, but also tracking whatever Bizz is about. "I rather expect to have to extract her from a number of would be suiters. Perhaps you'll allow me to check on where she's hiding and then you and I might share a drink? I shan't be but a moment."

All he needs is to disengage long enough to get things moving. And give Haddles a double cluck of his tongue right after Hahtavi hears Bizz's reply, to second it. Now, where is that Lady Fae? She'd be right useful just now showing up.

Where is Lady Fae Renta?

The golden haired Hapan beauty is, in fact, dolled up for the occasion wearing an expensive ensemble of midnight blue that catches the latch of the room perfectly. Paired with glittering silver and sapphire jewels to bring out the natural blue of her eyes, Lady Fae is at the center of gossip and hoity-toity talk. She expertly cuts into the conversation with all the know-how of a highborn, and stands with her hip pointed one way, one arm crossed over her torso supporting her other, which holds a sparkling glass of amber bubbly. She's already on her second, and her cheeks are a bit flushed. Perhaps she's gotten a bit too enthusiastic about this assignment, but these were her people! Sort of. Politics here lacked the certain edge that Hapans called cloak and dagger, and the notion for politics here had little to do with anything stately, and more to do with keeping the rabble down below.

"I mean, the security /outside/ the windows.. what are they going to do? Miracle up to the grand heights and come through the windows?! Hahaha.." Fae triggers laughter from the whole group surrounding her, and raises her glass to sip, observing how eyes settle upon her in subtle ways. The attention was enough to make a girl appreciative, and Fae shows that with a small, impossibly beautiful smirk.

Sumi grunts and shakes her head. "She gets dolled up and brings strays home. You feed a dog once and it keeps coming back, I tell her. Being Mandalorian is a little too liberating for her." Sumi says, following Hadrix to the edge to look over. "Well, rekk. That complicates things. Should we drop an ion grenade..or.." Sumi was out of ideas that didn't involve just laying waste to the patrols. A rough hand comes up to cup and rub her chin. Nope, nothing.

There comes a highlight on the HUDs of those with their helmets or visors on: A long antennae atop is highlighted in orange. Numbers are running. A digital dot left to keep track of its location. The Horned-Dreadfinder is looking up from his work, even as wires are braided in white-and-red. <"T'ing is for singing to the Others, hm? First these must go. Yes, yessss."> A click of tongue over the comms, <"Ori'Hapvarrr-rr-rrrna is unsure if cutting will trip alarms. The Patrolman..."> The horned-head turns, T-visor glinting, <"It is a sad thing We, this Pack, do not have rockets to distract them. Idle Spirits, They are.">

It's then that Hapvarnna turns his focus back to the bombs in his lap - frag grenades opened up, being re-wired into a bundle.

-- The two burly men at the double doors eye the oddly placed Ugnaught among a sea of humans. Taris' most wealthy are also some of the most xenophobic, afterall, and these two grunts aren't any different. Noting Bizz's uniform and tray o' goods, one nudges the other with an elbow and says something in a low, gravelly voice. Whatever it is, the other bursts out laughing and takes it a step further; giving Bizz a rude gesture. Then the pair promptly ignore him fully.

-- The cougar in question doesn't even bat at the revelation that tonight's target has a date. "Well, well." The silver-haired woman croons with a pack-a-day purr and then drowning it with what most frat houses would call a chug of her liquor. "Just like a young woman to leave her beaux unattended where anyone could just swoop in and whisk him away. Say to the golden beaches of---" A group nearby burst into laughter and the Silver Lady turns to see a beautiful Hapan living it up. This, of course, causes her wrinkles to crease despite the space botox. Jealousy is a hell of a thing.

-- The promise of fun things to come builds on the arched top of the ridiculously tall skyscraper. Information begins to trickle in from their eyes on the inside. Now there's a location: the northern wall. And while that still encompasses the entire northern side of the building, the Mandalorians are equipped with more than enough know-how to get close. Perhaps even close enough depending on how precise they wish to be.

-- Nash is idly spinning his wine around within the glass nested in his palm then inhales it deeply. Appreciating the bouquet while Khalim speaks. He doesn't deign to answer right away. Instead, Nash makes the Mirilan wait while he appreciates a painting that comes up upon a framed screen in his wall. A slideshow of works he most certainly owns in their physical forms. "Indeed. I do know you, Khalim Nim." Pale eyes slide to the pear-hued man. "No one enters here without my knowing."

