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Karter

Force Adept
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126 Kind of a Big Deal

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About Karter

  • Rank
    Knight Of Sangraal

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  • Alignment
    Corruption I
  • Social Point Purchases
    (Light Freighter) XS Stock Light Freighter - 10SP
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    Not Telling
  • OOC Account
    Alex Murphy
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    5

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  1. In The Land Of The Barabel!

    Karter looked at him, let out a harsh, dry, but ultimately unfeeling chuckle. "Where were you on Uriek when we needed you?" He asked sarcastically. "You may not like giving up on people. Hell, you may risk all for them. Risk death to preserve their secrets. It still won't stop most of them from abandoning you when the going gets tough. Sooner you learn that, sooner you know to expect it." He needed to meditate. "Keep practicing, Mr. Vonnar. I'll be in my quarters. After you are done, tell me how close we are to Barab One. Take us in once you find a space to land but whatever you do, do NOT land during daytime. Only night. The sun will cook us. And make sure you don't bother with regular blasters, take that sonic and put on your radiation gear," he ordered, heading into his quarters, picking up that orange synth and meditating further on it, forcing more of his hate into the small crystal. He then took out the holoprojector and played it again, watched that Jedi kill what was left of his comrades on Deralia, watched his movement's with the double bladed lightsaber, studying how he manuvered it around his body, studied that strange homing projectile he comjured, how he absorbed energy, a skill Brison knew well. His fury swelled in him as he heard the Jedi's words at the end of it. The gall behind them. He had been thinking of this man, thinking of those words deep down as he slew that Jedi on Alderaan. More wisdom. That was what he had said. That Jedi's words had gotten his brethren killed. Ha. Take that. He'd think of those words every time he killed another Jedi, from now on. The focus of his hate would eat those words, wherever he was, even if it was hell. He shut it off, his rage stoked, and closed his eyes, withdrawing to the Dark Side in him.
  2. In The Land Of The Barabel!

    "It wasn't an instant thing...some hatreds take a long time to form. To be justified. Me? I did not hate the Order originally. I was indifferent to it. And then...my brother was born..." Karter was not certain why he was answering...perhaps he needed to voice the reasoning behind his recent decisions out loud, see if someone, anyone could understand why he hated the Order...even if they could not sympathize. "He was just a child when he grew that tree with his mind by accident. It was a beautiful tree, full of flowers...but the act sealed his fate. The Force runs strong in my family, who, even if we did not give children to the order, used our innate talants to hunt Darksiders. It is a foolish loyalty. And it has brought us nothing but pain and suffering. And when the Jedi of Tython came, for my family refuses Green Jedi recruiters due to long standing and ancient prejudices, my father at first refused to give him to the order, as he had with me...but...my mother had other ideas. My brother was stronger in the Force than I was. Nobody pulls off a technique like that at that age normally. My sensitivity to the Force didn't begin until I was much older. When I had...done things..." Karter paced about, spinning his simple laser pistol with a deftness that was truly a sight. The trigger guard seemed to glide around his finger as though it were in orbit. "Taking my brother was the start of it all, I suppose. The start of it...but not the end of it. As I told you when we first met, the Jedi are NOT the good guys in all this. They killed my comrades themselves or had soldiers and bounty hunters do it for them...all because we didn't want to obey their every silly rule. They talk about peace and tolerance, but the moment you step out of line...they bring the hammer down. Encounter enough of them yourself, look past their facade, and you will see only a dogmatic zealot. The younger ones, the padawans aren't so bad...most of them still have their independence...but the older ones are insufferable. Might as well be drones. And hypocritical ones at that. They look down on your profession...and yet, when times are rough, some become willing to overlook your criminal activity in exchange for being able to get somewhere undetected. They talk about wanting to protect ordinary people yet devorce themselves from a normal life. How can you protect someone if you can't relate to their situation?" Karter stopped, turning to Kal. The Demon was still behind Vonnar. "Definitely cocky. Arrogant. Coincidentally all these things describe you as well," the hallucination cooed, blinking all red eyes while smiling mischievously. Kal then asked how he did. Karter looked at the two spheres he had managed to shoot. "Well your hand-eye coordination is excellent if nothing else." Karter then looked at Vonnar. "You ask if it was worth it? The Dark Side? Here, let me enlighten you: It ends poorly for every Darksider, regardless of their standing or power. They either die in battle, die alone, or die betrayed. People like me don't get happy endings. Does it have benefits? Yeah. It makes you stronger, faster, able to endure more, and for longer. Gives you access to lethal abilities..." Karter looked at an empty can nearby and held out his hand. He focused, and after a few short seconds it exploded from the inside. "Now, imagine if that had been your arm," Karter explained. He then looked at a bucket nearby and focused. He strained, struggling to recall how it had felt when Ryleya had shocked him. He used his hate to focus that memory of pain, make it leap outward. He strained, throwing his rage at that humiliating moment into his fingers, smelling ozone suddenly. He struggled to let it out, taking deep breaths. And then he focused on the pain he had felt when he realized Brison had abandoned him. The rage and heartbreak surged into his chest, then his arm. It was a small bolt, nothing impressive. But it blew the bucket backward. "You get the idea," Karter said after a moment, wincing as he felt a scorch mark on his hand. "Is it worth it? If you want revenge and don't care about the afterward...you bet your rich boy ass its worth it."
  3. In The Land Of The Barabel!

