Story: Fresh Wire

This will be a story arc between Dax and his new protege, as per my other RPs i welcome and encourage people to join in on the fun and have an awesome rp experience.
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Dax looks down at the mass of people and scans the crowd, he sees his target and uses his jetpack to scatter the crowd he didn't like to use stealth and a direct attack was more pleasureful to him then trying to sneak around. This Target put up a fight and he needed him alive. The fight was not hard most do not know they have a price on them or they simply do not care, he struggled but Dax knocked him out using a vile poison. Upon his return he was notified someone was waiting for him.

Talor stood straight and neatly smoothed a crease in his rather orange shirt before neatly folding his hands behind his back. He was meeting a member of his new duty station for the first time and wanted to look presentable as to make a professional first impression. He lightly cleared his throat as Dax came into view.

"Mister, Dax, is it?" Talor spoke loudly so that he could be heard at a distance; he quieted his voice as Dax became closer. "My name is Talor. I have been assigned to your organization as a representative of the Chiss Ascendancy. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Talor extended a hand to Dax, and awaited his response.

Dax looks over the Blue Creature before him. "And Why has a Agent been assigned to me?" Dax would need to speak with M.Y.S.T. for clarification on this matter. Dax stands powerfully, not so much to be intimidating its just normal for him. Dax places a box in a closet and it locks when it is shut. He then turns to face the Chriss.

Talor withdrew his hand as he forsee it not being shook in the near future.

"I am assigned to you as well as many other individuals. As for the nature of my assignment I have been placed here by my superiors as a consultant for public relations regarding the Chiss people; I am also an informant on non-combat resolutions."

“He's looking for me bub.” Came an inimitable voice from behind the blue alien. In the scratched and pitted, gravelly like a starfighter ploughing through stony substrate, low octaves of the speech did churn an artificial brassy drone. To most it was an unpleasant sound, as disturbing as the partially organic creature who made it.
The originator of the words walked into view, shoving hapless civilians aside with roughshod care, furthering the growing bedlam started with another's violence. Once through the bothersome dispersing horde he pivoted in a manner that suggested once he was a military brat, and stopped to form a loose triangle with the other two.
If either being that stood so stoically in the midst of a growing panic were discomforted by a cyborg with a red glowing targeting reticule for a right eye, and metallic plating for skin in many patches of his visible body, the newcomer didn't seem to notice, or didn't care.
“Unless the information I've processed is bantha fodder, you're Dax.” The half living newcomer, Namand, said in that scratched to hell brassy bass disturbing voice that somehow came from his mouth.

OOC - I'm just trying to follow suit with the posts thus far; avoiding character description and all that.

Talor looked down at a small slate in his hand, scanning over scrolling words. "Ah, yes. The cyborg."

Talor read a bit further, raising a brow before looking at Namand. "You are aware that there is a bounty on your head on Hutta, correct? I would steer clear of there for at least a month until I can get that taken care-of."

He latched the slate to his belt and re-folded his hands behind his back. "And I am looking for the both of you. I need assistance locating one Darth Nerva. It seems that Imperial Intelligence obfuscated my intel on her and she wasn't at her designated location. Any information you could provide that leads to her whereabouts would be most appreciated."

"Never liked the desert anyways.." Wheezed Namand. His words were for the chiss, but neither living nor metal eye left the other bounty hunter. ".. Darth Nerva, maybe I know where she is.. Then again, maybe not.. Depends who you're pointing the blaster at if Dax here tries to collect on that bounty you just mentioned."
If venom could be expressed in a voice so heavily degenerated by the cybernetic butchery wrought throughout Namand's form, the only other two not running about in the public square would be terminally poisoned. "Why don't you tell Dax here what the bounty is for an abomination 'half droid' on Hutta."

OOC - Crusader, I imagine that if Namand was to be Dax's protege of sorts that Dax would be aware of the cyborg's temperamental paranoia. If I can get my other project finished this weekend I'll try to expand on my character's bio.
gknutsen, Nice touch with the bounty on Hutta, imo.

"The Bounty as you will read again, my agent friend, is removed, and to avoid you digging anymore the people who had set up the bounty was removed by a bounty on their own head."
Dax walks over to a closet lifts what looks to be a heavy box and places it down. "here you will find what you need to get started, you seem capable enough."

Talor frowns. "Well, it seems you have nothing to worry about, cyborg. Now perhaps you can inform me of Nerva's location?"