"We can attend them once they come up. If they don't know any better." winking at Sumi before he is looking over his shoulder back to Hapvarnna and then checking his displays. "Oh, they're playing our song, Sumi..." though he pats his bandoliers, "You could drop a detonator if you were of a mind. That'd get their attention." spitting the guttering stump of his cigarra out into open air as he turns. Though he does give time for Sumi to take one of the thermo-nuclear spheres if she so chooses.

<"Sumi and I have rockets to spare without bringing our shoulder launchers on this run."> Hadrix's helmet is back down and his vocalizer is distorting everything but the heavy gravel in his speech. Headed for the north side and trying to use indicators from those inside for a good fix before he is pinning down two strips of det tape in a point and then sets them to roll out while he walks to set a third down between the farther ends.

<<"Ori'Hap, Sumi. Danger close.">> Throwing a demo-tarp over the whole affair before moving to get clear before tapping a trigger on his gauntlet. Why the tarp? To direct the explosives, to open the hole. To muffle the sound outside... and to eliminate any minute flash. <<"Go! Go! Go!">>

That krykna-spider-sense tinges, the hairs on the back of Khalim's neck standing as he feels the atmosphere change. It's subtle, but the Mirialan senses a flowing undercurrent of danger. And yet, he is here for a reason. Not only he, but a certain Lorrdian have a want for this Twi'lek's freedom.

"Then you're aware of my offworld holdings. And my need for advertisement." Khalim's smile dissipates, and what is left is a man holding forth on business alone. "I have a need for advertisement. And I am willing to pay you, here, right now, thirty thousand credits for her contract. That's a premium over even a year's contract for a trained astrogator, or... chemist."

Khalim is worried that he's shown too many cards as it is. The man sitting opposite him is clearly observant. "I'll be honest with you," he adds, voice even. "Part of that clearing fee is a acknowledgement that I appreciate a personal favor. That I would remember."

Bizz grumbles about being disrespected by large bodyguards. He pushes his floating hover-table over to a giant vase - behind which is a computer terminal - and connects a wrist-comp to it. Then he goes to work tap-tap-tapping the datascreen, bypassing security, and looking for certain things. "<<They got a lot of security systems...>>" The Ugnaught deactivates a few while eating a fried thwip foot - a delicacy. And maybe a little clawfish caviar, because you can't pass that up.

A throaty, deep laugh but not loud. Hahtavi, aka 'Shilheim' looks like he's basking in the feminine attention. He reaches over his empty hand to pat the older elegant woman's slender hand on his arm, "I certainly don't mind to be wisked away occasionally, yet I brought my golden beach with me, you see...." The very blonde she's giving the evil eye for laughing so easily? Hahtavi inclines his head towards the lovely Hapen, slips his arm out of the cougar's and starts heading in Lady Fae's direction.

Gently he'll reach a hand out to lightly but firmly hook Lady Fae's shapely elbow, "My lady, surely you won't neglect me /all/ evening. Life of the party that you are, I need a word with you if you please. Over this way?"

It's a gamble whether she'll play along and give up her spotlight or repute him, but if she'll come along, Hahtavi begins to guide Lady Fae towards the ornate double doors. Very low he says for her ears only, "Time to have a blast... you know you want to." Let others watch them and think they are about to get into a spat right there in the hallway. Hahtavi's hands mime and his expression takes on annoyance...

SMACK! "Ugh, how dare you!" Cries out Fae, earning a moment of silence in the crowd, which promptly goes back to chattering as Fae's voice went lower to play along with the spat. In a low voice, Fae actually gushes, her cheeks red and expression filled with concern. Normally, she wouldn't care about smacking the lesser sex, but he was Kora, and he obviously didn't deserve it. Hahtavi has always been very kind to her, if not a little gruff! "I am SO sorry, Hahtavi, oh my goodness, did I hurt you. Ugh, I am just the worst, please forgive me. No. Say it.. " She says demanding a bit and cupping his chin with a small pale hand and begins speaking in a low tone. "..no /say it/ with your grizzled, stout chin and stern looks.. /Lady Fae, you are forgiven. Please forgive me for being so grumpy.. all the time, and hurting your hand with my bony face when you slapped me/.." Fae grins, drunkenly and leans forward to plant a kiss right on Hahtavi's lips. "You are forgiven." She finishes her bubbly then looks around. What were they doing again?