    "Your reflexes are too slow," Karter critiqued the young man, lifting a small metal ball with telekinesis and hurling it at a speed that while it would hurt if it connected, wouldn't be fatal, right at Kal's chest. "Shooting small, fast moving targets, is a difficult but worthwhile skill. When you get good at shooting small targets moving quickly, you get better at shooting larger ones with wide profiles and moving slower. Its reflexes, split second decision making, and a general willingness to go for lethal shots that will make you a marksman with pistols. Always go for the chest, to be practical, head if you're good, and have high confidence." To demonstrate, Karter took small metal spheres from a table, a weakened laser pistol for himself and hurled them Kal's way. His reflexes kicked in and the world seemed to slow down as he took careful aim, as they fell through the air around Vonnar, but not near Kal himself. Three in all. He targeted them, and a lifetime of shooting paid off, targeting each, firing in split seconds, the laser scouring each of the spheres, one above Kal's head to the right of him, the other hit as it descended past Kal's left arm, the last hit inches before it hit the floor between Kal's legs. "When you get reflexes like that, that is the moment you become dangerous with guns. Me, I got good due to a lifetime of practice. You will probably not reach this point for a while, but the more you practice, the closer you get. Lets start with one sphere." Karter hurled another at him with telekinesis at a higher speed. He would up the difficulty as Kal progressed, even though this was learning kind of fast as it was. The Demon suddenly appeared next to Kal, sipping on what appeared to be a milkshake. "Careful, Karter. He might be a normal, but you know better than most how dangerous a normal man is. How hard they can be to put down. Careful you don't make him too good...you might regret it later on, molding the poor boy in your image..." Karter maintained a stoic expression, taking comfort only in the fact Kal couldn't see her.
  4. In The Land Of The Barabel!

    "Did...did he just salute you?" The Demon asked as it appeared out from nowhere out the corner of his eye. "He totes just saluted you. You're a captain, baby!" He ignored the red-eyed woman who wasn't there as they begin take-off proceedures. As they lifted off and were soon heading into space, Karter began entering the hyperspace coordinates he had been given for Barab One. The world turned to a blueish white streak as the ship lurched into hyperspace. As Karter checked the controls, he turned to look at Kal. The boy was at juxtaposition with his actions. What WAS Vonnar's end game? He wanted to be a smuggler, be free...but to what end? Was he thinking to get rich? Get famous? It was likely neither would happen. Smugglers lived job to job, and being famous was the kind of attention you DIDN'T want...at least, not if you were a good smuggler. Whatever Kal wanted, he had wanted it bad enough that he had stuck around with a Dark Jedi, even after learning he was working for a Dark Jedi. Had the rich life been really that bad or was he that naive as to how dangerous his new boss was? Perhaps he shouldn't be quite so perplexed. After all, he himself had gotten disenfranchised by normalcy in the end. Was it really so hard to believe that was all Kal was? A guy who had one day realized his cage was just that? Or was he seeing too much of himself in Vonnar? Was he just projecting, like he had with Inoy? He honestly couldn't tell. Either way, he needed to sharpen his new lackey. Make him more than a useful pilot. Karter put the ship on auto-flight. They had a while before they reached Barab. "Mr. Vonnar, follow me," Karter ordered heading for the lounge area of the ship. "We're going to have a couple of shooting lessons for you. You know how to fight in self defense, but I'm going to show you how to go on the offensive. It probably won't be of much help on Barab One, as the Barabel's hide is too thick for ordinary blasters but since your little purchase conveniently ignores that weakness, the training will prove useful nonetheless," he explained, having been wanting to do something like this since first acquiring Vonnar's services, and having set up a few items, such as an ordinarly laser pistol at a weakened setting for Vonnar to use during shooting. But the targets he would have Vonnar trying to hit would be very, very small...and fast moving...
  5. In The Land Of The Barabel!