The cyborg's whole demeanour shifted from the malice that took physical form upon clumsy passer-bys, to as unreadable as a particularly ugly statue.
"Nerva? A thousand apologies.." Namand said with what would pass for a sneer on a countenance so biomechanically altered. "I thought you asked of Revan."
A brassy rumble emitted from the half man, the undulations of his laryngeal prominence suggesting he was chuckling. "The people you work for want this Nerva dead I presume?" The blood crimson reticule of Namand's eye shifted laterally to focus on the chiss.

"Nerva she is a powerful Dark Lady, an assassin, that has been granted respect and the fear that comes from it. I would know, I have seen her work, she has powerful friends, and equally amount of enemies, no surprise she is being hunted, however due to my current assignment, I would request that this woman not be hunted as she is an interest of my Contact." Dax places his hands on the box then slides it to the cyborg. "When your done with the Chriss, you have a bounty, think of it as an entire test to make sure you are good enough work with me. I normally work alone, however if you prove me any worth I will take it into consideration." Dax picks up a holopad and hands it to the Cyborg. "Here is all you need to know. I have also taken it upon myself to give you a little gift, Visit the engineer here and tell him to pick up something for Dax Magus, I hope it wont go to waste." Dax stands back straight and turns to the Chriss "Besides the assassin is there anything else you need?"

Talor shakes his head. "My business with Nerva is my own, however I will tell you that I intend to see that no harm comes against her. I require nothing further than her location."

((I'm sorry but did you mean "no harm will come to her", "to harm to come" sounds a bit off.))

"Much thanks Dax."
Could it have been a flicker of conscious thought at the mention of Nerva; processed, assimilated and hidden, that flashed from the green of Namand's organic eye?
"It seems I am the only of us three, who is.. unawares of Darth Nerva."
The hard clap of rugged leather on the steadfast surface of the ground sounds as the cyborg backs away, either nonchalantly or purposeful innocence. "I leave you two to your.. Sith." He said, raising the datacron he'd been given to his forehead in a haphazard antiquated salute.

"Yes go do what I have asked and your target is on route to Hoth, and yes its cold there. I am unaware if you have biothermal implants." Dax looks over a data pad, "When you have done what the contract says report directly to me."

((Edited my post, simple type-o)

Talor watches the cyborg as he leaves. "Interesting character, is he not?"

He moves one hand to his left hip, his fingers wrapping around his waist, and the other hand to his chin to scratch an itch that had seemed to bother him for some time. "What can you tell me?"

"Shes on on her own ship, however she is on her way to Onderon" Dax sits down "Anything else?"

Talor taps a few things on a holopad and tosses it to Dax. "That holopad contains means by which to contact me; ship ID and transmitting frequency. Contact me if Nerva arrives here."

He turns quickly to leave; he walks at a brisk pace as if in a hurry.

Dax shakes his head as he leaves. "I don't understand why people think they can walk up to a Sith and say 'Oh, I want to ask you a few questions do you mind letting me into your busy time of killing people to let me ask you questions?' but then again, if Qwan can do it, he better have his talents." Dax picks up a blaster pistol and goes to work dismantlement and upgrading.

Chiss... Chiss were not a race Namand had encountered previously in his existence, though this meant little since as his mind oriented, he'd been awake for little longer than twenty standard years.
Yet, when the alien had spoken of being a Chiss, Namand knew the words were not lies despite not seeing this Talor's face when he spoke them. Somewhere in the infernally blocked off arcane data vaults of Namand's biomechanical brain there existed more information; be it insignificant or encapsulating. By the heightened rate of his primary heart's beat, he imagined it was an encounter of some kind to make the data personal.
Confounding the situation was the complete void where publicly accessible information should be, on anything Chiss. It was as if they didn't exist.
And this specific Chiss wanted dealings with a Sith, an assassin of some import to whom was connected with Namand's potential Boss.
The situation stank and would require far more than nimble care if he were to have any hope of severing the puppet strings already undoubtedly connecting to him.
In a derelict part of town where alleyways were more frequently used as waste disposal than means of movement, the cyborg ducked into an alcove made by a bomb blast in a more turbulent time decades ago. It was a good spot to lay low and usually drifters knew to avoid it or join the ranks of mysteriously disappeared. However, before Namand lay a bedraggled old man soiling the place with his very presence. Dressed in an animal skin sheet of some rank sort that bore a large hole where the drifter's head poked through, his beard was choked with the dried remnants of discoloured liquids, what of his visible skin was pock marked with parasite bights, and his eyes were yellowed from poor quality spice addiction.
The whino was instantly terrified.
"Shir, shoory- I nin't mean to go yer place shir-" His voice had degenerated to a coughing cackle of its former self.
"Shut your hole." Came the brassy booming bass whisper of Namand.
He wouldn't kill the human scum, as that was wrong and wasteful. The decrepit thing would be put to use however, go about earning his continued existence by severing puppet strings, or die in the process.
"You may rest." Namand said.
"I-I jusht be leavin-"
"You will stay." Though he still whispered, anger amplified the threat in Namand's voice.
"...Good." The cyborg commended when the drifter didn't move, and he returned through the only exit to the alcove and back into the relative light of the back alleys.
Once there a seemingly sentient wire snaked from under the tarnished battle armour of his wrist and plugged into the retrieved datacron. Across the reflective surface of Namand's metal eye the parameters of his latest mission came forth.