Sumi flicks her smoke into the wind and turns before she can see the gusts carry it back to smack her on the shoulder and shower spark/embers about. She has to brush her hair back before donning her helmet, but does so just in time for the small explosion and the Commander's call to go, go, go. Sumi follows, activating her jetpack before she could blow out both knees. The transition to her feet happens a second later, landing gracefully upon her toes and stepping it out by moving forward, then falling against the wall slightly. <"Ack.. drek, leg cramp. Rekk me..">

Hapvarnna is busy making what is, in effect, a network of grenades all wired together to go off with a single signal. He's already moving towards the antennae, to hang them like some kind of totem or wind-chime when the call to enter goes out. Even as the little rumble can be felt, perceived even, by his montral -- Hapvarnna presses a few buttons on a bracer, twists a cap and -- he charges backwards. A button is pressed except -- the rockets never fire. Instead, Hapvarnna lands on one knee. CRUNCH. Except the signal to the rockets did go through, and the Togruta in his Dreadfinder Armor is sent back up to the roof, only to come back down with a rough CRONCH-THUNK of that metal leg taking most of the force.

Is that...Togruta swearing one can hear over the comms?

-- The beauty of being among a bunch of specisist arseholes is that one can slip easily under the radar and cause all kinds of havoc. Case in point, no one seems to notice that a short, hairy man is hiding being a very large and very rare vase fiddling with the terminal. Nor do they notice that their perimeter motion sensor and sound-triggered sensors go offline. Also, somewhere in the building, someone is taking a lovely shower and that suddenly turns off, as well.

-- Hahtavi and Fae make their way through a crowd that is practically parting in order to get out of the line of fire. Nothing worse than a rich couple bickering. But that doesn't stop the crowd from staring. Oh, how they stare when the SLAP is heard. How agonizingly delicious! The gossip! The rumours! The uncomfortable looks men are giving their dates.

-- Setting down his drink, Nash calmly rises up from his seat. Hands tucked behind his back be moves across the space towards the personal bar and starts reaching for a bottle. "I do understand personal favours, yes. Worth more than a fistful of credits. Binding, you see." He pours a stiffer liquor into a stout glass then grabs the next bottle; so bright blue it looks to be glowing. "Thirty thousand is impressive. A good start. How about we say--"

The deal will never see its conclusion as a few feet outside of his room, the ceiling violently rips open and a trio fall in from the gaping hole. Instincts are immediate and Nash kicks the side of his bar, forcing a panel to slide open to reveal a blaster. "Guards! Guards!" As if they needed to be told. The pair of guards as well as several security goons saw it.

Watching the others go in, Hadrix springs back towards the direction of the whole at a quick jump step, head turning towards Hapvarna momentarily when he returns to the roof, <"Happens to the best of us."> tumbling forward, through the gap to hit the ground in a continuation of the roll and rise up, walking as if he hadn't just tumbled through a hole in the roof.

Pistol raised to put one massive slug into the stomach of one of the paired door guards, throwing him back with his head bursting like a fruit when the next round strikes. <<"Bizz, keep to cover or announce movement, I'll cover.">> still walking towards the nearby door with the cavern of his pistol barrel leveling on the next of those defenders. Thumbing back the hammer again with a sonorous 'keh-klunchk', cylinder rotating the next cartridge into position.

<<"You should run.">> trigger squeezed with the clap of heavy gunmetal immediately drowned out by the third report that is bound to set unprotected ears ringing and further enveloping the immediate area with the burning odor of gunpowder. <<"You should all be running.">>

He likes the chase.

Khalim seems pleased with Nash's response, and visibly relaxes as the Taris kingpin crosses to the nearby wetbar. That relaxation dies a moment later, as explosive commotion just outside draws the Mirialan's sharp, startled attention. Nash's call for guards compels a deep, exhausted sigh out of Khalim. "Kriffing..." No words follow, as he tenses, coils, and then bodily hurls himself at the the other man.