    The Dark Jedi face-palmed himself. "Mr. Vonnar, you've just discharged a fire-arm among gangsters. Never do that. Please. You'll draw so much attention to yourself. It's like saying 'Here I am! Shoot me immediately!'" He answered sarcastically. "Super fun time for everyone!" As if to validate his point he pointed behind Vonnar, showing a bunch of mercs with their hands on their guns, staring nervously in their direction. "Its ok! He's new! And he's...eager! Like, super-duper eager! Y'all can...like...relax now! Sorta." The mercs stared for a moment at both of them, shrugged, and took their hands off their weapons. "That being said it looks like you are doing well so far, gotta be more low key though. Never show all your cards, Kal. Keep 'em guessing. Its not good to strike before you are ready. Not good at all. Now, off we go back to the ship. We've got some prepping to do for Barab, and I don't want you going in completely unprepared," Karter instructed, turning from him and heading for the exit. *** As the merchandise was loaded on to the ship, about eight crates of deadly weapons disguised as ration shipments for Sapientarian relief, along with radiation suits as a fail safe for Barab's surface, so too had come all the Karter had ordered, which he had Kal loading aboard for all of it, of course. Not because he was abusing his position as captain, but to teach Kal discipline, toughen him up by getting his hands rough. His skill with a pistol was obvious, but he was clearly a parlor shooter who had obviously never been intended to apply the skill save in self defense, to say nothing of what a life of easy living had done. The boy needed to develop ambition, tenacity, general surly thuggishness if he was to make it as a smuggler. Karter felt bad, messing a perfectly innocent person up potentially, but it wasn't as though he twisted Kal's arm: Everyone found their way to be a bastard when it suited them. And besides, Karter had crossed a serious line on Brentaal, one he was still having nightmares over. He got shakes sometimes when he thought of that drained civvie's aged face. Turning Kal into a hoodlum would probably be the last thing that would cause him to lose sleep in the end. Maybe. As he had made certain Kal was busy, He had loaded the only thing in that shipment that truly mattered, the Geo-Compressor, into his personal quarters, checking the quality of the orange Synth that had come with it, and quietly began to meditate with it. To focus himself, he recalled the feeling of rage and hatred when he had seen that holo of the Jedi killing his former comrades, and he let that loathing infuse him as he meditated, letting it seep into the crystal's recesses. There was another form of hatred he had grown to rely on. The hatred of the self. He hated himself for what he was doing, hated himself for failing Uriek. Hated himself for being so weak Brison abandoned him. Brison... The flashes of the aged civilians face came across his mind, but he steeled himself for them, using it to empower himself. To disregard that level of suffering. He had to punish the Jedi for Uriek. Had to. Do or die, succeed or fail, there was no happy ending. Slowly, the crystal began to internalize all that self loathing, to become it. It would take a few hours to infuse it completely. Everything in him hurt, and nothing dulled it. The revenge was what mattered now. In truth, Karter had nothing left. His life as an officer of the law was utterly irrelevant now. He could be honest...he hadn't believed in society for a long time...didn't even think it was worth conquering, as the Sith did. He just wanted his revenge, and then whatever happened afterward, he didn't care. He'd be perfectly happy to lay down and die, hash it out with the devil as to what circle he belonged in. Probably the one reserved for betrayers. Not that the betrayed had given him any incentive or decent argument to stay on their side. After about three hours, when he was pretty certain Kal had had more than enough time to load everything and then rest up, he exited his quarters. "Mr. Vonnar, I presume you've had a long enough break. Its time to take off. Prep the engines. I'll punch in the coordinates to Barab One. Once we're in transit, I start prepping you for what to expect. I've heard of these Barabel...and trust me, you're gonna want to practice, because the Barabel aren't affected by normal blasters," he explained, heading to the co-pilot's seat.
  6. In The Land Of The Barabel!

    Karter let Kal get a feel for how the market worked while he went around to see what else was available. "Remember, we are on a budget, and need to save enough for fuel purchases. Lets try and keep costs down, we're almost at five thousand already,' he said quietly, though he took a look at other weapons. Didn't hurt to be prepped. "What's that?" Karter asked, pointing to a interesting looking short, stocky slug thrower with a banana type clip. It looked short...too short to be a carbine. "That is a SMG. The blueprints for it were stolen from Blastech about a year back, got sold on the market, and have enjoyed steady purchase rates ever since," the Muun answered. "Caliber?" "Nine millimeter. Going price is three hundred and fifty credits, plus sixty credits for three, forty round clips of ammunition." "Done," Karter said, backing off. "Have everything I ordered delivered to the ship. I'd get weapons if I were you, Kal. Might come in handy. I'll be waiting downstairs," Karter said, heading to the staircase after paying out for everything ordered. As he walked down stairs, the Demon chose to take the opportunity to bubble up from his psyche and annoy him. As always, the Demon bore the appearance of Cyra's sith form, a scantily clad, curvaceous woman with light brown skin, jet black hair that went down to her back, and glowing, all red eyes. "See you've managed to find some other poor young man oblivious to what kind of person you are. Inoy had the benefit of being good hearted. Kal...he's just naive. Once he catches on to how crazy you REALLY are, he'll ditch you," The Demon mocked. "Kal wants independence," Karter said under his breath as he headed down the steps. "He robbed his own home, thats how badly he wanted out: being a criminal was preferable to a life of doing what everyone told him. I ccan work with that as long as I play my cards carefully." "He's a simpering moralizer," the Demon sneered. "He's skittish as is. I'm telling ya', you're setting yourself up for disappointment. Only reason you refuse to listen is because you desperately wanted someone to talk to who wasn't trying to kill, arrest, or coerce you into an even more warped point of view." "I needed an actual assistant." "Liar," the Demon said. "Why can't you just admit it? Your cause is utterly hopeless. Only in your spirit and determination are you prepared for war. In all else you are completely unprepared, and with a bad cause to start with," the Demon protested. "At first, perhaps, you may make some small headway, but as your resources run out, cut off from the amenities of both sides you shun, as your enemies grow more determined, you will be driven to the absolute bottom that any adept can face. In the end, unless you let go of your pride, and beg your loved ones for forgiveness you must see in the end that you will fail." "Better to die fighting than live as a slave to the Force like my brother," Karter snapped. "Or Cyra." The Demon looked at him sadly before vanishing.
  7. In The Land Of The Barabel!

