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126 Kind of a Big Deal

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About Karter

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    Knight Of Sangraal

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    Corruption I
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    (Light Freighter) XS Stock Light Freighter - 10SP
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    Alex Murphy
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  1. HPOR--SF

    Well, as to why Blastech would use imperial designs, I was trying to draw on real life in how governments and companies sometimes reverse engineer captured enemy tech to improve their one, like how the soviets captured motor cycle and rocket factories. Or Operation Paperclip. I can drop the whole black market manufacturing thing, say its just a newly released though very expensive Blastech product based of captured Imperial Blueprints from whatever planet or section of the empire handled that sort of thing but I still would like it to retain a heavy kinetic effect on lightsabers.
  2. HPOR--SF

    Well all of the background can be changed, but as for the Empire getting chiss technology, I had been thinking, well, exchanges between them can't be in a vacuum. Someone must have taken apart a charric somewhere at some point. I could say it was born from an Imperial study of maser-related tech if that would make it easier. As for the strengths and weaknesses, I could just make it a high powered short to medium range weapon and adjust its specs?
  3. In The Land Of The Barabel!

    "If they attack, don't be stupid. Hide. Run. They'll be too busy focused on that Durgolosk anyway. I'll make sure you clear the space, then I go in, kill that chief, and we get our money. Any one gives us trouble...they'll wish they hadn't." Karter rose up as Fuduxa handed him a small holoprojector that contained map coordinates. "Look, its not that complicated, Vonnar. We take a long, not-relaxing stroll through severe downpour, go into a swamp with a vicious predator. We antagonize said Predator. Said predator chases you to the meeting site, where they'll be too busy trying to kill the Durgolosk to shoot you. Blah blah, lightsabers. Blah blah dead chief. Profit. Couldn't be simpler. You won't really be doing anything except running for your life. And besides, if there is anything you should be good at, its running for your life!" Karter said to his employee jovially. "I'll be with you the whole way, Mr. Vonnar. He was telling the truth on that. He needed Kal alive. Kal was his pilot. It was only the necessity of breaking him in to danger and stress that forced his current action. Vonnar would be useless if he was not exposed to danger. It would let Karter know what Kal excelled at. And what required improvement. So far, Kal had demonstrated he wasn't stupid. He asked questions, did not leap blindly, but Karter would be surprised if Kal took no initiative during this. This was as much a test of Kal's ability to function under rapidly changing and unknown variables as it was making money. Karter wasn't sure Kal would pass it. But hey, he had been surprised before. "If you are to go, you must go now. Move quickly, but carefully," Fuduxa warned. Karter began walking out, heading for the surface. He kept a steady pace so Kal could follow. If nothing, else, the stroll there would give them a chance for taking in the scenery.
  4. HPOR--SF

    If it doesn't work that can be changed. But in truth i didn't see its backstory as anything but flavor text on what seemed to me to be a minor political scandal, one that, while embarrassing, I simply didn't think would have that kind of range in terms of far reaching effect. Its essentially just a military prototype that got released on the black market. Way I saw it, the empire just fell, everybody who can is snatching all the elite grade loot from the empires corpse, so I figure something like this slipping through the cracks would not be that far fetched. as for its appearance, yes, I was thinking the scar h cqc variant in terms of aesthetics, but slightly thicker looking at the barrel and stock. Instead of a high power scope how about a thermal or night scope and no zoom? That way while its powerful and accurate its only good at short to medium ranges. I kinda wanted a designated marksman type thing, and the rest of the strengths and weaknesses accordingly?
  5. HPOR--SF