Effectively tackling Nash, Khalim has one arm pinning the kingpin's opposite, while his hand wrapped around Nash's neck in a partial choke. The reason? The barrel of a snug-fitted wrist laser is now visible, previously hidden by the sleeve of that Mirialan-cut tux jacket, pressing into soft flesh. "Done. I'm done here. Get your datapad out and release her contract. NOW. Or I put a hole through your neck." That wrist laser barrel and pressed, hard, as if to prove its existence. "NOW."

He's just about to rip into his Lady when Fae suddenly SLAPS him across his face! Hahtavi has a stunned instant of surprise and a hard, sudden effort to not allow reflex to react. A nice bright hand print coloring up his cheek but no real harm done - he can take it just fine. She's got nothing on a slap from Hadrix. /That/ followed by Fae blubbering and then kissing him!!! Well, that almost makes Hahtavi forget for a few seconds why the drek they are even here!

fBOOM! The explosion drops the ceiling out right outside the doors and down drops his teammates. Instead of giving Fae a reply, she gets a wink "Life of the party!" A concealed combat knife is pulled out of his leathers, the blade kept in close against his arm so it's not easily seen before Hahtavi's using it.

Instead of standing stunned like the party goers, this Kora turns away from Fae and sprints the short distance down the hall directly towards the remaining guard outside of the heavy doors. It's not pretty as he trips on debris and almost faceplants, managing to make a grab for the remaining personal guard and get the knife into him. The blade sinks between ribs and sinks under an arm. As soon as Hahtavi's jerked it free the man's body is falling to the floor littered with chunks of ceiling.

Do you think Space Botox still thinks he's sexy?

Sumi manages to straighten her leg and sort out the ailment that plagued it after a moment. The loud sounds of gunfire are what draw an impatient Sumi into moving by the larger Commander's side, squaring up to focus on the incoming security guards. Her hand moves to the holstered weapon at her hip and she adjusts the cape to tuck back. Tilting her head up, Sumi calculates the distance using a bit of Tatooine windage and draws her Enforcer in the blink of an eye. The motion that draws the weapon up coincides with the motion of her off-hand, which locks back the hammer of the single-action revolver with a loud clik-CLICK, and a subsequent BOOOSH!

In close quarters, i.e. indoors, this revolver going off had a side effect of dropping panties and blowing out ear drums. Sumi doesn't just fire it once, three shots are fanned out in quick succession. She obliterates two security guards and laughs.

Unable to hear for the tinnitus, and added ringing from her weapon, she screams, <"DID..YOU.. SEE THAT?! AHHHH!"> Sumi locks back the hammer again, this time by using just her thumb.

Lady Fae is left standing to one side, observing the violence with wide eyes and a drink tucked close. It seemed she wasn't going to get involved, but that was probably the Lady thing to do. She watches Hahtavi go to work, and turns to look for the staff with the tray holding more bubbly. Sadly, they were probably all running away. A shame, it was just getting good. It reminded her of home.

Much in the same way many Mandalorian missions go: it's pandemonium. The music is still going because the droid DJs weren't programmed to read a room. Only to play those sweet, sweet tunes. The crowd is still in shock... until the shooting starts. Several immediately starts to run for the many, many turbolifts that lead to the lower levels. Others run for the stairwells because they're not /too/ proud to break a sweat. So long as no one notices. A few hide under the tables and, of course, the wine fountain gets knocked over. It had to.

Security is spilling out from the crowds and while it's difficult to tell how many of them there are, six of them breech the throng of people to open fire on the assailants. Two are immediately neutralized by a tiny Mandalorian. The bodyguards also do not earn their paychecks; falling to the twin attacks from Hadrix and Hahtavi. Above is a loud explosion and just like that all communication between the floors cuts off. Confusion reigns. It's a practical blackout on the airwaves.

Inside the room, Khalim and Nash wrestle with each other, but Solimar finds himself thoroughly grappled and held at laserpoint. Head tilting back, Nash's pale eyes go momentarily wild; the glare of a killer just under the surface of the kingpin. "You're making a huge mistake, son." He clap of his hand on Khalim's wrist attempts to twist himself free but the Mirilan holds strong and Nash grunts; pressed against the bar. "You'd be wise to release me..." But now he isn't sounding so sure.