    Mr. Vonnar, in a perfect world, we probably could have, but the truth is the very people who would buy weapons illegally are often the very same people you would never be comfortable turning your back on," Karter answered. And frankly, Crime is part of the culture when it comes to the Hutts. Also, the Hutt is my only real contact here. All other prospects are much more cutt throat and dangerous. You gotta start small when you're a criminal," Karter went on, heading up a carpeted flight of stairs to the second floor. "Aim too high, too soon, try and screw anyone before you're ready and you'll likely be found in a gutter or worse. In short, all crime, no matter who you engage with in the committing of it, is dangerous. You aware that in doing what we just did we broke enough laws that if it had been a core world, we would probably be behind a nice, painful force field?" he asked, hauling the case full of credits upward. "Seems your family liked to get dirty occasionally. Hipocrisy takes many forms, it seems." Karter reached the second floor and saw a bunch of mercenaries and other shady types examining weapons and armor behind the counter of a number of merchants, some Twi'lek, some Muun, some human. "Remember, keep close, stay quiet unless you need to speak to me and don't talk to anyone else," he reminded Kal. Karter made his way past the other criminals. He spotted one merchant, a tall, lordly Muun in gray robes, bidding him forth. "Welcome! We sell to anyone approved by Rejekk!" he said happily. "And if he makes back some of the money he paid out just now, so the better," Karter noted. The Muun seemed to cop to it. "You will find my merchandise worth it, I assure you. I even have some stuff we managed to smuggle off Tython after the Senate torched it." "What sort of stuff?" Karter asked. "Some of the salvage crews in the Republic kicked a few things our way. Stealth equipped ships landed a few days later to get some of the choicier tidbits in the ruins. Bits of armor, crystals. The same thing happened after the temple was destroyed on Coruscant during the sacking. Very difficult to pull that last one off, the Imperial presence was intense. Fortunately some in the Republic are a lot more malleable to our temptations," the merchant said with a grin. "Sounds like you and Rejekk associate with Exchange or Black Sun on occasion." "Arms length, really. But profitable. Here, let me show you..." The Muun gestured behind him and Karter stared at a large, cylindrical machine about two thirds his height. "A geo-compressor. We found it with a note tagged to it that said 'Confiscated'. Karter instantly understood its importance. Brison had explained to him how synthetic crystals were made in detail. Who better than she to explain it? "How much?" He asked. "Twenty-five hundred, plus an orange synth we found in the ruins thrown in for free," The Merchant replied. "We also uncovered more military minded equipment from the dead soldiers killed in the attack." "Oh?" The Merchant retrieved a case and opened it. There was a gauntlet with some kind of nozzel like attachment mounted on it. "A wrist mounted flame projector ripped from a dead Republic Commando's hand." "Convenient Rejekk would make all this available the day I come in," Karter noted. "Rejekk sees great potential in you. Potential to advance himself but he knows investment potential," the Merchant explained. "I guess. How much?" "A thousand credits, plus two hundred for the micro fuel tanks needed to use it properly," the merchant replied. Karter turned to Kal. "Best stock up on something if you're going to."
  8. In The Land Of The Barabel!