(OOC - Commander, if you could tell me what my glorious mission is...)

((It will be explained once you go to the engineer. But OOC wise your mission is to retreave not a person but an item from a cave in Hoth that was said to be the location of a Republic camp, inside they have schematics of a quarry that someone has been willing to pay to gain the location and blueprints of.))

(OOC - After dealing with this upstart intruder into my domain, I will head to the Engineer)

“Have you heard of the.. Tatoine Ice Worm?” Namand asked of the prostrate drifter he towered over. In the deep gloom of the alcove they harboured in, the cyborg's artificial eye gave off a feint red glow that would vary in intensity with the half living being's words. Conjoined with the blood of the setting sun filtering through to their remote locale, the wino appeared bathed in gore.
The drifter manically shook his head in tiny arcs, indicating no.
A horrid mechanical chuckle discharged from Namand as he drew forth with dramatic sloth the datacron Dax had given him. “..Within this containment chamber lies a pair of the voracious devils. It takes but a simple flexion of my thumb and they are released.”
With his words the terrified homeless man jerked away, his wide eyes stared feverishly at the datacron.
“They are not pleasant.. but you would likely survive their burrowing through your skin and organs.”
“W-ww” The wino tried to speak but only gibbered spittle.
“Once a Tatoine ice worm has slaked its appetite.. it will slumber for months and if you are fortunate, die from all the fodder one such as you ingests. But.. if there is another worm within you, the two will lay eggs to form a massive colony in your intestines...”
Vainly trying to kick dirt and blasted out stones beneath him to gain precious inches from the datacron, the wino only managed to press more firmly against the constraining wall.
“Ple-eash shir-..”
Only cruel inhuman rumbling responded to the inarticulate plea.
“After agony beyond your reckoning, you would be eaten alive-”
“Pleash!” The wino whimpered, shedding tears about his flea bitten cheeks.
As this forlorn unknown of a human was driven further over the edge of lunacy, no internal craving of Namand's could cloud what wrong he wrought. Somewhere within the monstrosity he was, Namand recoiled from this unnecessary level of terror he inflicted.
As the homeless sniveled, he remained crouched; as silent and still as the destroyed masonry about him, a bitter struggle between ends and justified means raging internally. And though all the ghosts of a past he couldn't remember screamed their unheard voices, none of it was prevalent beyond his grim part-metal visage.
Eventually Namand withdrew the datacron. “There is no need for worms.. is there Rufus?”
After a few moments of stricken silence the drifter realized his expected response. “N-no shiir- I nin't meansh be in yer plaish-”
“I do not care if you make this your home.. You will perform an errand for me.”
Rufus' cracked lips parted in a face that didn't comprehend.
Namand impatiently shook his head. “You will go to a person I describe at a location I indicate and you will ask several questions to this person.. Understand?”
After blinking and rubbing his yellowed eyes Rufus slicked a hand through his thin grey oily hair. “Ye-yesh shir.” He said and tried to stand, to be shoved roughly against the stone wall.
“You will return here as soon as you are done talking with the person I indicate. Understand?”
The wino nodded.
“This is what you will say...”
...
Approximately three local hours later the city was blanketed in night and Namand was once again in the abode of underworld Boss Dax. Before him was the so called engineer, a breathing sentient individual, humanoid and self aware.
“Dax said you have something for me, my mission details as well as a gift of sorts.”
The cyborg continued to study the engineer with a wrote precision that few pure-organics could ever match, as oftentimes a 'gift' in the crime world was synonymous with trap, always so when Sith were involved.

The man looks up "Ye be the one going to Hoth, right? well ye' see ye' "gift" is over here" he stands up and makes his way over to a small box that he opens and tosses the cyborg codes. "Ye' get the Snowspeeder behind me, not da best but it will do ye'. And ye' misson and whatnot is inside." He goes over to sit down and what seems like fall asleep.