    Intent: To create a deadly heavy blaster rifle available to all sides Manufacturer: Blastech/Black Market/Chiss Ascendancy Affiliation: All you can find or afford it. Production Rate: Limited Quantity. Weapon Type: Rifle Weapon Sub-type: None. Materials: Durasteel, electronic components, synthetic materials Modifications: The HPOR--SF comes with an improved power pack, galvanizer and lens assembly based partly on chiss designs, giving it immense power and kinetic impact, a enhanced zoom/vision scope, and can serve as a sniper rifle in an emergency. But otherwise has limited modifications that can be applied beyond improving the Ammunition capacity. Weapon Rating: High Quality Weapon Appearance: Think a more sci-fi, slightly bigger looking version of the RL Scar Rifle with a high powered scope on it and a large looking carbine barrel in black along with a black frame. Strengths: Powerful: The HPO is one of the most powerful rifles a soldier can carry that isn't a repeating cannon. Its shots are powerful enough that even those who wield a lightsaber to deflect shots have felt a bone rattle in their wrist from the sheer impact, about sixty percent the strength of an average shot from a charric rifle. Even those who wear high quality heavy armor still fear the kinetic impact and incredible heat transfer of the weapon. Its a great anti-personnel weapon and can wear down shields in one to two direct hits, and melt durasteel armor. Enhanced Function: Its scope allows for zoom function, which can turn it into an emergency sniper weapon. It also comes with basic thermal vision. Compact: The heavy rifle was built to be easily manuvered with indoors, with an eye towards ending a fight quickly. Good at all ranges: The power of the rifle and is accuracy, along with a compact nature mean the HPO can engage targets at most ranges within reason of the weapons specific specialties. Good for Urban/Enclosed spaces. The rifle was designed for pushing through tight chokepoint defenses with overwhelming firepower, or defending against attack in a fortified position. It is a weapon that can be used to lay siege or push back skirmishes. Weaknesses: Heavy Recoil: The rifle is best used by a trained shooter. The recoil is very high, and this forces the operator to fire relatively slow controlled shots, lest the recoil become unmanageable. Limited ammo: The amount of power to fire its heavy damage shots limits one to twenty shots, meaning a missed shot on a fast moving target is costly. Limited modability: Due to the designs clearly having relationships with Chiss tech, the rifle was made as portable as could be allowed but the compact components that enable it to fire with such fantastic power have made sure it will be very difficult to modify, as one must be quite familiar with the design to even increase the efficiency of its ammo consumption, and seeing as how this is an experimental military weapon barely out of prototyping before it was seized, the weapon as is hardly makes the effort worth it. Weight: The weapon weighs nearly two point five times more than a regular blaster rifle, and that becomes a problem the longer combat goes on. Ones arms tire faster, and their aim gets more affected as they heft it. The weight helps counter balance the recoil but it doesn't do it well enough to make aiming easier as time goes on. Poor at prolonged combat: The weapon is good for the more focused operations of a special forces group but in a prolonged situation from dozens of potential enemies attacking all at once, the weapons slow rate of fire, severe cost of missing a shot, and its own niche specialties catch up to it. It was never meant for large scale warfare in open battlefields. Description: The Heavy Point Offense Rifle--Special Forces is a curiosity in the post war environment. It appears to be a hybrid battle rifle and sniping weapon. It is unclear who actually first manufactured it, as blue prints were seized from a Sith research facility on Balmorra, but certain design traits in its electricals and power pack suggest Chiss origins. Blastech executives acquired the design from a greedy soldier who was paid under the table for sneaking a copy to them...only to find out months later that the design had ended up on the black market thanks to a corrupt scientist on Blastech's end. Black Market manufacturers have been building limited numbers of the weapon for various criminal syndicates. In operation, the weapon appears to be an attempt to reproduce a lesser version of the charric without resorting to the maser technology, by combining Chiss research in energy weapon galvanization circuitry, weapon lenses and more standard tibanna gas blaster tech. The result is a weapon that, while not a charric in that it does not quite have that kinetic impact nor the charric's other reaction to lightsabers which completely absorb a charric's bolts, is still considered the next best thing, being a high powered weapon that can still knock you down. Republic Intelligence thinks the weapon was meant to be issued to soldiers stationed at military checkpoints in imperial cities, before its excellent performance indoors and defending small enclosures, as well as immense stopping power, caused it to be reclassified for imperial SF operations. Test models seized and experimented with show certain weaknesses, such as prolonged combat, limited ammo, weight, and recoil limit the weapon to medium or small scale skirmishes and ambushes. Understandably, the release of this design onto the black market and the subsequent deaths of Republic soldiers, Jedi, and even a few Mandalorians was a media disaster for Blastech when the story was exposed, and several executives resigned in disgrace. Its possibly been a disaster for the Chiss as well, as all the wrong people have a better understanding of Chiss design principals and could presumably create derivatives off of even this meager insight into their tech.
  6. In The Land Of The Barabel!