    Karter rose from his meditation, properly focused now that he had immersed himself in his hatred. He exited his quarters, face concealed under his hood. He exited the ship, finding a Rodian in green combat armor escorted by bodyguards. "Rejekk will see you now, please follow us," the Rodian ordered them. Karter followed, calling out to Kal. "There's a cart next to the weapon cases, load them on and follow me." *** Rejekk's compound on Nar Shaddaa was deep in the urban center, an unassuming, converted and reinforced black office building about six stories high with gold tinted transparisteel windows. Karter and company were led past the security checkpoint at the front lobby. Karter took note of the surroundings in the interior. Creamy pastel walls and ceiling with amber running lights and a gold marble floor. The dozens of guards armed with slugthrowers caused Karter to realize Rejekk had told them about him. Fine. He could deal. The black doors ahead, giant and carved with simple engravings slid open revealing Rejekk the Hutt resting on a golden sofa, flanked by a golden protocol droid and two gold painted Twi-lek slaves wearing VERY little. Karter was reminded of that senator he had once rescued with Arkanus. He almost smiled but crushed the good memory. He had to focus on the now. Focus on the hate. The room was vast, filled with pilferred museum pieces from the Great Sith War. Ancient armor, mostly. "Mighty Rejekk, good to see you," Karter said with proper deference. He sweapt a hand behind him. "I bring you a minor gift. Sonic pistols, custom jobs from an Alderaanian palace. One of a kind. The Hutt spoke slowly. Karter sensed Rejekk seemed pleased. "Rejekk thanks you for your gift. He is prepared to offer you twelve thousand for the whole thing." Hmmph, not what Karter had been expecting but he could deal. He still had one more play though. Karter removed the lightsaber of the Jedi he had slain on Alderaan from his jacket. He flashed the blade on. It was yellow in color. Rejekk's eyes widened. He spoke quicker now to his droid. "Mighty Rejekk is prepared to offer you twenty four thousand credits for your rare, yellow bladed saber." "Done," Karter confirmed. "Rejekk is also prepared to offer you access to his markets as a gesture of gratitude," the droid continued. "Provided of course you are willing to accept his mission." "Of course. I and my employee stand ready to serve your interests." Rejekk spoke quicker in Huttese. "Mighty Rejekk wishes you to journey to an obscure planet of great danger known as Barab 1. It is an irradiated wasteland and uninhabitable in the daytime, and just barely tolerable at night. Severe torrential downpours. Vicious predators. You will be delivering a shipment of blaster cannons and grenades to a strong tribe of Barabel, so that they may wipe out a rival tribe. Complete this task, and you will be greatly rewarded. Not only with credits, but with something relevant to your situation..." Karter raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" Rejekk snapped his stubby fingers, and a small cylinder was brought out, and the droid opened it. Karter stared at the drawing. It was a drawing of a curved hilt lightsaber. "I presume you have the scematic that goes with that drawing. One question...how? The Jedi guard such knowledge jealousy." "You are aware of the recent bombing of Tython?" The droid inquired. Karter had heard something about that. Satele Shan herself had been killed in it. And while he hoped his brother had survived, and maybe Brison, though his feelings towards her were VERY mixed, along with Inoy, for the rest, he merely regarded it as divine punishment from God, their Karma for destroying the Confederacy. To be honest, he had considered abandoning his crusade against the order then and there, but the Order needed to understand why such a thing had been rendered to their doorstep. It wasn't enough that Karma had exacted its wrath for the Jedi's hubris...the last confederate survivor had to render his own wrath before he was satisfied that the Jedi had been sufficiently punished. "I am," Karter answered. "I presume you managed to steal it?" "Not quite. When the wretched Jedi Order fled their temple, many attempted to carry multiple documents with them. Some were lightsaber schematics. When they were all captured, inside men who had managed to insert themselves into the teams responsible for cataloging all seized contraband and equipment seized documents also. As some were relatively unsecured, photos were taken before put into storage as originally intended. This was one of those documents," the droid finished. "As Rejekk is aware of your nature as a Dark Jedi, he is prepared to reward you with this should your mission on Barab be successful." Karter bowed. "I accept your mission. When do I leave?" "As soon as possible. Rest first, and avail yourself of our resident merchants on the second floor," the droid answered as cases of credits were dropped at Karters feet by surrounding guards. It was time to go shopping.
  9. In The Land Of The Barabel!

    "I don't think they won't negotiate on a relatively insignificant matter such as the weapons we stole. But if they decide to be stupid, be ready to shoot. You ever seen those ridiculously violent action holos where, like, people are all flying around, dual wielding blaster pistols and like, for whatever reason, when some one draws a pistol or opens fire, white little birds end up flying around super dramatic and shavit? Yeah, uh, don't do that. You will die. Painfully. Super painfully. Find cover and shoot from cover. Dual wielding is possible but it requires training I haven't had time to impart yet. Or if you can run and shoot, move from cover to cover. But, don't pull a weapon until I do. Oh, and, uh, you're gonna want to wear some armor. I got a stolen police vest with some durasteel plating. I think it'll fit you. Left it in your room this morning. It'll protect your chest, but not much else. Remember, follow my lead," he explained before getting up out of the co-pilot's seat. He headed to his quarters retrieving his own, personal red lightsaber. He had grown used to his weapon, had become one with it. He knew it now better than he knew the back of his own hand. He hid it up the sleeve of his own black jacket, getting into a lotus position and meditated, focusing on his rage and hatred towards the Jedi, shutting the door to his quarters with telekinesis. He had used the tip of his blade previously to trace a sign on its surface, in case Kal forgot his rule. It read, in large, jagged letters, KNOCK FIRST!
  10. Selona 18th 3632 bby Nar Shaddaa, orbit. Karter had been held up in orbit for hours by the pirates-in-all-but-name who actually controlled Nar Shaddaa at the behest of Hutt Gangsters. Their cruiser had forced the ship to stay in orbit while they checked his claims of a pre-arranged meeting with a mid level Hutt Gangster he had done business with on Brentaal. The Hutt in question, Rejekk The Hutt, was not among the most powerful. His ownings and interests were modest. But he was not without his weight either. Someone would get punished if they crossed him. Rejekk, it turned out, unlike a lot of Hutts, understood the value of restraint but was nonetheless rather vicious when crossed. But he was strangely cautious also. Karter liked that about Rejekk, interestingly enough. Karter had been stewing in the co-pilots seat for the past fifteen minutes, waiting for clearance. He was quaking with rage at being held up for so long, unable to do anything about his current situation as he waited. Finally, a ping on the comms caught his attention. "You've been cleared to land. Your arrangement with Rejekk will not be disrupted. But a warning first: WE may have beneficial arrangements with Rejekk, but other crews in orbit might not. Keep it in mind and be prepared to negotiate in the future," the voice of the male captain on the other end warned. "Understood," he said, turning to Kal in the Pilot's seat. "Pilot in slowly. And let me do the talking. I've done business with Rejekk once before. Don't let people brush against you...there are pickpockets everywhere. We'll likely be under observation the moment we enter the compound. After we land, prepare the weapon shipments we stole: Not good to enter a crimelord's lair without a gift. I'll talk price for them and then find out about this assignment he wanted me for. Above all show respect. Show no fear. They smell fear and will use it as weapon of intimidation," he instructed his new employee.
  11. A Fair Game of Pazaak