It's a section of town Rufus hasn't been a part of since before his gambling, alcohol and then spice problems. Through its less decrepit confines he skulked about in short tiresome bursts, an inefficient hobble that heavily favoured one leg. His attire was that of a gang enforcer, the garb taken from a recently deceased ruffian who was many sizes larger than Rufus. Featureless jet black trousers were crudely tied up at the ankles, knees and waist, a button up shirt of some thick material was similarly strapped to him so as to avoid draping folds completely entrapping him. Only a vest that had many times been incompletely freed of blood spilled upon it hung loosely, and for Rufus acted almost as a skirt.
His breath smelt of coolant, the liquid that damned cyborg made him swish his mouth out with. His skin was reddened from the pseudo bath he took in the same substance kept in vats for cleansing space freighters.
Once yellowed eyes were now eerily white, the itchy bristles of his beard had been trimmed along with his thinning hair. Though still irrefutably a timid character afraid of his own shadow, as well as an addict of something, Rufus appeared a new man.
After another burst that nearly doubled him over with effort, he glanced up from the corner he rounded and before him was the entrance to the Obsidian Parsec, a cantina for the better offs of the area and those with influence. Golden artificial light poured over and under the entrance hatches, as well as a massive ill tempered Zabrak acting bouncer.
Despite the muscle bound humanoid's boredom he didn't have chance to remark upon the sniveling frail oddity that had limped out from the alleyway before Rufus spoke what he'd been promised would see him safe passage.
“Osshhumash shendsh hish besht regretsh..”
The Zabrak blinked several times and spread the corner of his lip up into a scarred cheek, what would have been a smile for someone less masticated. “Who?”
Ossumas sends his best regrets, the phrase to ensure Rufus wasn't beaten savagely.
“Ossh- Ossh-” But his dried out gums and ragged state of dental decay wouldn't allow him to say it.
“Naw idiot!” The zabrak spoke in almost a roar. “Who is Ossumas wantin'?”
Rufus backed half a step away, licking his lips. With careful but woefully inadequate deliberation he attempted to sound out the answer. “Chis-sh.”
...
(OOC – gjknutsen, If you are uncomfortable with the below roleplaying, I don't mind. Merely trying to keep you in the action is all, in an unthreatening manner as possible. The below scene is Starwars meets Maltese Falcon, with the idea being that a brutally efficient/ intelligent extremely rare alien would use the caldron of important killers within the Parsec for all sorts of things, or not and he just happens to be there, or something else; your choice.)

Inside the Obsidian Parsec was an environment antithesis to the festering watering hole Rufus was use to. Here Twi'lek dancers clad in nought but scant silvery garments draped about their thighs strutted and gyrated about a T shaped platform that bisected the room superior. A curious odour permeated the smoke laden air, sweet and coniferous like the alien forests Rufus had never been to. Everyone was shady, in appearance with their encapsulating clothing and darting eyes, as well as their general lurking disposition. Apparently the place had been setup with these types of characters in mind, as each small group of skulking individuals kept to the booths provided, only interacting with others when hostility was necessary. The Twi'lek dancers seemed to go ignored by all but the enforcer goons of patrons.
Rufus tried to hunch his shoulders and set his face to a scowl in the intimidating manner other similarly shaped humanoids did within the cantina, and hobbled forward. Vainly attempting to avoid eye contact with the dastardly patrons, he scanned the corner of the room the zabrak had roughly pointed at. It took but a single thought about having to dredge up the memory of what those worms would do to him to continue forward despite the consuming urge to flee. He made for that corner, glancing in booths as best he could without being butchered by the eyes of those therein. At the final instalment he stopped, it was strangely empty save for what appeared to be a bartender, washing down the small round table in its centre with a rag more soiled than it was clean.
Without more than a moment of Rufus being there the rotund bartender peered at the redressed bum with such ineptly disguised interest that even the drug addled mind of Rufus perceived it.
“Osshumash shent me.” Rufus spoke after a blink, loud enough to be heard over the droning music.
The bartender stood to his full impressive height, glaring at Rufus, before stooping and return with haste to his bar. A slight flick of his free hand indicated a small, even dimmer, hallway that lead to premises unknown off to their left. The breadth and height of the booths hid this hallway from the entrance's view.
Since the passage lead in a direction opposite of that back through the treacherous dagger filled room, Rufus did not hesitate more than a beat of his ailing heart to follow it. Awaiting in the darkness punctuated by only a single amber overhead flickering light was his answer.

(I leave the scene open to you gjknutsen- assuming your agent is constantly alert and actually in the Obsidian Parsec, how does he engage dear Rufus who seeks him out, or perhaps one of Talor's lackeys does, etc. )