The Horned-Dreadfinder stands up behind Sumi Kora, taller than she, when that Enforcer kicks off the horned head turns away. Noise itself was painful for humans, but for Togruta it had the added effect of being distracting! For in that moment, Ori'Hapvarnna could see his world highlighted in those innate senses, all the motion and waves felt...his voice coming over comms as an excited gasp! <"SUUUUUUUUN! Sumiiii Korrraaaaa! SUUUUN!"> Said like Soon. However, the Togruta presses fingers into a hand, striking that detonation pin, and the building trembles as the chandelier of bombs goes off above - the Net-Gun that had been magnetized to his back now drawn, little sparks kicking off from the charge-pack as Ori'Hapvarnna begins scanning for his quarry.

He says nothing else, but moves off to that room where Nash fights, starting to chant in a growing crescendo. <"Brr-rrr-rrring down The Holy Prr-rr-rrey, says Suun. Face-to-Face with Teeth-to-Teeth. Darrrrk'aaaa, she whispers, to slit t'em throats, let arrows sing, be unknown.">

The Boar Wolf of Ealor's laugh at Sumi's bellowing is comparable and the pommel of his combat knife is thunked heartily against her shoulder pauldron. A pure and unfiltered sound of amusement, <"I THOUGHT THIS PARTY WAS GOING TO BE DULL!!"> No target sighted, he knows the face, but the big guards weren't stacked up on that wall for nothing. Still dealing with overstrained audial filters, his visor is on Sumi, <"I'M GOING TO KNOCK!"> laughing again and giving one more thump before he is in motion.

People make jokes about how rekking big Hadrix is. All sorts of jokes that he's so stanging big he must be a naked wampa. One time someone even said he was a two-armed gundark. Hell, one of the people closest too him regularly jokes that she's walking beside a shaved wookiee. Over twenty years spent in constant training, conditioning and work that has not stopped. Not in the old armor. Not in the old.

With the door guards down Hadrix's shoulders hunch and his body tucks as he starts to run, head ducking and a throat ripping roar threatens to blow out the vocalizer speakers on his helmet and what one or two party goers caught between him and his target are knocked aside like they've been struck by a beskar plated landspeeder. Blaster bolts reflecting off of the plates of his armor, forgotten the instant they fail to do more than become plasma raindrops against him.

Inside the office where Khalim is holding Nash, it -sounds- like a speeder is hitting the doors when they buckle. One bends inward, curling like a shaving of wood against a whittling knife and the other is torn clear from its mountings, it pirouettes on one corner tracing a spiraling gouge across the floor before violently embedding another in the wall, leaving an impact gouge and then slamming to the ground flatly with a WHOMPH.

Just inside, legs apart and weapons pointed at the floor, Hadrix Kora, Plan Besh, stands with his head down, shoulders rising and falling with each breath a liquid growl and the blazing red beacon behind the right branch of his visor burning bright enough to be reflected in the windows opposite the doorway. But the center of that T-shape is focused on Nash.

The pandemonium has shifted. The sounds of some kind of massacre drift in from beyond that entrance to Nash's sitting room; reports of blaster fire echo in rapid succession, and they near.

The man fights back. He fails, but the lack of acquiescence to Khalim's simple, simple demands enrages the man. There is NO TIME. The Mirialan roughly twists the grappled kingpin and first one and then a second jabs are delivered directly to his face. One rings off in a glancing blow, but that second... a bell is rung.

"Kriffing. Datapad. NOW." A slap follows.

It's at that moment that the ceiling, or a portion of it at least, caves. An armored behemoth descends, just there. Just right KRIFFING THERE. Khalim's attention shifts to the man, and there's a moment... a hinting moment of recognition. With a shocked tinge to his voice he says, "Hadrix?"

On the assumption that his Al'verde will get the guy and jet the hell out with him, and that /somebody/ will remember to grab his ass and give him a flight out after, Hahtavi keeps focused on lending what aid he may to Sumi's very impressive shooting. She BANGS them down about as fast as the securty personnel can come at them, and Hahtavi boldly goes to meet them, hacking, and stabbing with the knife.