    Karter sighed, sitting down on one of the bunks. "It was a bit of both, to be honest," he answered. "I ain't clean Kal. You could say I had a rough life, but a lot of it was my choice. And yeah, I am in hiding...until I gather enough resources, enough strength, and strike," he answered. "I wouldn't sweat what happened on Alderaan...you're a rookie, it was to be expected, you making a rookie mistake." He rose up. "You can make it up to me by following orders and piloting. We'll get along just fine if you do that," He said, walking out of the room to leave Kal to his thoughts and heading to his private quarters. He took of his jacket, putting his lightsaber on a small stand next to three others. There was his original Jedi lightsaber, his most prized possession, and Isobelle and Ryleya's. He shuddered a bit, looking at hers, and then he went into a meditative position, focusing on his hatred and rage towards the order, still trying to think of a solution that would allow him that personal revenge he craved where the Jedi were concerned.
  12. A Fair Game of Pazaak

    Karter got aboard just as he heard shouting behind him. Seems the message had gotten out. He was aboard, closing the hatch just as Kal lifted off, smoothly at that, not all rickety like Karter. His value had doubled. He heard him shouting for a co-pilot. That he could handle. He headed into the cockpit, getting into the co-pilot's seat and handling engine power and other systems, watching through the viewport as Kal cleared the hanger, rocketing into the sky. Karter punched in the hyperspace coordinates for Nar Shaddaa. Heard the computer beep as the coordinates were activated and the hyperdrive warm up. After a tense few seconds they cleared the atmosphere and Karter punched it. The Jet Black frieghter lurched forward into hyperspace, the ship disappearing. Karter looked back at Kal. They had both gotten STUPIDLY lucky, him in particular, because he had dared to come to Alderaan to begin with. Nar Shaddaa had many places to disappear to. "Well done, Mr. Vonnar. Now, for one last bit of honesty. You've been a sport. You've earned it. The name is not Gait...My name...my real one...is Kultram Desperaux. I however, prefer the alias of Karter of Uriek. You may address me as simply 'Karter'," he said. "Now we have two shipments of sonic weapons, and a Jedi's lightsaber...the lightsaber will sell for a good amount. Hutts love one or two in their private collection so we won't lack for credits once we find a buyer." He pulled down his hood, revealing his pale face and sulpher eyes, the brown, short cut hair. His facial features were angular, with a strong jaw. "Now, about your duties and rights aboard my ship," he went on. "I expect cleanliness. You wash your own dishes and clothes. You NEVER enter my quarters without knocking and asking if you can come in. You as of now, are responsible for flying this ship as well as overseeing repairs. All upgrades will be cleared by me before you purchase anything. Now, I know your personal red line is not killing Jedi, but you are not to attempt to dissuade me from doing so. Not unless there is a sincere tactical reason. I, in turn, will not attempt to drag you into that matter. However, you are naive if you think being a smuggler won't end in violence on occasion. Be prepared to kill to defend yourself from everyone besides Jedi. And there are other adepts out there besides Jedi. Dangerous people who know the Force. They're all out there...just a heads up," he explained. "You are to follow my orders without question in most mundane cases. Do so, and you will be treated fairly. Disobey without an EXTREMELY good reason, you can find someone else to work for. I'm not a cruel taskmaster. I won't ask you to do something I myself do not have the stomach for. But know this--" he continued, turning to face Kal. "Any sins you commit of your own free will are yours to live with. Do not hold me responsible for what extremes you end up commiting if you decide it was necessary in the heat of the moment. We all have to decide how far we wanna go in our respective endeavors. And what we can live with as a result. If you decide without any prompting to violently gun down some poor bastard trying to slap the restraints on you...that's your problem," he finished. "Now, it'll be a while before we reach Nar Shaddaa. I'll show you a tour of the vessel. Put this thing on autopilot and follow me." *** The ship was a vast one, there was a lounge, a holoterminal, a kitchen area, captains quarters, which were sealed, but close to the bridge, and spare crew quarters with three bunks. The ship interior though was unsettling in a few ways. The ship interior had a frequent dark color scheme on the interior. And then there were the pentagrams They showed up in odd, out of the way places, especially when they wouldn't make sense. They varied in size, but were always colored red and had an eye in the middle. "I know, I know, its sorta creepy. But this was how I found the inside when I...acquired it," he added with a dark chuckle. He led him to the spare crew quarters. "This is your room," Karter said with a sweeping gesture. "That may change if I acquire another crew member, so you may not always have it to yourself. That being said, you are free to renovate it in the meantime to your liking. The supplies are stocked, fix yourself some food and then get back to piloting. Now, any questions?"
  13. A Fair Game of Pazaak