    "You will be useful in distracting the locals. Most particularly, you will be useful in creating a distraction for the people guarding that meeting in the cave. Fuduxa, we got any large, hostile predators we can...irritate?" Karter asked with an evil grin that went ear to ear. "The cave has a nearby swamp. A Durgolosk inhabits it but it generally stays away. They are fearsome predators. Immensely hostile. They kill everything they come across. You would have to irritate it greatly for it to pursue you to the cave site, which is heavily guarded by my clan's men." "Excellent!" Karter said enthusiastically, eyes widening in delight even as they went a sulphur color. That'll be perfect. Hey, uh, say I accidentally ice some of your boys in the process...it won't hurt my bottom line too bad I trust? After all, I came here expecting to make a delivery, not an assassination. And you've left me a tight window to work with, after all." Fuduxa hissed in displeasure. "While I will be cross if you butcher too many, I can overlook one or three." "How will I know which one is the guy you want dead?" "He will have a crescent shaped knife slung across his wasteband. He is taller than you, possesses great strength. Scales are dark green. He will be fast. And bold. Kill him quickly and from behind, before he overwhelms you." Karter smiled. "Very well then. Oh, um...what's a Durgolosk?" "A large, six legged, six eyed predator with fifteen centimeter long knife like teeth and extreme hostility. A humanoid-eater." "This is right up you alley!" Karter said to Kal. "You piss that Durgolosk off, get it to chase you to the camp, and then try and find a place to hide inside...if you can avoid capture. Or on spot execution." "The downpours are bad in the area leading up to the meeting site. Flash floods may occur in the many rifts and crevaces on your journey there. And avoid any local fauna. Most of it is dangerous. Don't eat anything," Fuduxa warned. "Some of the hunting parties are hostile to offworlders. Trust no one. Avoid all contact. "Give us a map and we are good to go," Karter told the toothy Barabel.
  7. In The Land Of The Barabel!

    The Demon appeared out the corner of his eye, its red eyes glistening in the darkness of the ship. "Smack him," she said. "Smack. Him." Karter badly wanted to ring Vonnar's neck. However he needed the pilot not to despise him. It wouldn't do to have your one underling plotting revenge at an inoppertune moment. Vonnar was skittish about this whole business as it was, working for a Dark Jedi. The Demon looked at him, knowing full well what he was thinking. "Oh dear. That...is cruel. You sure?" "I'm sure," Karter answered, staring right at Vonnar with the mild, almost-amusement of a sandpanther before it leapt. "I'm sure you are sorry, Mr. Vonnar," Karter clarified. Two could play this kriffed-up little game of pazaak the boy had initiated. Besides, Karter was bored on the ship and as a child he had taken great pleasure in putting someone like Kal through the occasional head-game. Kept his mind sharp. "This runt trying to get cut, or something?" the Barabel asked. "He'll get you both cut if he does that in the wrong place here." "He doesn't want to get cut. He's just an ass. Pay him no mind," Karter said. "This market we are going to...what does it sell?" "Ore mostly. From deep. My tribe has mining interests there. Its part of the dispute," the Barabel answered. "What kinda ore?" "Precious metals. Occasionally we get ore from the surface also." "Whats in the surface ore?" "Ingots. Crystal Ingots," the alien answered tersely. "I doubt there is much you would find useful there. Follow me," the Barabel ordered. Karter followed, expecting Kal to be not far behind. *** The trek through the rain had been relatively quick, following the Barabel as he acted like a guide, leading through a burnt, scorched canyon of rock. He saw strange insects coming out from cocoons...most life had to be nocturnal, given the radiation. He heard the howls of larger beasts in the distance as he traveled in the radiation suit. Until finally they had reached a crack in the ground, with a built in stone staircase. They had headed down and after an uncomfortable, quiet ride down a long, dark turbolift, they had stepped into the vast underground cavern where he saw dozens, hundreds of Barabel, carting ore about, hawking prices for geodes full of valuable stones from a great podium set in the center. Every merchant's stand not only had ore, but silks, fibers, and strange smells from strange food. The Contact, who had told Karter along the way that his name was Fuduxa Kixz lead to a private cabin in what looked to be a small, open air mess area in the great cavern which seemed to stretch for kilometers in any direction. The cabin was darkened, lit only in strips by wood slats on the windows. Fuduxa sat down inviting Karter to take a seat. He did so, and waited to listen to the Barabel's plan. "The Cave that is hosting this meeting is called the Sanctum of Scorched Blood. My clans rivals, the Uliuz, managed to convince the chieftain to back down and negotiate." "Why just your chieftain? I could easily hit your rivals also," Karter suggested. "The reason I want only my chieftain killed is because it will make the more reactionary members of my clan demand immediate vengeance...they will pay for your weapons gladly. Plus, this kind of plotting is a little more subtle than what the locals are used to. If they think the Uliuz violated a truce made in good faith with treachery, it will isolate the Uliuz, making it easier to wipe them all out. You and your associate will be well compensated in addition to the payment for the weapons." "How much?" "Fifty thousand for Uldra's death." "Seventy thousand. I'm working on a time constraint here," Karter demanded. "He'll die, trust me." The Barabel frowned. "Seventy...it is." "Great. Now, how much security are we talking?" "The clan's strongest hunters and warriors will be there," the Barabel answered, his wide, lizard visage flicking his tongue reflexively, tasting the air. "Point the way and then stay out of it. When does the meeting start, precisely?" "Two and a half hours," Fuduxa answered. "Just barely enough time to clear orbit," Karter grumbled. "The cave is three kilometers to the north on the surface. I cannot be seen leading you. You must find a way there and then find a way to get in." "Its a good thing I have a lackey..." Karter trailed, turning to Kal with a smile. "Mr. Vonnar! It seems your antics may have a use here!"
  8. In The Land Of The Barabel!