The blade is bloody, his sleeve and his fine leathers are also getting bloodied, but so far he's not been shot. Far too busy to let himself focus on the fact that he's not wearing armor, got to keep moving. So far, so good!

And Lady Fae seems to be safe, keeping out of it. Grey eyes silvery bright, Hahtavi ducks and thrusts, then twists free of another man his blade has dropped.

<"GO GET EM, COMMANDER.."> Sumi says (yells) back, smacking his ass as he crossed into her lateral limit, forcing her to shift her lane of fire. Hahtavi's support is not ignored by Sumi, who joins her brother clansman by fanning out a hammered pair of shots that catch a guard in the stomach, then chest; that second shot spilling him backward in a cloud of pulverized misty red. Hapvarnna's SUUUUUUUN Sumiiii Korrraaaaa! SUUUUUUUUN! earns her curious gaze as she tracks the large creature when they pass by, net gun in hand. Not knowing what to say, she raises her hands, chanting.. <"YEEEEAHHH.. SUUUUUUUNNNN!"> A guard coming into the open triggers an instinctive response and Sumi discharges another thunderous shot that put them back through the threshold they just ran through. <"YOU HEAR THAT.. SUUUUN HUTTSUCKER, HAHAHA!">

Clik-CLICK, she's locked the hammer back again and twists in place to see a great deal of punishment coming to them. <"LET'S GO BOYS! HAAHAHA! SUUUUN!"> Sumi flicks her wrist up, sending her enforcer on a brief spin before planting it into her holster. Another weapon emerges, one made of electrum, and the SNAP-HISS that follows will inform the guards who just rushed her that they made a poor, poor decision, and they won't live to learn from it.

Ori'Hapvarnna is keyed into his mission. While Hadrix turns into a one-man breach charge, the Togruta comes behind him with that stun-rifle raised. It'll sound off next to Hadrix's head just as Khalim looks up, and Ori'Hapvarnna's targeting systems paint the green-man and Nash. FWOOMP!

The net shunts outwards, to wrap around the nearby chair, where it binds and micro-servos tighten until the leather begins to split followed by...a sudden arcing of electricity, while the Togruta reloads behind Hadrix.

The security is doing what security does best: swarm. The more the crowd flees to safer pastures, the easier it is for the personnel to converge like a hive. The only obvious threats left are the blue Mandalorian and a knife-wielding guy in a tux. A barrage of blaster fire later reveals that both are incredibly fast at moving. Suspiciously so. The guards spare a moment to look at each other with an expression are 'are you getting paid enough for this because I'm not' while some of their friends are actively being erased from existence. Then the snaphiss of violet death is conjured forward.

They collectively turn tail and run. Soon all that remains is Hahtavi, Sumi, and Fae sipping her drink.

Inside the room by the bar, the floor around them littered with broken bottles and shattered glass, Khalim has asserted his dominance over the situation with a hearty punchslap to the older man's noggin. With a grunt and a busted lip, Nash spits out a bit of blood to the side and growls. "Fine, damnit! Fine!"

But the new deal is interrupted once more. Handily. The door is busted down as if Kool Aide Man himself donned the mantel. And in the ruckus, there's an explosion of a netter capturing a very fine, very menacing armchair. But Nash's attention falls on the beast of a man huffing and puffing as if he were about to blow the whole building down. A man Nash very much recognizes. "Son of a Hutt's whore..."

<"Khalim?"> that heavy corewold twist of his words strengthening the second vowel, <"Bloody hell are you doing here?"> stalking towards the pair, <"We were in the neighborhood. Needed to pay a housecall... I need information and more fingerbones."> motioning to the particularly grisly set of decorations on one of his bandoliers and chinning a tab in his helmet, speaking over private comms, <<"Pheegus, bring it down. Greeza, Mir, get the turrets ready.">>

<<"Copy, Al'Verde.">> the response a mixture of the bass growmblings of the ithorian just below the synthesized voice of his translator collar.