    "Not Jedi, DARK Jedi," Karter said, starting the speeder. "And yeah, I get it. You don't wanna kill Jedi. Perfectly understandable. Its not really your problem. Its my thing. See, I hate the bastards. They turned people I swore to stand by into criminals," he explained powering up the speeder, pulling back out of the parking space and heading down the long path to the garage exit. "Me and the people I worked with...we got an order we didn't want to follow...we were ordered to reintegrate with the Republic and the Jedi Order. Except...we didn't want to. We wanted to do our own thing. See we felt the Order was wrong in its approach--" he was cut off as he burst through the garage security checkpoint bar. "And we were tired of taking orders from people who have been doing nothing but repeating their mistakes. Their reaction, to say the least, was telling. We were branded criminals and hunted down, even when, in truth, we had no intention of becoming their enemies," he continued piloting haphazardly out of the palace estates. "Now, as far as I know, I'm the only one left. Oh! And they stole the two people I care for most away from me, so forgive me if I do not share your respect for them. Take it from a guy who knows...the Jedi Order ain't the heroes you think. Now, I get you ain't no killer. But good news for you, thats not what I hired you for." Karter piloted through the streets of an alderaanian pavilion, going just below the speed limit on a designated path. "I hired you as an assistant for mundane endeavors. I won't ask you to go against your concience, but on the flip side, when it come to me going all murdery on Jedi, you stay outta my way. Now if you're smart, and you follow orders without question on everything else, you're gonna make a ton of money. Plus, you got a Darksider backing you...that is an advantage most other starting smugglers do NOT have. I have no interest in money or power. I only use the money to acquire resources I need to fund my vendetta. Most of it is going to you anyway. And when you're established enough and I have made you tough enough so you don't have to take shavit from no one, I'll get you your own ship, and we can part ways without acrimony. But ONLY if you follow orders. Now, can you pilot? Cause I suck at it, he said, finally reaching the space port after a few minutes. He spotted his ship on an outside landing pad. It was an XS Stock Light Freighter, with the name The Binding Spell etched in cursive basic on the side. He hopped out of the speeder grabbing a crate and heading to the spaceport landing pad. The terminal was a large tower of brown stone. Karter kept a steady pace as he walked, not trying to draw attention. Their sabotage of palace comms had bought them minutes. They needed to leave now. He'd been smart enough to pay the fee to go to and from. And he had paid off customs beforehand. "Vonnar! Get on board!" He yelled.
  14. A Fair Game of Pazaak