    Karter's fury was starting to simmer as he walked with the lizard alien back to his ship. Delays. Figures. He had hours to help get the fighting started so he could make the purchase. Rejekk had probably known about this when he had been tasked with making this shipment. And a Dark Jedi willing to kill to get paid was a nice way of ensuring the delivery would get taken, one way or another. A small part of him questioned the necessity but he quietly squashed it. If they didn't want a Dark Jedi here, they should have made up their minds and taken the delivery. "Why'd they start getting cold feet now?" Karter asked with a snarl. "This planet is dangerous as is without our clans being at each others throats. War would be unprofitable," the Barabel hissed. "Unless you had an overwhelming advantage in weaponry. Than the other side could be wiped out pretty easily," Karter noted as he walked up the ramp. "So, who do I have to kill?" "It would be best if you target our chieftain, Uldra Kixz," the Barabel answered. "He has arranged for a meeting in an ancient cave where sacred pacts are made. Disrupt it, there will be war, for certain." "Wow, you want me to off your own boss. Cold Blooded." "Rejekk claimed you would have no problem with this," the Barabel stated as it walked into the main hold. "Oh, I don't, but still, I get the feeling this helps you a whole lot in particular." The Alien paused, snake like eyes studying the Dark Jedi. "What of it?" "I may need a...acquaintance here in the future. And as for you...you might need a killer down the road. So long as you keep quiet." The Alien thought about it, looked at him again and then at Kal. "I suppose," he said after a moment. "Come. There is cave system full of merchants not far. My men will watch your landing site. Most life and culture takes place underground due to intense radiation during the day," the Barabel said. "Whatever either of you do, don't apologize. My people consider apologies insulting. You could start a fight. Don't go being a nerfherder either, but do not apologize," the Barabel warned. Karter turned to Vonnar. "This is what you have to watch out for. Our problem is that the clan we are supposed to deliver weapons to decided to try negotiating at the last minute. We are going to derail those negotiations so they will want to pay for the weapons once more. Now, I want you to follow my lead, keep quiet, and be ready to kill," Karter warned Kal.
  9. In The Land Of The Barabel!

    Karter exited his personal quarters, immediately heading for the radiation suits. He had soon strapped it on, and the suit was baggy and heavy and it clung to him as he entered the cockpit. "Get ready, Vonnar," he said, getting into the co-pilots seat, prepared to help land it. *** Barab 1. Barab 1 was dark and stricken with heavy rainstorms when the Binding Spell touched down on a rainswept octagonal platform. There were no spaceports available. They had been given very specific instructions that they would be contacted by one of the locals with a flaregun. Karter stepped out into the open, clad in his radiation suit, and looked around. The ground and local mountains looked charred and burnt, with steam rising up from the surface. The clouds above were black, filled with lightning. He heard his radiation counter click but only slightly. They had landed just at the right time. The sun had set, and the radiation was at somewhat tolerable levels, but they had to be quick about this. They didn't need cancer. "Vonnar! I'm going to head out to meet the contact! Stay in the ship! Be prepared to fire its weapons!" he yelled to Vonnar as he left the vicinity of the ship. His ship, which he needed another man to fly as he was a bad pilot. The raindrops fell thick on his head, and the crackle of thunder overhead distracted. He saw the flare fly upward, hot and green. And he kept one of his blasters ready, because he wasn't a fool. He had never been to Barab 1 before. He saw the Barabel in the shadows of a scorched boulder. He was clad in armor made of lizard hides. His scales were a dark green and his pale yellow eyes stared from the Darkness behind the rock. "Kinda wet for a walk, huh?" Karter asked. "You are the smuggler my clan requested?" The Alien, a man, asked in a hiss, an inherently predatory gaze setting him on edge. "Yeah. We got your weapons. Come get 'em." "We can't take the weapons yet." Karter paused. "Why the hell not?" "My clan is currently locked in a territory negotiation. Hunting grounds and such," the alien answered silkily. "The ones who control my families coffers think they can negotiate their way out of the predicament we originally wanted the weapons for." "How is that my problem?" Karter demanded angrily. "We must convince my elders to break off negotiating and resume war. They have got cold feet. They need something to push them. You will help me, as your employer told me of your black magic." "Great..." Karter snarled. He pulled out his comlink. "We have a problem, Vonnar..."
  10. 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.
  11. 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."
  12. 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.
  13. 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...
  14. 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.
  15. 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.