Still moving until he's right up on the pair, <"He's coming with us."> pointing his knife at Nash, switching back to external comms and turning his hand to fire a quick-line from a launcher mounted in his gauntlet, watching it slam into the desk, <"Kriffing thing."> moving closer still. <"Old man, if you try to run I'm breaking all of your limbs and then we'll leave. Khalim. Don't make me use a weapon that works to make sure we get him."> growl deepening while the Woor'tra descends from the sky, falling on gravity and only engaging thrusters moments before impact, the lower bay doors open and over the breach hole in the roof.

Khalim's demeanor is one of surprise, but shared with a fury - increasingly suppressed - aimed at the man he's been slapping around, and threatening with a hole in the neck.

The Mirialan watches an ascension line slice just to his left, then shakes his head. "You can kill him for all I care, just so long as he uses his datapad first. And releases a friend from... indentured service..." Still grappling the kingpin, he marches Nash towards the assembling Mandalorians. "Have him. But please... honor my request, that I make to you in this moment, to force him to meet my demand."

Suddenly the Security force stops dead in their tracks, turns tail and starts running for their lives when Sumi ignights her light sabre. Hahtavi laughs, "I'd run too! Wise." He wipes his knife quickly on the nearest body and falls back, closer to the hole in the ceiling. "I'm going to need a lift out of here. Fae, too!"

Sumi of coure can get Fae out. Knife still at the ready, Hahtavi gets into a ready position for exfil, still wary of unpleasant surprises and on his guard until they are out.

Sumi allows the guards to make the right decision and retreat. She's thankful for it. It's not because the fight was going to be anything close to fair or one sided, but because it saved her the effort and didn't ruin Hahtavi's good suit. As they leave, Sumi triggers the deactivation of her weapon, which squeal in a sibilant manner, returning to its hilt. The weapon is clipped back to her belt and she looks to Haht, lifting her chin. <"You good, vod?">

Lady Fae continues to stand off to one side, and when Sumi's mirror visor lines up with her, she huffs an exasperated sigh and sets her glass down. "It could have waited till I had more wine..you should have seen. They loved me." Fae steps closer to Sumi and lifts her arms. <"Oh? You want me to carry you?"> Sumi asks, and Fae nods her head. Sumi holds up a finger and pulls her ascension gauntlet off. <"Haht.. here. Should take you up.">

Then she looks to Fae, and gestures for her to come on. Two attempts are because of awkwardness, the second was that Fae stood on Sumi's cape, earning a grumpy, <"God damn it, Fae..your heels are on my ca--thank you." Third time was a charm and Sumi hoisted Fae into her arms modestly. <"HEADING UP, COMMANDER. ALL GOOD OUT HERE!"> A second later, and Sumi's jetpack lights, and she carries Fae up to the Woor, gently setting her down when they're safely aboard. Fae plants a small kiss to the side of Sumi's helmet for the trouble.

The net-rifle remains raised and pointed at Nash, whatever they were talking about is so far above or beyond Ori'Hap's concerns and paygrade. Instead, that 'T' levels, and a button is pressed so the shock-charge Sparks to life at the end of the rifle.

Ori'Hap then fingers the trigger, holding the door while Hadrix moves over. <"Sssuuumiii Korrrr-rrr-rrraaaa."> The name spoken over internal lines in that same chanted expression. He cannot yet turn his eyes away from The Prey - but she is felt. Detected. Until that rocket pack is heard, and there is more sparking to the end of his rifle. A step in, to the side, and Hadrix is now out of line-of-fire, instead it remains Khalim and Nash.

It is the party that will be talked about for ages amongst the Taris elite and beyond. The precise razing of a stronghold and subsequent kidnapping of Nash Solimar. The power vacuum his absence creates will be filled in faster than a Nar Shaddaa pothole with rain. But it is the ripples that quake outwards that will outlast this moment.

Not long after the rooms of the penthouse fall silence in the aftermath that one of those ripples makes its way to the Expansion Region to a planet of perpetual night. In a large estate on Umbara, the news is delivered to the backside of a tall chair facing away.

"Solimar?" The voice on the otherwise is male. Calm. Thinking

"Yes, sir."

"I see." A ringed finger gently taps onto the arm of the chair then lifts to gesture to the man at his door. "Let us prepare for visitors."

"Yes, sir."

The sound of the door closes and the finger starts to tap again slowly. Tap. Tap. Tap.