    Karter followed Kal, as the alarm blared near constantly throughout the palace. He watched Kal look away from the stained glass window as he headed out, following his new employee through vast passages leading to other rooms until they came out into a large garage, mostly bereft of anything, save a pair of what looked like Palace Soldiers. One of them opened fire on Vonnar, and he dropped the box of weapons, opening fire right back. Karter shot the other one with a stun bolt, no need for blood. He tried not to be a savage unless it was necessary. Karter began looking for a speeder, spotting a luxury ground speeder in a far corner. He also made note of other crates of sonic weapons. Vonnar Family was gearing up for something huge, and soon. He picked up one case that been recently delivered and tossed it into the back, ordering Kal to toss his crate in when he sensed him. He entered from an automatic doorway, brandishing a yellow bladed lightsaber with the cadence of a Niman Practitioner. He knew this because Ryleya had been instructing him in the basics of the style before he had killed her, and he wasn't at all confident enough to try using that style in open battle yet, any more than he was with Soresu. The Knight looked to be a human with graying hair, middle aged, not some fresh faced over confident Padawan. His eyes were a piercing Gray and his skin was a mild beige. He weighed his options, staring at the knight, deciding whether to engage or run. If he engaged, it might slow them both down, if he did not, the Jedi might realize what Karter was and alert the authorities outside. Then they would have some REAL trouble attempting to escape. Karter decided he had to end this fast. He wasn't certain his own skills as a dueling were up to snuff. "Kal Vonnar," the Jedi said, stepping forward in purple robes. "You are to surrender at once. You are throwing away your whole life to be a ruffian good only for putting in a cell. As for you...you...wait..." The Jedi said to Karter, blade going to a guard position. "I sense the Dark Side in you..." The Jedi turned back to Kal with genuine concern. "Kal you MUST come with me. Your companion is dangerous. You will be in constant danger. Can you not see he is using you?" "Jedi...shut up," Karter said in annoyance, pulling the Force around him, pulled it around him so completely that he simply vanished from sight. The Jedi went to instant alert. He began sensing for life but could only get a general idea of where Karter was in front of him before the bolts from Karter's stolen sonic pistol began being sent his way. The Jedi dashed forward with the Force swiping with his blade, and Karter only barely managed to get out of the way of the swipe that would have taken his head off and went backward, his mastery of cloaking silencing his footfalls as well as rendering his form utterly invisible. The Jedi force dashed towards his general direction and this time Karter could not completely avoid it, the tip barely grazing his arm, making him lose concentration of his cloak as he toppled to the ground, but before the Jedi could capatilize on Karter's mistake, advancing to get his foe's neck at blade point and force a surrender, Karter rolled on the ground, firing with both a regular blaster and his new sonic pistol, the Jedi was forced to back away and Karter kept firing. The Jedi had two choices. He could either block the rapidly fired pistol bolts going his way and risk getting hit by the sonic bolts also or he could back off and wait for and opening. The Jedi tried to Force pull the weapons out of his hand but Karter kept his guns in a death grip, firing his way. The Jedi then used an ability Karter had never seen before. He held out his hand, generating a shimmering wall of energy in front of his person that Karter's weapons could not penetrate. Even the sonic weapons were no good. Uh oh. Karter had no answer for that one when it came to weaponry. He had one trick left up his sleeve though...he had learned this one on Arkania, blocking the connection of a Dark Jedi by accident when he had been nearly overwhelmed in combat. He had tested it on several others since then to assess it's capability. It would cause a mighty strain but it was his best remaining play. Karter continued to fire letting him advance within striking range and then he reached out, dropping his regular blaster and throwing his mind, along with all his anger and hatred to the task. He threw out his mind to the Jedi' s, seeking out his connection in the Force and clamping down on it. The Jedi swooned, resisting. Karter felt terrible headaches and his mind was in agony but he used that pain to focus his rage at the Jedi, at all Jedi. He reached further into the Jedi, cutting his juice and keeping it cut. The Jedi's shield failed and the knight swooned, disoriented. He was still trying to throw Karter out of his mind, however, and Karter knew he couldn't keep this up much longer. The Knight advanced with his still active lightsaber, struggling to get the Dark Sider out of his mind and Karter fired his sonic weapon at close range. The bolt curved around the blade, the Jedi too slow and disoriented to evade in time, and was hit square in the head by a bolt on lethal setting. His face deformed and compacted from the shot, and he fell backward, dead, his lightsaber deactivating as it tumbled from his hand, the activation stud hitting the ground and shutting the blade off. Karter got up, drained and completely exhausted from the strain. He stood up, himself woozy, and reached over, picking up the dead knight's lightsaber, spitting on the corpse. "That's two, you bastards," he snapped, kicking the body. About a minute and a half had passed between the engagement and it's end. He was lucky...he knew it. But it was a win all the same, even if it had been a win by the skin of his teeth. He wearily got into the speeder, beckoning Vonnar to follow. "Ok...spoiler alert...totally a Dark Jedi," He admitted to his new employee.
  15. A Fair Game of Pazaak

    "If you were not allowed much of a say in who you could be with, then it wasn't a good life. My father was the same way. 'Stick to the straight and narrow, because society needs someone to defend it, to maintain its rules'," Karter said sneeringly. "Problem was, I cared little for the rules...you are right to want to escape this gilded cage, Mr. Vonnar. You'd be comfortable sure, but what is comfort worth if there is no happiness?" Karter agreed with Kal's assessment of portability. He wasn't sure how much the rifles by themselves would be worth, however. Firearms were firearms, but he was sure there had to be something else here that people would pay for. Karter began checking the other crates, looking for something that might be just as much worth if not more. He spotted another crate, smaller than most. He undid the latch on the lid, and smiled. He pulled out a sonic pistol. With the presence of enemy force users potentially getting to their doorstep in the near future, The Vonnar Family would have been mad to not have at least a couple lying around. "We need to take these," Karter said, closing the lid. Sonic weapons are worth too credit to the right criminals. I'd leave the rifles. We'll get better money for these. Grab the box and carry it. And lead us to the garage. I'll cover you," he assured. Frankly, he was amazed sonic weapons weren't more common in civilian hands. They lacked the same power and range, but they could kriff an adept up if one knew how to shoot.
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